Spoiler Alert: I Still Have Both Feet.

February 10, 2009

It’s not that I don’t have stuff to tell you friends. I’m not even secretly addicted to a video game(for once). I just have not had the solid time to give you all the attention you deserve. It’s no excuse really…Just remember though, if you really need a crse fix, click the sidebar for my twitter link. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think twitter is “better” than you or anything. It’s just quicker. Kind of like you are my betrothed and twitter is just a friend with benefits. I like to plan our time together, but I can just hook up with twitter when the bar closes. But today friends, I thought I’d post to tell you I’m turning over a new leaf.

I had a little health scare last week. My feet wouldn’t warm up one night and because I was in the throes of insomnia, I forgot that the problem could be related to tramping through snow in soggy shoes for ten hours (off and on of course) for the first time in ten days. (Because friends, much of my job involves cold sogginess in the winter). I decided I must have diabetes and that my feet were going to need cut off. Now loyal readers know my issue with having stumps (or as they are more delicately known, nubbins), and are probably aware of my fear of karmic retribution. Still, I don’t think I shared the shock of my most recent realization.

Let me preface the realization by making sure that we are all on the same page. Can we all agree that there are some people in the world that are fetchers and some that are fetchees? It’s best when the fetcher and the fetchee are together (like Gill and I). (Obviously, I am the fetchee.) I’ve always believed that karma would not allow me to be in a wheel chair because it always seems like folks who are in wheelchairs are fiercely independent and like to do everything for themselves. Since I’m only grudgingly independent, I figured that karma wouldn’t punish me in that way. Then, it happened. I met a person in a wheel-chair who was a textbook example of a fetchee. Just about the time I realized we couldn’t be friends because her fetchee status trumped mine and I was not about to become her fetcher (don’t judge me friends. We all have our character limitations, I just try to be more honest about mine on here), I realized that if a fetchee like her could end up in a wheelchair, well then so could I.

So back to last Tuesday night. I kept checking my feet in the bathroom and couldn’t decide if they were dark pink from squishing them to assess for numbness or because they were starting to turn black because of impending diabetes rot. (yes, that’s a little flash of my ignorance surrounding the disease) At one point, I noticed dark spots behind both my ankles. They almost looked like bruises but didn’t hurt. I was alarmed enough to want to wake up Gill to see if he had the same dark spots. I played that tape through and realized he would just yell at me and probably wouldn’t offer the extensive examination and reassurance that I was looking for. Instead, I got up and WebMDed the problem. Turns out there really is no such thing as diabetes rot, and after a brief thrombosis scare, I figured out it was probably just cold.

Yes indeed, the incident scared me friends. I’m changing my ways for real this time. Maybe that means I’ll blog more too!


some tuesday thoughts and a me-me memoir

March 26, 2008

– You are calling me three hours after your workday is over because she called you a jerk? Really? So she didnt call you a fucking bitch, tell you she hates you or kick you repeatedly while attempting to bite your fingers while you are holding the light switch in an on position? I hate to say it sweetie but you are getting SOFT.

– Diego is a jackass. A technology dependent hack.

– When one goes for one’s med check, one should really think twice about striking up conversations with other patients. Yes, one can be caught off guard when an innocent remark about having ADHD patients wait for an hour and a half is met with a rebuff and the movement to another chair (fucking depressives). However, one should not attempt to redeem one’s self by engaging in a forty five minute dialogue with someone who is willing to share everything from the frequency she and her husband have sex to how she changed her mother-in-law’s will to cut out the other step-children. You would think i would have learned this lesson when I spent two hours trapped in a conversation with Lloyd the schizophrenic custodian at Gill’s work during his first company Christmas party. (Yes, lloyd is his real name. I would have changed it but its such a perfect schizo custodian name…) (As non-confrontational as I tend to be, i still had to take issue with his assertions that bill clinton was controlling his mind through the toxic waste dumps by his house. Needless to say, much like our sex starved will-changer tonight, lloyd did not see this or any other cue as a reason to cut the conversation short)

– I showed that I learned a valuable life lesson and showed growth today. I am applying for a second job (oh no details, Im a woman of mystery) and on the application where it asks one to describe why you are interested in the position, I made a conscious choice NOT to write “because I had a dream telling me to apply” (which is actually true). You see friends, I did learn from my 1999 interview with Lonnie Manko where for some unknown reason i felt compelled to tell her I left the baptist church in shame (which is also actually true and a great story…) Lonnie swears I instinctually knew that would be a selling point for her! Still today, I made a better choice and Im kind of proud. Go me.

My Darling Luckybuzz tagged me for a me-me memoir. Your own personal memoir in six words:

“that was not my best idea.”

runners up?

“shut yer damn cock holster bitch!” (my valentine to gill)

“so you married a crack-whore” (tribute to gospel bob and his response to our unholy union)

” damm kids, get off my lawn” (someday this will be my memoir. i hope)

“why didn’t i have sex with him?” (drunken reflections on my 20s)

“hey baby, im not that married” (see last entry)

KIDDING! (except about the cock holster, because gill knows im all about the love)

See my first link? I smell a blog roll in the near future!

