The Art of the Deal

We cancelled DirecTV and Comcast and went with Verizon FIOS for all of our cabley, landliney, internety things. We refuse to use them for mobley phoney things as you will need to pry our iPhones from our cold dead hands first, and frankly if this damn cold that isn’t swine flu doesn’t go away soon... I’m just sayin.

Anyhooo, this morning I get a phone call. Normally I don’t answer calls from our home phone because we never give anyone we like our home phone number. Businesses and annoying people get our home number and if you are reading this and have our home number... yeah, sorry, you suck.

I’m guessing that the Dayquil had something to do with me actually answering the home number, especially when it came up as some obscure 888 number, which usually means telemarketer. Ok, whatever, I answer, and its Comcast! If you ever want cheaper service and more channels, all you have to do is threaten to cancel or even cancel and they call you non-stop, begging you to come back. Its like an old girlfriend or something, except more pathetic.

Desperate Comcast Telemarketer: What if we throw in HD channels and faster internet?

Me: I want a pony.

DCT: ..... excuse me?

Me: A pony, a cute pony that I can ride, but I actually don’t want to take care of during the week, so can you bring me a pony on the weekends where I can show my friends and pet it and do things with it like take it for ice cream, but don’t actually have to care for it.

DCT: You mean a real pony?

Me: Of course a real pony! I can just go out and get a fake plastic pony any time, but if you want me to switch AGAIN over to Comcast, I mean come on, you have to make it worth my while.

DCT: I can’t give you a pony

Me: You gave me a modem that I have to return, so its not like you’re actually GIVING me anything, its like you would LOAN me the pony, it would still be yours and all, like the annoying modem I have to return, but the pony wouldn’t be annoying.

DCT: um....

Me: Fine, if you can’t give me a pony then I’ll just stick with Verizon, at least they were nice enough to mow my lawn every week.

DCT: Verizon is mowing your lawn?

Me: yeah, well, they don’t know that yet, but there’s a guy scheduled to come out for maintenance and the lawnmower just happens to be in front of the door and all...

Vacation

I’m officially on vacation now... well, I’m actually sick for the next two days with a cold, but our timesheet thing only has “paid time off” and not “sick” so I’m on vacation, but really sick. I don’t actually start vacation until Tuesday because Monday is a holiday and doesn’t count toward PTO, but right now I’m not going back to work until the 14th, which is sweeeet.

I wanted to explain that in my official work out of office automatic e-mail responder thing:

Hi, I’m on vacation until the 14th, but actually I’m sick for the next two days, then its the weekend and monday is a holiday so I’m on vacation starting Tuesday and coming back that next monday. In case you were wondering, I have a cold, because I know how people wonder when you call out sick because they’re always “she didn’t look sick” and frankly it doesn’t really matter because it all comes out of the same “vacation” pot whether you’re sick or on vacation, but I just wanted to throw it out there that in case you were thinking of calling me after seeing that I’m actually sick and not on vacation, that you probably shouldn’t call me because I’m sick and don’t even think about calling me when I’m on vacation either. Frankly, the only reason I’m taking off is because I got sick of people running in fear and accusing me of spreading swine flu all over the office, and frankly if I did have swine flu, yes, I would be licking my hand and touching everyone that I hate, but no, its just a cold, but you just can’t leave it be and have to insist I cough into my elbow and dip myself in hand sanitizer and frankly its just easier staying home and feeding my used kleenex to my dog, who happens to love used kleenex, but I have to be careful or she’ll totally eat too many and that’s not a good thing. So, I’m pretty sure that its just a cold, but just in case, you shouldn’t call or even e-mail me (as if I’d check my work phone or e-mail, pffft, that’s not going to happen) as I’m pretty sure the CDC has now found that swine flu can travel through the phone lines and contaminate you and your unborn children, so its best for your family and lineage that you don’t call or e-mail me... probably even shouldn’t think about me either, because there’s that whole issue where I lived in Europe for 2.5 years and contracted mad cow, so probably thinking of me will give you mad cow, or disqualify you from giving life saving blood and making you feel like scum, and yes, by the way I AM on Nyquil, why do you ask?

