weekend ups and downs

Since I moved to Asheville a year ago, I've been sicker more than I have in like 10 years. I've had to leave work early twice, once to food poisoning and once to general dizziness / nausea. And that's not counting all the times I've been sick NOT at work.

This weekend was about the worst it's been. I was off work and we headed out to Bele Chere, which is the biggest street faire in the southeast. You can drink beer in the streets while perusing lots of local wares and food. There are lots of concerts, and they are all free. It's generally a good time.

I was having a good time, but with a few irritants. One, I was going to buy a pretty rainbow tie-dyed dress, but the one I wanted was on a mannequin. I went to the shop guy with the cash in my hand and brought him over so he could get it for me. He went about taking it off the mannequin, and then handed it to someone else, who then proceeded to stretch it as far as she could and put it on over her clothes. Now I can't blame her for that second part, I was planning to do the same thing. But the fact that she stretched it way further than she needed to (and she was already a bigger girl than me) turned me off of that dress. I'm not going to pay good money for something that would have fit me. And the shop guy totally ignored me, even though *I* was the one who made him get off his lazy ass so I could buy something. So he didn't get any of my money that day.

The other irritants were minor - things like normal businesses raising their prices for the festival (which didn't faze me because I had a buy-one-get-one free coupon anyway, so that was actually the best time for me to use it). Luckily I had enough good friends (and good beer) with me that the day wasn't ruined.

Last year we had gone to the festival, and there was a chick selling handmade chokers / bracelets / anklets out of some natural hemp-like material coated in wax (which makes it so you can wear the piece for the rest of your life, showering, swimming, etc.). I really really wanted one, but we had literally just moved here so we had zero dollars. She didn't have a website or anything and was from Florida, so I couldn't buy one later. But the same girl was there again this year, and so I got myself an anklet with the money that would have gone to the dress jerks.

Then after a full day, we headed home. I got a pretty bad headache, so I went straight to bed. A few hours later, I woke up wth an upset tummy. Little did I know that I would not be going back to sleep that night. Instead, I would spend the entire night vomiting. I'm not sure what caused it, as I only ate one thing that my friends didn't eat, and there wasn't any food left in my system by the time it started coming back up anyway. I did have a lot of beer while walking around on a hot day, but I kept properly hydrated and protected from the sun, even seeking out AC a few times. But whatever the reason, I sure paid for it. It was the awesome kind of sick that when I thought I was done, I'd go lay down and try to sleep, only to have to get back up a few minutes later.

Luckily I was off the next day, or I would have had to call in. I felt better, but not great, but I was done puking. However, since I had no sleep, I was utterly exhausted and spent the next day recouping from what could have only been a poisoning.

disasterous relief

I don't know if any men read this blog, but if they do, be warned - "female problems" discussed herein.

The good news is that I'm not pregnant. The bad news is that I found this out at work. Wearing light colored work pants. Working a register. With an hour left in my shift. And no way to combat it.

I knew it was coming eventually. Well, you know, hoped it was coming. But I didn't feel the regular sick that I normally do, so I didn't really think about it. That is, until around 5pm last night. Sudden cramps of a certain kind, which I had to pretend weren't happening, what with the customers and not being able to leave. I held out for about half an hour until I finally called the supervisor over and said "can you please cover for me for one minute while I run to the bathroom?" I think I said it with enough urgency that as a fellow female of the species, I think she understood. "Run, go! Run!" she said. And I did.

Since I didn't have any um... feminine hygiene products, I was forced to improvise. Without going into too much detail, there was much wadding, stuffing, and padding with toilet paper. Also there was praying - praying that my light pants would hold up until 6 when I could rush home. I was uncomfortable for my last bit of work, but at least I didn't have to worry about another mouth to feed on our already very tight budget.

When I finally got off the clock, I had a message from Jay saying he was just down the street cashing in a coupon for some free food. I told him that I really needed to go home first, and luckily he is a mature enough young man to immediately understand what I meant. We discussed it, and I decided that since I haven't been out in a while, I would just stop by a store and buy a few things. After all, as Jay so wisely pointed out, it's not like they go bad. (And for those of you wondering, my pants were still wearable.)

