tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1548419305364383902012-01-24T23:47:17.225-08:00Stories From A Foul-Mouthed Redhead.Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.comBlogger1561100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-41350389813339205262012-01-22T04:06:00.000-08:002012-01-22T06:01:32.651-08:00

This year, the question posed for Blog for Choice Day is "What will you do to help elect pro-choice candidates in 2012?" First:   I'm going to vote.   Second:   I'm going to make sure Mr. Misha, my mom and anyone else I know who is pro-choice votes.  I'll drive them to the polls.  I'll pick up voter registration forms for them.  I'll take them to the post office to mail their absentee

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-56505781109932635542011-08-10T03:39:00.000-07:002011-08-10T03:39:49.984-07:00

Back in June, I was preparing for my annual getaway with The Hoz.  Aside from packing my clothes, planning & shopping food, I wanted to load up our dead 3G iPhone with music and use it as an iTouch.  I wanted to choose songs that would be familiar to my travel mates and would encourage loud, drunken, singing.   After scouring through my iTunes, I realized there was one area that was lacking:

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-72131294709249132082011-08-04T06:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T06:30:04.067-07:00

A friend called me last night. Her heartrate is consistently running above 180, she's passing out from low blood pressure, totally frustrated with her doctor. She has long QT syndrome and has a pacemaker/defib, taking betablockers, diuretics & ca channel blockers. She's young, in her thirties. Ugh.  She called me for advice. It's been a long time since I was a cardiac nurse. I have no idea what

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-90182823920722642962011-03-08T15:48:00.000-08:002011-08-04T03:28:59.777-07:00

International Women’s Day [IWD] is on Tuesday, March 8, 2011. As set by the United Nations, this year’s theme is “Equal access to education, training and science and technology: Pathway to decent work for women.”  This year, they’re asking bloggers to think about any of the following questions in regards to the U.N.’s theme for IWD: What does it mean to have equal access to education,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-45289721330721089762011-02-11T06:30:00.000-08:002011-08-03T10:34:03.407-07:00

It's been six months, time for me to take my abnormal boobs back to the Women's Imaging Center for the third installment of "Twammogram: Live-tweeting my mammogram".   I had to go again because my boobs are weird.  The saw the same thing on the second mammogram that they saw on the first.  Nothing new appeared, nothing grew, nothing disappeared, nothing looked cancerous.  These every 6 month

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-35629591868140577932011-01-25T20:59:00.000-08:002011-08-03T10:36:07.570-07:00

Here are my tweets (and others) preceeding, and during, the Tea Party response to the State of the Union. Video of the short speech is at the end of this post. Enjoy.  RT @Ali_Davis: OK, giving in and switching to Bachmann. Preparing for armpit noises. #SOTU RT @gigibsohn: You know how far CNN has fallen when you wish that Michelle Bachmann would hurry up and speak.#SOTU RT @joanwalsh: Bachmann's

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-19742168226004843702011-01-22T09:00:00.000-08:002011-08-03T10:36:41.296-07:00

The question posed for this years Blog for Choice is:  Given the anti-choice gains in the states and Congress, are you concerned about choice in 2011?  My quick response is "Yes I am!  You should be too!"  House Republicans Frantically Race to Restrict Abortion 15% of Large Abortion Providers Have Received a Bomb Threat Decline in Abortions Appears Stalled but Protests Rise

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-34277623799695759602010-11-23T09:00:00.000-08:002011-08-04T03:24:03.291-07:00

 Look at that face.  It barely has a nose.  That face makes a lot of noise.  We call those noises, snarfles.  I had never had a Pug before The Bean.  I had no idea what to expect.  I certainly didn't expect all of the licking.  The snoring.  The odd noises that come out of this sweet little dog.  She makes me smile and laugh every day. One night, I took the pug and the cocker spaniel to Mr.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-2029737105696881232010-11-20T23:45:00.000-08:002011-08-03T10:40:03.930-07:00

This week, I started mentoring a nursing student.  She is in the last few weeks of nursing school & as part of her training she will spend two months with me birthin' babies.  It could be a coincidence, but the minute she started her preceptorship, all Hell has broken loose at the baby birthin' factory.  It has been extremely busy.  It has been extremely challenging.  I can't go into details

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-88770769496977981382010-09-15T01:01:00.000-07:002011-08-03T10:41:11.077-07:00

  Dress Quest 9/11 Thanks to everyone for the fashion advise.  I ended up purchasing the two most popular dresses.  I wore one to the rehearsal dinner and the other to the wedding.  I didn't get any real good full length photos of myself with either of my my dresses, but I am waiting to see the photos that other folks have taken and will post them if they are not too embarrassing.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-55842179702161164152010-08-27T09:00:00.000-07:002011-08-03T10:42:28.050-07:00

This post is one of 37 submissions in the ‘This is What a Young Feminist Looks Like’ blog carnival. Head over to our host, Fair and Feminist, for a list of participating blogs. The California Nurses Association is trying to unionize the hospital where I work.  Each night, they take over a conference room, set out some food, candy and union literature for the nurses. They sit there,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-64132653965034393122010-08-18T04:43:00.000-07:002011-08-03T10:42:52.502-07:00