Unfortunately Microsoft Outlook has some sort of limitation on the “out of office assistant” thing and wouldn’t let me leave all that, so I just said I’m out and will be back on the 14th. I’m pretty sure anyone that knows me will know what I meant to say.

Hello, Its Me Again

Yes, I know we had some rough words when we last saw each other... ok, I had rough words, you just sat there, but you have to understand, I thought I was ready to step out on my own and go about my life, but things happened differently than what I expected.

I had no idea that sitting around on my butt for the past 6 weeks in that stupid boot, unable to do any sort of exercising would make me do it again, but there I was, shoving anything edible in my mouth with both hands, feeling all blobby again, so I just had to do it... yes, I starting shooting up heroin. Ok, that’s not true, I just started smoking again.

AHA, see, you are all freaked out. Look at how well I manipulated you, if I had just said that I had started smoking you would have been all “oh you suck , your such a faily failure!”, but after saying I was doing something horrible, you are all like “oh, whew, man you had me scared and freaked out, so smoking isn’t so bad after all”... yeah, but I’m betting with all the taxes its probably teh cheaper to make crack in my own bathtub, but yeah, its ONLY smoking.

So, Dear Chantix, its me again. Thank you for the wonderful side effects with the bizarro dreams, the waking up at 3am and not going back to sleep. I look forward to the noxious gas and uncontrollable bowels again. I missed you so.

It's ok, nothing to see here

This afternoon I went to make hubby a latte. I have one of these wonderful machines:
Its a Starbucks Sirena. I have no idea why they stopped making these, they're fantastic. Easy to use, easy to clean, it makes lattes fast and they are mighty tasty. Haven't had any problems with it... until today.

Plugged it in and hit the on button. Nothing happened. Hit the on button again. Nothing. Unplugged it and plugged it in again, hit the on button... nothing. It was at this point that a very low keening noise came from my throat. Hubby knows this sound. "what's wrong?" I explained that the latte machine wasn't turning on. I moved aside, because men like to see these things for themselves, and for all he knows I forgot to plug it in or something mundane like that. He plugged it in, hit the button... nothing. He unplugged it and plugged it in... nothing. He plugged the rice cooker in and it worked.

"its broke" he pronounced.

I did this:

I mean, come on, what else is there to do when your coveted and very expensive latte machine is pronounced "broke". Holy crap, I mean we drink a lot of latte, but not enough to break it. Besides, its not like I was using it and it began to smoke and make strange exploding noises or anything for christ's sake, I mean it was just sitting there, worked fine last time I used it and now broke? It spontaneously just broke while it was sitting there? What breaks by just sitting there? Did some part just fall off in there for no real reason? Was there an earthquake that nobody felt but the Sirena, and it caused all sorts of internal issues? How does something break when its just sitting there?????

Oh, the part that plugs into the actual unit had come unplugged... never mind.

WTF?

I've been in a foul mood lately (sorry hubby), getting all wrapped up in the stupid economy, future craptastic healthcare scheme, and just everything seemingly going to crap in a handbasket all at the same time. Hey, go figure, that's life, but still, does it ALL have to go to crap at the same time.

Frankly, I should look at my petty little inconveniences and actually feel thankful for them. I could have it much worse, and other people do, so I should just say "hey, that's life, it is what it is" (a saying I learned from my lawyer) and move on, but sometimes its just nice to swim in lake me and feel gloom and doom over stupid things and drive your hubby insane, like telling him the same thing over and over again because frankly you can't remember if you told him, or was it just a conversation you had in your head, or did you post it to Facebook and not tell him, and even if you did post it to Facebook, did he even read it?

