The Gypsy Voodoo Curse of Hot Mama

It sure seems like we are using cats a lot in our posts...but they are just so expressive!


It has been almost a year since I started writing for Bitchburgh on a regular basis. Most everyone knows by now that I have the shittiest luck of the three of us Bitches…I may have the shittiest luck in all of Pittsburgh.

In the past year my three year old has chugged grape vodka, flushed my keys down the toilet, and pissed all over a craft store. My dining room table collapsed on me while I was sitting at it and I nearly buried my truck in a gravel driveway on the hottest day of the summer. I have thrown up more times than I can count, and yet I have managed to gain about 40 pounds.  And that’s just the stuff that I have posted about.

The people who are ‘lucky’ enough to be my Facebook friends know that I have something unlucky happen to me a few times a week. But I make light of it. All I can do is laugh and hope that whatever voodoo gypsy curse has been placed on me will one day be broken.

It didn’t get broken during the month of December. December was, without a doubt, the most unlucky chain of events of my life. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Lets recap!

It all started December 4th, the day of my Tacky Christmas Sweater/29th Birthday Party. (Hot Papa’s bad luck had started a few days before that, as he sprained his ankle getting up off of our bed.) He was at home with the boys while I was out getting last minute party stuff together. There was a keg to be transported, balloons to be picked up, Jell-O shots to be made and many other anxiety inducing chores to be done.

Somewhere between the beer distributor and official party anxiety melt down, I decided to stop at McDonalds and get some food for the boys and HP. It was from there that a cop followed me all the way home before flashing his lights and informing me that my inspection was expired. That was fun, with a keg in my trunk and all of my neighbors staring! Thanks, Mr. Cop! People don’t already think I am crazy enough! (Yes, they do!) I couldn’t find my insurance card, so he issued me a warning for that and a fabulous hundred and nine dollar ticket. I think he liked me, though, cause I have a date with him at the local magistrate in a couple weeks! What can I say, I have that effect on men.

The party was a smashing success, no complaints there. One of these days I will recap that as well. Not today though. Party posts are for happier days. The official start of the Week From Hell started off normally enough. We got our truck to the shop to be inspected and to find out why that pesky little check engine light was on. No big deal, right? Wrong. Our car guy (who also happens to be a good friend of HP…lets call him Mr. Tire) called us to tell us there was some serious shit wrong with our truck, but no worries, he would have it back to us in time for our trip to Jersey. That’s right. Jersey. We had plans to go there on the following Friday for my grandfather’s 75th birthday party.

That was Tuesday. Aside from the car issue, I had awoken to no heat in my house. Being as how I had paid that bill right on time, I knew something was wrong. In the morning, it was 65 degrees and by noon, it was 58. My gram, G-Unit, came to get me and Smiley and brought us back to her house. G-Unit is an eternal optimist. Like REALLY optimistic. She was a cheerleader in high school and she has yet to grow out of it. Her disposition is so sunny that people have been known to get sunburn simply by standing next to her. She convinced me that everything would be fine. God, I wanted to believe her. I actually started TO believe her, especially when a friend of mine offered up her dad’s HVAC services for that evening. He came over after hours and fixed my heater. AMEN! We stayed at my moms overnight while our house heated back up.

Wednesday came. G-Unit picked me up for my doctors appointment at Magee. I was having some lady problems that needed some attention. My appointment was at 10:30, and we arrived fifteen minutes early thanks to G-Unit’s obsession with being on time for things. We waited. And waited. And waited. For THREE HOURS, we waited. G-Unit missed her lunch that she had planned with her sisters and since they all have cell phones with no idea how to use them, she could not communicate this info to her sisters. I felt horrible. I felt worse when the entire hospital was on lock down due to a missing baby. I felt down right despondent when I went to pick up my prescription and the pharmacy was closed.

I had expected to have my truck back that Wednesday evening, but Mr. Tire kept running into more problems with it, so it was not ready to be picked up. That was ok with me for the time being because I suddenly was bombarded with body aches, chills, and a fever. I had to cancel my much needed weekly Wednesday wine night with my girls cause I felt too shitty. I went to bed early and promised myself that it would be better then next day. Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.

