Its gotta be the pred, all 6 of those vile, melt in your mouth steroid things that are coursing through my body at this moment to stop this ghastly poison ivy itch and give me a huge forehead and make me ineligible to play professional baseball.
Yes, I woke up this morning, rinsed off all the calamine spots and hauled my spotted butt (actually, about the only thing not affected by the poison ivy) to a Minute Clinic, conveniently located not anywhere near where I live because apparently the one near where I live isn’t there any more, even though they built a nice room for it and that’s where I went for some other incredibly badly timed whatever it was give me drugs moments.
The doctor laughed at me while pouring alcohol on everything I touched and gave me a prescription for reducing dose of Prednisone and there I was trying to wash those shit pills down, all 6 of them. I feel bad for my dog who had to take 3 of them reducing dose when we thought he had some kind of horrible auto-immune thing, but it turned out to be JUST Lyme disease (seriously, wish for the Lyme and not the auto-immune because antibiotics takes care of the Lyme, auto-immune is not so happy)... I apologize now to Sam, I’m sorry Sam. You have every right to insist that you shove my 6 melty, foul tasting pills down my throat and blow in my nose.
Ok, so lets take stock of things:
1.) covered in oozing, itchy poison ivy lesions
2.) big honking zit on side of face
3.) Jonesing for either Chantix or a smoke
4.) Still experiencing some foul gastro-intestinal things from former lover Chantix
I am a picture of sexy right now, so what would put some icing right on that cake of ghastly, what could possibly be missing when so much is raining down on me....
why of course, the crowning glory, the icing on the cake, the cherry on top... broken tooth.
Teeth should be much stronger than frozen M&Ms. I do realize that fillings may NOT be as strong as starburst fruit chews, but teeth should be able to withstand some frozen M&Ms, especially since I was eating them one at a time, allowing them to thaw somewhat in my mouth before chewing, WTF.
Of course we don’t have the wonderful Obamacare, where I’m sure that I would be able to just get up and waltz over to one of the 24 hour, 7 days a week, 365 days a year free dental clinics he promised us and get something done about this, but no.... my dental horror is premature and I must wait... like everyone else, until Monday to make an appointment with my regular dentist and get it taken care of... spending the next few days eating on the other side and getting sick to my stomach each time I feel the gaping hole with my tongue... OH SONOFA... I think my dentist is closed on Mondays... WTF, that’s 2 days before I can even call and schedule something... where’s that wonderfully free and always available healthcare I’ve been promised???? Would you stop sending Uighur terrorists to tropical vacation spots to be towel boys and get on with that whole new free always available health care program thing so I can get my tooth fixed!!!!!
Damn, now I itch again.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Are those open sores or are you just happy to see me
Oh yes, just as I expected, those vines were definitely poison ivy, either that or I’ve spontaneously broken out in leprosy. Hmmm, thrown into a nice leper colony and left alone for fear of spreading my disease to others.... ok, while tempting, if leprosy itches like poison ivy then I think I’d rather just be killed, or at the very least scratched with a rake until I bled to death. It would be the ecstasy and the agony all wrapped up into one neat bundle.
I’m slathered in some vile smelling concoction cream that screams “STOPS THE ITCH FOR UP TO 8 HOURS” on the box, but this crap has only given me, at most, a half hour of relief before I’m slathering even more on. The color is one shade of caucasian skin tone from the pink calamine crap you normally bathe in for poison ivy, which means its neon tan on my blotchy red-head skin. I look like a leper with bad body make up. I can’t wait for my client meeting tomorrow! First its iced mocha spilled in my lap, now festering sores. Oh, did I mention the huge grotesque zit on the side of my nose. I’m feeling oh so pretty!
We’re suppose to get thunder storms tonight, which means my female husky will claw me in her anxiety over the thunder. I’m actually looking forward to it, since my arms are tired from scratching my oozing skin.
I’m slathered in some vile smelling concoction cream that screams “STOPS THE ITCH FOR UP TO 8 HOURS” on the box, but this crap has only given me, at most, a half hour of relief before I’m slathering even more on. The color is one shade of caucasian skin tone from the pink calamine crap you normally bathe in for poison ivy, which means its neon tan on my blotchy red-head skin. I look like a leper with bad body make up. I can’t wait for my client meeting tomorrow! First its iced mocha spilled in my lap, now festering sores. Oh, did I mention the huge grotesque zit on the side of my nose. I’m feeling oh so pretty!
We’re suppose to get thunder storms tonight, which means my female husky will claw me in her anxiety over the thunder. I’m actually looking forward to it, since my arms are tired from scratching my oozing skin.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Gardening for neurotics
Ok, so I started with two flower beds in the front of the house that were filled with weeds and two half-dead bushes. No amount of willing it to be filled with “wildflowers” would make it less grotesque, so I ripped out the weeds and cut the half-dead bushes down to stumps.
Removing half-dead bush stumps proved too taxing after 5 minutes of trying to dig them up, so I just covered them with weed barrier and dumped 6 bags of mulch over them... not nearly enough mulch, but one interesting thing about mulch when the bag rips and it gets wet... its NASTY. Not as nasty as finding the maggot covered cat poop with my bare knee, but nasty still.
I put the decorative little wooden things around the two trees in front, but didn’t have enough mulch to put in the decorative little wooden things, so it looks like gardening done by a moron (namely me).
I’m pretty sure the vine thing growing between my edge of property and along the stupid worthless picket fence thing the crappy neighbors have allowed to gone to shit is actually poison ivy, and it really didn’t want to come out of the ground when I pulled it, nor did its vines want to be cute with the sewing scissors I brought out (because my poisonous vine cutters are in the storage room where they were used to cut up about 500lbs of styrofoam from various and sundry empty computer boxes that we were paying $165.00 a month to store... we’re taking care of that, so shut up).
Anyhoo, it was after I had ripped the probably poison ivy out of the ground and in the process rubbing it over my entire body except for the part covered in cat poop and maggots that I realized that crappy neighbor’s trees were leaning into my yard directly over my heat pump.
Crappy neighbors seemed nice enough when they moved in, but much like fish... went sour really quick when apparently they didn’t realize that homeownership requires maintenance. The first to go was the in ground pool, which they didn’t take care of and soon the liner ripped. To solve that problem, they proceeded to dump fill dirt filled with rocks into it. I think what they were aiming for was to just fill it in, but apparently had no clue that it would take half of the earth to fill in, so they gave up about 1/3 filled. In another brilliant move, they felt that since it was 1/3 filled with crappy dirt, they could just rake their leaves into it. That coupled with a good downpour or twenty created mosquito heaven. So they covered it and pretended it wasn’t there.
About 2 months ago a “pod” showed up on the driveway, and sporadically we see them carrying things out, so the pod, the fact that they haven’t mowed their grass since spring (3 months ago) and nobody ever around makes us think that they’ve foreclosed or just ran away. In the meantime we have a little amazon jungle growing next door, complete with malaria pool, and large trees sprouting right next to our fence. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.
Now, I didn’t trespass at all, in the sense that not one part of my body set foot or otherwise on their property. I don’t consider leaning over their fence on a ladder and sawing half of their tree down trespassing, but I do consider half a tree leaning into my yard and pressing against my fence a bit of an issue.
