All my cute scandalous guchies (that I try to save for special occasions that just never seem to happen anymore!) are irritating the fuck out of my appendix scar. I suppose that means I need to make time to do laundry sometime in the near future. That, and get the damn apartment into some type of shape for my housewarming.
Shawn asked if I'm really ready to have a party, what with being laid up for a few weeks and still not being remotely unpacked. Also, he really wants to paint my apartment, but time is tight for him this month and it won't happen by Nov. 1.
So I have a solution: Have an apartment-warming party with the house clean but not brilliantly decorated ... and THEN have a New Year's Eve party when it's lookin' all spectacular!!!
Yes, I'm a party queen. Who's up for TWO occasions to drink among friends?!?!
There is something that's trying to roll around in my head, but I'm not entertaining it. At least, not right now. But it still keeps pervading my consciousness. It's not the worst thought I've ever had, by any means. In fact, it's a rather interesting item of bemusement.
Until, of course, I truly go with the thought and do something about it.
I wonder if I'm sometimes afraid of taking chances because I wouldn't know happiness if I fell over it.
After yesterday's childish brouhaha, I was treated to my computer blowing up. Yes, as in *poof* -- goodbye data. Two and a half hours later with the Disk Doctor, and I'm running fairly well, although slowly. And after THAT, it took three hours to print the proof of the paper. I almost took the fucking disk to Kinko's, that's how frustrated I was.
But, as always, we had the usual suspects together in my office, laughing and bullshitting while the computer and printer decided to go berserk, and so it was a bearable -- if not, dare I say, enjoyable -- afternoon.
Today, I'm in hiding in my office. I have major edits to do, and I'm not in the least bit of a mood to deal with anyone other than my staff writer.
Talked with Shan last night. She graciously made contact with someone at the Veggie Patch who had requested her help on a few issues. The conversation didn't sound too pleasant, but Shan remains unruffled. After she heard about MY day, we just kind of collectively shook our heads and said how typical our experiences with our colleagues was. But she was, like me, disappointed that the CFO went so apeshit on me -- he was our hero around here. Oh well. Time to get some new heroes. :)
I didn't sleep a wink last night -- my mind was racing. Shawn and Tiff both recommend that I just let the chips fall where they may, and they're right. The big companies that we owe money to, well, they'll survive without our money arriving on time, and if they choose to no longer do business with us, that's the breaks. I'm sure they'll be patient, because of the great relationships I've cultivated with them, but they won't keep doing me personal favors. But it's the freelancers who are not getting paid who concern me. It's the people who are depending on their meager checks to pay their rent and feed their kids and buy smokey treats (heh -- you know who you are!) for whom I am fighting.
I made it known today that all the bullshit has broken my heart. I articulated that I can't believe how easily we forget that we are all on the same team. That ripping e-mail from the CFO -- which basically said that I need to quit insinuating that his staff makes mistakes, because he can certainly mention a tally of mistakes that have been made in my department -- really did a number on my morale. I said once again that I came back (early, mind you) from my recovery because I cared about the paper, and it's just a shame that so few others give a shit about it or the people who make it possible.
It's funny -- at my former job (Two Strikes), I was striken with anxiety because EVERYTHING was a priority. I was always running, always jumping, always juggling a thousand things at once, because NOTHING was to be put on the back burner. Here at the Veggie Patch, it seems like everything is on hold -- everything will happen in due time. Granted, at least in the fiscal arena, it's because there's only so much money, and it's not enough to cover expenses by a long shot. But overall, it just feels like NOTHING is a priority. Will I EVER find a place to work where there is a balance? Where my spirits won't be stuck to the bottom of somebody's shoes at the end of the workday?
For all my promises to not complain about work anymore, I am revoking that promise this morning to just say
WHAT
THE
FUCK?!?!
Long story short, I spent Friday raising hell about a change in payment procedures that will directly (and negatively) impact my department. I clearly maintained that I'm hardly an opponent of change; however, I don't wish to damage long-standing relationships with my vendors and writers, who are becoming increasingly frustrated with the lag time between the time services are rendered and the time they are compensated (a separate issue, but I needed to blow some steam off). I said I was "less than thrilled" with the new procedure, because I ask the printer for enough favors as it is and do not want to put them in the position of having to tell me that they can't print the paper because they haven't received the money.
The problem is that I am no longer permitted to hand-deliver checks to my vendors and writers -- which you would think they would like because I save them the fucking postage. At least when I have the checks in-hand, we all know that the paper can be printed, and if I don't have the money in-hand, I know to go up to Accounting and fight for it. Now I am going to have to start calling and begging to know the status of my checks, and if they're not received, I'm going to be getting even more vendor calls than I already do. Joy. And this isn't the friendliest bunch of people to deal with (the Accounting staff), so I would like to avoid them when possible.
That's my whole problem with the Accounting department -- I know money is tight, but they aren't the most cooperative bunch when it comes to letting us know if/when checks are cut/mailed. All I want to know is that my people and vendors are getting paid, because if they're not, they have every right to go on strike until we catch up with their invoices. And it has been suggested too many times by too many people for me to not bring it to the McManagement's attention.
I have to say that I am impressed with my boss. She took my side immediately and strategized with me how to get my money on/before the date it needs to be at the printer. (Read: If Accounting needs to mail the checks, then they're going to have to cut my checks a week earlier than planned, so as to accommodate putting them in the mail and having them arrive at the print shop, the post office and the address-quality company before I transmit the paper.) She's a devious one, I'll tell ya, but I'm glad I'm the one benefiting from it!!! :)
The "less than thrilled" phrase came back to bite me in the ass, in the form of a terse e-mail from the CFO, copied to tons of people, including H.R. (excuse me, but is this a performance issue? As far as I (and my boss) could tell, I brought up a valid concern about my department. Not to mention, but I run a tight ship and am always under budget -- it's not like I am requesting money to go on a shopping spree -- I'm asking them to pay people for services that have already been provided, for cripes' sake. *scream*
OK, time to get the blood pressure down a little bit.
So much for "taking it easy" during my recovery.
Shan (our dear new mommy) wants to open a daycare. I hope she gets the small-business loan that she's seeking -- I will be glad to defect and help her with the administrative side of it (lord knows I won't want to be the one watching the kiddies!). Shan is back on her kick that I need to have a kid, but Shawn said that I need to wait another five or six years till I'm ready, 'cause I sho' ain't mommy material now! :)
But back to Accounting, one staffer wrote me an e-mail that said -- and I quote -- "Do too the new procedures. ..." Imagine how much I wanted to copyedit that note and send it back!!!
Spent Friday night with Shawn at Apex in Dupont Circle, where we went out scoping cute boys.
It was my first post-op adventure out, and I wasn't much up for dancing because, well, it didn't feel all that good. So I kind of hid in a corner and danced a little bit there. One good-looking guy came up and hugged me and said, "You're just too fabulous to be dancing in a corner!" I love him. :) Too bad he liked penis more than I do!
Another hot boy ordered a drink for me (which was nice, because I kept gettin' screwed and getting watered-down drinks 'cause I'm a chick -- Shawn at least was getting nice, strong drinks), and my drink was thankfully strong. Hallelujah -- it shouldn't have taken eight drinks to get me buzzin'! But without that last drink, I'd'a still been sober.
Last night brought an unexpected invitation from Shan to come visit her and the adorable baby Alex, who is up to a whopping 8.2 pounds these days. I took over a huge pile of gifts that I've had sitting here (double-bagged so as not to attract cat hair) for the munchkin. The gift pile included a cute inflatable bathtub, which held all the gifts, but I just lost the ability to blow before it became fully inflated, so it was a sad little duck that had to carry loads of baby items. :)
I hate it when I lose energy while I'm blowing. ;) Any tips you can suggest?!?!
Shan calls Alex "Fussy Bunny," because she (understandably) fusses a lot. The kid goes to five doctor's appointments a week, is attached to a monitor, has acid reflux and is continually monitored for cardio-pulmonary and neurological issues. Like Shan always says to her, "It ain't easy bein' a princess! You eat and poop and fuss and smile!"