I think that perhaps social media is driving me slowly insane, because I really don't know if I say things outloud, did I text it, did I post it, did I twitter it, did I SMS it, or did I e-mail it, and if I did, who did I post it to?

I've been telling people (I think) that I only have one more week in LarrWii, the Wii soft cast, but then I actually looked at a calendar and discovered that I actually have 2 weeks left. LarWii is getting a bit... rank. I had to spray him down in febreeze, and apparently you can wash the foamy innards, but I have no idea if that's true or not and I don't want to ruin it when I have to wear it, so I've been freshening the foam up with some Febreze and hope that I don't reek to high hell with each footstep.

Tonight we had a rainstorm. We need rain, but we didn't need three months of rain in an hour, so our sump pump drain pipe got a tad bit overwhelmed and was backwashing out near the house. Whoot. Then as I was folding clothes from the dryer, our heat/pump was making that distinct: "you haven't cleaned out the pvc pipe with bleach like you should have months ago so I'm not clogged and spewing water all over the cheap air filter thing, which you only have one left, so get out the bleach and snake and clear me out before I freeze something and cost you a bazillion dollars to fix/replace that you don't have" noise.

Right now one of my dogs is shrieking at me because its way past our bedtime (according to him) and he'll sit there and shriek until I go up and feed him oyster crackers just so he can stomp all over me, steal half the bed and shove his frito feet in my face throughout the night. Gosh I love my pups. I really do because today I found out that a friend of mine lost one of her beloved pups. It really takes a loss to make you realize the things you should shrug off and take in stride, and how you really need to stop and smell the puppies and realize that with all of the stupid inconveniences, the crap, the bills, the lack of money, the things that break, and the things that just don't work out... the most important things in life are those fuzzy creatures that steal your bed, and the hubby that accuses you of elbowing him in the eye at night.

Everything else is was it is.

Just a quick rant

Still peeved at the government, but right now I think I’m pretty much dying of something horrible that makes you think you’re catching a cold, but not, and also makes your stomach rumble loudly and feel as though you’re about to either:
1.) hurl
2.) crap yourself

My morning meeting tomorrow should be a hoot.

So, its 8:30 and if my stomach doesn’t make so much noise that my storm freaked out husky thinks its thunder, I’m going to go to bed and turn up the volume so I can hear the tv over my stomach.

Guess I shouldn’t have eaten tacos tonight, eh?

The Post About Making Mashed Potatoes

So, while the hubby was out riding around on his Harley that I forced him to buy to get him out of the house so I could do some home improvement projects, like napping, I had a strange urge to make meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. What does napping have to do with home improvement, you may be rudely interrupting my thought process and asking, well, as I’m easily distracted I’ll answer that question by saying that its quite obvious you’ve never seen me spackle a wall, so by my not doing anything that improves our home a great deal. I bet you are sorry that you asked, and now you’re thinking why making meatloaf and mashed potatoes would be blog-worthy, and my aren’t you freakin critical tonight, who peed in your wheaties?

Like most people my kitchen is pretty devoid of any sort of fresh vegetable. What? Most people have fresh vegetables? Well, aren’t we special, its probably because you don’t work a semi-full time job and have people and animals to take care of after works and... oh shut up you freakin show offs and your fresh vegetables. We do have mint for Mojitos, so there!

Anyhoo, I found these Ore-Ida Steam-n-Mash potatoes, which are REAL potatoes in a frozen bag that you microwave and TADAAAAH mashed potatoes. Yeah, I can get into that. No potatoes on the shelf sprouting plants when you are in the mood for mashed potatoes, just drag the bag out of the freezer, microwave and... what’s this crap?

The instructions tell you to use potholders and pull the top of the bag apart. Have you ever tried to pull anything apart while wearing potholders, and NO I don’t have to hear any deviant sex thing you may have done with potholders on. Its IMPOSSIBLE to pull anything open (shut up) with potholders on. I look closer at the bag and it shows a pair of scissors and a dotted line. OHHH, I’m suppose to wear potholders and cut the stupid hot bag open... and just how is one suppose to use scissors while wearing potholders, and once again, not wanting to hear any circumcision while wearing potholders story.