I finally went & had my repeat mammogram.  I was supposed to get it 4 months ago, but I kept playing phone tag with the central scheduling department at the hospital.  Eventually, I got an appointment and I live tweeted the procedure again. But to be honest, I couldn't really tweet during the actual boob shoot for a variety of reasons. #1) I could tell with one look that the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-50468214698434322852010-07-27T20:18:00.000-07:002011-08-03T10:43:12.749-07:00

I need help.  I am trying to find something to wear to a semi-hipster/computer nerd wedding on September 11th.  It is going to be hot as Hades.  I need to be comfortable.  I also have ginormous boobs (which I like), T-Rex arms (which I don't like) and freakishly white legs which I refuse to put in a pair of pantyhose in fucking September.  I hate shopping.  I hate leaving my house to go to the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-66428631359478038842010-06-26T06:00:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:09:49.983-07:00

I received an email from a cousin tonight.  I loved the personal note he included, as well as the story he forwarded.  I wish Mr. Misha and I had the cash/space/bigger bed to adopt more rescue dogs.  The back seat of this rescue van almost looks like our bed at night, every night we have four rescue dogs in bed (two are mother and son, Beatrice and Dante both deaf and blind) and two others,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-68364542658008632272010-05-01T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:10:25.469-07:00

I went to a Seventh Day Adventist College(I am not SDA). It was located in a little hamlet on top of a hill in the gorgeous Napa Valley. The location of the town made it possible for the college to keep out most of the secular world. Mail was delivered on Sundays instead of Saturday (their sabbath). Caffeine, alcohol, tobacco, meat and condoms were not available for sale up on the hill. One

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-80807495920383426712010-04-26T09:00:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:10:47.689-07:00

So today women around the world are conducting an experiment.  They are going to see if their breasts can cause an earthquake.  You see, this doofus in Iran thinks that "Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes" so today women are posting their most immodest photos of their chesticular area to see if it will, indeed,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-80009364002437006862010-04-23T12:18:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:11:13.560-07:00

I love my little furry babies.  They bring me so much peace and joy.  I love them like I gave birth to them myself.  Yes, I really do love my dogs as much as you love your children.  My two little girls are the light of my life.  But as I imagine most parents experience from time to time, I feel like they ganged up on me today. I was trying to be a good mom (responsible dog guardian) so I

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-19297089551709459602010-04-20T09:00:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:11:43.980-07:00

 Today I am taking time out from my normal blog jackassery (well, not completely- There will be some in this blog, because of course, I am the jackass that is writing it) to write in support of The Paycheck Fairness Act.  I will return to my usual profanity-filled blog posts tomorrow. I work with approximately 100 women and exactly 9 men.  One of those men is a nurse.  All the rest are

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-28018454834241005392010-04-07T07:13:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:12:12.121-07:00

Much to the dismay of our crabby next door neighbor, Mr. Misha and I often holler stuff at each other from different rooms. Usually it is stuff like, "Are you hungry?" or "Did you feed the dogs?" But sometimes it is goofy stuff like "I fucking love my wife!"  or "My husband is the cutest husband in the world!"  or "Why are these dogs so goofy? Do you think we should give them back?" On rare

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-88771817642143424862010-03-31T07:39:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:12:50.632-07:00

To be truthful, I do not remember this story AT ALL.  It is family lore and has been told to me many times.  Keep in mind; my mother's memory is both selective and creative ... so I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this story. I was December 1970 or 1971. My father, after completing his duty in Vietnam flying Med-Evac helicopters, was flying Marine Corps One for President Richard Nixon.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-307138117385485592010-03-30T07:35:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:16:38.812-07:00

Before I met Mr. Misha, I dated a Sheriff's Deputy named Mark.  ER nurses have the "You'll never guess what my patient had stuck up his ass!" stories. Law enforcement people have good "You'll never guess what this bad guy had stuck up his ass" stories. He would tell me all sorts of stories. I thought I knew everywhere on a body where you could hide your dope.........I was wrong. Mark was

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-91251344499342367952010-03-29T07:31:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:17:06.087-07:00

This is a picture of my Mom on her 60th Birthday. She is 3 years older now, but she looks pretty much the same. She is 5'2", blond hair, blue eyes, big boobs and a bubble butt. She came over one day, as it was a spa day for our dogs.  I have a Cocker Spaniel and a pug; she has a Jack Russell Terrier.  We dropped "The Girls" off at the spa, stopped @ Starbucks to get coffee and croissants, and

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-32019488644210091982010-03-26T07:32:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:18:06.402-07:00

Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor.  This is the fourth and final installment, enjoy! When Nana died, we had a little memorial in Northern California for family and close friends.  It was strange.  The priest showed up at the house, drunk.  He also thought he was coming to the house for a "Blessing of the Home", so

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-55343581026562141622010-03-25T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:18:43.372-07:00

This is me, my Mom and my Nana.We knew Nana didn't have much time left when we visited her in Florida, so we wanted to get our portrait taken. Unfortunately, the only place available was Glamour Shots. They gave me a 'That Girl' flip, they had no idea what to do with my mom's frog fur hair, but Nana looked beautiful.Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-89982851412717700632010-03-24T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:19:06.072-07:00

Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor.  This is the second installment, enjoy! DEATH July 12, 2000 On the day that Nana died, I had to work and my mom had a doctor's appointment.  While Nana could still get up and around, she couldn't be left home alone, in case she needed something.  My Uncle John

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-21780737397198399322010-03-23T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:19:31.471-07:00

This is my Nana. Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor. This is the first installment, enjoy! Part One: DYING July 11, 2000 In the summer of 2000, my Nana had enough. Although she had never smoked a day in her life, or let anyone smoke around her for that matter, she had End Stage Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-15504874870128378872010-03-22T07:29:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:19:55.288-07:00

Or: Why I Never Became A Soldier For Christ I was raised Catholic.  I don't have many memories of going to Mass with my mother.  I don't really remember her ever going to Mass on a regular basis. But she insisted on me having a Catholic upbringing.I was baptized at one month of age. I had my First Holy Communion when I was in 2nd grade. When it was time for me to start my training for my

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-86829574614460356972010-03-19T07:21:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:20:23.776-07:00

So, It was like 1988 or something and my aunt was getting married.  My mom and I went down to Southern California to help with the pre-wedding prep and of course, attend the wedding.  The pre-wedding stuff went as expected for the most part.  My aunt's friends took her to Chippendale's for her bachelorette party.  She got really drunk and barfed in Denny's.  She then got locked out of the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-36878739498842082132010-03-18T07:31:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:21:03.116-07:00

You get a little jaded when you work in a bar. When I was 21, I worked in a cowboy bar in a Navy town...I was weary of drunk cowboy/sailor pick up lines about two hours into my first shift. I heard all of the pick up lines; I saw what happened as 2 a.m. neared each night. Because of that, I didn't date customers.  I flirted with them, I was a friend with some, but I did not date them. 

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-6588335256210906722010-03-17T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:22:16.393-07:00

I was raised as an only child.  Liz was raised with three brothers.  All the shit they gave her, she passed on to me.  Once Liz found your weak spot, she went after it with a zeal she usually reserved for Patriots, Bruins, Celtics and Red Sox games.  One St. Patrick's Day, Liz decided that the way I blew my nose was weird.  The way I held my kleenex was weird.  The sound I made when I blew my

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-14605929168627330072010-03-16T07:35:00.000-07:002011-08-04T03:29:37.944-07:00

A long time ago, I when I was spending a lot of time on myspace, I made profiles for our dogs.  Harley is a Pug, she has a face that only her parents could love. Mimi, on the other hand, is blonde, slim and very pretty.I would expect that she would attract suitors.  I didn't expect that she would get some perv on myspace sending her messages! Seriously, this dude ACTUALLY looked

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-35890115663283511702010-03-15T07:30:00.001-07:002011-08-04T03:30:03.044-07:00

My mother, Joan, hangs out with a bunch of German ladies. She has hung out with these women since I was a little girl. I played with their kids. I went to their kids' weddings and they came to my wedding. In their younger days, my mom and "The German Girls" would go out drinking. As they have aged, their activities have slowed down to lunches monthly and a big German dinner each September

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-83251967915143717002010-03-12T07:30:00.000-08:002011-08-04T03:30:31.890-07:00

My family was not one who took many "family vacations".  My school breaks were usually spent with me flying solo, under the care of a flight attendant, to Virginia or Southern California.  The trips to Virginia were few and occurred at such a young age, that I have little memory of them.  I remember being seated in the front, next to the flight attendants.  I remember getting to go to the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-6745870569091997662010-03-11T07:30:00.000-08:002011-08-04T03:30:56.387-07:00

It was October 2002.  The Hoz were going on their first trip outside of the USA.  Our Destination: Mexico. Our Transportation: Cruise Ship. Our Mission: Have a kick ass time! We arrived at the airport and after securing the "HO-mobile" in long-term parking; we were off to check in.  This was the HOZ first airplane ride since 9/11, so we were not prepared for security screening. 

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-18225770670387081082010-03-10T07:31:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:28:37.868-07:00

First of all, getting the schedules of 6 busy, professional women to meld...nearly impossible.  Eventually, we did it and picked President's Day weekend in 2000.  Sally (whoosh, that girl) was in charge of travel arrangements for the trip.  She found us a great deal.  5 days and 4 nights at the beautiful and glamorous "Westward Ho!"  Our rooms were right next to each other in the rear of the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-13047602141968810962010-03-09T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:29:22.434-07:00

There is one aspect of my life that I have not shared with you.  I am a part time Ho.  I used to be a Ho more often, but husbands and children have made scheduling a difficult.  I only get to be a Ho about 3 times a year.  Now, before you start thinking I am a part-time prostitute...let me explain.  I have 5 great girlfriends.  I have been friends with them for years.  One night, we

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-75767704411693001072010-03-08T05:13:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:48:36.593-07:00

What does "Equal Rights For All" mean to you? It means that everyone has worth. That little girls are valued as much as little boys.  It means that everyone has the freedom to make choices for their own lives. The choice to marry who they want, or to not marry.  It means that each person has control of their own body, of their own lives.  It means equal pay for equal work. It means

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-71466714776757547712010-03-05T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:50:20.579-07:00