Lord, that kid is cute. What's funny, though, is for all her fussing, Shan put her in my arms, and she didn't make a peep for more than an hour. You just have to be sure to hold her upright, to accommodate the acid reflux, which I did. In fact, I asked Shan if Alex were just being good for company, and she said oh hell no -- the little one had seen her paternal grandparents earlier that day, and she'd howled for most of the visit.
We figure, Alex heard my voice nonstop for the seven months she spent baking. I joked that she was always under the table when Shan and I went out, listening and remembering my voice, because she responded to me really well, and even when she was in Shan's arms, she knew I was there and seemed very cool with it. :)
I kept making fun of Alex because, while she was in her slumber, she was moving her mouth like she was sucking on a bottle. I kept asking her if she were dreaming of bottles, and Shan got the biggest kick out of that. What do kids dream about? Do they realize that they are being pampered and doted upon by every adult within earshot? I mean, shit, she's got the John Lennon crib by Carter's, which plays songs and has a nightlight and, best of all, vibrates? My god, where can I get a bed like that?!?!
I reluctantly left the girls after Alex was fed and started to get a little bit sleepy (she only sleeps for a few minutes at a time, so I figured I'd let Shan enjoy the rare moment of peace. That, of course, and I didn't want to wear out my welcome -- I definitely want to come back, and seeing how good Alex was with me, I might just earn some munchkin-watching privileges so her mommy can get some rest. :)
I went over to Shawn's for a belated birthday party for our dear buddy Bryan, who turned 26 on Sept. 12. I'd dropped off a happy birthday cookie from Mrs. Field's earlier that day, and they wanted me there to cut the cookie. Everyone seemed like they'd enjoyed quite a few drinks before I got there, but when I arrived, Shawn served the champagne. He remarked that he and I always have weird combinations of "champagne and. ..." On my birthday, he took me to Dave & Buster's, where we had "Champagne and Skee Ball." Last night, it was "Champagne and Cookie." Lord only knows what our next combination will be, but I look forward to finding out!
It was a good night, albeit a short one. But it was a rare treat for me to see nearly everyone I love in the area, whether at Shan's or at Shawn's, and on another rare occasion, I felt glad to be me. :)
My new catchphrase is sweeping the office today -- I'm all about vocabulary and shit this fine Friday.
When I enter the tropical oasis that is (not) our ladies' room, I nuke it with air freshener as soon as I walk in, so that I may breathe (somewhat) freely throughout my journey. It usually stinks like cat piss in there, and it is not uncommon to find brown trout swimming about the three available bowls on any given day. And as a special treat, in addition to piss droplets adorning the seats, we occasionally get the person who missed the bowl and seat entirely and who shat straight down the side of the throne. Because, you know, it's so hard to aim your little asshole into that big bowl hole. ;)
Seven fucking days after the storm, not to mention that my area was barely hit, minus a lot of rain and downed tree branches. Sheesh. Remind me to not hold my breath, the next time we have an outage. *sigh* I was just getting to a point where I might as well have left my overnight case at Shawn's so I didn't have to keep toting my panties back and forth every friggin' day. Like I told my neighbors yesterday, it's a shame to carry your underpants around town in a bag and not be getting laid. :)
In other news, I've been kitty training the past few days. Seems Kadi will scarf down her food, then run over to Maddie's dish and poke her pointy head into her dish and scarf all that up, too.
So for the past three days, I have guarded Maddie while she eats. And that stupid little shit of a cat STILL harasses Maddie, no matter how many times I zing her with a squirt gun or just nudge her out of the way with my foot. But she knows she's doing something wrong. I can snap my fingers and she will jump 10 feet, but she will recover immediately and stick her face in the dish the second she thinks I'm not looking. LIke right now, Maddie abandoned her dish five minutes ago, and I have shot the little cat with water 19 -- no, make that 21 -- times to get her away from the dish. Little ingrate -- I spent more money on her specialty kitten food ... that's what she should be eating, not her big sister's food!
I think I've worn her out for now. Maybe Maddie will wise up and just finish her food at each serving, but it's a shame that now we can't leave food out for her to graze, like we used to do.
Oh, well -- who cares? Maybe now if the power stays on, I can actually keep some food in the house for me! :)
The problem with missing two weeks of work is that it's all there when you get back. And what sucks even more is that you have to work twice as hard to do half as much, when you're not feeling well.
Oh, I'll get through this. It will just be a miracle when it does happen. :)
In better news, my apartment complex claims that within 24 hours, all services will be restored. I shall not hold my breath, because even though blue is a good color on me, it just doesn't work when it's my skin color.
Why I have a KISS song in my head, I have no idea, especially considering that I'm listening to BT's "Rare and Remixed" CDs. :)
Although I'm trapped in editing hell at work (guest contributors seem to have a problem with writing submissions with the verbs all in the same frickin' tense), I'm longing for October to roll around. Punkin pickin' on Oct. 25, hanging around Old Town for Halloween, apartment-warming soiree on Nov. 1 ... the fun times go on and on. I look forward to actually being able to carry a pumpkin, as I get winded from shuffling a bag of cat poop to the basement right now. :)
I've got to send a big THANK YOU to Shawn for being my latest host on my Tour de Shower, as my utilities at my apartment are still nonexistent. You know, what are people without good friends down the street doing? I mean, what's the point in washing your ass with cold water? How does that help matters? I shudder to think of the unwashed Fungus Amongus. *twitch*
Shawn and I went out to dinner at Damon's last night. We had tons of them in Pittsburgh, and I was pleased to find the solitary one here in NoVa last night. We played the NTN trivia game, where Shawn showed up on the screen as Saddam and Hoebag. We were dismayed at how many names the trivia game banned from use -- such as Hitler, Osama and Balls. :) It's sad, but they probably pay someone big bucks to come up with offensive names and program the gameboards to not accept them. I want a job like that!
Speaking of jobs, I need to get back to mine. I swear, I need me a Sugar Daddy (or Mama, at this point -- I'm up for anything!) so I can sit on my ass and watch the "Ellen Degeneres Show" and not have to earn a paycheck. Damn it. :)
Went back to work today. Just left a little bit ago so I could come home and take some much-deserved Percocet. *sweet sigh* I also let my writer go home when I did, so she's a happy girl, too.
Maddie looks like she has pinkeye in one eye, but I called the vet, who surmised that Kadi probably scratched her in the eye. If it's still pink tomorrow, I am supposed to take her in. Kadi can't be declawed till she's at least five months old, but I might rip her nails out with my teeth if she's hurting Maddie. Bad little cat.
Apartment situation (no air, no electric in kitchen, no hot water) is the same. I saw my buddy RC at work today, who lives behind me in the same complex, and she informed me that residents are supposed to be unplugging their refrigerators. Hah! Fat fucking chance. I shouldn't be lifting much (and I'm definitely exerting myself more than I should be), so I ain't movin' that fucking thing to find the plug. Nobody from the management office informed me that I have to do this, so I am not bothering until I'm told ... and then I'll tell them they can come do it themselves.
Apparently one of our connectors to a transformer blew, and the electric company has declared that we are on the low end of the totem pole as far as repairing and restoring service. Joy. The original four-day window they'd told us we'd need to wait out is now extended indefinitely, as today is day four without power and hot water. What's funny is that we were fine DURING the storm; shit just blew out AFTER it. In what world does this make sense?
I'm gonna go retire to the couch right now. I'm hungry, but now that I've thrown out all of my food, all I have are Mom's cookies to live on. And that ain't really a bad thing, when I think about it. :)
I don't have too much snarky to say about it, other than I remember the throngs of people who dropped out as soon as the semester started, for whatever reason. Most people were pissed off because we had no athletics (other than dance, and those dancers were bitchy and sweaty and annoying, giggling freaks). Or because it was a small school, you had to wait six semesters before your required core classes in your major would finally show up on the schedule, and they'd fill up early and be closed off to the people who really needed them to graduate. Or because we were absolutely incompatible with our roommates -- not to mention the fact that we were required to co-exist with strangers with varying cleaning/hygiene issues in 10' by 15' cells rooms.
I wonder if the top brass will DO anything with such complaints, 'cause they're gonna hear that and more, if memory serves. :)
At any rate, if they'd called me, I would have been whining because, of my group of a dozen female friends, all of us got on the same menstrual cycle within a couple of weeks. My god, to walk down the hallway of the 18th floor and hear us moaning ... no WONDER people moved off our floor and headed for the hills!