So after a brief stop at the drugstore and an immediate run to the restaurant bathroom, we sat down and had a nice dinner. It gave me a story to tell, and all was right in the world again.

flu shot!

My arm hurts, and I was duped. Next thing you know, I'll be sick.

Why the pessimism? I got a flu shot. Willingly. It was free through work, but I've never gotten one or needed one before. They made it sound like I would get a $10 gift certificate for being a new pharmacy patient. But that's not the way it worked. I got a coupon for a gift certificate if I transfer a prescription. Since I haven't had health insurance in years, I have no prescriptions to transfer. And I already picked out the super cute bra I was going to get myself with the gift certificate as a reward.

While I was waiting for the pharmacist to come back from lunch, I was talking to the store manager & HR assistant, who had both gotten their shots already. The HR chick said the shot wasn't bad, and the pharmacist was very gentle. Meanwhile, the store manager was telling me "how the needle broke off in his arm, and it took 3 or 4 tries" and other blatant lies. They were so blatant that even *I* - who can't even hear needles discussed - was fine with it. I told the pharmacist what the store manager said, and the pharmacist called him an ass, not jokingly. That might have something to do with why the pharmacist recently accepted a job offer somewhere else.

So I didn't get paid for my pain, but it wasn't so bad. The pharmacist did a very good job of hiding the syringe from my sight and keeping me distracted with talk of tattoos while doing the deed. I did feel a little poke, but no fainting, so that's a step up for me. However, my arm is sore now, and I did have a bit of lightheadedness while waiting for Jay to get off work. If I get sick though, I will be pissed.

(I *was* injected with a tiny tiny bit of active flu virus, so whenceforth comes my fear.)

valentine's weekend, the sober version

ok, update to my drunken ramblings from the other night:

First off, pictures!



I only dyed the front of my hair because I wasn't sure how the purple would take over the reddish-brown, and I hate bleaching my hair unless I absolutely have to. But I think it turned out well, so I may add more. Also in the second pic, you can see one of the shirts I bought on clearance. (The other one is exactly the same, but black.) I love Express, and I love clearance sales, and I love coupons. That is all.

(And because I love to coordinate colors, I painted my nails to match my hair. They don't perfectly match though, because my nails are sparkly and my hair is not. But if they made sparkly hair dye, I would be all over that.)



Speaking of clearance sales, the bookstore in the mall was having a whopper of a clearance sale. Our attention was drawn to the $1 calendars. Yes, it's mid-February and I didn't have 2009 calendars yet. So what? We picked out Star Trek and pictures from the Hubble telescope. Yeah, Jay and I are nerds. But you knew that already. Also, there was a box of books marked 90% off. I couldn't resist, and walked out with 3 new books - The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, 1000 Arabian Nights, and Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift. I could have gotten more, but I couldn't remember if I had the other ones already. These ones I knew I didn't. All in all, we got 2 calendars and 3 books for $4. That ruled.

After my near murderous encounter with the chick not interested in selling me a new phone, I went online and made my order. Starting tomorrow, I will be the proud new owner of an LG Voyager. It's got a touch screen AND a keyboard. Also, at some point I will be able to upgrade my plan so I can do internetty stuff on my phone, and when I do that I won't need to buy a new phone.

So that's it. I know this post made more sense than the last one. BUT this one took me about 1/10 the time to write, as there was no rum involved. Oh! Also, I forgot to mention that I had a bit of a hangover yesterday morning from that aforementioned rum. It was the first time in many many years that I threw up (especially from drinking). It could have been worse though, because the only thing that actually came back up was the ibuprofen I'd taken an hour earlier. Then my tummy hurt for about 15 minutes, and then I was fine. Like I said, coulda been worse.

xmas illness

So xmas this year was very low-key. Last year I vowed not to travel on the holidays ever again, and I thought I would be fine. But then there's all these reminders that I'm supposed to be with my family, and have a tree with presents under it, and all that sappy stuff. So even though I did have my wonderful Jay, I did get a little blue at times.