I do hope they come by to pick up more of their junk tomorrow. They might even think “hey, that looks like half of my tree neatly cut into a pile laying on our neighbor’s curb (if we had a fucking curb, cheap ass county and their $2.4 million in recycling and we don’t have a curb or a fricken street light)
I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be bitching about being covered in open sores.
Removing half-dead bush stumps proved too taxing after 5 minutes of trying to dig them up, so I just covered them with weed barrier and dumped 6 bags of mulch over them... not nearly enough mulch, but one interesting thing about mulch when the bag rips and it gets wet... its NASTY. Not as nasty as finding the maggot covered cat poop with my bare knee, but nasty still.
I put the decorative little wooden things around the two trees in front, but didn’t have enough mulch to put in the decorative little wooden things, so it looks like gardening done by a moron (namely me).
I’m pretty sure the vine thing growing between my edge of property and along the stupid worthless picket fence thing the crappy neighbors have allowed to gone to shit is actually poison ivy, and it really didn’t want to come out of the ground when I pulled it, nor did its vines want to be cute with the sewing scissors I brought out (because my poisonous vine cutters are in the storage room where they were used to cut up about 500lbs of styrofoam from various and sundry empty computer boxes that we were paying $165.00 a month to store... we’re taking care of that, so shut up).
Anyhoo, it was after I had ripped the probably poison ivy out of the ground and in the process rubbing it over my entire body except for the part covered in cat poop and maggots that I realized that crappy neighbor’s trees were leaning into my yard directly over my heat pump.
Crappy neighbors seemed nice enough when they moved in, but much like fish... went sour really quick when apparently they didn’t realize that homeownership requires maintenance. The first to go was the in ground pool, which they didn’t take care of and soon the liner ripped. To solve that problem, they proceeded to dump fill dirt filled with rocks into it. I think what they were aiming for was to just fill it in, but apparently had no clue that it would take half of the earth to fill in, so they gave up about 1/3 filled. In another brilliant move, they felt that since it was 1/3 filled with crappy dirt, they could just rake their leaves into it. That coupled with a good downpour or twenty created mosquito heaven. So they covered it and pretended it wasn’t there.
About 2 months ago a “pod” showed up on the driveway, and sporadically we see them carrying things out, so the pod, the fact that they haven’t mowed their grass since spring (3 months ago) and nobody ever around makes us think that they’ve foreclosed or just ran away. In the meantime we have a little amazon jungle growing next door, complete with malaria pool, and large trees sprouting right next to our fence. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.
Now, I didn’t trespass at all, in the sense that not one part of my body set foot or otherwise on their property. I don’t consider leaning over their fence on a ladder and sawing half of their tree down trespassing, but I do consider half a tree leaning into my yard and pressing against my fence a bit of an issue.
I do hope they come by to pick up more of their junk tomorrow. They might even think “hey, that looks like half of my tree neatly cut into a pile laying on our neighbor’s curb (if we had a fucking curb, cheap ass county and their $2.4 million in recycling and we don’t have a curb or a fricken street light)
I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be bitching about being covered in open sores.
Dear Chantix
Its been 67 days since I had a smoke.... oh glorious nicotine, how I miss you, and a decent dream that didn’t involve something stupid like Kinkajou herding in a suit of armor, or raining peeps (which seems like a fun thing until the fuckers start melting all over your car, then what are you gonna do), and I tried going off of you after day 60, because seriously how hard should it be to kick a 20 year habit and by then I would think that my body would have oozed out all of the nicotine from my system already, but NOOOOO.
I started craving yesterday and getting all antsy (which is a nice way of saying pissy and wanting to kill people), so back at the pills I go as of this morning. I was just getting use to not having strange dreams and being able to sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, but then again I did start crying at little things, like running out of pimento dip or having to put dishes in the dishwasher.
I tried something called “Rescue Remedy” which is touted as a natural sedative for dog anxiety, but in human form, and I did intend to give it to my dog during thunderstorms to keep her from panting and clawing me bloody, but since that didn’t work I figured I’d just take it and not care that she was panting and clawing me bloody, but it only lasts for a half hour at best and then I was back to wanting to strangle people and crying over Scooter Store commercials.
I find it ironic that someone on Facebook suggested I go to the vet and get some Xanax for my dog to calm her during thunderstorms, and frankly that was pretty much the last straw for me as far as life and my expensive medical plan goes. If I can just walk into a vet and get Xanax for my dog when I can’t even get my personal physician to prescribe some for me no matter how manic depressive I act when I go in there, then the world is so totally screwed up that I can’t even begin to fit in anywhere.
So, dear Chantix, I will renew my prescription AGAIN and keep taking you, even with the stupid dreams and the messed up gastro-intestinal fest, until such time that I can find a licensed physician to prescribe me something to “take the edge off” of life or the next election, whichever comes first.
I started craving yesterday and getting all antsy (which is a nice way of saying pissy and wanting to kill people), so back at the pills I go as of this morning. I was just getting use to not having strange dreams and being able to sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, but then again I did start crying at little things, like running out of pimento dip or having to put dishes in the dishwasher.
I tried something called “Rescue Remedy” which is touted as a natural sedative for dog anxiety, but in human form, and I did intend to give it to my dog during thunderstorms to keep her from panting and clawing me bloody, but since that didn’t work I figured I’d just take it and not care that she was panting and clawing me bloody, but it only lasts for a half hour at best and then I was back to wanting to strangle people and crying over Scooter Store commercials.
I find it ironic that someone on Facebook suggested I go to the vet and get some Xanax for my dog to calm her during thunderstorms, and frankly that was pretty much the last straw for me as far as life and my expensive medical plan goes. If I can just walk into a vet and get Xanax for my dog when I can’t even get my personal physician to prescribe some for me no matter how manic depressive I act when I go in there, then the world is so totally screwed up that I can’t even begin to fit in anywhere.
So, dear Chantix, I will renew my prescription AGAIN and keep taking you, even with the stupid dreams and the messed up gastro-intestinal fest, until such time that I can find a licensed physician to prescribe me something to “take the edge off” of life or the next election, whichever comes first.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Dear Chantix
Its over between us. Yes, just yesterday I was considering another month of your wonderful nauseating, bloating, mind scrambling effects, but last night’s vivid dream was the end of our relationship.
Granted, I didn’t really mind the whole getting carjacked and losing my precious RAV to hoodlums, nor was I really disturbed with being shot in the back, or having hubby complaining about bleeding on his leather seats as he drove me to the hospital.
No, the last straw for me was how you made us drive all over the place looking for a hospital because we couldn’t figure out how to make a phone call on my iPhone. I think you already know that my love for the iPhone outweighs any of the benefits you provide me. I am willing to forego the morning and evening nausea after taking you, the noxious gas, the bloated feeling, and even the “I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything” attitude that comes from not being able to have 1 clear thought for more than 2 seconds that I’ve had with you.