After finishing his second tour in Vietnam, my father had been assigned to fly Marine Corps One for President Nixon.  It was a prize assignment for my father, but it meant that my mother and I would be moving out of California for the first time in our lives.  My mother was far from being a southern belle and was having a hard time adapting to being an officer's wife. Virginia in the early

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-37542960861103648382010-03-04T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:51:59.596-07:00

When I was in high school, I worked as a "mother's helper".  Not quite a nanny, but a little bit more than a babysitter for the couple across the street from me, Kathie and Greg.  Kathie worked as an accountant and Greg was a firefighter. They had two little boys named Gregory and Justin.  I started caring for Gregory when he was about a year old.  I started taking care of Justin when he

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-35675621490598347472010-03-03T07:30:00.001-08:002010-07-26T17:53:28.624-07:00

My mom went to a Shriner fundraiser on Palm Sunday.  She was sitting at a table visiting with some  Shiriners and a little boy approached her.  He pointed to her leg and said, "You have a tattoo! Did your daddy get you that tattoo?"  My mom, who is not a fan of wearable art, looked down where the boy was pointing and said, "No, my Daddy didn’t get me that tattoo.  Jesus did." The little boy

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-44333600178688392452010-03-02T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T17:54:50.345-07:00

On Mother's Day, I decided not to take my "daytime" muscle relaxer and only take Motrin.  Mr. Misha and I were going to have lunch with his mom to celebrate Mother's day. I love my mother in law, but she tends to worry a lot. I didn't want to show up to her house all doped up and give her cause to fret.  I felt pretty good after heat, ice and Motrin. Mr. Misha and I stopped on the way to

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-56449724382741097612010-03-01T12:00:00.000-08:002010-07-26T18:05:37.246-07:00

When I was in nursing school, I had several jobs; bartender/cocktail waitress, make-up artist for Clinique, I graded term papers for an Economics teacher, Dispatcher for the hamlet I lived in and the college's Department of Public Safety and Certified Nurses Aide, or as I liked to call it "Bedpan Commando". Being a Bedpan Commando was hard work, but it did help me out during school. Most of

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-72474116795118128242010-02-26T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T18:06:26.644-07:00

Once upon a time, Mr.Misha went up to Sacramento to see his mom.  Since his car was in desperate need of tires, he took the Mishamobile.  With his iPod hooked up in the car, a bottle of fizzy water and a pack of smokes...he took off for Sacto. At one point, he encountered heavy traffic.  So, he rolled the windows down, opened up the sunroof and turned his music up.  As he cruised along Hwy

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-73015557827464944252010-02-25T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T21:07:46.113-07:00

Of all of us in my little family, Mr. Misha, Mimi the cocker spaniel, Harley the girl pug and me, I am the tolerant one.  Mimi doesn't like anyone or anything in HER backyard and she has no problem telling everyone about it with her little bark.  Harley, while she may snore, snort, burp and snarfle loudly, is quite disturbed and offended by the farts, burps or stomach growlings of others.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-19710042559275682912010-02-24T07:30:00.000-08:002010-07-26T18:08:41.476-07:00

A while back, I was a substitute Maternal Newborn Nursing Instructor for a local college. I really enjoyed it and I am thinking about going back to school to  get my Masters so I can do it FOR REALS.  Here is one of my favorite stories from that time in my life. It was the night before our ASS CRACK OF DAWN clinical rounds at the hospital. I had just sat down to dinner with Mr. Misha and my

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-24483785585136097962010-01-22T06:00:00.000-08:002010-07-26T18:09:56.524-07:00

"Trust Women" Such a simple statement, only two words. But for me, it means so much. The meaning for me goes far beyond abortion rights. It means trusting women to make decisions about their lives, their bodies and their psyches. It means allowing women to make choices about birth control, about medical care, about abortion and about birth. As a healthcare provider, I feel it is my

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-78126783248163195252010-01-20T19:45:00.000-08:002010-07-26T18:12:17.806-07:00

I turned 41 today. I woke up with a bunch of awesome messages via Facebook and Twitter wishing me a very happy birthday. It was lovely. Then Mr. Misha woke up. Nothing. No hug. No handmade card. No 'Happy Birthday to my wife', nothing. I was pretty sure he forgot it. I never thought he would ever forget my birthday. You see, Paul Stanley from KISS and I share the same birthday. Since

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-52442264478219539732009-10-23T21:58:00.001-07:002010-07-26T18:13:49.487-07:00

I was chatting (well, not chatting, tweeting really) with Twammogram co-founder Laura tonight and the subject turned to "accidental sex". I told her I had a story about accidental sex, but it did not involve any actual sex. There was no way I could tell this story in 140 characters-so here I am on my blog, over-sharing, AGAIN. Some of you already know, before Mr. Misha I was with a man named

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-19578991665970466182009-10-21T23:41:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:16:35.124-07:00

I really wasn't worried when I went to get my mammogram. I didn't have a family history of breast cancer. In fact, my family has a history of living pretty unhealthy lifestyles full of things that are carcinogenic and the only cancer that has ever effected them has been skin cancer, even that hasn't killed any of them. What weakens and kills my family are heart and lung diseases. So,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-17913881904288325622009-10-10T23:33:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:16:12.201-07:00