If this WaPo article is right, power won't be fully restored in Virginia till Friday night.
Fuck you, Pepco and Dominion. :)
Despite my aching staples, I dragged down shitloads of rotted food and cat poop to our trash room. I made several trips and threw up in my hand during the final run, when I accidentally breathed through my nose, because of the stench. Everybody dragged the contents of their refrigerators down there during the last 24 hours, and it's funkin' up the stairwell in the whole building. What really sucks is that, when the garbage men come, they have to drag all that trash back up the steps to take it outside. *gag*
Took my cold 'ho bath. It wasn't so bad, but that's because I didn't wash my hair. I needed the coldness, actually, after walking down into that steamy pit of trash downstairs. I couldn't catch my breath for a half hour, and I was sweating profusely by the time I dragged my ragged ass back up to my apartment.
My neighbors Sue and Bob invited me over for dinner last night. I had gone out to my car, headed to Dave's for my glorious hot shower, and they had mentioned that there would be plenty of spaghetti ready at 5. And sure enough, at quarter to five, they sent their son Eddie over here to say that I'm welcome to wander over whenever I was ready, and that if I didn't feel like coming over, he'd be glad to bring me a plate. (Eddie's 20 -- damn, if only I were 10 years younger. ...)
I did go over, and I loved the whole bunch of them -- three generations' worth. Shawn drove in from Pittsburgh, bringing my microwave oven and other assorted goodies that Mom had sent (including chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter cookies -- home-baked. Yum!), and they said to bring him on over. The food was great, and it was cool to develop some cameraderie with my neighbors across the way. In all, there were about three different apartments represented there -- they have friends and family throughout the complex. They even said we should come back tonight for leftovers, as they tried to send us home with food but as the rest of us don't have electricity in our kitchens, we had to pass. :)
Yeah, I just dumped out the entire contents of my fridge and freezer. Two full garbage bags and counting. Even the condiments have to go. It's hotter than hell inside the fridge and freezer -- everything's skunked. Oh the pleasure.
I get my damn staples out today, in honor of which I will take a cold 'ho bath. I drove by Staples (the store) yesterday, and I cringed and flipped it off. :) Made my side hurt, just to see the word in 22-foot-tall letters.
Kadi (Short Bus cat) is wearing me out. In addition to jumping on my side where my staples are, she has farted on her sister, farted on my head and farted on everything in the apartment. And she keeps eating the flowers that work sent, no matter how much I try to punish her. They sent red and yellow flowers. The bouquet is ... unique. ;)
I've got to get with it and clean the litter station. It's stankin' to high heaven. It just hurts to lift stuff, but if I've got to drag 40 pounds of rotting food down to the sub-basement today, I might as well drag 100 pounds of cat poop with it. Ah, the joy of being me.
I have NOT missed being at work. Not in the least. To not have meetings and people hovering has been sheer pleasure. I spent a lot of time thinking about how, if I only worked for myself, I would've been compensated for all the long hours I had already put in, and therefore I could rest and recover and not worry about all the bullshit that is associated with a leave of absence -- particularly the fact that every employee feels the need to stand in your doorway and view you like a zoo exhibit, asking questions and giving you fake concern that you neither need nor want.
Shan and I were wishing that someone had kept track of all the nights and weekends we had worked, so that we wouldn't have to deal with the semantics associated with sick leave. I mean, shit, I definitely put in more than two weeks of personal time during the course of seven months on staff by myself, but they're gonna be calculating (I'm sure) down to the minute how much leave I needed to take. Because that's just the way of the world.
I have a lot more to say about the work, but I'll save it for the book I should write about it. Why give 'em even more fodder to fire me? ;)
On that note, Shawn's former employer keeps reading my page. In fact, they are one of my most frequent readers. I just have to laugh -- I never mention them, so somebody is whacking off in their IT department, probably reading me for pleasure. Maybe that person should get fired for wasting their time reading this mindless mess instead of doing his or her job? ;) Or IS it the job of the IT people to surf the Internet and read what their employees are/were reading? Oh well. It's driving up my number of hits quite nicely, so I really can't complain. Come in, kick off your shoes, and won't you be ... my neighbor? :-)
Innovation ... or inconvenience My coffee pot does, in fact, work, if I put it on the living room floor and brew it there. :) Now if I could have just moved the refrigerator, I wouldn't have lost more than $80 in groceries because there is no power going to the fridge. Damn. It really pained me to eat that whole bag of Reese's cups that I'd stored in the freezer. ;)
Ya gotta have friends As for the hot water situation, Dave kindly offered for me to take a shower there. I am not going to pass up that offer, because without hot water here, my leg hair is leaning toward the "braidable" adjective again -- ick!
Saturday night alone with a good book I finished reading "Good in Bed" last night. I didn't love the book, but I did feel moved enough to contact the author, Jennifer Weiner, to thank her for writing it. Not only did she write about a 28-year-old "woman of size," but she also showed her having a great life filled with love and dates and adventures -- which endeared me. But instead of sending her a letter waxing poetic about "I know how it feels," I chose instead to compliment her on the storyline about delivering a premature baby and all the complications that went along with it -- from the sleep apnea monitors, from the months spent commuting to the hospital, from the worries about neurological and cardio-pulmonary disorders, to the general madness that such pressures bring. That is everything that Shan is going through right now, and I loved reading about such real situations in a fictional novel. It even managed to give me a little bit more insight into what's going on with Shan.
Ya gotta have friends, part deux And, I guess I should admit it -- we've been in irregular contact. She brought Alex to the recovery room after my appendix went away. We've talked on the phone a couple of times. And she's always managed to try to talk about me, when I'm the one who's dying to know what's going on with her.
Long story short, the baby will be attached to her apnea monitor until after the December holidays. Because the electrodes have been ripping and tearing her fragile skin (read: Alex is ripping the cords off), the doctors came up with a new solution to put the cords under her clothes. She's up to 7 pounds now and with the new equipment, she will finally fit into a baby's size 0-3. And Aunt Dawn has a boatload of such munchkin-sized clothes for her new little niece, so Alex will be set for a long time. Now, just to get Shan to pick up her phone so I can get over there to visit! :)
Now for the rest of my book review At any rate, back to the book. It wasn't knock-you-over-dead wonderful, but it speaks to you if you have ever had body-image issues ... and who among us hasn't?. And like I told the author, "All in all, you got it right -- despite being rather uncomfortable in our own skin more often than we'd care to admit, we do learn as we get older that we are pretty damn special, and the right people can and do realize it."
In which I self-analyze after reading the book I've always felt this weird cross between shame and appreciation of my own skin. I turned that shame, initially, into promiscuity. I didn't feel like looking at myself, but I made sure that lots of people saw me. (And yes, despite myself, I can have sex with the lights on, although I'd prefer that to be DIM lighting. Heh.) But after my ridiculous bout with life and death and bad hospital service, I realize that my body is, well, the only one I've got. And It's been pretty damned good to me for the past three decades, no matter how much I've used and abused it. And it ain't gettin' any younger. So it's got its scratches and scars and miles upon miles of havoc and pleasure wreaked upon it. So what? Each bump and bruise tells a story -- my story. And it ain't over yet. In fact, I hope I have lots of healthy years ahead, because there are more stories to be told and more pleasures to incur. For all its faults, I do love my body. I just need to find someone else to worship it as much as I do!!! :)
I have half-power in my kitchen. What does that mean? My fridge is on but all my food has thawed out since the storm hit.
I stocked up on all kinds of foods for during/after the storm, not to mention that it's nice to have food in the house for when you're, oh, hungry. But now, my stocked-full freezer is warmer than the running water, and everything's spoiling. So, not like I needed an excuse, but I'm cookin' up a storm tonight -- getting rid of everything that's going to go bad.
Heh. The saline in my I.V. bags put a good 12 pounds on me, and now I'll be munching on the contents of my fridge. Oh, yeah, I see a visit to Weight Watchers (or to a plastic surgeon) in the near future, but tonight, we eat! Oompah! :)
Update The a/c stopped working. It's blowing warm air. When does this madness END?!?!
Subtitle: Wish I could say the same about the hot water.