To add to the blueness, both of us were sick. Well, we still are, a little bit, but we're much better. Xmas eve was the worst. I worked only a half day, and by the evening we were both curled up on the couch in pajamas and blankets with a box of tissues between us. No, we weren't watching a sad movie. We had both gotten a nasty head cold and were pretty miserable. To make it worse, nowhere was open that we could buy medicine since it was xmas eve.

I've realized that head colds are the paper cuts of illnesses. They aren't severe enough to actually stay home in bed, but they are still annoying enough to complain about. A lot. Thank goodness the CVS was open on xmas day, so we were able to find temporary relief in capsule form. (I did have to take more than the recommended dose to feel better though.)

This xmas wasn't as bad as the one a few years ago where I had bronchitis AND strep throat during my xmas vacation and had to be quarantined, but it wasn't the best either.

know a good lawyer?

I think the drunk chick at the Rev concert jacked up my neck. I feel like I was in a car accident (and I wasn't - praise Jebus). My neck on just one side feels like it needs to crack, but it doesn't crack. It just hurts. I took a nice long hot shower yesterday, which helped a bit, but it hurts again today. The concert was Saturday. It is now Wednesday. I've been taking steady doses of ibuprofen & tylenol which dull the pain, but never make it disappear completely. I don't think I'm sleeping funnily, though last night the dog kept releasing his lethal gas bombs. This may have led to some unnatural positioning as I hid my head under the pillow.

I should have given that drunk chick a beatdown.



ps - I've been making lots of pretty jewelry, so if you wanted to buy some, you could.

no food for des

Can someone please tell me why I'm not allowed to eat anymore?

For the last few days, no matter what I eat, I feel sick afterwards. At first I thought it was just my poor choices in meals (sometimes you can't afford groceries but you can afford fast food). First I had some chicken parmesan pizza... and I don't think they cooked the pizza all the way, because Jay was sick too. Next day, it was raining and sleeting and snowing so we risked only the block to McD's and I got some of them there "fancy" chicken nuggets. I hated them and will never eat at McD's again. Needless to say, they made me sick. Today, I tried to eat Taco Bell. Didn't even make it through a whole burrito. Later I tried some chicken soup - the good kind! - and I thought I was fine. But no. Sick again.

Actually, I'm kinda lucky. I haven't been puking or anything - just ready to. But everything I eat now makes my tummy unhappy. I just want to not be sick again. I remember a time that that was possible. Good thing I have nowhere to go I guess.

stinks

We ran out of dog food a few days ago, so we've been feeding him peanut butter sandwiches. (What else?) The problem with peanut butter sandwiches as dog food is that they make that 15-year old black lab fart. Stinky stinky big dog farts. He'll walk into the living room, let one rip (usually inaudibly, but not always) and go back to the bedroom. That's awesome. He knows how to clear a room, that's for sure. Stinky farts disturb my tv / internet time and even wake me up from deep sleep, by sucking all my nice clean air out and replacing it with all that is evil and unholy in the world.

We do feed him pills that are supposed to make him less stinky, but I can't actually tell if they work. All I know is, my neighbors must think poor Midnight gets beaten or something, by the way we're I'm always yelling "Got dang dog! I will drown you in butt water!"






*That is a threat I recently yelled, but it was aimed at the cat who really wanted to drink my water, then decided it would be best to put his tail in it.

des hates her toe

About 3 or 4 years ago, I broke my big toe. I was in karate class with xbf before class actually started. We were messing around and I threw a fake kick with my left foot. He caught it, and somehow I pivoted (badly) on my right foot. Then I fell down in pain. When the teacher came in, I told him what happened. He did take it a little easier on me that night, but we all thought I would be fine.

The next day I was off from work, thank goodness. When I woke up, I was still in pain and now my toe was very purple and misshaped. (Somewhere around here I have a picture of it, but I don't want to go through the hassle of digging it out and setting it up. You don't need to see it, you can imagine.) So I called my doctor. My regular doctor, Dr. K (the best doctor ever) was not in that day, but someone else from his practice was so I went in to see him. I quickly learned to hate him. When I said "I think I broke my toe" he didn't believe me. He manhandled my toe so much that I recoiled in terror and pain. Begrudgingly, he sent me for an x-ray. I think he was still skeptical of me even when he saw that my toe had broken in 2 places.