We are only one-third of the way through October. I bet you are already sick of pink. Too bad. We only have 31 days to talk to you about your boobs and I am going to make the best of it. I have compiled some information about mammography, breast exams and lowering your breast cancer risk. Enjoy! Breast Cancer Screening Guidelines (From the American Cancer Society) Yearly

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-56688361613288818162009-10-08T13:17:00.001-07:002010-07-26T18:17:58.605-07:00

The following is a mixture of tweets, photos and my some thoughts about the mammogram I had today. I will post my vlog attempt later, as I am a iMovie doofus. 11:20am Heading out. Feels weird to not wear deodorant. #twammogram My hospital has a gym, physical therapy office and Women's Imaging Center in a separate building. It's called the Wellness Center. Second floor- boob

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-8221396944648301222009-10-07T21:22:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:18:54.708-07:00

Here are two #Twammogram TV spots that aired in South Carolina! Thank you Amy for helping spread the word!

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-38281145734845856352009-10-07T15:36:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:21:47.767-07:00

One obstacle women face to get a mammogram is access. Some are uninsured, some can't afford their deductible or co-pay. So I have created a state-by-state directory to help women find free or low-cost mammograms in their area. Please pass this on to those you think might find this helpful. Alabama Alaska Arizona Arkansas California Colorado Connecticut Delaware

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-61102731118390362612009-10-07T12:29:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:22:59.980-07:00

Well, there it is. The Twammogram avatar, brought to you by Mr. Misha. It's sexy, it's fun, it's pink and it comes with an iPhone! I think it will be all the rage. Please feel free to steal it for your own use, or if you are the creative type- make one yourself. Perhaps one for Blackberry? So I was sitting at work last night, waiting for the 9pm bus of pregnant women to roll in, and

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-71918579367826750592009-10-05T21:10:00.001-07:002010-07-26T18:24:58.025-07:00

It all started out so innocently with a Facebook status update by my Twitter gal pal Laura: Then it moved on to Twitter. We came up with a hashtag, a way to mark tweets so they can be searched, indexed, catogorized, etc. #Twammogram Mr. Misha is working on an avatar involving a pink bra, boobies and an iPhone. Then Laura made a video: Monday, the Twammogram fever started to spread.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-19925361335038695412009-08-03T12:44:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:26:07.132-07:00

One morning I stopped by my mom's house. We chatted for a little while and then she walked me out to the Mishamobile. Bonnie was at her usual post, right next to my mother's left leg. All of a sudden, Bonnie saw a cat and took off. She ran halfway down the block and disappeared in between two houses. Of course, my mother became hysterical, shrieking and fretting. She was having a panic

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-27223525441350854432009-06-30T14:37:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:27:01.569-07:00

Going to the doctor is never a fun day for me. I am usually sore afterward. Today was no different. As soon as I arrived home, I had lunch, put some ice on my neck/shoulder and popped a Flexeril and a Motrin. While waiting for the ice and pills to kick in, I scanned all the tweets I missed while I was out of the house. One particular tweet caught my eye: I remembered reading a few months

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-60030154447030752812009-06-24T01:32:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:28:05.855-07:00

So, yesterday I shared Mark's funeral story.  I bragged about how great my co-workers were and how wonderful my friends were.  Absent from that story....my family.  Don't get me wrong, my family is hysterical and loving too.  But they are not so helpful in a crisis.  Here are the comments made to me after Mark died: From my Step-father (a Marine): "Well, now that the funeral is over, you

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-42386556531004682882009-06-23T07:45:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:28:58.323-07:00

Before I met Mr. Misha, I was in a relationship with a man named Mark. We were together for almost 3 years when he was killed in a car accident. I was devastated. Not only had I lost someone who I loved, I had lost the future we had planned together. I don't know if I could have made it through without the love and care from my friends and co-workers. I had made it through the funeral mass. It

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-49871459110657613152009-06-21T01:19:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:29:30.654-07:00

My Nana loved to Jitterbug. She had a regular dancing partner named Johnny, and they would go out dancing on a regular basis. Although she never said it, I think Johnny was Nana's beau. The place they went dancing also served food. Nana would always order a BBQ beef sandwich and a glass of cold buttermilk. One day, Nana was in town and saw the waitress from the dancing place. The started talking

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-84823168586473373572009-05-02T04:46:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:30:42.295-07:00

I have been working a weird schedule lately. I usually am more kind to myself when scheduling my nights, but not this time around. I worked 2 on, 2 off, 2 on, 3 off, 2 on. It was brutal. Add to that the pollen and wind and I am broken. I have no voice. I can whisper, but that is about it. I am trying not to talk at all. I tried fingerspelling with Mr. Misha, but he doesn't know any ASL.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-39697351789342336242009-04-16T23:59:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:32:03.895-07:00

I spent all day with my mother again. Unfortunately, Barry the plumber was there most of the day too. He was his usual unpleasant self. As he watched me make a bank deposit online, he said, "Don't yer bank charge you extra to do that?" My reply was, "No Barry, the bank would prefer that it's customers do all of their banking online. In fact, given your charming demeanor, I think they would

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-43520880022409950312009-04-15T22:01:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:32:44.811-07:00