Well, I picked up the Short Bus cat from Paul today. We had a nice visit -- and as we had our appendixes out within a week of each other, we could commiserate about how bad the hospital care was. Cripes, we sounded like a coupla old farts, bitching about our health. :)
I brought the cat home so that Mikey could pick her up today, but I just left him a message saying that I think I'd like to give it one more try with the girls. If Maddie gets depressed again, Short Bus goes for good. But if they can at least learn to co-exist, then I'd rather keep the kitty with me. I had assumed that, if they didn't get along, Mikey could just keep Short Bus. But instead, he's got too much going on (and is fostering three brand-new kittens right now), so Kadi would have to go up for adoption. And I was feelin' pretty guilty about that, so I'll give it one more go. Wish me luck! So far, the girls are quiet and just watching each other, so I will take that as a sign of good things to come.
The hot water will be off for another four days, according to my neighbors Bob and Sue. Great. Just frickin peachy. But Bob and Sue also don't have a/c, which I do have, so their lives are much rougher right now. Damn storm. Paul and Bryan are still waiting for their cable to come back on. I think no cable is the worst problem of the three -- I can't imagine sitting around, convalescing, without a TV to lull you to sleep. :)
But as for me, well, I hate to say it, but I am in no hurry to take another frostbite-inducing shower anytime soon, so I am not going to be going out or inviting anyone over in the near future. At least the TV doesn't care how much I reek. :)
OK, so I gave up and took an ice-cold shower this morning. Sweet mother of pain. My nerve endings are electrified.
There's a new commercial out for Herbal Essences -- I think it's for the body wash. Some chick gets into the shower and her dipshit husband starts yelling that they don't have hot water, and should he call a plumber? And she screams, "No!" and lathers up in the body wash, and it gets all hot and steamy in there.
All I have to say, kids, is that I want them to shoot that commercial with a shower that ONLY has cold water. There will be shrieking, no question, but it won't be in pleasure.
Of course, maybe I need to go buy some of that Herbal Essences crap, till my hot water comes back. 'Cause today's shower just sucked, not to mention that it smelled like a community center pool, with all the damn chlorine the water treatment plants must have dumped into the H2O supply. Ick.
Oh, and the coffee pot won't work. How am I supposed to bring my body temperature back up to normal without coffee?!?!
I have no hot water. I've barely had cold water all day, but now that's on and I can't get any fucking hot water. Jesus H Christ on a Fucking Pogo Stick. How is one supposed to bathe in ice-cold water? I can't handle this.
Minus losing power for several hours last night, I'm a happy girl. My a/c is working, it's sunny and gorgeous outside, and the storm is over.
There are more tree limbs on the ground than up in the sky, but the grounds look much better now that the trees had a Mother Nature's manicure. There was a lot of damage in Old Town (down the street) but things are peaceful around here. I understand Fairfax County (where I used to live) will be without power for up to four days.
Shawn and Scott are speeding up to Pittsburgh as I write this. The three of us were supposed to go to a Pirates game tonight in the new stadium, but as my health is still pretty crappy, I bailed out. They're going to go visit my mom and get my microwave oven for me, and all she has to do is provide Shawn with plenty of her special-recipe banana bread for making the voyage. I also put in a quick request for her famous orange cookies and chocolate-chip cookies, so she's gonna be busy cookin' up a storm for her kids today. :)
I'm sad to not be on the trip, but I know I would never have been able to sit upright for the entire four-hour-plus drive. At any rate, wish our boys a safe adventure, and send lots of love to everyone without power and gas during the next few days. :)
Things are going swimmingly here in Alexandria, Va., during the early hours of Hurricane Isabel's rag upon the East Coast, minus the 1.2 million without power in Virginia.
Meryl gives us tips on how to tell when you're in a hurricane. Junk food and popcorn on the grill. Good times, I tell ya.
Dave called earlier to say that he's lost half the power at his apartment. Unfortunately, that's down the street, so I'm hoping his power gets restored quickly and that the rest of this city stays happily hooked up. I'll be taping "Survivor" for him -- sounds like a good time to catch up on blog-reading, or (gasp!) read a book. :) Update: Read 70 pages of "Good in Bed." Not bad for an hour and a half!!! :)
The federal government was closed today. I heard D.C. government is closed again tomorrow, which is great news (assuming the federal government follows), even though it's not like there was a snowball's chance in hell that I would be returning to work anytime soon. :) But it would be great for me to put the publication of the paper on hold for a week, and this is just the excuse I'd need (seeing as though near-death doesn't qualify for a deadline extension). Update: the feds are closed! Party on, Wayne!
It's been raining steadily here for hours. A lot of branches have snapped off the trees in my apartment complex. There is one massive branch right in front of my car, but it doesn't seem to have hit it. *whew* Then again, the worst is yet to come, but let me tell you, if there weren't two flights of steps leading into my apartment, I'd bring my car in here. :)
I got a new oven today. w00t! The old one was emitting fumes and had all the wrong knobs on it (i.e., you couldn't turn the fucking thing on because the knobs didn't fit and they came off in your hands). This one is the same ugly almond color as the other one (damn these apartment complexes and their bland almond fixtures, floors, walls and tiles!), but at least it's brand-new. I SO need my apartment to be "Queer Eyed" because it's so damn boring to look at right now. :)
Anyway, that's news for now from the Axis of Isabel. I'm sure I'll blog more, assuming the power doesn't cut out! :) Stay dry, kids. And try not to blow away!
Rejected title: Three to six inches coming tonight. And it's only rain.
Well, looks as though armageddon is drawing near. Signs are posted throughout my apartment complex for us to clear off our decks and balconies, and we've been urged to remove any satellite television systems, if applicable.
I only felt the effects of one hurricane before -- Floyd -- back in 1999. It rained like a mofo and my entire wall-o-kitchen-windows blew in. I came in the house absolutely soaked (umbrellas were worthless in those winds), and I was terrified because I couldn't find Maddie for three hours. I worried that she had jumped out the hole in my kitchen wall, but she had smartly blended herself into a hamper in my closet until the storm had passed.
At any rate, I have a wall of windows in my living/dining area now, but I'm more worried that I parked my car under a tree. I'm supposed to see Bryan today to get the Short Bus cat back for a day or two, but maybe I can wiggle out of it. ;) Or maybe I can let her out in the hurricane. Heh. That might be fun. ;)
Shawn and I took an adventure voyage to Wallyworld last night to stock up on necessities. I couldn't find a flashlight to save my life (Bryan said not to burn candles, in case of a gas leak), but I saw some in the toy aisle that were shaped like lions, tigers and bears (oh my!) and appropriately roared or squeaked or oinked or mooed. I loved them, but Shawn wouldn't let me get one without the promise of humiliating me for it. ;)
We stopped by the new Macaroni Grill at Kingstowne for dinner. Oh. My. God. Yum. I had Pork Chops Emilia, and I'm not a pork chops fan, but I could have ridden those straight up the Beltway, they were so good. We tried a wine sampler, which blended very well with my Percocet. :) The tiramisu sucked, as it was caked in a cocoa powder fiesta that made me sneeze, but all in all, it was lovely to go out for dinner and not munch at the fridge door on whatever's handy.
It's windy as all hell here this morning. Shawn graciously brought my grill and balcony furniture inside last night, so I don't have to worry about it blowing away. I'm expecting three to six inches tonight ... and it's only rain. *damn*
Just wanted to thank everyone for making the blog into a giant get-well card for me! It's meant a lot to me that everyone has been pulling for me. As I always say, my friends are the best!
Also want to send a shout-out to Bill for tweaking the template and making it more user-friendly. (It used to look horrible on Windows -- I wouldn't know, 'cause even though I have a piece of shit Mac, it's still a glorious Mac.) Now if we could just figure out a way to make ME more user-friendly, but that'll never happen. ;)
Today is Dave's birthday. Happy Birthday, old chum! Go wish him a good day, even though it's almost over. :)
I've been doing a little bit of work from home today. It sucks. I'm constantly interrupted by my operation-induced narcolepsy, which strikes randomly. I got an e-mail from my boss that disturbed me -- something about that I should be keeping track of my working hours so that they're not counted against my sick leave. It's not that she upset me -- just workplaces in general, how you have to deal with stupid semantics like sick leave when you've just survived what could have been a fatal illness. Who gives a shit? I mean, really -- does it matter that much?