As I sit here, craving all manner of junk food and the potential of bloating up to a gazillion pounds and ending up on a Learning Channel show that highlights several construction workers hauling me out of the roof on a crane because I’m too big to fit through a door, at least I don’t want to smoke and that’s what you were there for. I’m going Chantix cold turkey now, mmmm turkey sandwich with deviled eggs.
So, this is good-bye... well, sorta because I know I’ll have to wean myself from you slowly, so I’ll just take you in the morning so I’ll be brain dead by day, which is what I prefer.
Granted, I didn’t really mind the whole getting carjacked and losing my precious RAV to hoodlums, nor was I really disturbed with being shot in the back, or having hubby complaining about bleeding on his leather seats as he drove me to the hospital.
No, the last straw for me was how you made us drive all over the place looking for a hospital because we couldn’t figure out how to make a phone call on my iPhone. I think you already know that my love for the iPhone outweighs any of the benefits you provide me. I am willing to forego the morning and evening nausea after taking you, the noxious gas, the bloated feeling, and even the “I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything” attitude that comes from not being able to have 1 clear thought for more than 2 seconds that I’ve had with you.
As I sit here, craving all manner of junk food and the potential of bloating up to a gazillion pounds and ending up on a Learning Channel show that highlights several construction workers hauling me out of the roof on a crane because I’m too big to fit through a door, at least I don’t want to smoke and that’s what you were there for. I’m going Chantix cold turkey now, mmmm turkey sandwich with deviled eggs.
So, this is good-bye... well, sorta because I know I’ll have to wean myself from you slowly, so I’ll just take you in the morning so I’ll be brain dead by day, which is what I prefer.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
One of "those" days
Before I go throw myself in bed and hope the Mayans were a few years off on the prediction for the end of the world and actually it will happen tomorrow so I don’t have to go to work (yes, I would rather that the whole planet die than go to work... seriously, don’t you?) let me tell you about my day.
Some of you will say “oh geez, really, that’s nothing, let me tell you about MY day” and frankly, just stop right there, I don’t want to hear it. This isn’t a contest, this is all about ME, its MY blog and dammit I had the worst day, there, blue ribbon awarded, contest over.
We start off with an idiot on the road who decided to pace me as I tried to gain enough speed to merge into the treacherous Maryland highway traffic. I nearly sideswiped said idiot because he was right in my blind spot. I slowed, so did he, I sped, so did he. Luckily the mighty 4 cylinder RAV4 was more powerful than his hunk of junk yard waste hauling truck and I outran him before I ran out of merge area... and gave him the finger. If the driver is reading this... I hope you die.
Got into the office and dragged my cup to the Flavia machine and had to wait for three other people to get their coffee before I plunked my foil packet of House Blend in the machine. It made a strange noise, puked out water all over the counter, clunked a few times then told me to call for help as it was mortally wounded. I ignored its pleas and walked over to the other kitchen place ALL the way around the stupid building and got my coffee. Luckily someone was able to fix the issue by the time I was ready for cup #2, but good gah.
When I finally did sit down I see in my e-mail that someone wants me to go to their place for a meeting in an hour. Are you freaking kidding me? I JUST sat down! I respond with a counter-office of after lunch and luckily this appeased them.
Fast forward to after lunch when I’m driving to the place to have the meeting while happily sipping my iced venti 2 pump mocha when I get a funny feeling. Funny as in cold where its not suppose to be and yes, there is the icing on the cake of my day (or so I thought) I am dribbling iced mocha all over the crotch of my tan pants. Lovely, now I look like a projectile pooped my pants or have some sort of horrendously disgusting urinary issue ( and before you laugh, there was a medical case where some guy had colostomy or something and when they hooked the plumbing back up apparently the fudge factory was connected to the lemonade factory, etc. and I’m sure its true because I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend’s aunt’s sister by marriage via e-mail).
Ok, so luckily I have a jacket in the RAV and I stylishly tie it around my waist with one arm strategically falling over the soiled area, and I totally didn’t look like a dork with poop looking stains walking into the building, nor walking around inside either.
It was at this point that I decided that the day was shot and I should just go home, so I did. Just no reason to hang around while a bird poops on my head or something worse, I’ll just go home and at least have a change of clothes.
Get home and decide to spot clean some... spots. What with two dogs with stomach issues, things were a bit out of control on the carpet, so I steam cleaned some of the more interesting areas, and then went to feed the dogs... and somehow managed to drop Loki’s full food bowl upside down on the kitchen floor. Poor pup didn’t know what to think, but helped me clean up the mess and I got him a fresh bowl of food.
I don’t even want to go into the torrential downpours, the fact that Meeshka slid in mud and dislodged one of the vital jury rigged with duct tape downspout things causing a bit of drainage problems in our back porch thing, because after the dog bowl incident, everything is pretty much a denial situation.
I just checked the weather for tonight and see that we’re suppose to get thunderstorms around 2 am, which means I will be clawed awake by a frantic, panting Meeshka and have to take refuge with her in the guest room... which is pretty much the same as our room, but apparently different in some way that calms her, but I’m stuck sleeping on a non-sleep number bed and will wake up paralyzed. So I guess tomorrow will suck too. Whoot.
Some of you will say “oh geez, really, that’s nothing, let me tell you about MY day” and frankly, just stop right there, I don’t want to hear it. This isn’t a contest, this is all about ME, its MY blog and dammit I had the worst day, there, blue ribbon awarded, contest over.
We start off with an idiot on the road who decided to pace me as I tried to gain enough speed to merge into the treacherous Maryland highway traffic. I nearly sideswiped said idiot because he was right in my blind spot. I slowed, so did he, I sped, so did he. Luckily the mighty 4 cylinder RAV4 was more powerful than his hunk of junk yard waste hauling truck and I outran him before I ran out of merge area... and gave him the finger. If the driver is reading this... I hope you die.
Got into the office and dragged my cup to the Flavia machine and had to wait for three other people to get their coffee before I plunked my foil packet of House Blend in the machine. It made a strange noise, puked out water all over the counter, clunked a few times then told me to call for help as it was mortally wounded. I ignored its pleas and walked over to the other kitchen place ALL the way around the stupid building and got my coffee. Luckily someone was able to fix the issue by the time I was ready for cup #2, but good gah.
When I finally did sit down I see in my e-mail that someone wants me to go to their place for a meeting in an hour. Are you freaking kidding me? I JUST sat down! I respond with a counter-office of after lunch and luckily this appeased them.
Fast forward to after lunch when I’m driving to the place to have the meeting while happily sipping my iced venti 2 pump mocha when I get a funny feeling. Funny as in cold where its not suppose to be and yes, there is the icing on the cake of my day (or so I thought) I am dribbling iced mocha all over the crotch of my tan pants. Lovely, now I look like a projectile pooped my pants or have some sort of horrendously disgusting urinary issue ( and before you laugh, there was a medical case where some guy had colostomy or something and when they hooked the plumbing back up apparently the fudge factory was connected to the lemonade factory, etc. and I’m sure its true because I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend’s aunt’s sister by marriage via e-mail).
Ok, so luckily I have a jacket in the RAV and I stylishly tie it around my waist with one arm strategically falling over the soiled area, and I totally didn’t look like a dork with poop looking stains walking into the building, nor walking around inside either.