In is my opinion that every person should have a basic knowledge of basic first aid. I would also recommend that everyone take a class at their local Red Cross on how to perform CPR, the Heimlich Maneuver and use an automatic defibrillator. You may never use it, but if one day you find yourself in a situation where one of those skills are needed, you will be glad you spent an evening or an

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-60469971936432934282009-04-14T19:33:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:33:48.989-07:00

My mom called me early this morning and asked me to come pick her up. She told me they wanted her out of the hosptial by 11am. This picture was taken at 1pm. We were still waiting for her discharge papers. This is what your arms look like when you: a) have a bleeding disorderb) have been taking Prednisone for a long time andc) have a dumb ass trying to start your IV. My mom has great veins.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-33127214705384428512009-04-13T16:12:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:34:38.066-07:00

We have always been a "Dog" family. As long as I can remember, almost everyone in my family has had at least one dog in their home. Much to the chagrin of my Grandpa, Chuck, the dogs were treated as family members. Grandpa would bring a dog home, tell us it was a hunting dog and we were to keep away from it. Well, as soon as he would leave the house. The dog came in and was spoiled. My Nana

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-15075163646890910142009-04-12T06:05:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:35:50.972-07:00

Shouldn't you be: At church? Walking off all those calories you consumed at the Seder? Participating in a Pagan festival celebrating fertility and spring? Hanging out with relatives, eating too much? Looking for eggs? Biting the butt of a chocolate bunny? Don't you have: A bonnet to put on? A hot bun to cross? An egg roll to attend? A parade to watch? Stop reading this

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-47493705731660676962009-04-11T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:36:36.924-07:00

We seem to have an issue with names in our family. I have about 4 or so names that I will answer to and Mr. Misha has at least 5. I am not talking about pet names, I am talking about names our family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances call us. We are not criminals. We do not have records. We are not in the witness protection program. It just happens that I have a very common first name,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-61792334932278624032009-04-10T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T21:08:06.883-07:00

Behold, the cuteness that is our little girl pug, Harley. She also goes by Puglet, Bean or The Dutchess of Snarfleshire. We are a bit ridiculous about our dogs. So it is no surprise that if there is a show on about our breed of dogs, we will watch it. The other day, Mr. Misha and I were watching this video about Pugs: Everything was fine until we got to

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-65697228526103399732009-04-09T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:39:31.012-07:00

My mom is having surgery on her back today. She is scheduled to go under the knife around 7:30am PST. Send some good vibes or juju or prayers or whatever her way if you are so inclined, will ya? Thanks.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-41856803809922610342009-04-08T23:59:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:40:50.888-07:00

I had a doctor appointment Wednesday afternoon at 4pm. Guess what time I was finally seen? 6pm. How long did she spend with me? 5 minutes. What happened? Nothing. "Keep doing what you are doing, come back in a month." But when I got out of the exam room at 6:05 pm. The receptionist had gone home- AT 5PM. So I will have to make my appointment another time. Two hours and five minutes I

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-283396355280579482009-04-06T23:59:00.000-07:002010-07-26T21:03:43.352-07:00

I am getting this one in just by the skin of my teeth. I am only getting this post in because all but one of the pregnant ladies in town delivered their baby in the last 24 hours. The last one is here and I am slowly trying to coax the baby out. I am watching her baby's fetal heart rate and her contractions on a flat screen TV here at the nurse's station while she sleeps. I am waiting for the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-81810729884674823202009-04-05T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T20:06:49.552-07:00

Today is Mr. Misha's birthday. He is turning 45. I found out on our first date that he was born at the hospital that I now work at, birthing babies. The first time I met his mom, she told me the story of his birth. It is quite cute, especially when you hear it in her Polish accent. So that is how I decided to write it, in her words. "Honey, za pains kept comink

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-58739795220074633802009-04-04T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:45:33.160-07:00

My friend Lauren posted this on her blog. I think I was too late in responding, but I like the idea of making something and sending it out into the world. Hopefully, it will make the recipient laugh or smile or feel good in some way. So here I go: I hereby pledge to make something for the first 5 persons who respond to AND agree to the conditions of this blog/offer. This offer does have some

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-1964011622929786982009-04-03T23:59:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:49:15.082-07:00

Okay, first of all I lied. I know I said I wasn't going to bitch about the fans anymore, but HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! I think Dick Cheney, John Wu, Alberto Gonzalez and all those other sick motherfuckers had it all wrong. Don't water-board people. If you really want to torture someone, do the following; force them to live under these conditions: TEN, I counted twice to make sure, TEN fucking fans

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-51229660474800585472009-04-02T15:40:00.001-07:002010-07-26T18:50:47.540-07:00

The dudes from ServPro are here in my house right now. As I sit here typing this post, I have two fans and a dehumidifier blowing around in my boudoir. I am blogging from a wind tunnel, literally. I have been awake since 5pm Wednesday evening and I am blogging from a windy bedroom in lieu of sleep. When the dudes first got here, they went straight to the scene of the crime- Mr. Misha's

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-11460300005970022172009-04-02T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:51:34.268-07:00