Bleah. At any rate, I made a quick run to Safeway to stock up on chips, cookies, ice cream and water for Hurricane Isabel. But what if we lose power and my ice cream should melt? Better to eat it now and not lose it. :) It's amazing how much EFFORT it takes to run to the fucking grocery store when you're recovering from an operation -- I had no idea how many muscles it takes to keep from killing annoying customers. Now I'm hurtin'. Percocet, anyone? ;)
I don't care if this is the melting pot of the world -- when I can't successfully order a pizza because the dumbass on the end of the phone can't understand what the hell I want, I get pissed. And I am pretty fucking articulate and patient -- it's not like I myself am speaking past a lump of shit in my esophagus.
I just hung up on the guy -- I told him it was too much goddamned work to spend my money at his establishment. And I'm still hungry. Grrr.
There's this crazy person who drives a tan SUV and sounds a fire alarm, driving through my apartment complex, selling sweet treats out of his or her trunk to the neighborhood immigrant children. Oh, the humanity.
The fire alarm scares the living shit out of me every time it sounds. I'm not sure how ice cream and alarms came to be associated with each other -- whatever happened to the nice, clean Good Humor truck and the "Goodybar Man" who drove it?
Oh well. At least it stopped the children temporarily from beating on our cars. I yelled at the whole lot of them today -- I'm sure they're wondering, "And who the hell are you, crazy lady with the bedhead and the Garfield pajamas?"
Exciting day (if only in comparison to the last week of nothingness). I took a Wal-Mart odyssey this morning, stopping by Starbucks for the world's worst caramel macchiato and then by Popeye's for the nation's best chicken strips.
That was enough of a day for me. I did not miss driving among Northern Virginia's most psychotic morons, yet they gladly came out to remind me that they're stll here. :)
I talked with Mikey today about giving the Short Bus cat back. I will probably cry when I am done typing this, but I think I made the right decision to put her up for adoption. If she were human, she'd be the child setting your bed on fire and stealing all your money. :) Paul and Bryan are keeping her for a couple more days, but she's done nothing but rip the shit out of their house, their cats, their belongings and their bodies. Obviously, she'd be doing the same here, and they are such good friends that they'd rather her terrorize them than me in my weakened state.
Mikey said he will come around Friday night to take the cat back. I feel a lump in my throat -- I really do love the little rascal. She's so friggin' cute (although, we've established, not real bright), and all she wants is love. But she kept attacking and harassing Maddie, who's never been around another cat before in her life, and Maddie walked around with her fur standing on end during Short Bus's stay here. I can always hope that those two can eventually get along, but I haven't been that good of a mommy to Maddie lately, and I know I can't keep up with two kids. Maddie is at least pretty low-maintenance -- give her food and peace, and she's a happy cat.
I don't know. I think I'm trying to talk myself into this. Short Bus will go up for adoption on Saturday. I just hope she finds a good home where everyone is loving and energetic and forgiving. She will be a great cat -- it's just hard to get through the feline equivalent of the "terrible twos" until that good cat is finally ready to show itself.
Everyone around here is preparing for Hurricane Isabel. I guess I should go buy some provisions, but I can barely lift myself up my steps, let alone bottled water and groceries.
I took Maddie outside on a harness and leash so she could get some fresh air on the balcony. She hates me. Howled the whole fucking time. I was on the phone with my Mom, and even she could hear her screaming. I swear -- every time I go outside, the cat follows me, so I figured I'd do one better and let her come out with me. She promptly parked her pudgy ass on the floor and made me drag her outside. And despite herself, Maddie did sneak in a few moments of enjoying the sunshine -- I can tell.
One of my neighbors across the street yelled over to ask if I'd been in the hospital -- she saw me walking the past two days, and she figured I'd had an operation. I confirmed that and thanked her for asking. It's nice when people notice what's happening in your world. Maybe I won't die a "Bridget Jones" death and be left alone to be eaten by wolves -- maybe someone will notice I'm gone before that happens. :)
The bag is gone from my abdomen, but now I have a line of staples and a freshly dressed wound where the bag used to be. Talk about aching. Sheesh. The staples come out next Monday.
Deb graciously drove me to and from the doctor. I swear, I owe her about 10 favors. And that's the funny thing -- she doesn't want a damn thing. She just wanted to make sure I was taken care of.
One thing I've learned during the past two weeks -- I have a great deal of caring and selfless friends. I've spent so much time bitching about acquaintances throughout the years who are happy as long as you're the one doing the favors, but it's clear to me that I did an incredible job of picking the current circle of friends. This would have been so much harder, and I'm so grateful that it wasn't.
Deb just lost a friend last weekend in a car wreck. In fact, the girl and her two sisters were in the car together, and they were hit by a drunk driver in North Carolina. All of them died ... except the drunk driver, of course. Makes you just want to shake your fist at the humanity of it all, especially when you learn that her friend had a congenital heart defect that she's struggled to survive, and she had just adopted a baby two weeks ago.
I think, strength permitting, I'm going to take an adventure safari to Wallyworld. I need some gauze and tape for my wounds, and I understand we're going to get a visit from Isabella later this week. Just dandy. Let's just hope the storm doesn't take away my new, yet unused, grill!
I am craving some Popeye's tonight. Maybe if I have enough money tomorrow, I'll have to indulge myself in some cajun chicken. It's the little things, ya know?
Not feeling particularly articulate today. I'm hurting pretty bad. Luckily, the bag comes off tomorrow. And maybe life will return to somewhat normal afterward.
I've been ridiculously weepy during the past few days. I guess that's supposed to be normal, but I still hate it. The house smells like a funeral parlor, with five rotting bouquets of flowers stinking up the place. They were pretty when I got them, though. :) I guess I can't ever complain again that nobody sends me flowers. ...
It's been strange without Kadi the Cat From Hell. I think I might just try to give her back to Mikey. I loved her, for all of my complaining, but Leslie made a good point that I am not in any position to be caring for a crazy kitten when I'm barely moving around my apartment. *sigh* I feel bad, but maybe it's for the best. We'll see.
Subtitle: Life is short. Do it right the first time.
So many things run through my mind as I lie like an overturned turtle for the better part of each day. I wish I could hook my brain up to Blogger, because some interesting things are now lost forever. But not many. :)
On wishes coming true I was morose yesterday. I know things could have been a lot worse, but I was certifiable as I sat and stared at the walls yesterday. By the time Shawn came over last night -- with a fresh load of laundry he'd done for me -- I was so hungry I could eat the computer, but too tired to fix anything. I was longing for pizza (even though I haven't eaten *real* food since last Saturday). Surprisingly, we were standing on my balcony when the Big Bite delivery guy pulled under it. Shawn joked with him that, if no one claimed the food, come knock on our door.
So the guy knocked! Seems it might've been a prank order. How cool was that?
It was a small pepperoni pizza and two burritos. I ate about a third of one slice of pizza, and I'll never touch the burritos (my stomach is not happy with anything right now), but it was the best $23 I've ever spent in my life. Thank you, Big Bite!
On leg hair Shaved it today. Was able to braid it, after a week of no razors going near it. Hurt like a bitch to bend over (!), but I'm happy now.
On John Ritter, Johnny Cash Well, who the hell would have predicted losing both of them within a few hours of each other? My grandfather was a country musician himself, so Johnny Cash was the shit in our house. And I have the 8-tracks to prove it. :)
But the John Ritter story threw me. I mean, that could have been me. He had that undiagnosed tear in his heart, and it proved to be the death of him. Like when my abdominal pains started flaring last Saturday, I just tried so hard to take it like a woman and just brave my way through the pain. You just never know when or how you're going to go -- sometimes you're lucky enough to have the time to get taken care of. Other times, you're fucked. We'll miss you, John and Johnny.
On 9/11 Although I had great plans to write about 9/11, I can't tell you how happy I am to have avoided the blogosphere's take on the tragedy for the umpteenth time. Yes, I will always remember. Yes, I changed 180 degrees that day. No, I don't feel like reading about everybody else's epiphanies right now.
One thing I have always said about 9/11 was that it showed me that I am not always going to land on my feet. Things are not always going to work out the way I want them to happen. I can no longer believe that I will live forever. I can't hide the anxiety disorder that cropped up on that day two years ago and refuses to leave me.