So, risking the skin of my hands, I took ONE of the potholders off so I could hold the scissors and cut the bag open to find... chunks of potatoes that I’m suppose to now “mash”. WTF? I have to mash the potatoes after milk and butter??? This is just like WORK!!! Why can’t they be pre-mashed? And who has a potato masher nowadays anyway... oh, actually I do. I bought one to use to make this horrible dog food glop stuff for one of our dogs back when he was sick.... and YES I washed it before I mashed the potatoes.

So, after all of that work I fed them to the hubby who looked at them and said “Microwaved mashed potatoes?” and I nearly threw them on him, I MEAN COME ON!!!! I nearly pulled a muscle mashing those things!

Frito-Lay WTF???

The other day hubby and I went to a sandwich shop for lunch. I wanted a bag of potato chips to go with my sandwich, so I grabbed a bag of Lays potato chips... or so I thought.

What with the government concern over the obesity “epidemic” all forms of frying foods in transfat had been banned, therefore we’re now forced to choke down chips cooked in all manner of non-carcinegenic, fattening manners, such as chips fried in water, and soy, which are disgusting and vile. It didn’t surprise me to see that the bag of chips I chose were “baked”, but the “original” stamped on the package assured me that I was getting a tasty Lays chip product, so whatever.

My first clue that something was not right was when I opened the bag and discovered this:



Seriously, WTF is this? This isn’t a potato chip! This is plasterboard, and seriously, that’s what it tasted like too! It was as if some sort of horrible Star Trek transporter malfunction had taken a real potato that had been fried in tasty grease and changed it into some form of potato-chip looking thing that tasted nothing like a potato. It was so faux that if handed one of these things while blindfolded I never would have guessed “potato chip”, I most probably would have spat it out, demanded water to clean my mouth out then called my attorney. I think my exact words were “HOLY MOTHER OF GAH! What the Frick is this????”




That’s when I took a closer look at the bag and found this incriminating bit of info that should have been the font size of the entire bag to announce to the buyer of the “chips” that this bag doesn’t contain CHIPS, it contains CRISPS. WTF??? Crisps? I hate to inform you scum sucking bastards of Frito-Lay, but crisps are English for POTATO CHIPS!!! Made the exact same way that potato chips are suppose to be made, so what the heck is your definition of “crisp”? Bits of reconstituted potato manner shaped in a form that resembles a potato chip that you hope will fool consumers? I can tell you that their look won’t fool anyone and sticking one in their mouth will totally clue them in that they aren’t eating a potato chip.







To further cover their lies, the back contains this bit of info that says that regular potato chips have 10g per 1oz serving, but this bag of “snacks”... SNACKS? You can’t even claim them as a potato product or even a chip, and yet you throw these things in the SAME type of bag that use to contain your tasty potato chips, but add that whole BAKED! thing on there, as if we’re suppose to get all happy and excited and can’t wait to eat them, only to discover that the bag would have been tastier.

I’m tired of being lied to by paid liars. You may call them “marketing” people, but they’re nothing more than a bunch of liars! How can something be “new and improved”? If its new then how can you improve it? Its old and you improved it somehow, most likely by changing the stupid package colors... that doesn’t mean its improved! Stop lying to us, and stop trying to make us think that your craptastic “healthy” junk is tasty or even good for us! Just because you make things less fat doesn’t mean that people are going to lose weight and be healthier. Nope, good news for you is that they’ll just have to eat 40 times more of your product, and they will, but they’ll still get fat and unhealthy and in a few years we’ll all be paying for that with our wonderful government run healthcare... except that potato “crisps” will cost $5,000 with tax.