Can you smell what the crse’s cooking?

March 19, 2008

I have very little context for this phrase but am certain it relates to the DODGEBALL PLAY-OFF GAME (oh yeah say my name bitch) that we are in tonight. YEAH THATS RIGHT. PLAY-OFF!!! I missed the game last week as I was in a hospital out of town listening to a beautiful little girl narrate du-rah to me between stomach pains and traumatic room visits from  nurses and cleaning crew alike (I felt so bad for the poor woman who emptied the trash). “I can’t like boots.” (talk to your cousin about how he would be the proverbial watson to dora’s holmes) “I help daddy with the tape too.” (Ill bet you do darlin’, Ill bet you do)  “I show mama the sharp rocks” (sweetie Im guessing since you probably make her watch this at least three times a day, she probably sees them coming). As a result, I had about fourteen short lived hours of believing that our standing in second to last place had led us to this triumphant progression. (We had beaten the only other completely beaten team the week before. But damn we rocked that night and beat them good).  Alas, I don’t recall if it was Drew or Shakes who broke the news that all the teams qualified for play-offs. Still, I caught a ball last time I played. I was so freaking pumped by this, it was actually two entire weeks later that I remembered getting out and leaving the court virtually seconds after it happened.  (Spike, one of our two star players, inadvertently reminded me of this unfortunate reality when relating how I trashed talked my way right off the court, still completely overjoyed by my surprising success) But this time friends, Im ready. Granted I only slept two hours and Im pretty sure my game shirt is smelly if not drenched in spilled soda from being in the car all week, but my head? ITS ALL THERE BABY. Stay tuned tomorrow to hear about the our humiliating upset of the second place team. BALLS OF STEEL BABY!!! BALLS! OF! STEEL!

Don’t freak out with the whole two posts in one day thing!

January 18, 2008

So Ive been sick. Real sick. Pukin’ my brains out sick. For 36 years hours. It was gross. Exhausting. Painful. But at the same time, I did catch up on some reading. And strangely, got my brain age down to 22 (?). I also had a lot of time to think. Between the puking of course. And Ive been thinking. I think I need to change the direction of my blog. Ive always prided myself on being trivial here. But lately, my life has taken a direction that has kept me away because Im getting involved in some way not trivial things. (Did I mention I was on a list to try to “adopt” a temporarily homeless gay college student over New Year’s? He worked it out thankfully and was able to go back home) But I miss you folks. And I also feel like I need an outlet for the ideas that crop up in this sharp as a tack 22 year old mind (bay-beeeee)(yes that’s sarcasm). And Im starting to think I need to say things just because they need to be said. And because Im getting more and more pissed off and i don’t have too many other appropriate places to put my pissed offedness. So I might be getting more political here. Or maybe I should just say more vocal about my frustration or sense of impotence about the social injustices I am looking at these days. I will still try to make it fun for you though. And in between impulsive , incoherent, possibly ill-informed and most likely not well thought out rants, I will keep you posted about all things crse, such as the drama of my broken nail (Now i UNDERSTAND why they say people cry over a broken nail!) or how thanks to Lucy, I now proudly chair the Mint subcommittee in our church. (no it was mockery, not a real subcommittee, but the mints make me feel like our church shares a little hug with every partaker of candy)(Sega? Remember the tic-tac story? Its along those lines! Remind me to tell you the dog-poop story. I missed you at group BTW)

Still here? Well friends, like a good dog who won’t leave the damn bone alone, I am back on the whole identification needed to vote gnaw jaw. It happened when I was rifling through papers the other day and I found my little voting reminder with the big blatant PAY TO VOTE (photo Id required) stamp across the front and friends, I physically reacted. I am not quite sure why of all the social injustices in the world this one PISSES me off so bad.

When I reflect upon it, I think it has something to do with my (possibly naive) need to believe that despite all the yuckiness surrounding our forefathers, there are indeed certain truths that NEED to be self-evident. And if the constitution does in fact enumerate these truths as rights guaranteed to all citizens of our country (i know don’t waste your breath, I already said it was naive). Up until last November, all I needed to exercise my right to vote was a signature. I never thought much about it (well I actually did but that’s a whole other post dealing with my fascination with record keeping books) until I realized it was gone. Looking back, I see it as a beautiful expression of democracy that I totally took for granted. Reflective of the inherent dignity of all citizens regardless of race or class status. By signing our names, we were saying that despite the fucked up electoral process and all the partisan bull-shit, all citizens who choose to vote are equals on election day. We all matter the same amount. One person. One signature. One vote. Delusional? well of course but dammit, it was something. And they took it away. For no good reason. Despite what the mindless soundbite-hungry morons will tell you, the photo-id crap was a direct result of reports released from a supposedly “non-partisan” organization that ultimately disbanded in early 2007, after pretending to find a bunch of information supporting exactly what karl rove wanted them to support. And what do we have now? Continued exploitation of the disenfranchised is NOT the answer.

So that there is my vent.

So did I tell you guys I joined a social action group? Yeah….im hoping it helps with this sort of thing….