Accordingly, on this Sept. 11, I was forced to recognize my newfound physical limitations. It really blows when you drop a pen and it takes 45 minutes to bend over and pick it up. I was also forced to recognize that I am not special. I'm as human as the next guy. I might have lived through my recent trauma, but that doesn't guarantee that I won't be shot or electrocuted tomorrow.
Life's short. Do it right the first time.
On friends I never ask anyone for anything. Yet this summer, I have been blessed with friends who have selflessly taken care of me on so many occasions. A grand hat tip to Bryan, Paul and Shawn for not only moving me, but also for getting me through this health crisis. From cleaning my house to fixing me food to providing me moral support (not to mention the untold loads of trash and kitty litter that Shawn has removed singlehandedly), I would have died without them. I kid you not.
I should name all the names, but knowing that employers are reading this, I'll cut it short here. Let's just say that a very special little visitor came to me the moment I awoke in recovery on Monday night. Her mom put her on my belly, and she lay there and cooed. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. I hadn't seen her since she was born a month ago that day. There are things to live for. That was such a huge one. Thank you for that moment. :)
Lucky to be alive As it happens when someone gets sick, the familial phone chain lights up like a Las Vegas slot machine. And as always, somebody knows somebody who died from whatever you had. Normally, I wave off the stories -- my family members know somebody who died at nearly everything, but one stopped me cold.
Long story short, apparently a few weeks ago, a girl's parents were reading the obituaries, and they saw an obit for a guy, 31, who used to date their daughter. He was found dead in his apartment -- his appendix had ruptured, and he died on the spot.
You never know when that fucking organ is going to spontaneously rot in your system. Get it out. Now!
On losing an organ We'll leave out the fact that I'm already trying to figure out how to compile a public service campaign to let people know to get their damn appendixes out before gangrene infests them.
But it's weird. A part of you is gone (granted, it's a rotten part, and that's a good thing). At least if you go into the hospital and go into labor, you bring home a screaming sack of diaper rash. It's your $28,000 souvenir, if you will. And there were literally no other women my age in the hospital who weren't giving birth. It's like that's what's expected to happen at this age. But seeing that I can't even take care of myself without an army of friends, there shall be no kiddies for me.
In fact, I hereby declare that I shall be kid-free, just so I don't have to go into a hospital again. In fact, kill me before taking me to another goddamn hospital. It would be quicker than the slow death you experience there anyway.
I don't know. Maybe I'll change my mind. There is always home-birthing. :)
On kitties Kadi is happily terrorizing Paul and Bryan's cats as we speak. Maddie was allowed to stay with me, and she's been a little angel. But judge from these two back-to-back voice messages, left within minutes of each other, whether I should take this cat back:
10:36 a.m. "Hey Dawn. It's Paul. I hope you're recovering well. It's going to take a few weeks before you really feel better, but I hope you're OK. We're glad to take care of your kitty for a few more days until you're better. Call if you need anything."
10:48 a.m. "Hey Dawn, It's Bryan. This bitch cat of yours is a little monster! She won't let our boys near their litterbox, she eats their food and hisses at them every time they take a step toward their dishes, and she's scratched the hell out of me! I can't wait to give her back to you! (laughter) No reflection on your parenting, of course. Hope you're hanging in there, and call me when you're up to it."
Maddie has perked up significantly since Kadi left. I think I have too. I miss her, but not enough to keep tormenting Maddie. I think I will call Mikey and see if his offer still stands to take her back ... after I've spent $100 on a cage and food for the little monster. :)
On having a bag attached to an incision It sucks. This tube and plastic bottle are attached to my lower right abdomen. Tug on it, it hurts. Let it get too full and walk with the weight of the bottle, it hurts. Sit down wrong . .... well, you get the idea.
Subtitle: Vaginal probes and other things sexual in the E.R.
Disclaimer: Today's blogging installment is brought to you without Percocet. That may change by the end of this. :)
I figured, after the gory mess described in the previous entry, now I owe you some of my juicier exploits. ;)
In the process of begging the medical "professionals" to diagnose whatever ridiculous abdominal pain was incapacitating me, I was treated to two pelvic exams and a vaginal probe.
It was during the final exam when I was told how healthy my vagina is. The doctor was great -- he knew I was pretty much over having KY-covered speculums thrust into my nether regions, so he decided to use his fingers. Whee! First it was, "Now I'm using one finger. Now I'm going to use two.Does that hurt?" I said, "Doc, this is the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me!" :) He couldn't stop laughing.
The vaginal probe was painful at first, but I took it like a trouper. It was actually a sonogram to get a picture of my ovaries and whatnot, but it was done with a double-dong and a vat of KY Jelly. I saw that probe and said, "Oh, I have one of those under my bed." The nurse tried so hard not to snicker.
So she poked and poked with the prod, and finally, when she went to pull it out, I suppose my cock-starved crotch had decided that it wasn't done yet. My muscles had gripped the wand very tightly, and she had to fight to get me to release it. Heh. I'm all drugged and my muscles are relaxed, but I still won't let a good one get away.
The first pelvic exam I got was, um, anticlimactic. :) I wasn't expecting for there to be girly issues involved -- and not like I had done anything to prepare for this visit but wash my ass anyway -- but I told the doctor, "Sheesh. I would've at least groomed if I'd have known I'd be having visitors." *snerk*
At any rate, there were the highlights of my visit -- the ones that I won't be in therapy for 20 years, trying to forget. :) Enjoy!
OK, I have about five minutes before the Percocet kicks in and knocks me out, but I want to thank everyone for the bounty of love flowin' my way during my recent plague illness.
My appendix went sour. Not a huge procedure, I'm told, but for the two days it took INOVA to diagnose it -- all the while saying, "No, it's not that." -- it ended up turning gangorous while they pussyfooted around. After arriving there Saturday in the wee hours, I suffered in pain for a few days in the ER. I finally begged them for one more CT Scan on Monday, which they told me flat-out that they were doing to humor me. Well, whoda thunk it, my appendix was leaking poison. Oh, and the nearby ovary is cystic, too, but that's to be handled another day.
At any rate, the appendix was ripped out post-haste, and I was put into a room with the first of two of the most offensive women on the planet. I don't know why they would think that I would be comfortable -- being 29 and healthy -- in a room with 100-year-olds who poop themselves every hour and who snore like buzzsaws (the second one sounded like she was contantly digesting small children). Not to mention -- and this is the WORST -- both of these bitches kept knocking their IVs loose every five minutes. Every five fucking minutes! I think the nurses closed the door to my room so they wouldn't have to hear the seven hour beeping shifts.
I had two nervous breakdowns while I was in there. I did. I told them nobody could get better in a hospital. I was on oxygen yet had to smell shit and air freshener through my mask, and on top of that, because I was the only patient under 70, I was the only one required to do for myself. After my operation, I had to crawl into my own bed. When I wanted to go to the bathroom, I had to get myself out of and into bed. If I called for help with unplugging my fucking IV, I was told to just move the dresser and get it myself.
The only good thing is that, while I strained myself beyond repair, I got real used to scooting around -- so that I could sign my walking papers and scoot the fuck out of there yesterday.
I awoke yesterday with my usual 105-degree fever, but I was sicker than before. I couldn't move. My oxygen level wasn't even at 90 (it's supposed to be 97 or above). I wanted to die. I asked them to kill me. I said if they didn't put me in another room, I would rather die than spend another fucking day with that snarfalicious beast next to me -- they pampered her miserable ass and had no problem with her screaming morning, noon and night, but god for fucking bid they help me.
As if my luck weren't bad enough, my damn menses started yesterday. I just finished my regular cycle more than a week ago, but from all the meds, it kicked back up again. So when it took me my usual hour to get out of bed, I called the nurse and told her I had bled all over the bed. (I like to call this nurse Carribbean Jerk, for her nasty Carribbean accent and attitude -- I've always had bitter relationships with the Island girls.) So she stuck her hands down my ass and declared that it wasn't my period (mind you, the ass was real sore from scooting around unassisted for four days). I said well, it has to be something. So she stuck her hands in my crotch and found that yes, in fact, I was sopping. So I asked for a pair of underwear and something to catch the blood. She glared at me (her usual greeting) and said, "Why don't you have extra underwear?"