Always gotta be something

This morning I called the health department to rat out our neighbors, who have apparently abandoned their house, let it go to hell, and now have a mosquito breeding ground in their half crap filled swimming pool. I asked what the process was, hoping to hear the woman cheerfully say that they’ll immediately send a crew to clean up everything and give the house to very nice people who love mowing their neighbors’ lawns and cooking for them, but all I got was: um, we post notices and try to contact the owners and there might be citations and fines.

That’s it? They don’t care about their house to the point where they dumped crap in their pool and left it like that, do you actually think a citation will compel them to fix up a house they’re foreclosing on? “oh”, she chirped, “they will throw some mosquito poison stuff in the pool”. Great! That’ll make the future crack den I live next to even better. I didn’t leave my name... just felt safer that way.

I suffered throughout the stupid Sotomayor hearing thing today. Apparently every Senator has to give an opening statement. I don’t know why, other than to pee on each other and pretty much tell the world how they’re going to vote. Why bother asking her any questions, save us all some money and just let her in already and get on with ruining the country faster with crappy, expensive healthcare, investigations into things that happened 8 years ago, pointing fingers and calling everyone liars, and making me put skylights on my house to “green” it up before I sell it. Frankly, anyone that wants my house will also love having the crack den from hell next door. I did think the funniest thing said was by Senator Kauffman who said “Whoever comes to the Supreme Court better come with no balls and no strikes”. hehehe, he said no balls. I also sat and drooled a bit by the new Minnesota Senator, Mr. Franken, who spent his time talking about himself and seemed to forget why he was actually talking. Mr. Leahy did say that nobody was above the law because that’s not what a Democracy is. Well, unfortunately for Mr. Leahy, we actually live in a Republic, so perhaps he better go to whatever Democratic country he thinks he lives in.

The funniest back and forth I’ve seen in a while was between Stuart Varney and Ms. Meme Roth, who seems to be some anti-obesity person. The argument was that Delta Airline was only making stewardess uniforms up to size 18 and no larger. Apparently this rubbed some larger stewardesses (oops, I mean flight attendants) wrong. Here’s the exchange. I have to side on Ms. Roth’s side on this one frankly... go ahead and hate me all you want, but if I’m on a burning airplane, I don’t want a size 26 flight attendant in my way, its bad enough I gotta deal with other people and small children in those miniscule aisles and seats. I want someone I can heave to the side and make my escape, so the thinner the better.

I don’t even want to go into the fun-fest of my car insurance company, who seems to have their heads up their asses, and now I have to call them tomorrow and yell at them. I also have my 2 week foot recheck. I have to say that I actually like my boot, Larry (or Larwii). Its very comforting and frankly a good excuse to use the elevator to go up one floor.

I’m going to go up and stare at the tv mindlessly and eat those pure sugar faux flavored ice pops by the handful.

New Stuff

Hubby got his Harley today, he’s out riding it around. I got my new mondo huge iMac yesterday and I’m test driving it. After staring at a 15 inch screen for years, the 24 inch screen takes some getting use to. Its HUGE and bright and I don’t have to lean over and squint any more. I’m guessing cartooning will be a lot easier on it, and already downloaded the trial version of Corel Painter on it to see if the expensive ultra mega mega full blown version is better than the elements version I’ve been using.

I have to say, I LOVE the new huge screen, and I’m hoping it’ll get me motivated to do more with cartooning and stuff, but generally just getting use to how bright it is is the biggest adjustment.

I’ve decided that the medium Wacom Intuos4 pad will be the way to go. I just don’t have enough desk space for the large pad, so that’ll be a cost saver right there. Actually the biggest issue is where to park the mondo huge Harley, as it won’t seem to fit under our front porch, and just parking it in the driveway is more than hubby can handle because even though he bought a cover, parking it out in the elements is akin to cruel and unusual punishment for the motorcycle. Hey, whatever, he’s happy (out riding around even as I type), and we can accommodate whatever vroomy needs to keep him happy.

