3 Years

When I started this blog last May I promised myself that I would just be me….warts and all. As I’m sure most of you know, whether through my blog, MWOP, or another distasteful site, that I am a recovering drug user. During the last 6-9 months of my nursing career I abused pain medication after I would get home from work. 3 years ago today I was confronted by the manager of the ER, and I unburdened myself. Confessed. Cried. And I was so fucking ashamed because I knew all along that I was playing with fire. Unfortunately I was so burned-out that I was at rock bottom with a career I hated—I had spent ten years compulsively caring for other people but didn’t have anyone take care of me. May 29, 2010 was a dark, dark day.


As of today, with the exception of my gastric bypass and a C-section to deliver 6-inch, I have been sober for three years. My nursing career has been over for three years. My husband, parents, brother, and closest friends have known about my inner demons and depression for three years now. I take medication for anxiety and to sleep, but I don’t abuse them to get stoned. When I went in for my one-week post bypass check-up, the surgeon handed me a prescription slip for a refill of the Dilaudid I had been using after surgery. I handed it right back to him, and let me tell you:  that was a proud moment.


And in these three years what has changed? John and I have been through a bankruptcy (not brought about my drug addiction; there was alot of credit card debt that we both brought into our marriage) and foreclosed on our home. We have had to work on our marriage but have stood by and loved each other no matter what. I have given birth to my second son, a precious little blob of cute who will turn 2 in late July. My first-born is now officially a 2nd grader. I am a stay-at-home mom now. We live in a modest rental house with terrific landlords, and we pay cash for everything. We have paid off our remaining vehicle. I have been seeing a psychiatrist and have finally found the right combo of antidepressants and mood stabilizers that help me function—I’m now the old Carmen that people remember me to be as a young woman. My house is constantly cluttered because a) it is smaller than our old house and b) I’d rather spend time with my kids than compulsively cleaning. I have had gastric bypass surgery and as of today have lost 82 pounds. This morning, for the first time since 1999, I put on a pair of size 16 jeans. There was a little muffin stuffin going on, but by God they fit.


Here’s to the next three years!


Memorial Day….and stuff.

Firstly, Happy Memorial Day to those that serve, have a spouse/son/daughter/family member who are serving or have served, and to those who sacrificed their lives for our great country. The Rodriguez family, consisting of Pedro (my grandfather), Zoila (my grandmother), Pedro “Tony” (uncle), Ramon (Father Snort), and Carlos (Uncle) immigrated to this country from communist Cuba in 1962; they got here just a couple of months before the missle crisis. I also have an aunt and several half aunts/uncles but they really don’t figure into my life story. My beloved Dad and my two uncles were so proud to be American; they learned English right away, got Naturalized as American Citizens, and were ready to serve their country. Dad’s number was called up in the draft in 1969 when he was 19. He was ready and willing to serve his country but was denied after having his physical examination. My Uncle Tony was not drafted, but I know that with his love of all things military he would have served if called upon. My Uncle Carlos enlisted in the Marine Corps as soon as he turned 18, and after serving 20 years he retired in 1996. A distant cousin on my mother’s side of the family, named Tony O’Neal, was killed in Vietnam; that, to my knowledge, is the only military fatality in my family. I have two cousins who did time in the Navy, and one who just finished his time with Army. So to Jason, Melanie, and TJ, thank you for your service. I also have several friends from high school who have run the military gamut from reserves to 20 year careers. I’m afraid I will forget their names, so I won’t list them, but thank you guys for your service.


Footlong officially finished the 1st grade on Thursday. We wanted to do something really nice for his teacher (she is wonderful), so I came up with the idea of making her a basket full of things to help her relax. I involved Footlong in the choices by asking, “What are things that would help someone relax and feel good?” He thought and thought and then said, “Fluffy pajamas, bubble bath, and a book.” He shocked me by dragging out his gallon-size Ziploc bag of change and absolutely INSISTED on going to use one of the CoinStar machines to turn his “little monies” into “paper money.” I told him he could have his money, but he said he wanted to give it to his teacher. We poured that gallon-size bag of change in the machine, and came away with $49.37. I took him to JC Penneys, and he picked out fluffy pajamas (a short sleeved shirt and capri bottoms) and a matching lightweight bathrobe. My heart is so blessed and happy to know that my child thinks about others and enjoys giving and thinking about how other people feel.  6-inch and I ventured to my most favorite store in the world (TJ Maxx), and I bought the following:  2 bars of Cynthia Rowley milled soap, 2 bars of Ralph Lauren milled soap, a container of Cynthia Rowley body sugar scrub, a Smashbox neutral eyecolor palette, an eye mask that you chill in the fridge, a small bottle of Vera Wang perfume, 2 wine glasses (which I tied pretty polka dotted ribbon to the stems), a novel, and a box that had 5 bottles of OPI nail color. Basically, I spent exactly the same amount that Footlong did. And to go with the wine glasses I picked up a bottle of chardonnay and a bottle of pinot noir to add to the basket. She cried when we gave it to her, and Footlong was so proud to show her everything in the basket. He told her, “I love you, Ms. Xxxxxxx. I hope you will relax and use your soap this Summer.”