For the reader, what you don't know is that I drove myself there in so much pain that I couldn't exactly pack a vacation suitcase. I'm lucky I didn't wreck the fucking car. And my friends and I knew what I had, long before I had it. And as good as my friends are, I wasn't askin' them to go get me skivvies, especially with my abdomen being all distended anyway.
And not to mention, I told the girl repeatedly, "Because I don't. I didn't bring any. I haven't had visitors since I got here. Please find me something."
So I stood at my bedside for an hour. Yes, an hour. She finally emerged with mesh panties from the OB ward and some pads. She seemed to have no problem with me standing there, woozy and dazed and bleeding down my fucking legs. Not to mention, but there was tons of stuff on the floor (medical equipment) for days, but nobody would ever move it, so I had to always lift my IV station over it so I could get to the bathroom. They are so lucky I never tripped.
*sigh*
Well, I'm home now. I signed myself out because if I was going to die, I wanted to do it at home.
And I'm better here. There, I had to beg for everything -- pain pills (which I got when they felt like it, and I asked every four hours), food (the surgeon had no clue why I wasn't eating there -- um, nobody would give me food?). Here, I'm comfy. I'm with Maddie. I've shipped Kadi off to live with Bryan and Paul for awhile (Maddie is thrilled!).
Yeah, there's a story. I have this bag of poison attached to my incision -- it collects all the bad stuff going on in my tissues and holds it outside my body. I have to wear it till Monday. It looks like a thermos of Hawaiian punch.
I knew that Kadi was going to attack it. And sure enough, the second Bryan got me in the door, the cat ran up to me and lunged for my waist. I screamed and cried for at least an hour. It's not that it even hurt -- I was such a wreck from my adventure that this stupid little cat set me off in such a way.
I needed to see Maddie. I found her quickly -- before I had left the house, I had grabbed a pair of oversize sleep pants from a storage tub in my room. When I came back, Maddie was in the tub, snoozing in some of my other jammies. She was so cute. She looks like she's lost a few pounds, but she was so thrilled to see me. That, and when the boys hauled Kadi away, Maddie was locking the door behind them! ;)
One last story, and I must retire to the couch:
One of my co-workers, Deb, came to see me yesterday, just as I'd signed my release papers. I'd called my mom and at that precise moment, snarfalicious in the next bed decided to shit herself. Mom told me to go outside, now that my machines were unhooked. So I got up and inched down the hall, where I ran into Deb, who had flowers from her and a card from everyone at work. (She was stunned that I was leaving -- I really did look like the angel of death.)
At that point, Shawn and Bryan showed up to collect my loot and haul me home, so they all took my stuff downstairs. Caribbean Jerk did NOT arrange for me to be taken out of the hospital, so I had to walk the whole way myself. So, I was pretty exhausted when I got to the car. Well, here's the fun part -- the car battery was DEAD.
I almost collapsed from the heat and the excitement. Shawn was trying so hard to be my knight in a shining Tiburon, but with the battery dead, well, I couldn't go anywhere. So I asked him to call Deb and have her take me home, which she did. She jumped Shawn's car and went to get me my drugs. She also bought me a wonderful bounty of soft foods to get me started during my convalescence at home. :) Mmm -- I so need a refill on the pudding and juice already! She knows how to shop for a sick kid!
I have more stories to tell, of course (and they ain't pretty), but these are a few.
Leslie, confidential to you -- greetings from Alexandria! (*wink wink nudge nudge* -- e-mail if you're lost!)
OK, it's almost time for my Cipro. If I haven't returned your VMs, I apologize -- this is the longest I have committed myself to anything other than lying on my back and moaning (and not like in one of my previous entries! Sheesh! What a difference a day DOES make!).
Thanks to everyone who visited me in the inferno hospital! (And for not throwing up at seeing me rotting in my own filth -- I was not fit for presentation!) I didn't make this voyage public, so it was wonderful that the few who knew, made sure to be there for me. I also had two surprise guests whom I never expected to see (right as I awoke in the recovery room), but who made all the difference. As did they all. :)
I had such a good solo orgasm just now, I was reduced to tears. Heh. Do you cry after a good, explosive orgasm? I was stunned. Damn, I'm good. *sizzle*
The Percocet that I washed down with three vodka shots last night is still kicking my ass.
To add to that haze, I spent two and a half hot hours at a ghetto laundromat today (of course, they're all ghetto around here). I got kinda pissed because the lady who ran it was either doing her own laundry or she was doing the "wash & fold" service for people who drop off their skivvies. Either way, she was using several washers and dryers, and I had to use one dryer to do three consecutive loads. And that didn't count the load I brought home to hang instead of dry. She should've had her own washers behind the counter for whatever she was doing.
Before I left the house, though, when I started dragging out my bags-o-guchies 'n 'at, Short Bus (aka Kadie) decided to run past me and down the front steps. I dropped everything -- including my bag-o-quarters -- to run after her and catch her. Brat. Kitty for sale!!! (Maddie's making up signs right now -- "Free Pussy! Get it while it's hot!")
I have to do something to earn money. I have now bounced seven checks in two months. I need to quit checking my mail -- this is disheartening. I need to replace some furniture that quite didn't make it to/through the move, and well, I suppose I need to be able to pay the bills that are a year past due before I make any new purchases. *sigh* I need to marry me a sugar daddy or somethin'.
I've done a lot of offline blogging today, and will continue to do so. Nothing exotic is happening -- I just need some alone time to think and rant. The phone's off and will stay that way until I am done with my musings.
Michele wants to know who you were on Sept. 11, 2001. I made a brief submission, including photos of NYC and D.C., but I will expound upon that when the anniversary date arrives. But I've been thinking about it -- the girl I was is long gone, but not forgotten.
I visited my nephews/godchildren Kirby and Jynx today, to let them play outside and then to hang out with them for awhile. They're so loving and so happy to see me. I think my girls are just happy to see me because they know I give out the food in this house. :)
She's Robin, but to all of us who know and love her, she's Wobin (because her friend's now-14-year-old son called her that when he was a wee munchkin).
Miss you, Mom! :)
She probably wants a grandchild for her birthday, but until vibrators start being packaged with vials of sperm, she will have to keep enjoying Maddie and the Short Bus cat, who's now answering to Short Bus and Kadi. :)
Mom got a new car for her birthday (she and my grandfather traded in their lemon Sebring for a 2004 Sunfire. My 2002 Samantha Jones is so jealous! Mom got red (racy just like her!) so that my little blue one will still feel special. :)
I locked myself out of the apartment tonight. Joy and rapture neverending, I'll tell ya.
I went down to the dark, scary storage room in the basement, and guess who grabbed the wrong set of keys? Meanwhile, I had both sets of apartment keys hanging right inside the front door, but dumbass me took the keyring I used to use at the old apartment. *sigh* Oh, and it was a $10 lockout charge, made payable to the guy who let me back in (as if it killed him to walk the length of two buildings to reach me). Sadly, I don't even have $10, so I floated a check his way. That check is more rubber than the box of condoms I just found in an old purse. ;)
I had actually left my sliding doors unlocked -- a rarity for me. If I could have lifted my fat ass up the railing and gotten to my balcony, I would've saved the money I don't have. But instead, a nice Ethiopian girl allowed me to use her phone. I kept misdialing the apartment complex's number, so she handed me a Yellow Pages ... written in -- you guessed it -- Ethiopian. :)
But I finally got the number and all was well. And I could sure use a cigarette right now, but as cash is flowing downstream, that ain't possible. Oh well. I'll live another seven minutes without it. :) And I will carry my keys in my damn bra, from now on!
*off to take a Percoset, courtesy of Paul, who just had his appendix out last weekend. Thanks Paul!* :-D
So the potluck begins in a few minutes. The food actually looks edible. Our already-stanky ladies' room is gonna smell like a landfill once this shindig is overwith. :)
The Short Bus Cat decided it would be a good idea to try to jump into the oven while Mommy tried to dump butter on her sausage 'shrooms. I caught her and threw her into the dining room. She promptly returned to try it again. After I kicked her out of the way, she decided to lie under the oven door while I did my thing. I complained but she didn't really give a shit.
Maddie was lookin' at me like, "Asshole! You would've beaten my ass!" But as with children, so goes with cats. The first one doesn't get away with shit, and the second one can basically juggle knives and run with scissors.