Its going to be hard to keep up with the housework and stuff now that I have a cool new computer, but with hubby out on the bike cruising around, I don’t think he’ll notice, nor care. I do have a ton of laundry sitting in the bathroom right now that I should be doing, but I have a new toy, screw the laundry, besides, there’s one more day in the weekend to do all of that horrible housework stuff.

Hubby did mow the front lawn, which means I can now call the health department on the neighbors who have apparently abandoned their house. Every time I go outside I’m armed with the mosquito zapper tennis racket thing to kill the swarms that attack me and the dogs. Poor things don’t like going outside because they get attacked, and frankly I’m not too thrilled about that. We can’t even go on our deck without getting eaten alive.

So, today was good. Motorcycle, new iMac, spent some time with some friends at their engagement party, ate some good food, the only thing missing was a nap, so I need to schedule one of those for tomorrow in between loads of laundry.

That’s about it, no ranting today.

Don't Tear Me Down - Widget

Dear Chantix, you LIAR and stumps

Ok, so the last time we talked I was begging for detachable feet or at the very least something with a bit more of a kick in it like Vicodin, because its not very adult to stand in the middle of a mall weeping because your feet hurt and you still had half a mall before you even got to the Apple store and there’s just no way you can make it back to the truck even if that’s where the Starbucks was.

What does this have to do with Dear Chantix you may ask? Well, apparently now my dearest Chantix must come with a warning label that says you shouldn’t believe the voices that Chantix plants in your head about leaping off of buildings or flinging yourself into traffic... which are very compelling. Yep, apparently the FDA, who is right on the ball with recalling tainted food products (hehehe, I wrote taint) days after hundreds are sickened, are now requiring that warning labels be affixed to the dear Chantix that warns you about suicidal thoughts and depression. Of course, you’ll have to get through the whole crapping your pants and double over stomach pains warnings before hitting that little gem of information. The thing that cracks me up the most about this article is this quote:

“The antidepressant Wellbutrin, which has the same active ingredient as GlaxoSmithKline PLC's Zyban, already carries such a warning.” AHAHAHAAAAAAA seriously? An antidepressant that makes you depressed? That’s all sorts of genius isn’t it???

Ok, back to the whole feet drama, yes I was weeping and keening in the middle of a mall because it was Apple store or abject pain in my feet and the whole stubborn “I’m not going to beg my husband to drive the car into the mall to pick me up so that I don’t have to walk any farther” drama. There’s also never a handicapped person on a scamp around when you need to hijack one. I did make it to the apple store and back, but it was touch and go.

Monday morning I sat on hold with the obnoxiously happy hold music (which needs to come with its own disclaimer that when your feet hurt you may be tempted to kill innocent people while being on hold) only to be told that my X-rays were negative. Seriously? So that’s suppose to be comforting that there’s nothing medically wrong with me that can be seen by X-ray so the agony of walking is all in my head or something??? I called the podiatrist and when they asked how severe the pain was I told them that if I didn’t get an appointment in the next few hours they needed to turn on the local news to see me holding up the local CVS for crutches and vicodin, and they kindly squeezed me into an afternoon slot.

Note to self: find new podiatrist as their office is located in a cell phone dead spot... I was seen after three games of mahjong and years of foot doctor school qualified my sadistic podiatrist to gently press on the very areas that would cause me to leap from the half chair thing and scream like a little girl. Apparently this means I hosed up my ankle and stress fractured one of those little foot bones that are integral to the whole walking without pain process. I was summarily strapped into a stylish gray ski boot and given a prescription for stronger NSAIDS (and the next day the FDA says those will make my liver explode, but between suicidal Chantix and exploding liver and feet of pain, I’m pretty sure that years of military alcohol abuse has pickled my liver to a point where nothing could harm it short of a spear or vacation in a third world country where I wake up in a bathtub full of ice).