Since it is a toe, there's not much can be done when it breaks, even the big toe (and my big toe isn't really that big). So I got a stupid "shoe" thing that supported the bottom of my foot, and maybe a tiny bit on the side, but had velcro on top so I could remove it*. He didn't give me any pain medication. I couldn't miss work, so I spent my 8+ hour days on my feet. Luckily at this time my coworkers were a little sympathetic so I didn't have to do as much counter work and sometimes I could have a stool to sit on. But it was still a lot of time to spend on my broken toe, even with the stupid shoe. So I called my regular doctor and explained what happened and they called in some drugs for me.

**I've mentioned how awesome Dr. K was many times before, but this is another example. He knew I would never fake something just to get narcotics, and the whole "reacting badly with vicodin" thing certainly helped validate me. This time, they looked at the xrays and were incredulous that Stupid Doctor didn't give me anything for pain. It also didn't hurt that I worked in a pharmacy, so I could get my pills right then.**

So anyway, you can see why I think my toe never healed correctly. Every now and again, my poor aching bones remind me of this. Like today. Yesterday I wore some cute little white strappy heels for a coupla hours. Yes, they are cheap shoes that threaten to give me proto-blisters whenever I wear them, but they are also not padded at all on the bottom. So I spend the rest of that day and (so far) the next day, massaging my poor toe, remembering how I broke it in karate all those years ago.




*I remember that it was December, because I actually had to wear a plastic bag over my foot during rain and other bad weather. I did get to wear exciting warm and fuzzy socks for the world to see, however.

new friends, or why des has sore legs

Sittin at home,
knockin 'em back,
up rolls a big black cadillac.

Oh sorry, that's a Stray Cats song (which I love, btw).

Sitting at home yesterday, I'm half-heartedly working on a new choker (which is oh so pretty, but time consuming! And I will post pictures when I'm done, of course.) and less than half-heartedly watching tv. A uhaul pulls up right in front of my sliding glass door, which is coincidentally the closest (2) spots to the door of the apartment building, the lucky ducks. I watch as a young couple get out and start unloading. Very soon, just the girl is unloading.

She stops for a breather and to chat with Midnight, who is of course sitting at the screen enjoying the 70-degree air. I'm not sure if she can see me sitting on the couch, watching the transaction. But I continue watching her go back and forth from the truck to her new apartment, carrying small boxes. Now, I've heard from very reliable sources that sometimes the best friends are those that are met while moving in. So I'm sitting there, watching a very cool looking girl about my age move into my building. I am very aware that I have no friends of my own in MI. My brain is clicking.

I hesitate a little, thinking I should wait for Jay to come home because he is the friend maker. But I'm not doing anything besides watching boring daytime tv and working on a necklace that can easily be finished later. So I go out on the patio and pretend to do something with a chair while I wait for Potential New Friend to come back to the truck. She does, and I smile and say hi, and she does the same. I go back inside and ponder, while she makes a few more trips.

(Side note - the way I tell it and remember it, PNF was moving boxes for like 2 hours while I thought this all through. In reality it couldn't have been more than like 15-20 minutes. My brain was just working fast, I guess.)

Soon I decide to do it, to make my move. I'ma be outgoing. I'ma make me a new friend.

PNF returns to the truck. I meander out (all of 7 feet?) and ask if she wants help. She smiles a weary smile and says sure, if I want to....
So I do. I introduce myself and grab a box and follow her upstairs to the 3rd floor. There I meet her boyfriend, who is on the phone trying to get out of just having been called into work. That explains why he wasn't helping unload. We 3 continue tramping up and down the stairs and I remember back to my NYC days when I paid people to do this crap for me. Sure it was expensive, but it saved my poor aching muscles.

Soon Jay comes home, and I stick around in the parking lot long enough so that he can see me and figure out what the dillio is. Sure enough, he comes up to meet our new neighbor-friends. Unbeknownst to me, my poor boyfriend is hungover "like a motherfucker." (Duh, the day after his bday! Just because I'm not hungover doesn't mean nobody is.) But, he's a champ and King of Nice Guys, so he jumps in and helps out. Of course, he's a big strong boy, so he and Boy New Neighbor Friend get all the heavy stuff like giant tvs and couches. Girl New Neighbor Friend is tinier than I am, so we did a good job of supervising that part.