1. What housekeeping chore(s) do you hate doing the most? Litterboxes are the worst! I need a fucking gas mask and some prozac to get through that adventure.
2. Are there any that you like or don't mind doing? I acutally like cleaning all the glass in my house. Granted, I don't do it all that regularly, but sometimes I will get in the mood to take all 300 of my knickknacks, sit on the floor, and clean them individually. Quite therapeutic -- it's good thinking time. Same goes for cleaning the bathroom -- when I do it, I attack it. You can eat off of my bathroom ceilings once I'm done in there -- it's like my anger management. :)
3. Do you have a routine throughout the week or just clean as it's needed? Definitely as needed, because kitty vomit and shit nuggets crop up whenever it's good and ready. :) Thank the good lawd for Clorox and Lysol antibacterial wipes.
4. Do you have any odd cleaning/housekeeping quirks or rules? No dishes in the sink. Ever. Unless they're soaking. And the shower curtain and toilet lid are closed at all times. And after I clean the bathroom sink, I use an Orange-Glo wipe to make the place smell like creamsicles.
5. What was the last thing you cleaned? Just ran the dishwasher and wiped down the stove and countertops.
Spent the last two hours preparing and stuffing mushrooms for tomorrow's pot-less lunch at work. I usually use tiny mushrooms so that everyone can get one, but fuck it. I used three dozen regular ones, and that was enough for me.
Now to just remember to bake them before I leave tomorrow. That means actually getting up early enough to let the fuckers cook. :)
The little cat is now answering to Short Bus and to Katie. I loved the name Chloe at one point, but now I just want to call the little terror by a name that's all her own. Something tells me that Short Bus will win out. :)
Maddie still hates her, but she's warming up to me again, although she does hiss at me from time to time to show her disgust. This is a cat who lets small children pull her tail and ride her around the living room, so it's weird for her to be so damn angry all the time. But Maddie's still my favorite child, and I hope she knows that. Short Bus doesn't seem to care, as long as I keep the food coming. ;)
I've been eating so terribly in my poverty. I had crackers with cream cheese and green pepper jelly for dinner tonight. Both cats were trying to have some, but I didn't want them shitting green peppers all night. I swear, I just changed their litter last night, and already there are 10 pounds of cat shit as well as about five pounds of litter sprayed all over their area. I even bought a rug to put their boxes on, and the rug is covered in crystals. I cannot win with these two, and I don't even know why I keep trying.
Damn, I'm tired. Off to bed with the trusty Pocket Rocket at my side. ...
2. There are three things I really want to blog about, but shouldn't. So I won't. ;) Damn it.
3. I'm hungry. But that can easily be eradicated by satiating the need in No. 1.
4. Busted a tooth and a filling this weekend, so am mildly annoyed by that, but even more so because I owe my dentist $1,200 and can't go back unless I hit the lottery.
5. My comment box has evaporated until after Sept. 8. YACCS officially yakked to death last week, apparently. E-mail comments if you're so inclined -- I'm feelin' lonely with no feedback! *sniff*
During last night's drunk-fest, I recalled telling the boys about a steamy dream I had the other night.
I'll spare the details, but I essentially raped some hot guy. (Of course, as we've said for years, you just can't rape the willing. hee hee) And THEN, I somehow pulled someone else into the mixture, and it was a big ole threesome!
I awoke panting and fumbling for the Pocket Rocket. My dreams can be fucking amazing sometimes! :)
Somebody had a few too many martinis at Topaz last night. And that same somebody was awakened at 4 a.m. by a spunky little black cat who saw fit to dig her claws into her Mommy's temples. And when I fell back asleep, I was awakened again by that same little terror, who decided to cough and sneeze directly in my face.
Our organization's president called a meeting with me first thing this morning. I swear -- he always gets me on the uber-hungover, no-makeup days.
Must shop for corporate potluck luncheon tomorrow. I swear, I'd sooner have another furlough day than a potluck lunch. But I have to reason that, if the worst thing about my job is having to deal with other peoples' cooking and their bad table manners, then I should be a happy girl. :)
I didn't take many photos while I was in Pittsburgh, but I figured I'd snap a couple to help the story along. :) More photos are available at Maddie's site. I owe Mom the disclaimer that the photos with all the half-unpacked boxes were taken at my apartment. :)
My girls. Maddie is the pissed-off one:
Here's Chloe, after bonking her head repeatedly on the coffee table:
And here's Mom at the Rib Cook-Off, dreaming of having a *bone* (of any variety) to suck on. So many people point out how much we look alike, but that's probably just 'cause we're both lookin' for some meat to put in our mouths! ;)
I went to see my mom and grandfather this weekend in Pittsburgh. Haven't seen them since late March/early April, so I figured it was time for a road trip to the hallowed South Hills.
My nerves are kind of shot from a ridiculous six-hour drive back (it's usually a four-hour trip), but it was wonderful spending a whole weekend with the family. Usually, my trips home are overscheduled with visits to a dozen people, but I kept my presence unknown so that I didn't have to feel pressured to run all over creation and not get to spend any quality time with my family. That, and trips to Pittsburgh always involve me running the wheels off of my car to go meet people everywhere -- most of my trips are always spent en route, and well, I just wasn't in the mood for that. (Shawn and I have learned the hard way that trips to the homeland do not include people actually coming out to see us, even though we've already put hundreds of miles on our cars just to get to their fair city.)
But without an itinerary, I can say that the trip up was a riot. But that's what I get for traveling with two pissy pussies.
Somewhere on the PA Turnpike, just before the entrance of the Allegheny Tunnel, I smelled a heaping dose of cat shit (with two sick kitties in the back of the car, I expected it, but not a mere two hours into the trip). I figured it was Maddie because she was sicker than Chloe, but when I could pull over (after the tunnel and another 20 miles of construction), we found it was Chloe who shat herself silly in her brand-new cage. Gaah. I had to pull over in Somerset and give her a quick bath and fumigate her cage. And can I say how HUMILIATING it is to walk into a service plaza with a big steaming bag of cat shit to throw away?!?! ;)
But once I got safely to Pittsburgh and let the little hellions frolic through their weekend abode, the family and I went for ranch wings at Getaway Cafe (I used to get drunk and have wings there all the time -- I missed them desperately!). And because life revolves around all the greasy, wonderful food in my old hometown, Mom and I took the day on Sunday to wander around the Allegheny County Rib Cook-Off, which we wrapped up with a journey to nearby Trax Farms, where we bought all kinds of specialty foods that I've been missing having in my cupboards. Later that day, I took my grandfather to Starbucks (his favorite) for some quality grandfather-granddaughter time, and we all enjoyed a phenomenal lemon cake from the famous Bethel Bakery.
And yes, I did have to lie down to get my shorts zipped up this morning, especially after breakfast at Eat 'n Park. :) Now I probably won't eat for two weeks, to recover.
Mom's high school friend and her son came down on Sunday to visit for awhile -- they wanted to meet the the Little Terror, whom Mom and I have renamed "Short Bus Girl," because she's cute as hell but dumb as bricks. I haven't seen her son in years -- he's in ninth grade now, and I was in ninth grade when he was born. I always hated it when people commented on how much I'd grown during those years, but I had to exclaim in shock when I realized that he's taller than me now (and will be much taller, I'm sure, in the coming years).
All in all, life changes a lot when you're gone. But it's nice to have everything and everyone to go back to, once in awhile. :) Good weekend, no question. The drive is nice when there aren't torrential downpours for 85 percent of the trip, but I'm pretty good in heavy rains. But my wiper blades are just shot -- I'm practically scraping my windshield with the metal blades. But I'll replace them after I get these sick kitties to a vet -- and get some Prozac for Maddie, who's so depressed about not being an only child anymore. Poor kid. :) But she's not so depressed that she doesn't swat at her lil sister whenever the mood strikes, and the sad thing is, Chloe usually deserves it! :)
Raising the practice of wasting time & bandwidth in the nation's capital to soaring artistic heights, searching for sapience in a cesspool of despair, indulging an addiction for coffee & cigarettes and ranting about nothing in particular.
Send lovin' to: P.O. Box 9663
Alex., Va. 22304
goddessdawn AT gmail DOT com