Anyhoo, I get to wear the nice boot for two weeks (during the summer... how quaint) and go back for a check up and then probably more time in the boot, and frankly I think this is a great way to save money on left shoes. I can at least walk halfway normal and without too much pain, but I’m sick of telling people HOW I hurt my foot. Seriously, I hurt it running in place during Wii Active.... no really... fine, I was injured in a bar fight. Ok, fine, I was parachuting the other day... no really a bear was in the yard attacking my neighbor (seriously, I’d actually take video of the mauling and sell it to TMZ or something), no really, its a wiinjury and no I’m not suing... unless you’re a lawyer and want to represent me and then I’m all about the horrible pain and suffering and stuff.

Yeah, so I’m waiting for the elevator at work and it hits the 2nd floor and as usual, someone starts to walk out because they think its the 1st floor and just how lazy can a person be to take an elevator down 1 floor... then I hobble in with my boot and they get all “oh, you have a reason” looking and even say something about “oh yeah, you need to take the elevator because you have a broken foot”, to which I say to them “um, no I don’t” and just stand there and stare at the top of the elevator door trying not to laugh. Tomorrow if someone asks what I did to my foot I’m going to say “um, nothing, why?”

Pred in the head

You may have noticed the lack or ranting during the whole ivy fiasco and that’s mainly because I can’t keep a simple thought in my head for more than... sonofa, there it goes.

Ivy lesions not draining or itching too much.
I’m barely able to walk because I now have wiichiles tendon issues in both feet, which may be worsened by the pred, but who knows. I walk like a duck and look like a 90 year old going down the stairs. Shut up or I’ll hit you with my cane if I had a cane and frankly I may be needing one. In case you don’t get it, I’ve maimed my achilles tendons while doing Wii Active, therefore I have Wiichiles. I want my name in a medical journal.

Non-stop storming has cause the structural integrity of my hair to lose all mass and float into space aka: I look like Roseanna Roseannadanna and not happy about it. I will be making a hair appointment with my wonderful stylist Katie, who will yell at me for getting the whole bobbed look instead of my normal look and how the hell do I think she can transform me back to my wonderful old hair style now that I’m all layered and have bangs that she warned me were a huge mistake. For this I pay her a lot of money and apologize a lot.

If I’m unable to walk by Wednesday I’ve vowed to call my doctor and either beg for large amounts of painkillers, a wheelchair, bed rest, or permanent disability or at the very least some physical therapy at the place where I had my thumb therapy so I can gaze upon the hunkiness of the head therapy guy. If I’m going to be in pain I may as well derive some enjoyment out of the pain, or short term disability and a cool surgical scar. Of course I can’t have anything that keeps me from my friday hair appointment, because If I’m going to be stuck in bed, I have to have cool hair and if I’m going to physical therapy, I have to have cool hair too. Recovery is dependent upon cool hair.

Watching “What not to wear” last night, only because Loki was asleep on the remote, and NOBODY moves Loki when he’s asleep. I saw absolutely NOTHING wrong with the look before they made the woman into a cheap harlot in a dress and incredibly painful high heels that I would wear if I didn’t have wiichiles, and if my legs weren’t covered in open poison ivy sores that weep. Yeah, I’m totally there except for those little things. I was also forced to watch the show about the primordeal dwarves or whatever they are called. Itty bitty people with squeeky voices. I felt sorry for them especially the 10 year old girl whose 10 year old “friends” totally didn’t stick up for her and include her in stuff, which made me want to find them and drown them. Of course I would never do that, because it would mean I’d have to get out of bed and actually chase them down and with wiichilles that aint’ happening. Besides, they’d make fun of my hair too.

Ok, where was I... last week the water main in front of our house broke and today we still have a big dirt filled hole in the street that is slowly washing away and pretty soon will suck up a car or children. I guess I have to wait for some stimulus thing before they fix my street and replace my dead lawn. I’m guessing the street will get fixed and my lawn will remain dead, just a hunch.

Ok, I’ve rambled enough, so I’ll end on this note: no matter what happens, there’s always time for ice cream, except if you are a Republican.