Unloading goes fairly quickly, though we start to rue the nice (hot) weather. When all is said and done, we all take a breather in the new living room. Eventually their friends show up (why they came so late, I'll never know) and we make it back downstairs to our comfy comfy bed. Sweet sweet rest, after a day of moving stuff up 2 flights of stairs.

So, there you have it. I'll let you know how this saga unfolds - whether or not New Neighbor Friends actually become our friends or just use our musclepower and avoid us. But, since we have the prime spying real estate, we have seen them outside a few times. They've waved and even talked to us, so I think Potential New Friends are on their way to becoming Actual New Friends.

But that comfort does not mean my legs don't hurt today.

eating desorder

The problem with not having a job, besides the whole "no money" thing, is that I have all the time in the world to ... well, do nothing. For a few days it was good because Jay was home, so we did all sorts of fun things like go to the zoo and whatnot. But then he got sick, and while he was technically still home, he was in bed sleeping most of the day. So I've fallen back into my old habits.

Unfortunately my old habits are bad habits, as they involve food. Whereas when most people have days off, they eat and eat and eat, I do the opposite. I get so involved in my important work* that I forget to eat entirely. I start getting all shaky and weak and cranky. Then I lay on the couch, edging towards unconsciousness, thinking about how I should be eating. However, it is of no use because everything I can think of sounds yucky. At this point my logical robot brain is broken, so all logic is out the window. I would rather fade away into nothingness than eat something that didn't taste good. And it's things that I normally consider quite tasty, so there is absolutely no basis in Reality World for my thought processes.

Eventually I snap out of it. Sure, I end up eating something like candy or doritos which help my state only minimally. But it's enough to get me through until someone else comes around and I am no longer alone with my crazy, and my newfound best friend can make sure that I eat. So I live to starve another day.

(And no, I'm not anorexic, as I normally love to eat. But I need structure to my day so that I can do this. Logical robot brain. Sorry.)

Speaking of logical robot brains, here is my horoscope for today:
Attempts to use logic to overcome the desires of your heart probably won't be successful today. Even if you can usually convince yourself of nearly anything, your stream of clever words won't be heard by your irrational needs now. Emotions, not cool reason, are dictating your thoughts. Instead of redirecting your feelings, try listening to them.




*You may recall that my important work involves a strict regimen of game shows and Zelda.

migraine!

Migraines are one of those things that when you say you have one, you get 2 kinds of sympathy: the kind from a fellow migraine sufferer or the kind from those who have never experienced such joy. The following story should evoke both.

I'm relatively lucky when it comes to migraines. Conditions have to be just right wrong for me to get one; I have to have low blood sugar and I have to be in a grocery store. If I've eaten well and recently, grocery stores are no problem. I'll stay there all day, laughing at people with fake tans and horrid pink sweat pants. However, sometimes I get overwhelmed by the bright lights, the smells, and, the myriad of noises make me kinda want to die. This happened last night.

I could feel it coming on and started opening my eyes less and less. By the time we were done checking out, my eyes were fully closed and I was leaning on Jason like a blind woman. I had my big fuzzy hood wrapped around me, but I was noticing weird smells in there that I don't normally notice. Damn you migraines, making my Super Smell Power even more sensitive!

When we got home, I knew I needed to eat, but I couldn't bring myself to cook yummy yummy pasta, due to that whole "smelling" thing. Normally I love the smell of garlic, but last night it was a bit too pungent. I lay down on the couch with my sweatshirt over my head. That wasn't enough of a cave, so I moved into the dark dark bedroom. After a few minutes of absolute stillness, the cat came in and jumped on the bed next to me. He purred while I pet him, which gave me cause to ponder that a cat purr may be the only migraine-suitable noise out there. Then the dog came in, and yes, he is noisy and smelly, but he was also concerned. He looked at me with his black lab ears up and his tail wagging, then positioned himself so I could pet him too.