I am not very good at playing April fool’s pranks on people. In fact, I am not very good at playing pranks at all. Quite often, I will get blamed for other mischief making even though I may be completely innocent. I am not sure why I am the first person suspected when practical jokes are made. I blame my red hair. Maybe it is my sense of humor. Maybe it is my loud mouth. Maybe I just look guilty.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-37751580680619433592009-04-01T17:30:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:52:23.020-07:00

I worked all night last night. I was busy. I did a lot of nurse-y things. I forgot to bring my pain meds with me. But I didn't really need them. I came home. I slept solidly, without the aid of Ambien and during the day, for a whole 7 hours! I woke feeling rested, not achy or sore. This is a little too much sharing, sorry, but I also have my monthly visitor with NO cramps. What the heck is

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-81003489591967717802009-03-31T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:53:43.625-07:00

Goodbye March. I posted something on here my blog everyday this month after visiting this website, National Blog Posting Month. I thought that participating in NaBloPoMo would help get me out of my writer's funk. I came up with a few good posts. I reposted some favorites from my old myspace blog. And I resorted to using tags, memes and videos to fill up the other days. I am glad that I did it

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-74679892151353758502009-03-30T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:54:46.090-07:00

The following are a series of tweets sent out by me over the weekend, starting Friday morning when I woke up to Mr. Misha hollering, "Oh no! There is water every where!" He then comforted me by saying over and over again, "Don't worry baby, it's not potty water! It's not potty water!" Woke up to major plumbing problem. 1" standing water in 2/3 of the house. Great. Landlord is here sucking

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-53731613931252047782009-03-28T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:56:53.936-07:00

I have a Cocker Spaniel named Mimi. Mr. Misha and I do not keep her in the traditional cocker cut like you would see on the show dogs at Westminster. We let her body hair grow natural and keep it one length. We keep her ears long and we grow her top knot out so she has "rock and roll" bangs. Since money has been tight lately, I have been stretching the time between grooming appointments and

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-56535806001024396802009-03-27T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:58:05.960-07:00

Sorry, a whole day with my mother has worn me out. I usually only resort to memes on weekends but I am exhausted! As usual, I tag no one. According to Google, Michele needs... 1. Michele needs to hire a Goon. 2. Michele needs help adjusting her body regularly. 3. Michele needs to create names for her imaginary friends. 4. Michele needs to learn to be more careful with her Voodoo. 5.

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-12638864803817408182009-03-26T01:30:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:58:53.554-07:00

I returned to physical therapy Wednesday. Last time I went it was not so pleasant. I would spend the first part trying to do exercises and stretches that my muscles just wouldn't let me do without protesting loudly. Then I would go back to the treatment room. My muscles would be stimulated with electrical pulses or soothed with ultrasonic waves. Then heat or ice would be applied. Then some

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-34273529622853719932009-03-25T15:45:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:59:38.081-07:00

I hate spring. I hate the green grass, the blooming flowers, the breeze and the sun. I like the idea of spring. It's the reality of it that I hate. I am a fair-skinned redhead, so the sun is not my friend. Add to that a strong family history of skin cancer and you have a girl who has no love for days that are brighter and longer. I am also allergic to almost everything. Since spring is the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-33535270340605816382009-03-24T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:00:50.525-07:00

I spent all day Monday with my mother. In a hospital. (Hospital, on my day off.) Around the sick and injured. (I don't do sick and injured.) All day. (I certainly don't do sick and injured and hospital IN THE DAY TIME.) Gah! With a crappy signal on my iPhone. (NO INTERWEB?) This was not looking good. My mom is having spinal surgery next month. Today, we drove to Oakland Kaiser Hospital for

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-72768707998346488542009-03-23T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:01:40.689-07:00

1. Do you have a cell phone? Obviously, or the rest of these questions would go unanswered. 2. What kind of phone do you have? iPhone 3. Do you receive more calls or text messages? Texts. Way more text. 4. Who are your last 10 calls from? Anissa, Mamcia, Tax Lady, Mr. GeeBee, Kiny, Skid, Dawn, Joanie, Unknown and Anonymous. 5. Your last 10 texts? Bellesouth, CC, Twitter, Rachel 6. Do you

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-90051537804780359552009-03-22T20:31:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:03:55.005-07:00

1. Who was your FIRST prom date? Paul C. 2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love? No 3. What was your 1st alcoholic drink? Whiskey Tit 4. What was your FIRST job? Babysitting 5. What was your FIRST car? 1970 Kharman Ghia 6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Anthro Geek 7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? That stinky baby that was taking it's sweet time coming

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-70164607765747099672009-03-22T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:20:25.413-07:00

After my Mom and Step-dad divorced and our family home was sold, my Mom found a townhouse for us. We spent one hot, summer Saturday moving all of our belongings across town into our new place. It was a scary time, a new neighborhood and I was about to start middle school. But I was so exhausted that I fell into bed that night and I did not move once in my sleep. At 8am on Sunday morning, I

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-62131969355586502892009-03-21T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:21:05.334-07:00

Step One Step Two From birth until age 10, I wasn't exposed to a lot of cursing in my home. My mom didn't curse, my stepfather didn't curse and aside from that one time at Christmas, I didn't curse. Then my parents split up. My mom had caught my stepfather cheating on her. Something in her changed from the mother I was familiar with, she became a disco dancing, smoking, wild woman. One