It was at this point that I decided that the day was shot and I should just go home, so I did. Just no reason to hang around while a bird poops on my head or something worse, I’ll just go home and at least have a change of clothes.
Get home and decide to spot clean some... spots. What with two dogs with stomach issues, things were a bit out of control on the carpet, so I steam cleaned some of the more interesting areas, and then went to feed the dogs... and somehow managed to drop Loki’s full food bowl upside down on the kitchen floor. Poor pup didn’t know what to think, but helped me clean up the mess and I got him a fresh bowl of food.
I don’t even want to go into the torrential downpours, the fact that Meeshka slid in mud and dislodged one of the vital jury rigged with duct tape downspout things causing a bit of drainage problems in our back porch thing, because after the dog bowl incident, everything is pretty much a denial situation.
I just checked the weather for tonight and see that we’re suppose to get thunderstorms around 2 am, which means I will be clawed awake by a frantic, panting Meeshka and have to take refuge with her in the guest room... which is pretty much the same as our room, but apparently different in some way that calms her, but I’m stuck sleeping on a non-sleep number bed and will wake up paralyzed. So I guess tomorrow will suck too. Whoot.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
I can't remember
Ok, this whole scatterbrained thing of Chantix has now affected how I take Chantix in that I can’t remember if I took my evening dose of it or not.. now what? Next thing you know I’ll have to set alarms to remind me to go take it, and lay out the pills in little containers that denote the day and time and then the alarm will go off and I’ll get confused and get dressed and go to work at 5pm or something stupid.
Of course I have been considering the possibility that tobacco has killed every last one of my brain cells and I’ll be like this for the rest of my life (except without the gas) and frankly, I’m ok with that really. Apparently when I was coherent I actually worried about things that I didn’t need to worry about, and things actually got done relatively on time (except for sending birthday cards, that never got done on time, so I just started sending birthday cards randomly, because frankly I think its nicer to get a birthday card out of the blue rather than on the day you expect to get a birthday card).
Ok, where was I, yes, the forgetting thing, and since I forgot what I was saying I will say that I had a rip roaring weekend with Icky who drove up here in her rental “car”. I call it a “car” because it had these things you turned to roll down the window, there was no beepy beepy thing that locked and unlocked it, and frankly I was surprised it moved. The lack of technology was astounding... how did people live without power everything?
We hit the thrift store and saw a dude looked like a lady doing some shopping, we mocked the clothes, the people, the fact that workers hung naked barbie dolls in plastic bags, and couldn’t really figure out the whole random stuff in a bag as it didn’t have a common theme (toys and rat poison in one bag... party streamers and condolence cards) we rather liked the whole macabre setting of it though.
What friend visit is complete without a trip to the firing range and lots of eating out. Unfortunately on the new chantix gas, exercise, and no fat diet, the fact that we ate at Red Robin before she left today was a disaster of mammoth proportions about an hour later. Speaking of, one of my pups has the runs and that was yet another fun fest that welcomed hubby and I home. Poor sickly poo tummy pup must have eaten some bad grubs or something. He’s the wee baby of the lot of them, a mamma’s dog that hubby calls a bitchy little girl. Mamma’s dog is competing with Chantix on the international gas off right now, my eyes are watering and I may have to flee the room except for the fact that my ass will still follow me... DAMN YOU RED ROBIN HAMBURGER!!!!!
Gleefully I did not watch any news or read any news web sites, so I can only assume that the world has succumbed to swine flu, the current administration not only spent all of the U.S. money but now feels entitled to spend the money of British citizens, and tomorrow will still be monday and I’ll have to work... sonofa....
Of course I have been considering the possibility that tobacco has killed every last one of my brain cells and I’ll be like this for the rest of my life (except without the gas) and frankly, I’m ok with that really. Apparently when I was coherent I actually worried about things that I didn’t need to worry about, and things actually got done relatively on time (except for sending birthday cards, that never got done on time, so I just started sending birthday cards randomly, because frankly I think its nicer to get a birthday card out of the blue rather than on the day you expect to get a birthday card).
Ok, where was I, yes, the forgetting thing, and since I forgot what I was saying I will say that I had a rip roaring weekend with Icky who drove up here in her rental “car”. I call it a “car” because it had these things you turned to roll down the window, there was no beepy beepy thing that locked and unlocked it, and frankly I was surprised it moved. The lack of technology was astounding... how did people live without power everything?
We hit the thrift store and saw a dude looked like a lady doing some shopping, we mocked the clothes, the people, the fact that workers hung naked barbie dolls in plastic bags, and couldn’t really figure out the whole random stuff in a bag as it didn’t have a common theme (toys and rat poison in one bag... party streamers and condolence cards) we rather liked the whole macabre setting of it though.
What friend visit is complete without a trip to the firing range and lots of eating out. Unfortunately on the new chantix gas, exercise, and no fat diet, the fact that we ate at Red Robin before she left today was a disaster of mammoth proportions about an hour later. Speaking of, one of my pups has the runs and that was yet another fun fest that welcomed hubby and I home. Poor sickly poo tummy pup must have eaten some bad grubs or something. He’s the wee baby of the lot of them, a mamma’s dog that hubby calls a bitchy little girl. Mamma’s dog is competing with Chantix on the international gas off right now, my eyes are watering and I may have to flee the room except for the fact that my ass will still follow me... DAMN YOU RED ROBIN HAMBURGER!!!!!
Gleefully I did not watch any news or read any news web sites, so I can only assume that the world has succumbed to swine flu, the current administration not only spent all of the U.S. money but now feels entitled to spend the money of British citizens, and tomorrow will still be monday and I’ll have to work... sonofa....
Friday, May 1, 2009
What a Wonderful Day
Yesterday I got my new passport in the mail. It came with a brochure that gave you all sorts of info (sign the stupid thing in pen, put your address and ER contact in pencil, don’t lose it moron), and on the back of the pamphlet there is a handy Influenza Pandemic blurb complete with web site... um, do influenza pandemics break out all over the world without my knowledge or was this just a wacky coincidence that there’s one going on right now?
After Wii cardio kicked my butt, I got out of the house to run my friday chores. Had to pick up a refill on the beautiful Chantix (I admit dear Chantix, I did take three puffs from a menthol cig the other day, then spent the next hour dry heaving... I’ve learned (sigh) yes I have), which required me to go to a drugstore... during a pandemic... sonofa...
Yep, you betcha. Despite the fact that all of 8 people in Maryland HAD what they suspect was swine flu (but have recovered without hospitalization and absolutely no bad mojo) and are STILL waiting for the official results, and despite the fact that the Governor has convened a “Swine Flu Advisory Board” (cha ching, taxpayer money go flush), there was someone in the pharmacy drive through window screaming at the technician that they wanted FIVE packs of paper masks and why can’t she go get the Tami-flu stuff from the store and bring it to her. I laughed. I laughed harder when the tech said “ma’am, you have your paper mask, come into the store and get it yourself, this is the window for prescriptions”. I hear they closed a school... the horses must still be in their barn there.