As I lie there, an animal being pet on each side of me, the adorableness of the situation struck me. Both animals knew something was wrong and so sought me out to comfort me, and it worked. I went back into the living room grinning, and I told Jason all about it. My headache *had* gone down a bit, partly from the ibuprofen, but I think mostly due to the warm fuzzies.



ps - I've made yet another necklace. You should go look at it and buy it.
Have you subscribed to that feed, btw? Then you'll always be in the 'no...

mmmm nachos?

When I studied abroad during college, I lived in Argentina for 3 months. I quickly learned that in order to remain a vegetarian (I couldn't be vegan or I would have starved to death), I would order a vegetable dish "sin jamon." That's right, I had to specify no ham on things like cheese pizza. I chalked it up to cultural differences, adapted accordingly, and went on my merry way.

Last night, I discovered that Michigan is like another country, compared to what I'm used to in NY and CA. Jason had a mad craving for fajitas from Chilis, and because I had recently come in to some money (read: my former employer finally paid me what they owed me) and I'm a very nice girlfriend, we headed out to dinner. The great* thing about restaurants like this, is that there are very few vegetarian options. There might be a hamburger substitute, which no offense, is generally sub-par and tiring, or mozarrella sticks, which are tasty, but des can't handle a lot of fried cheese.

I decided to go for the nachos. Here is the direct quote from the menu:
Our nachos have beans, queso with a hint of seasoned beef, cheese and jalapenos on every chip. Served with pico de gallo and sour cream.
Sounds tasty, except for the beef. So I checked with the server that I could in fact get them without beef, he said no problem, and I continued drinking my strawberry lemonade.

When the food arrived, I breathed a sigh of hunger and relief. Until I saw my nachos. Sure, there was no ground beef, just like I asked. Instead, I had apparently gotten a free "upgrade" to steak. I was like, um why is there meat on these? And the guy said "I thought you said no beef" and I was like "I didn't know that I had to specify no steak either, because nowhere on the menu does it say there is steak on these nachos." Besides the fact that saying no beef should include no steak, as steak is a form of beef.

The server was a little confused as to why I wouldn't want any meat. After some careful negotiations involving Jason the Michiganese translator, I got some new nachos sans meat. They were tasty though I could not eat them all. But I've learned my lesson. In this strange and exotic(?) new country, I must be very very specific when ordering vegetarian food as just because something comes from a cow doesn't mean it's beef.



* not great

adventures in dead

So yeah? Blood loss? I got that. Not good.*
As I write this, a large portion of my upper half is covered in blood soaked bandages. And no, it was not a gruesome tractor accident. In an ongoing effort to make myself more beautiful, I got stage 2 of my tattoo done today. So now instead of a black outline, I have green leaves. The flowers, well they are still black outlines.

Why? you may ask. Why? Because apparently I enjoy torture. Oh and also I bleed. A lot. Like so much that the artist has to stop inking and apply pressure to my neck with a cloth. And when she moves on to another part, the blood 1) ruins the freshly inked colors and 2) drips down my arm / back / chest. Then she has to go back over the same spot again because all the bleeding pushed out all the color. Fun right? Another 2 & 1/2 hours under the gun and it's still not finished. But towards the end there, I was like I don't even care. I'll come back. Just stop this painful process (which included the soapy water that she used to wipe all the blood away which stung so much I think it hurt more than the inking).

You know what? Writing this is making me ill. Plus I haven't eaten since I finished, other than a grilled cheese from the automat. You remember that I love the automat right? Well I love it even more now because while my no-blood-addled brain tried to figure out the conundrum of what to do with my $5 bill when the quarters machine was broken and I didn't want to carry around 3 dollar-coins (I didn't want to carry around 12 quarters either, but that didn't occur to me til later) the nice Japanese boy at the counter was like, I can give you change! And I was like Yay! Thank you for saving me. Anyway, Chinese food is en route to mi casa, so soon I will have sustenance, rest assured.

On the way to my expensive blood letting, I had 2 things of note. The first was that a guy on the train trying really hard to be P Diddy had his fly open. And he had no idea. I think I'm the only one that noticed, but I'm not sure as to why I noticed in the first place. I was going to do the polite thing and tell him, but I couldn't just yell, hey guy , zip the fly! And I couldn't make eye contact, look at his crotch, and give him the nod, because I'm absolutely certain that would be taken the wrong way. So I gave up on telling him and just laughed at how ridiculous it was that Mr. Expensive Glasses, Matching Sneakers, and Designer Clothes was also Mr. Hey Look At My Weiner.