While at TJ Maxx I also broke my shoe buying fast and bought a pair of Juicy Couture flip-flops. Designer $75 flops for $9 because one of the charms was missing? Yes, please! I went and found two matching charms at another store and clipped them where the original charms went.


I don’t know where all of you live, but let me tell you:  it is hotter than Hell already in the Sonoran Desert. Maybe I should be a total asshole and give Arizona a name like “Unfrozen Desert” or “Cacti-Studded Valley.” For the last week the temps have consistently been 100+ with lows in the mid 60s. In case you’re wondering, my personal “best” out here is 122 degrees, and that was in July 2010. Since there is so little humidity out here right now it isn’t all that bad, and it cools right down after sunset; what we are dreading is Monsoon Season. Monsoon Season is the rainy season in the desert; storms form off the Western coast of Mexico and up to Southern Arizona. It starts July 1st and runs through mid/late September. During that time we have afternoon thunderstorms 4-5 days a week. Some areas get more, like on the Tohono O’odom Indian reservation, and some areas get less. The humidity combined with normal summer temps of 110-115 degrees (sometimes 120) makes going outside a living hell. I do miss rain, clouds, and storms, so aside from the horrible heat and stickiness I love Monsoon Season; last Summer we had heavy winds, thunder, hail, brilliant lightning storms, and some areas of Tucson experienced flash flooding. After Monsoon Season we are dry until the Winter rains (a 4 week period during mid-Jan/Feb) where it rains a few days.


I asked Footlong what he wanted for dinner tonight, and he said, “Lima beans, bacon, and cornbread.” Awwwwwwwwwwww. I love that even though he was born and raised in Arizona that he has some Southern in him. And some Cuban too—you should see that boy dance!


6-inch just farted and got the giggles. J farted and 6-inch laughed so hard that no sound was coming out of his mouth. Boys will be boys, I guess.

What A Difference 20 Years Can Make

When I was 14 I would have (and did) spend every waking hour of my existance trying to fit in, wear the right clothes, say the proper “smart-assy” things, and dread like hell ever pissing my friends off because I didn’t want to be alone in social Siberia.


And now? At age 34? It sure feels good being secure enough telling someone to go and fuck themselves with a smile on my face to boot.

Post Mistress Snort

On Friday whenJohn gets paid this little woman will be paying a visit to the local office to mail a gaggle of shit. And, yes, Kerrie:  I will photograph the laundry basket full just for you. Will the following people please send me an email to thesnortfiles@gmail.dom and verify that I have your correct name and address or you’re just shit out of luck.

MY3—a ton of clothes

T—winner of the contest who also wanted my blue embroidery shirt from the photo shirt and another shirt

E—winner of the 2 place prize and who agreed to take some PopSugar stuff of my hands (think I never use)

My BFF (still have your addy) and will be sending sie 20/22 dresses and some boots and dress shoes.

Photos, & Fucking Random Thoughts

Congrats again to my friend T (who we all know on MWOP but whose nom de plume I shall protect) who won the photo contest. She opted for a ShoeDazzle gift certificate, and since they were (unbeknownst to me) available only increments of $25 I got her a $50 certificate because I’m not one to promise someone something then deliver less or not at all. Ahem.  She was able to pick out a pair of earrings, a pair of shoes, and even got shipping covered. Here are the shoes she chose:


Mother’s Day at Casa Snort was nice. I specifically asked John not to buy me flowers, candy, or a card (he usually does all three) because I had just spent about $100 at Old Navy buying several pairs of yoga pants, tanks, and jogging bras. I couldn’t put off shopping any longer; I was having to wear a chip clip to cinch the waistband of my pants when I went walking, and when I was just piddling around the house cleaning or cooking I wore a t-shirt and panties. Footlong, however, made me two lovely cards at school. Here is the big pink one; note that he drew cupids shooting hearts all over it as well as a little stick-family photo of the four of us:


Inside the card was a worksheet called “All About My Mom.” There were many questions, and Footlong had to fill-in-the-blanks as best as he could. I was so surprised how well that little shit knows me! Here are the questions and answers:

  • My mom’s name is …..Carmen
  • My mom’s shoe size is….9 (he knows that because I have let him pick out shoes for me)
  • My mom’s eyes are…..brown
  • My mom is 33 years old. (Not quite. I’m 34)
  • My mom’s favorite color is …..green.
  • My mom’s favorite thing to eat is…..corn. ( I died laughing at that. I have no idea how he extrapolated that corn is my favorite food.)
  • My mom’s favorite thing to drink is……coffee
  • My mom’s favorite thing to watch on TV is…..Olympics (Totally right! I can’t believe he remembered that!)
  • On the weekend my mom and I like to…..play with me and the baby.
  • The thing my mom says the most is……Tinky-Winky  (that is one of 6-inch’s nicknames)
  • I love my mom because……she is nice.

My heart about melted reading his sweet answers. Here is the other card he made me along with the photo on the inside:



What he wrote at the top (he tried to spell as best as he could) was:  “Dear Mom, I had fun. I’d come home soon I hope. Love, Garrett.”  Hard to believe my handsome little man will be 8 years old this fall. He looks absolutely nothing like me; I joke around that I was just the incubator. He is all from John’s side of the family:  blond, blue-eyed, skinny, and short in stature. He is going to have my smart ass attitude though. 6-inch, on the other hand, is way more like my side of the family:  brown hair, brown eyes, really vocal about what he wants and does not want, and is a chubby little ball of fun. I’ve posted pictures of Footlong (who you now know as Garrett), so it is only fair that I post a picture of 6-inch (who is known in our family as Preston):


I caught him red-handed trying to put on one of my jelly shoes.

For shits and giggles I decided to become a redhead. Here are some photos:



It positively killed me to take selfies, but I rationalized that at the very least I wasn’t duck facing, pouty-frowning, pretending to be a hands-on parent, or “sleeping.”

Now for some randomness:

  • I can quote the movie “Friday” from memory.
  • I have not bought a pair of shoes in a month. A whole fucking month, people.
  • I love to watch the Jewelry channel on TV, and there was an absolutely beautiful blue and white topaz ring set in sterling silver. I had seen the ring before for almost $300 (it is a 7 carat blue topaz solitaire with 3 carats of white topaz), and it was on clearance for $89. I looked at John, and he said, “Go ahead and order it. It is stunning!” I have really small, petite hands and fingers (go figure….the rest of me is soooooooooooo not petite), and he loves looking at my hands when I wear rings and have a nice manicure.
  • Speaking of manicure, I have found a great brand of press-on nails that will stay on for 4 or 5 days. To get the best results you clean your fingernails with nail-polish remover (none of that moisturizing shit…plain old acetone is what you want), let your fingers dry, then rub your nails liberally with the prep-pad included with the nails. You remove the adhesive backing from the nails, press for a few seconds, and that’s it. I have also found that hitting them with the blow dryer once a day melts the glue and I press them again.
  • The board of nursing has let me know that I am eligible to reapply for a nursing license in just a few months. I voluntarily surrendered my license, and the penalty of surrender was three years. I have to show proof of medical and psychiatric care showing that I have addressed my narcotic addiction, proof of outpatient rehab therapy, submit to urine drug testing, and attend NA meetings. I’m undecided whether or not I want to re-enter the profession. If I do I absolutely WILL NOT work providing direct patient care. I wouldn’t mind having a job auditing charts or working for an insurance company, but my babies are only going to be young once, and I don’t want to miss any of it since we are able to live on just one salary. I really need to think about this.
  • I’ve been having this totally fucked up recurring dream where the county Board of Education where I grew up examined records for students in the early-mid 1990s and decided that we received a sub-par education. They decided the best course of action was to revoke our diplomas and make us do high school all over again. It didn’t matter that some of had college degrees, had been to trade school, or were in the military; we had to do high school all over again. I was freaking the hell out because I couldn’t find my physics homework from senior year and trying to decide whether or not I wanted to re-audition for the flag corps. I was also expected to rejoin the academic and math teams, and I caught myself flirting with and kissing one of my old boyfriends. People were showing up for class drunk or hungover, and I was dressing in Duckhead shorts, Hypercolor t-shirts, and K-Swiss shoes like I was 14 again.
  • If my call is very important to you, why have I been on hold for the last six minutes?