Speaking of horses, I’ve decided that on my resume I’m going to put that I own two horse racing tracks, several banks and 2 car manufacturers.
After the terror of the swine flu pharmacy visit, I went to eat at a spot that we call the “usual friday lunch spot”. We loved this place, just opened, the bartender is fantastic, food is fantastic, service is fantastic, prices are pretty good, but its a comfortable place to go. Except that apparently bartender is no longer there, service sucks, the food is going downhill, and the waiter actually hounded our party to look over timeshare pamphlets from his second job. Um... so much for the “usual friday lunch spot”.
Icky is driving up so we can Thelma and Louise all weekend. This, of course, meant that the home alarm system went bat shit and started beeping wildly. Apparently the back up battery is dying, as batteries tend to do. The helpful help guy that I called said we can just go out and get another, we only have to wrap some wires on the thing and... um, F that, I pay for a maintenance agreement so
a.) why didn’t someone call and tell me “hey, your battery is old, better replace it, and
b.) I pay a maintenance agreement, get one of your techs out to do it
So, monday from 8am until the third of 2010, a technician will be out. Great. In the meantime we can expect the random beeping of the ”battery is dying“ thing... hey, we didn’t want to leave the house this weekend anyway, really... f’ers.
I think that Icky and I will go buy some $540 sneakers and go help out at a homeless shelter... ok, screw that, I’m wearing 2 year old chucks that I got on sale for $15 and going to a thrift store. What says ”F YOU“ better than wearing $540 sneakers at a food bank as you hand out some cake. I take my three dogs out at 5 a.m. and feed them every morning (before going to a full time job) and I do it in a pair of Walmart knock off sneakers... because cleaning poop off of Lanvin and Gucci is just too much work. My all time favorite quote is: “They’re shoes,” the First Lady’s reps sniffed when curious reporters inquired about the fancy footwear.“ Um... you want us to tighten our belts while you blow money on $540 shoes, fly Air Force One and scare the shit out of New York, and the myriad of other ways you shovel OUR money out the door... hello, media? Sara Palin wardrobe frenzy and yet here... nothing?
After Wii cardio kicked my butt, I got out of the house to run my friday chores. Had to pick up a refill on the beautiful Chantix (I admit dear Chantix, I did take three puffs from a menthol cig the other day, then spent the next hour dry heaving... I’ve learned (sigh) yes I have), which required me to go to a drugstore... during a pandemic... sonofa...
Yep, you betcha. Despite the fact that all of 8 people in Maryland HAD what they suspect was swine flu (but have recovered without hospitalization and absolutely no bad mojo) and are STILL waiting for the official results, and despite the fact that the Governor has convened a “Swine Flu Advisory Board” (cha ching, taxpayer money go flush), there was someone in the pharmacy drive through window screaming at the technician that they wanted FIVE packs of paper masks and why can’t she go get the Tami-flu stuff from the store and bring it to her. I laughed. I laughed harder when the tech said “ma’am, you have your paper mask, come into the store and get it yourself, this is the window for prescriptions”. I hear they closed a school... the horses must still be in their barn there.
Speaking of horses, I’ve decided that on my resume I’m going to put that I own two horse racing tracks, several banks and 2 car manufacturers.
After the terror of the swine flu pharmacy visit, I went to eat at a spot that we call the “usual friday lunch spot”. We loved this place, just opened, the bartender is fantastic, food is fantastic, service is fantastic, prices are pretty good, but its a comfortable place to go. Except that apparently bartender is no longer there, service sucks, the food is going downhill, and the waiter actually hounded our party to look over timeshare pamphlets from his second job. Um... so much for the “usual friday lunch spot”.
Icky is driving up so we can Thelma and Louise all weekend. This, of course, meant that the home alarm system went bat shit and started beeping wildly. Apparently the back up battery is dying, as batteries tend to do. The helpful help guy that I called said we can just go out and get another, we only have to wrap some wires on the thing and... um, F that, I pay for a maintenance agreement so
a.) why didn’t someone call and tell me “hey, your battery is old, better replace it, and
b.) I pay a maintenance agreement, get one of your techs out to do it
So, monday from 8am until the third of 2010, a technician will be out. Great. In the meantime we can expect the random beeping of the ”battery is dying“ thing... hey, we didn’t want to leave the house this weekend anyway, really... f’ers.
I think that Icky and I will go buy some $540 sneakers and go help out at a homeless shelter... ok, screw that, I’m wearing 2 year old chucks that I got on sale for $15 and going to a thrift store. What says ”F YOU“ better than wearing $540 sneakers at a food bank as you hand out some cake. I take my three dogs out at 5 a.m. and feed them every morning (before going to a full time job) and I do it in a pair of Walmart knock off sneakers... because cleaning poop off of Lanvin and Gucci is just too much work. My all time favorite quote is: “They’re shoes,” the First Lady’s reps sniffed when curious reporters inquired about the fancy footwear.“ Um... you want us to tighten our belts while you blow money on $540 shoes, fly Air Force One and scare the shit out of New York, and the myriad of other ways you shovel OUR money out the door... hello, media? Sara Palin wardrobe frenzy and yet here... nothing?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Procrastination, its an art form
Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to blog all about the whole quitting smoking thing, but apparently one of the gifts of Chantix is a raging “I don’t give a crap about anything” attitude, which includes housework, breathing, that sort of thing.
I’m a professional procrastinator by trade, but I was a worrying procrastinator. I wouldn’t do something on my list, then I would worry about it, berate myself privately (in my head... sometimes) about not getting something simple done and vowing to do it the next day, then repeat.
The wonders of Chantix have apparently freed me from the grip of worry. Now I seriously don’t give a rat’s ass if stuff gets done or not. Whatever, F it. This would probably explain why I agreed to get a Wii Fit and other Wii gear today. Well, that and I feel like a big bloated toad and ever since hubby quit smoking he’s gained a few suit sizes. What better way to lose weight than playing games in your house. Also good for relieving stress so you aren’t tempted to strangle the dry cleaning lady who asks three times what kind of starch you want in the shirts... really, how loud must I scream?
Part of the issue with me at the moment seems to be a feeling of fullness, and simply put, thanks to another beautious side effect of Chantix, I can’t remember the last time I poo’d. Guess I should have thrown a TMI warning in front of that, but hey, deal with it because remember... I don’t care.
So, yeah, I figure that any day now I’ll explode or perforate a bowel or something, but hey... I’m not smoking, so whoot! Frankly, I’m quite pleased that I have the trifecta or whatever of common symptoms and relieved I don’t have the last one because frankly I would do whatever it takes NOT to puke.
Anyhoo, it was off to my favorite place, Target, to get the Wii Fit thing, because they didn’t have any at the local Buy More (aka Best Buy in case you aren’t a “Chuck” geek), and that’s where hubby had reserved all of the other stuff... but they were out of the Fit, so I trudged to Target.
Another lovely symptom that isn’t listed on the Chantix list of crap you’ll suffer through to become a non-smoker is the “distracted by shiny objects” symptom. I’m actually quite dangerous on the road on this crap because I’m ALL OVER THE PLACE except on the road looking at pretty things, staring at buzzards (who circle me wherever I go... such smart birds), and in the Wii aisle of Target I was mesmerized by the Wii video... so much so that a Target salesperson actually noticed me and approached me... I must have been standing there for hours.