Then walking up 2nd Avenue, a guy carried an uncovered bucket of water on his shoulder. Then he dropped the bucket, which should have been no surprise, given the way it was carried. The shock came when suddenly both my legs from the knee down were covered in cold water on an only slightly warmer than freezing day. Oh and jeans don't dry very quickly, even under the best of circumstances. So I said a few choice words to Mr. I Drop Buckets All Day and continued on my freezing way to get colored.

So yeah. That was my day. I'll get around to posting pictures of my pretty leaves soon, but definitely not yet because they are far less pretty when soaked in my own blood. (I think that could be said for anything, though.)




* It's kinda like I'm drunk, so if my words make no sense, you know. I have edited it down for saneness too, but if I missed something, bear with me.

2 warnings of things not to buy

1) If you see a chocolate pastry shaped like a mouse sitting on some weird disc, don't buy it.
It might be cute and so you think well of course it's yummy! but you'll be wrong. You'll ponder it for a moment before deciding that the best course of action is to eat the whole mouse at once so that there are no mouse remains on the disc. This will occupy your entire mouth so that chocolate oozes out between your teeth and lips, and then you will laugh, and then you will choke.
After that is all squared away, you will eat the rest of the pastry, i.e. the disc. You will take more sensible bites and think you are really enjoying yourself. But in a few minutes you will be so full of the weird chocolate mousse-mouse that you will feel a little sick, and you will never want to see another mouse again.

2) If you see a children's book that has buttons for "music" and a big sticker on the cover of the book that says free replacement batteries for life!!! don't buy it. Maybe it's a good holiday gift for your little niece. Maybe your own son loved it so much that he picked it up and carried it around with him the whole time you were in the store. You didn't notice, but the booksellers all shot you with daggers from their eyes.
But anyway, You will hear the same 4 notes over and over and over for 30 seconds at a time, but each second will feel like an eternity. The proud new book owner will press the button again and again and again until all you can think of is the horrible 4 noted song and you slowly start to tear your own hair out. Then relief will come: the batteries will die. No! You have free replacement batteries for life, and I'm pretty sure there is a tracking device lodged in each book so that the exact second the four notes slow down even a little, new batteries will be shipped to your home and installed by professional Noisy Book Technicians and you will never get a moment's rest from the incessant four notes until you take your own life out of desperation.

paper cutting my heart

Papercuts are drawn to me. Somewhere out there, there is a being - I won't say a god, because what all-powerful deity would concentrate all his or her attention on little ol' me - a gremlin, say, that exists solely to ensure the bleeding of my fingers.

At my old job we had these heavy-duty envelopes to hold metal plates and other crap. They cut me like 3 times a week. I had a box of bandaids in my desk because of it. And they weren't little girly cuts either, they were big gory manly cuts that made me cry a little and get blood everywhere (hence the bandaids). It's amazing I didn't die from infection, what with all the people's hands those envelopes passed through and the ink that was all over them.

At my current job (soon to be my old job!) I get papercuts too. From books. That's right, those cute little picture books that children will remember for years like Where the Wild Things Are, Caps for Sale, and And Tango Makes Three. They all give me a slice in my finger. This happened yesterday while I was helping a customer, and I actually had to restrain myself from yelling FUCK. Because I could feel the book pages slicing through my skin, not separating the sides so the blood takes a little bit to start flowing. But then I could feel the air going through the place where the skin was separated, and I got that tiny sick feeling that comes with knowing you have been defeated by a shiny piece of paper.

So now my finger is wraped in a bandaid. Sadly it's like this about half the time. The bandaid was too big to satisfactorily keep my little finger free from infection, so it is held on by scotch tape.

mandatory Halloween post

Yeah I know I'm late. But my real Halloween adventures weren't until the day after... so.

First a picture of the Devil in a Blue Dress and her junkie boyfriend.


I want to point out that my new tattoo matches the design on my dress. Nobody is more coordinated than me!