Thursday morning, I woke up sick. Normally, E-man wakes me up at 7:45 or so. It was ten after eight. He was going to miss the bus. In my feverish mind, I thought, “No matter, I can drive him.” Right as the bus was passing his empty bus stop, I remembered. I had no car. Faaaaack. He immediately started sobbing. So did I. Thank God, my trusty neighbor Mr. B. heard me sobbing and saw me flailing and offered to take E-man to school for me. I kissed E-Man goodbye and walked back inside to…you guessed it! A freezing cold house. Again. A freezing cold house again AND a giant pile of dog puke. Oh, joy of joys!

I cleaned up the puke, took a shower, took a Xanax, and called my mom in tears. I had no heat. I had no vehicle. I had no way of getting my medicine from Magee. I had not even an ounce of sanity left in my body. I was gonna lose it for reals. She offered to come and get me, Mindbling offered to pick up my medicine for me, and I attempted to take a deep breath and prepare myself for whatever horrors surely lay ahead. I knew the black cloud was upon me. It had broken open and was spewing cold, wet, vomit rain drops on me. Nothing I could do but wait it out.

I spent the rest of the day laying low. I felt like I was in the movie Final Destination, trying to avoid the unavoidable. I put on a happy face for the sake of my kids and made some Christmas cookies at my moms house. I then proceeded to drink myself stupid and passed out on her love seat. I had my reasons. The lady medicine came with a very strong ‘do not drink alcohol’ warning. And not just the do not drink warning that they put on all medicines that I usually ignore. This particular medicine has a reaction with alcohol that causes most people to projectile vomit.

Friday morning, I awoke with no hangover. I took that as sign that things could MAYBE be improving. I was supposed to be leaving for Jersey and I was excited to see my family there. But the truck. Oh, the truck. The truck was STILL not done.  Hot Papa said, “Maybe all of this shit is a sign that we are not supposed to go away this weekend.” I looked at him sideways, and brushed that I idea right off. It was at that exact moment that I noticed my eye was itchy. I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I could tell right away that it was PINK EYE. MOTHER FUCKING PINK EYE!! Now, I am a 29 year old woman. I have not had pink eye since I was in second grade. What are the odds?

For anyone that does not know, pink eye is highly contagious. I didn’t want to admit it, but I started to think that maybe HP was right. Maybe we weren’t supposed to go away. But I really WANTED to! I decided that if the truck was done by four, we could still go. I settled in with my eye compress to wait for Mr. Tire to ultimately make the decision for me. If we went away, I just would try to avoid hugging people. Plus, I was pretty sure that no one was planning to lick my eye.

HP called me at the very last minute. The truck was done! WOO HOO! My mom stopped by to drop off the boys car seats. And that is when all hell broke loose.

I went outside with her to grab the car seats and as I was walking back towards my house, I slipped on my icy walkway. I was airborne for a moment before I landed, hard, on my back. I was stuck there, on my back, in the snow. I was crying, flailing, trying to find some way to get up. Something wasn’t right and I knew it.

My mom got me into the house and I laid on my stomach on the couch. I was out of pain pills, thanks to my stomach issues. All she could find was an old bottle of Pamprin, so I took those while she called HP. Fast forward to three hours later…instead of being on the road to Jersey for my weekend, I was in the ER with a fractured tailbone. By this point, both of my eyes were bright red with pink eye…something that I felt compelled to tell the nurse, doctor, x-ray tech, and anyone else who looked at me. I was afraid they would all think I was stoned if I didn’t say something! I tossed out my last pair of contacts in the hospital room and put on my broken glasses that HP had ‘fixed’. And by fixed I mean he fashioned new arms for the glasses with wire hangers.

So there it is. Was it the end of the world? No. I guess things can always be worse. I still have food, water, and shelter. My kids and husband are safe and healthy. No one got robbed, shot, stabbed, or murdered in any way. But let me just tell you…it was the week from hell. I have never looked so forward to Monday in my entire life.

Happy New Year! Here is to a healthy and safe 2011 for us all!

Hot Mama



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3 responses to “The Gypsy Voodoo Curse of Hot Mama

  1. Dan

    Good God. Are you sure you weren’t secretly part of some diabolical psychological experiment designed to test the limits of human endurance?

  2. OMG, this sounds like a Lifetime Channel Movie of the Week, directed by the Marquis de Sade.

    (HP sprained his ankle getting out of bed?? Was he trying some kind of fancy dismount, or do you have an ejector seat installed in your Serta?)

    • Hot Mama

      I hobbled him while he was sleeping. Just kidding

      He fell asleep with his legs over the edge of the bed, legs fell asleep, I startled him awake, he tried to stand up and voila! Sprained ankle. It actually was hilarious to watch…is that mean?

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