Once again, the Chantix was a talking when he asked if I needed anything and I said something like “well, duh” and pointed at the Wii Fit and I also threw in the Gold’s Gym sure to give you a cardiac workout thing while babbling something about gum. He rang me up quickly and then told me to have fun, to which my automatic response was... with anything that everyone says to me... “You too!”
Have a nice trip! YOU TOO!!!!! Even though your a travel agent and not going anywhere, I’m not a moron at all, YOU TOO!!! I skipped away from the counter, set off the alarm at the door, did a big graceful bow while holding my receipt high into the air and skipped out into the parking lot, only to realize that I had no idea where I parked. Have I mentioned that I’m a mess lately?
Met hubby at the Buy More, got the rest of the stuff, and then I was hit with the uncontrollable need for guacamole, so hubby went off for sushi, I hit Baja Fresh and got steak quesadillas with extra guacamole. As I was driving home, I was holding the guacamole container in the hand that I was steering with and using my free hand to dip chips into it... just as a commercial came on telling teens not to text or talk or do anything while they are driving and that parents should set a good example as well... which is why I don’t have kids or if I did they’d be dead by now.
So generally, that’s an update on the whole stop smoking thing, which took me roughly 3 hours to type up because I kept getting distracted by shiny piece of paper and string.
I’m a professional procrastinator by trade, but I was a worrying procrastinator. I wouldn’t do something on my list, then I would worry about it, berate myself privately (in my head... sometimes) about not getting something simple done and vowing to do it the next day, then repeat.
The wonders of Chantix have apparently freed me from the grip of worry. Now I seriously don’t give a rat’s ass if stuff gets done or not. Whatever, F it. This would probably explain why I agreed to get a Wii Fit and other Wii gear today. Well, that and I feel like a big bloated toad and ever since hubby quit smoking he’s gained a few suit sizes. What better way to lose weight than playing games in your house. Also good for relieving stress so you aren’t tempted to strangle the dry cleaning lady who asks three times what kind of starch you want in the shirts... really, how loud must I scream?
Part of the issue with me at the moment seems to be a feeling of fullness, and simply put, thanks to another beautious side effect of Chantix, I can’t remember the last time I poo’d. Guess I should have thrown a TMI warning in front of that, but hey, deal with it because remember... I don’t care.
So, yeah, I figure that any day now I’ll explode or perforate a bowel or something, but hey... I’m not smoking, so whoot! Frankly, I’m quite pleased that I have the trifecta or whatever of common symptoms and relieved I don’t have the last one because frankly I would do whatever it takes NOT to puke.
Anyhoo, it was off to my favorite place, Target, to get the Wii Fit thing, because they didn’t have any at the local Buy More (aka Best Buy in case you aren’t a “Chuck” geek), and that’s where hubby had reserved all of the other stuff... but they were out of the Fit, so I trudged to Target.
Another lovely symptom that isn’t listed on the Chantix list of crap you’ll suffer through to become a non-smoker is the “distracted by shiny objects” symptom. I’m actually quite dangerous on the road on this crap because I’m ALL OVER THE PLACE except on the road looking at pretty things, staring at buzzards (who circle me wherever I go... such smart birds), and in the Wii aisle of Target I was mesmerized by the Wii video... so much so that a Target salesperson actually noticed me and approached me... I must have been standing there for hours.
Once again, the Chantix was a talking when he asked if I needed anything and I said something like “well, duh” and pointed at the Wii Fit and I also threw in the Gold’s Gym sure to give you a cardiac workout thing while babbling something about gum. He rang me up quickly and then told me to have fun, to which my automatic response was... with anything that everyone says to me... “You too!”
Have a nice trip! YOU TOO!!!!! Even though your a travel agent and not going anywhere, I’m not a moron at all, YOU TOO!!! I skipped away from the counter, set off the alarm at the door, did a big graceful bow while holding my receipt high into the air and skipped out into the parking lot, only to realize that I had no idea where I parked. Have I mentioned that I’m a mess lately?
Met hubby at the Buy More, got the rest of the stuff, and then I was hit with the uncontrollable need for guacamole, so hubby went off for sushi, I hit Baja Fresh and got steak quesadillas with extra guacamole. As I was driving home, I was holding the guacamole container in the hand that I was steering with and using my free hand to dip chips into it... just as a commercial came on telling teens not to text or talk or do anything while they are driving and that parents should set a good example as well... which is why I don’t have kids or if I did they’d be dead by now.
So generally, that’s an update on the whole stop smoking thing, which took me roughly 3 hours to type up because I kept getting distracted by shiny piece of paper and string.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Oh You Beautiful Dreamer
I have to say that I totally enjoy the Chantix warnings I receive both personally and on the blog. I love all of the first hand, second hand, third hand, heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who.... oh, sorry for the REO Speedwagon lapse there.
Unfortunately I haven’t experienced any psychotic episodes, sleep driving, attempts to smother my husband while he sleeps or any of the other things that others have warned me of and frankly... I’m really disappointed! I mean come on, I pay a buttload of money a month for high end health insurance and if I’m going to get a nice prescription drug I want some side effects, so I say BRING IT ON!!!
About all I’ve had is bloating and gas, which is inconvenient, but I do say that the doubled-over stomach cramps do come in handy as I used it today when a co-worker was all like “did you lose a contact, why are you doubled over?” and I told him that the ER said is was a burst appendix or something, but I knew how much he wanted that stupid document finished, so I came in anyway, then farted and walked away.
I do enjoy the vivid dreams, although last night’s installment included a dream I keep having (for some odd reason and if anyone has any ideas, please post them in the comments) where I’m someplace and no matter what bathroom I go to, all of the toilets are malfunctioning in some heinous way. Typically the dream ends with me frantically running to the next toilet with a bursting bladder, but last night’s episode ended with me peeing on a couch. No idea what’s up with that.
The second vivid dream was that hubby and I were on vacation with our penguin. Yep, went to Florida or someplace warm with our trained penguin and we enjoyed the beaches and stuff, but when the penguin and I jumped into the pool, the penguin facade washed off and it was a pug, who apparently couldn’t swim. I saved it. Once again... no clue on that one.
I have noticed another fun festive side effect and that’s the attention span of a 2 year old, but seriously... I think I was like that before Chantix, so maybe it just enhances it because I can have some seriously cool daydreams going on, except that they too are very disjointed and weird, like when my dogs roll over on the remote control and the DirecTV goes nuts.
At one point today I knew perfectly well that it was Tuesday but for about 10 minutes thought it was actually Wednesday and was so happy that I planned to do stuff Thursday and got excited that tomorrow was Thursday, but tomorrow is actually Wednesday and if I had a lighter with me I would have set myself aflame. Oh, and my face is breaking out, but I’m blaming the new Almay junk I bought or it could be the stupid grapefruit soap gel junk from Costco, regardless, it probably has nothing to do with quitting smoking and my picking at my face like a junkie withdrawing from heroin.