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-46249610234823625402009-03-20T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:05:58.089-07:00

When I was a teenager, I participated in Sea Scouts. It was a lot of fun and because of my involvement in it, I was able to do a lot of things that most kids my age didn't. In 1986, I sailed aboard the California Maritime Academy's Golden Bear to the World Expo in Vancouver, British Colombia. It was a lot of fun and I have many stories from that trip. I won't go into them now because I promised

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-80953233747417893472009-03-19T06:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:09:44.671-07:00

The boy's name Misha \m(i)-sha\, also used as girl's name Misha, is pronounced MEE-sha. It is of Russian origin. Nickname for Michael. See also Mike. Misha has 1 variant form: Mischa. Baby names that sound like Misha are Micha, Moshe and Mioshe. Misha is a very rare male first name and a very rare surname (source: 1990 U.S. Census). Misha is my nickname. It was given to me by a bunch of horny

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-78034042921146652242009-03-18T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:10:42.682-07:00

On April 21 2007, I had the pleasure of spending the evening with Iggy Pop on his 60th Birthday. Mr. Misha and I, along with another couple, went to San Francisco to see Iggy and The Stooges in concert. We didn't know it was his birthday until we arrived. As we walked into the venue, the ticket takers handed out "Happy Birthday Iggy" buttons. We put our buttons on our lapels and waited for the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-1750521842375480312009-03-17T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:12:10.198-07:00

Mr. Misha and I went to see our tax lady last night. 2008 was a pretty shitty year for us financially. Since folks had very little disposable income, Mr.Misha's business was slow. Because of my work related injury last April, my income was really low. I didn't realize how little we were living on until it was all out there on her desk. It was a pretty sorry sight. For the first time since we

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-1241005357431060452009-03-16T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:13:01.016-07:00

Back in my 20's, before I went to nursing school, I would go out drinking quite often. I am happy drunk, a very LOUD, but happy drunk. I usually don't puke. I definitely am not a fighter or a crying chick when I drink. I just get a little mouthy. Jimrie, Luke and I went out drinking. Luke was going to drive and take care of us; Jimrie and I were going to get smashed. That was the plan. So

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-57818412313700382492009-03-15T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:14:17.028-07:00

Here's what you're supposed to do - create a new blog/note, copy and paste this message into the new blog/note, type your answers, then tag a few friends and family INCLUDING the person who tagged you - But I am tagging NO ONE. Because that is how I roll. THREE NAMES I GO BY 1. Michele 2. Misha 3. Meesh THREE JOBS I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE 1. Cocktail Waitress 2. Make up Artist 3. Registered

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-51901568826501686602009-03-14T07:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:15:14.470-07:00

I have compiled the clips that lead up the Jon Stewart vs. Jim Cramer extravaganza this past week. I used the unedited version for the final interview, so there is foul language and segments that were not aired on TV. Hope you have a wonderful weekend. Enjoy. .cc_box a:hover .cc_home{background:url('http://www.comedycentral.com/comedycentral/video/assets/syndicated-logo-over.png') !

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-149021011391279092009-03-13T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:16:53.949-07:00

For some reason, my Mom liked to marry US Marines. My Father (biological), her first husband, was an USMC helicopter pilot. There was never a woman who was less appropriate for the role as an USMC Officer's Wife. My mom was constantly getting my Father in trouble when they were married. She didn't like to follow the rules and he paid the price. If you met my father, you would wonder how the

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-73799392768227982722009-03-12T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:17:38.023-07:00

I am going to the doctor later today to get "Trigger Point" injections of corticosteroids into my left upper trapezius muscle. I think it's gonna hurt. I am a big baby. Plus, I am not even convinced it is going to work. My neck still hurts and both of my hands keep going numb. I am not sure how a shot in my muscle will help alleviate these symptoms. Maybe I will have a better attitude after I

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-24853412639724538872009-03-11T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:18:59.599-07:00

My mom read to me EVERY day for the first 3 years of my life. After that, I had memorized most of the words and would "read" to her for the next two years. By the time I started elementary school, I was a pretty advanced reader and I loved doing it. I would bankrupt my mother with the monthly Scholastic Book orders. She eventually restricted my book orders at school, but would take me to yard

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-7071617400843943422009-03-10T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:22:28.819-07:00

I can't help it. I love Dancing With The Stars. I waited patiently all these months for Season 8 to start and last night did not disappoint. Each season, I have two groups of favorites; stars I want to win because I like who they are and stars I want to win because of how they dance. My "WHO" favorites are Steve-O, Steve Wozniak and David Allen Grier. My "HOW" favorites are Gilles Marini,

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154841930536438390.post-13579010055995806812009-03-09T01:00:00.000-07:002010-07-26T19:23:22.479-07:00

It was Christmas Eve, 1974 and I was one month away from my 6th birthday. My Mom, Step-Dad and I were making sugar cookies to leave out for Santa. We were getting near the end of the batch and the dough was starting to stick to the cookie cutters. I was getting very annoyed. I was shaking and shaking the cookie cutter, but the cookie wouldn't fall out. That is when I said "Fucking cookie!"

Mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05184090983812912352noreply@blogger.com1