I also want to point out that while doing C's makeup, I actually got a little sick from the track marks on his arm and the fake blood. I know I'm squeemish, but damn, that's a good job to make the makeup artist sick. On the way to the party, C kept getting double takes. We live near a hospital and passed a few people in scrubs who looked seriously concerned. But I assure you, it's every bit a costume. I guess it's a compliment that it was so realistic?

As for me, you know I just wanted an excuse to wear that dress, which I still love. And since I had coated my devil horns in glitter (because glitter makes everything better) they ended up matching my dress as well.

I'm sure there's more I can write about the party, but fah. The important thing here is the picture.

headaches = bad

I had the fruitlings of a migraine. It was still a headache when I tried remedying it with fruit, caffeine, chocolate, and finally, drugs. I thought it would stay at headache level. But then I had to go grocery shopping.

Bright lights? check.
Noisy everything? check.
Did I ever tell you that I hate cilantro? Well all I could smell in the produce department was cilantro.

So that was pretty neat when I couldn't see.

Then we decided to buy some plants for the house. Flower shops smell good. I am definitely pro-flower, and it turns out that flowers have the right odor combination of pleasant and not overwhelming to stave off a migraine or at least bring it back to manageable headache level. So I came home, new orange flowers in hand, and took a Simpsons-induced nap in a dark room.

Ah, life.

ah, to be a grownup

The dinner party was one of those types of parties. A grownup party. Smooth jazz was on the radio as we met up. We talked about grownup things like jobs and presidential campaigns*. We had a little wine with our fancy dinner. We all agreed dinner was tasty and during the course of the meal we had gone through 3 bottles of wine between the 5 of us.

Then it started to devolve. The first step was our hosts having us sample a vanilla liquer that had been recently procured from Mexico. Too sweet, but we used cordial glasses to taste it. Very grownup. Somewhere along the line, early 90s hip hop was playing and we finished off a bottle of vodka (coupla shots each) that our hosts wanted to be rid of. Then a bottle of tequila appeared, and it was the only kind of tequila that des will even consider drinking (Patron). But after 2 (two?) shots of that, des left the dining room because she had reached her limit. Actually, she had gone past her limit, as had everyone.

Now normally at this stage, the conversation further devolves, into more childish topics. What were we doing? I somehow ended up with a pocket-sized copy of the US Constitution (you mean your friends don't each have one? You clearly do not hang out with lawyers.) and was reading aloud as the others shouted out their fave amendments. "Read the 13th! Now the 22nd!" and sometimes would recite along with me, from memory. Frankly, I'm amazed that I could even read at that point, but I guess that's my sad superpower.

Even though I was ... not as healthy as I could have been the next day, I still chuckled over the fact that my friends are the biggest nerds ever. And have re-affirmed my self-promise to not drink that much. I wouldn't want to be caught reading the onstitution in public. I just have no self control. Alcohol makes one do crazy things.






*Ok, I admit, I wasn't really participating. But I was there listening.

why?

What was the first thing you did when you woke up this morning? Was it clean two (2) puddles of cat pee that had been left there during the night? Because that's what I did.

Luckily they were easy to clean up thanks to linoleum floors and my handy dandy mop and bucket. But I shouldn't have to be cleaning it up. Mecru has a perfectly good, clean litter box that until now he has used without fail. (And to prove my point, he used the litter box while I was cleaning up.) So what's the deal? Is he re-marking his territory because he's threatened somehow? Is he finally showing his stress about moving and having us leave, even though that was a month ago and 2 weeks ago respectively?

I read one website where the cat peed outside of the litter box, the owners ignored it, and 2 days later the cat was nearly dead from a urinary tract infection. Hey thanks for the scare. I don't think it's that, but I am still going to make an appointment with the friendly neighborhood vet. Sadly, I think we're just going to have to wait & see if he does it again, so we can get a better bearing on the situation.

Yay cat pee? No, Boo. Boo cat pee.




Also, according to everybody, today is de-lurking day. So if you read this blog and I don't know that you read it, say hi! Don't be afraid to comment. Anything you say can't be as meaningless as what I have already written. Plus, I like to keep a close watchful eye on my blog buddies....