Hiccups seem to be an annoying thing. Got those with the ass lozenges, but they are continuing on the Chantix. I’m thinking its from the wads of gum that I chew to keep from picking at my face and twitching. At this point I’ve experienced every type of annoying and disgusting bodily function except crapping myself and I figure that’s only a matter of time.
Oh, then there’s the procrastination thing... ok, shut up, yes I did that BEFORE Chantix, but how am I suppose to get enough class action lawsuit evidence if you keep ratting me out.
Unfortunately I haven’t experienced any psychotic episodes, sleep driving, attempts to smother my husband while he sleeps or any of the other things that others have warned me of and frankly... I’m really disappointed! I mean come on, I pay a buttload of money a month for high end health insurance and if I’m going to get a nice prescription drug I want some side effects, so I say BRING IT ON!!!
About all I’ve had is bloating and gas, which is inconvenient, but I do say that the doubled-over stomach cramps do come in handy as I used it today when a co-worker was all like “did you lose a contact, why are you doubled over?” and I told him that the ER said is was a burst appendix or something, but I knew how much he wanted that stupid document finished, so I came in anyway, then farted and walked away.
I do enjoy the vivid dreams, although last night’s installment included a dream I keep having (for some odd reason and if anyone has any ideas, please post them in the comments) where I’m someplace and no matter what bathroom I go to, all of the toilets are malfunctioning in some heinous way. Typically the dream ends with me frantically running to the next toilet with a bursting bladder, but last night’s episode ended with me peeing on a couch. No idea what’s up with that.
The second vivid dream was that hubby and I were on vacation with our penguin. Yep, went to Florida or someplace warm with our trained penguin and we enjoyed the beaches and stuff, but when the penguin and I jumped into the pool, the penguin facade washed off and it was a pug, who apparently couldn’t swim. I saved it. Once again... no clue on that one.
I have noticed another fun festive side effect and that’s the attention span of a 2 year old, but seriously... I think I was like that before Chantix, so maybe it just enhances it because I can have some seriously cool daydreams going on, except that they too are very disjointed and weird, like when my dogs roll over on the remote control and the DirecTV goes nuts.
At one point today I knew perfectly well that it was Tuesday but for about 10 minutes thought it was actually Wednesday and was so happy that I planned to do stuff Thursday and got excited that tomorrow was Thursday, but tomorrow is actually Wednesday and if I had a lighter with me I would have set myself aflame. Oh, and my face is breaking out, but I’m blaming the new Almay junk I bought or it could be the stupid grapefruit soap gel junk from Costco, regardless, it probably has nothing to do with quitting smoking and my picking at my face like a junkie withdrawing from heroin.
Hiccups seem to be an annoying thing. Got those with the ass lozenges, but they are continuing on the Chantix. I’m thinking its from the wads of gum that I chew to keep from picking at my face and twitching. At this point I’ve experienced every type of annoying and disgusting bodily function except crapping myself and I figure that’s only a matter of time.
Oh, then there’s the procrastination thing... ok, shut up, yes I did that BEFORE Chantix, but how am I suppose to get enough class action lawsuit evidence if you keep ratting me out.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Chantix, I love you
If I wasn’t spayed I’d certainly offer to have Chantix’s babies. Heck I could also be doing that surrogate thing and just selling babies for money. I should have considered that before I had the doctor take a melon baller to my reproductive organs. Who knew that human puppy mills would be the rage new “at home” business.
As you can see, this won’t be a whole rant about sucking ass lozenges, as I’m no longer doing that. Nope, I’m polluting my kidneys with the lovely Chantix (which doesn’t pain me so), and am only feeling a tad bit anxious on it.
The morning that I started, I’m glad I had it because I woke up and my mouth tasted as though someone had poured an entire container of celery salt in my mouth. SERIOUSLY, it was the most foul taste I’ve ever tasted (well, actually, now that you mention it, there are a few others) but for no reason waking up and tasting like celery salt... so totally vile and wrong.
I haven’t had too many issues with the Chantix yet, although I did clear the room the other day, but it was only my husband, so that doesn’t count. The dogs haven’t tried to roll on me like a dead thing, so I think I’ll be manageable this time around. I am snacking, so we went to Costco and bought tasty but non fattening things that we’ll end up eating entire containers of, thus defeating the whole non-fattening aspect of them. So far I’ve become addicted to the fruit chew things that are nice and gooey, but not AS chewy as gummi bears, and aren’t AS laden in sugar as gummi bears. We also bought some fruit... in the form of banana nut muffins, and nuts... in the form of some form of pecan muffins. Ok, we bought apples and pears too, so shut up. I also bought the big bulk thing of Orbit (dirty mouth... you betcha).
I have started having pretty vivid dreams, but nothing like killing or maiming people. So far there was the one where I lost one of our dogs, but found her (she was following someone that had food) and then there was the one where I got a $300 bill for driving drunk, but I didn’t drive drunk, so I woke up exhausted from screaming at DMV. Can’t wait for tonight’s episodes!!!
What with all this quitting things I don’t actually need in my life, I’m going through a phase where I’m all like “hmmm, what else can I dump?” So I’m doing some soul searching, and some very major procrastination, and avoidance techniques to see what I do now, that I won’t do for a while, and if I can just stop doing it and nobody notices, then I’ll just not do it at all anymore. I’m very excited about this “soul cleansing” thing, as I do a whole bunch of stuff that takes up a LOT of my time and leaves me hardly any time to cartoon, write (as in serious writing, but not writing seriously, you know serious things, except for general political rants about stupidity... note to self, explaining stuff is something I need to stop doing as it wastes time), so yeah, I’m doing a mental yard sale, where none of the crap I give up will get me any money, but it will leave me time to do the things that I can make money from, and frankly, that’s what I’m all about from now on... you can send me a check for this post as soon as you’re done reading it... just kidding.... sorta.
Oh, and I felt so good and motivated and all that crap this morning, that I bathed Meeshka... see her blog for the gory details... well, wait an hour, she hasn’t posted it yet.
As you can see, this won’t be a whole rant about sucking ass lozenges, as I’m no longer doing that. Nope, I’m polluting my kidneys with the lovely Chantix (which doesn’t pain me so), and am only feeling a tad bit anxious on it.
The morning that I started, I’m glad I had it because I woke up and my mouth tasted as though someone had poured an entire container of celery salt in my mouth. SERIOUSLY, it was the most foul taste I’ve ever tasted (well, actually, now that you mention it, there are a few others) but for no reason waking up and tasting like celery salt... so totally vile and wrong.
I haven’t had too many issues with the Chantix yet, although I did clear the room the other day, but it was only my husband, so that doesn’t count. The dogs haven’t tried to roll on me like a dead thing, so I think I’ll be manageable this time around. I am snacking, so we went to Costco and bought tasty but non fattening things that we’ll end up eating entire containers of, thus defeating the whole non-fattening aspect of them. So far I’ve become addicted to the fruit chew things that are nice and gooey, but not AS chewy as gummi bears, and aren’t AS laden in sugar as gummi bears. We also bought some fruit... in the form of banana nut muffins, and nuts... in the form of some form of pecan muffins. Ok, we bought apples and pears too, so shut up. I also bought the big bulk thing of Orbit (dirty mouth... you betcha).