Happy Mother’s Day! And Happy Winner’s Day!

Firstly, Happy Mother’s Day to all of you fine ladies (and Hevel) out there who are someone’s mother, aunt, grandmother, or act in a motherly capacity to any child. Thank you for all you do.


I speak of Mother and Father Snort on here, but I haven’t really told you anything deep. That said, today I would like to dedicate this post to my mom, Mother Snort. No, I don’t call her Mother Snort. I don’t even call her “mother” unless I’m pissed off; she has always been Mama.  Mama married my Dad when she was only 18, and after being married for about a year they decided to try for a baby. I’m assuming it was a fun project, and one day Mama went to the hospital for a pregnancy test (these were the days of the late 1970s before EPT and First Response graced supermarket shelves). She was handed a slip (that is in my baby book) that had her name on it and said, “Preg test Pos.” She said she was happy and in shock. She told me the very first thing she did on the drive home was stop off at the grocery store and buy a gallon of milk; she hates milk, but she figured she needed to drink it for me. My dad worked the night shift and was sleeping when she got home. She woke him and showed him the paper; it took him several minutes to reach full consciousness and grasp that Mama was indeed pregnant. Mama said her pregnancy was uneventful; she craved popcorn, Coke-flavored Icees, and stewed tomatoes. She was convinced I was a boy, and my name was to be Christopher. Dad, however, knew I was a girl. They took their last vacation as a married couple without kids and went to Disney World. Mama went into labor about a week before her due date, and 28 painful hours later (and with the assist of forceps) I was born. Mama said I was pink and cried loudly; I weighed 6 lbs 8.5 oz and was 20 inches long. She said my dark brown hair looked perfectly cut and trimmed as if I had stopped at the beauty shop on the way out of her uterus. Since we lived 2000 miles apart, Mama missed out on much of my pregnancy and didn’t arrive in Tucson until the day after Footlong was born. Seeing her face both light up and cry like a baby is something I’ll always remember. She is a wonderful grandmother to all three of her grandchildren (Brother Snort and his wife have a beautiful daughter).


Thank you to all who took the time to vote for the photo contest on the blog. I closed the poll at 8:00 pm sharp. If you want to get all technical, first price was the dinner and pedicure photo…..which was mine. I actually soaked my feet in a mixture of canned corn, Chef Boyardee, chili, cranberry sauce, and tomato juice. My feet were greasy and stinky the rest of the night even after I scrubbed them twice with Dawn. So, the real first place winner is T, the hot mess with a peanut butter beard, size negative 8 jeans, drinking whipping cream and holding Crisco. She chose the ShoeDazzle gift certificate, and I’ve already sent it to her email. Second prize went to my friend E with her very sexy, “Ermagawd! I just woke up!” photo. She’ll be getting the awesome candle. Third place went to S and her xynged-out kiddo that let us know that Xyng products are safe for breastfeeding. Nicely done ladies. Nicely done indeed. E and S, I have emailed you already asking for your addresses.


Good night guys. I’m off to have half a glass of wine (okayed by my doc) and veg on the couch. Love to you all!

If You’re Tastelessly Funny And You Know It Clap Your Hands (CLAP! CLAP!)

Thank you all so much for your absolutely hysterical photos in my first ever contest here at The [SNORT] Files. There are few things that chap my ass like people taking constant photos of themselves and everything they eat/see/do/excrete/etc. so I figured why not pay homage to the disgusting and irritating art of the “selfie.”

As promised the following entries will be posted anonymously. At the bottom of the post you can place your vote for the best (or worst depending on how you look at things). To recap, the winner will receive a gift certificate to ShoeDazzle OR JustFab (winner’s choice and worth $39.95) for some shoes! Second prize is a lovely, fragrant candle made with real flower petals. Third prize is a bar of hand-crafted artisan soap. I did participate, but I will not give myself or my bestie Stephanie Gerber a prize. The voting poll is at the bottom, and please vote for your very favorite because you can only vote ONCE. Voting ends Sunday Night at 8:00 pm Arizona time (11:00 EST, 10:00 CST, 9:00 MST, and if you’re overseas then figure that shit out on your own!)






holding drink









Im Skinny Now















ZYng 2