I have started having pretty vivid dreams, but nothing like killing or maiming people. So far there was the one where I lost one of our dogs, but found her (she was following someone that had food) and then there was the one where I got a $300 bill for driving drunk, but I didn’t drive drunk, so I woke up exhausted from screaming at DMV. Can’t wait for tonight’s episodes!!!
What with all this quitting things I don’t actually need in my life, I’m going through a phase where I’m all like “hmmm, what else can I dump?” So I’m doing some soul searching, and some very major procrastination, and avoidance techniques to see what I do now, that I won’t do for a while, and if I can just stop doing it and nobody notices, then I’ll just not do it at all anymore. I’m very excited about this “soul cleansing” thing, as I do a whole bunch of stuff that takes up a LOT of my time and leaves me hardly any time to cartoon, write (as in serious writing, but not writing seriously, you know serious things, except for general political rants about stupidity... note to self, explaining stuff is something I need to stop doing as it wastes time), so yeah, I’m doing a mental yard sale, where none of the crap I give up will get me any money, but it will leave me time to do the things that I can make money from, and frankly, that’s what I’m all about from now on... you can send me a check for this post as soon as you’re done reading it... just kidding.... sorta.
Oh, and I felt so good and motivated and all that crap this morning, that I bathed Meeshka... see her blog for the gory details... well, wait an hour, she hasn’t posted it yet.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Lozenges: Day 5,000,495,295
Subtitle: blech
Ok, its only been two days on the lozenges and I just have to say, in case I wasn’t clear about it yesterday: ASS THEY TASTE LIKE ASS... but oddly I’m getting use to sucking ass and sometimes it seems bearable, but other times I want to throw myself out of a window, but I work on the 2nd floor, so that would only be prolonging the pain unless a cute ambulance guy offers me a smoke on the way to the ER. I guess I could ask for a 12 week coma, then wake up refreshed and smoke-free. Why isn’t that offered as a choice for quitting?
Bright and early the moment I got into the office and spewed out the foul lozenge so I could drink coffee I dialed my doctor’s office and asked, nay, BEGGED for a Chantix prescription. I even spelled out “tastes like butt” to the woman taking the message so my doctor would know A.) it was actually me calling, and B.) it wasn’t a cruel april fools joke that I was quitting and needed some serious pill action. (Note: as of 3pm no prescription called in, so either there were stupid sick people in front of my request, or I need to call again when its not april fools).
Like a trooper, I continued to pop these vile things all day and kept harassing the pharmacy people with increasingly irate phone calls asking if my prescription was called in. By the time I left for work I was cursing every driver in front of me (since I live in Maryland, all cursing was for a valid reason as it was starting to rain, and every time water falls from the sky here in Maryland, the drivers go insane).
I think part of the problem I’m having is that I’m not a sucking type of person. I don’t like life savers, tic tacs or even gum for that matter. I attribute a lot of this to my childhood when my mother left me in the car while she ran into a drugstore for something. Those were the good ol days when you could willy nilly leave your kids in the car without fear of child rapists swooping by and stealing us, or gypsies... gypsies were the people my parents always threatened to give me to, but they never made good on that promise. Ok, back to being in the car alone, except alone means with my sister, and frankly that’s about as good as being alone as she’s a little bit... touched in the head. Ok, back to the reason why I don’t suck on hard candy, and that’s because I totally inhaled a stupid lifesaver candy and nearly died. Nearly died as in I couldn’t breathe for a bit, choked and hacked it up. Another reason why you can’t leave your kids in the car, especially with hard candy or weapons, I just ruined it for everyone. Of course had I died it would have taught my mom a valuable lesson in that if you leave small children in the car with hard candy they may die and are worthless bartering tools for gypsies.
So, being forced (on a timeline) to suck these stupid ass tasting things without chewing them is practically forcing me to relive the horrible drug store episode where I nearly died alone (remember, sister is a zucchini in the head, I would have stood a better chance with an untrained beagle giving me the Heimlich). Ok, I don’t relive my near-death-experience thing, I just hate sucking on things that slowly melt in your mouth and leave a goopy film on your teeth especially when they taste like ass, and apparently give you the hiccups.
For those of you who are saying “how do you know what ass tastes like” I say... oh come on! Like you don’t know?
Ok, its only been two days on the lozenges and I just have to say, in case I wasn’t clear about it yesterday: ASS THEY TASTE LIKE ASS... but oddly I’m getting use to sucking ass and sometimes it seems bearable, but other times I want to throw myself out of a window, but I work on the 2nd floor, so that would only be prolonging the pain unless a cute ambulance guy offers me a smoke on the way to the ER. I guess I could ask for a 12 week coma, then wake up refreshed and smoke-free. Why isn’t that offered as a choice for quitting?
Bright and early the moment I got into the office and spewed out the foul lozenge so I could drink coffee I dialed my doctor’s office and asked, nay, BEGGED for a Chantix prescription. I even spelled out “tastes like butt” to the woman taking the message so my doctor would know A.) it was actually me calling, and B.) it wasn’t a cruel april fools joke that I was quitting and needed some serious pill action. (Note: as of 3pm no prescription called in, so either there were stupid sick people in front of my request, or I need to call again when its not april fools).
Like a trooper, I continued to pop these vile things all day and kept harassing the pharmacy people with increasingly irate phone calls asking if my prescription was called in. By the time I left for work I was cursing every driver in front of me (since I live in Maryland, all cursing was for a valid reason as it was starting to rain, and every time water falls from the sky here in Maryland, the drivers go insane).
I think part of the problem I’m having is that I’m not a sucking type of person. I don’t like life savers, tic tacs or even gum for that matter. I attribute a lot of this to my childhood when my mother left me in the car while she ran into a drugstore for something. Those were the good ol days when you could willy nilly leave your kids in the car without fear of child rapists swooping by and stealing us, or gypsies... gypsies were the people my parents always threatened to give me to, but they never made good on that promise. Ok, back to being in the car alone, except alone means with my sister, and frankly that’s about as good as being alone as she’s a little bit... touched in the head. Ok, back to the reason why I don’t suck on hard candy, and that’s because I totally inhaled a stupid lifesaver candy and nearly died. Nearly died as in I couldn’t breathe for a bit, choked and hacked it up. Another reason why you can’t leave your kids in the car, especially with hard candy or weapons, I just ruined it for everyone. Of course had I died it would have taught my mom a valuable lesson in that if you leave small children in the car with hard candy they may die and are worthless bartering tools for gypsies.
So, being forced (on a timeline) to suck these stupid ass tasting things without chewing them is practically forcing me to relive the horrible drug store episode where I nearly died alone (remember, sister is a zucchini in the head, I would have stood a better chance with an untrained beagle giving me the Heimlich). Ok, I don’t relive my near-death-experience thing, I just hate sucking on things that slowly melt in your mouth and leave a goopy film on your teeth especially when they taste like ass, and apparently give you the hiccups.
For those of you who are saying “how do you know what ass tastes like” I say... oh come on! Like you don’t know?
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