Tuesday, April 29, 2008


Ow. I have cramps. Owwwwww. It's that time of the month when my uterus
starts doing somersaults and cartwheels so enthusiastically that I
wouldn't be surprised if it burst out of my body and started dancing
across the floor, singing 'Hello, My Baby' like Michigan J. Frog. Or
was that Spaceballs? Gah. Anyway, I'm in pain. A lot. Right now I'm
lying on the sofa debating getting up. 'No' is winning. Bleurgh.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Fetch the Bucket!

This is pretty cool...one of my primo sources for forwarded emails sent this to me, and the funny thing is, it was weirdly correct.  Coo.
Food for thought...
This is a unique personality test. There are only 4 questions but the results are very interesting. I was kind of shocked by what some of my answers meant. Be honest and honor what pops into your mind when the questions present themselves. Just click on the following:

I started out being unintentionally not-honest (as in not truly reflective) on the first question, then I changed it and thought a long time about it (before I moved to Question 2), and the answer was SO correct for me, that I couldn't have done it any other way. 
Anyway...I would go into the drama-shit that is my life, but...I would rather just ignore it.  :-)  But I *will* say that the person at Eviljob about whom I complained the other day actually GAVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT!  Whaaa-0HAAAAA!  I must admit, I've not been given The Silent Treatment since like...ohhh...lessee...my BFF Renee in GRADE FOUR???  Clearly, I'm sorely over-due, cos I am an obnoxious bint and all.  Sigh.  Whatever.  Do yer worst.  Fookin' pansyass.
One of the drawbacks of having a teacher-mommy is that the bitch is trying to teach you something, anything, constantly, from the moment you're out the womb, cos she is compelled to and can't stop.  My Mommy even tried to teach her cat, Arby, to talk.  Seriously.  Taught her words like 'teeth', 'pants', 'squeakymouse', and so on.  The down side to this is that Arby now actually thinks she *can* talk. But that's another story; my point was that Mummers taught me to read and write before I ever hit school.  She also let me learn to write left-handedly, cos I did it naturally, and so I spent much of my early school years trying to un-learn being left handed, cos the less-understanding teachers in the school district I attended (not my Mommy's commie liberal school district) said that I would be 'happier' as a Righty.  And as my lugubrious wallowings here clearly demonstrate, they sure did know what they were talking about, hmmm?
  I *could* tell you that she had me reading by two, which is true, but it's not like I'm bringing Mom onto my blog to prove it should there be a disbeliever, so feh -- suffice it to say I was reading and writing before I ever went to school.  Therefore, reading is SO deeply ingrained a habit, and so totally reflexive, that by now I read things without meaning to read them...I cannot help it.  And I whole-word read (I forget the alternate term), which I never knew people don't usually do until about five years ago or so. 
Why do I mention this?  Because knowing that I do that, and use my peripheral vision constantly, you don't want to ever leave email and crap sitting out where I can read them, even if you think I am looking at something on the other side of your L-shaped desk.  Srsly.  But that's not actually why I mention it.  I mention it because when I read something all at once, sometimes my brain just picks out salient words and moves on to the next topic -- I 'get' the meaning, but the actual words hanging out in my brain are often not the same thing as the actual meaning, which is how I came to make myself sick at work today laughing over my mis-reading of this:
I swear, that Sanrio thinks of fricking *everything*!  All the cool bulimics in Japan have one.  Rilly. 

Friday, April 25, 2008

Now It Can Be Told

I love butterscotch. Like a LOT. I am sitting at Eviljob with a
butterscotch pop. Yay. And i was called over the weekend about a found
kitten whose eyes weren't even open yet, and i saw it today, and it's
adorable -- maybe a week old. We got it with a nice lady who is able
to take it all day with her in a teensy cat carrier with KMR and
bottles. So cute! Life is sorta good.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Customer Suggestion

Dear Pest Control Company,

Why don't you tell your idiot, clearly-male webmaster to quit f-ing
around posting the kind of pictures you have on your website and
putting up all that crap about what phylum and genus bugs are, and
instead be USEFUL and post pictures of spiders that have been SQUASHED
or BUG-SPRAYED TO DEATH, so that I can decide if I need to phone you
in the morning or not. I don't care what it ate when it was alive. I
don't care how many babies it has at one time (ICK!!!). And I
**REALLY** don't care how many eyes it used to have before I smashed
it into Oblivion. No one cares but you; everyone dutifully taking
their meds just wants the damned things out of their house. Post
pictures we can USE.

Thank you.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Still Awake

Argh. But the good news is that I am almost done.

I have a new time-waster

Yes, besides being shot up with dust mites, dill weed, cat spit, and roach juice. I like home shopping bloopers. A lot. They are funny. I love home shopping. Sigh...

Ok...now back to work. I really want toast right now. Toast...mmmmmm!

It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.

I am ok.  Hugs and stuff to everyone.

Well, the fethival was okey-dokey; I had a lot of fun that week, actually; we had lots of walking, laughing, late nights, and even an out-of-doors film with pizza and stuff...fabulous!  It lulled me into a false sense of security for what was about to happen.

Oh, yeah, you betcha -- it gets worse.

So I start up (again) with a sore throat towards the end of this festival (I get them a lot), and I go to an ENT last week-ish; he says I'm fine, but wants me to do an allergy test.  Well, I'm NOT fine, and I tell him he's wrong, cos I've never been allergic to an damned thing and I hate whiny bitches who do nothing but kvetch about their allergies, which are all mostly made up in their empty heads anyway.  I swear...working at Eviljob has made me the most intolerant person, but one truly hasn't lived until one has heard biddies grousing about how they are allergic to this, that, and the other.  Feh. 


So we have this knock-down, drag-out, and I agree to go to his allergist.  Well, my arm is STILL SWOLLEN.  Yes, I am allergic; I had a huge reaction to the control histamines they put on, plus ragweed, pollen, dust mites, cockroach (bleah! I have been injected with COCKROACH JUICE!), some other thing I forget, and...

are you ready?


I am allergic to CAT.  Specifically, cat saliva.  My throat is sore, my nose drips into my throat, and I am headachy all the time anymore at least in part to the fact that I let Rhett Butler (and Squooshable) kiss me on the mouth.  No, I did *not* teach either of them to do that, they do it all on their very own.  Squoosh does it much less than Butler, but Butler does it a LOT.  Like every day.  And that's why my throat is red and swollen, and my ENT thinks that makes my mouth come open whilst sleeping, and then I snork in dust mites, to which I am also allergic, more so than I am to cat, and I'd believe none of this if my right upper arm hadn't swelled to twice its size from the injections, and I hadn't seen with my own eyes the bubble-swells on my forearms from the topical patch tests.  Me?  Allergic to CAT???

And no, my cats kissing me on the mouth bothers me NOT IN THE LEAST, nor will I stop doing it, even though, as Mummers (who is repulsed by the thought of kissing a cat on its fur, much less being kissed *by* a cat on one's mouth) observed, my throat ills are proof positive that kitty saliva is going into my mouth.  Hear me:  I DON'T CARE, AND WILL NOT STOP.  If anyone finds that disgusting, I don't care to hear about it, thanks. 

So I am starting allergy shots on Friday -- I thought they were like shots of Benadryl, but no -- they are like allergy vaccinations.  At the end of the course of shots, I will no longer be allergic to all this shit, and that's good, cos I'm not going to stop kissing cats, or letting them kiss me.  OHellNo.  So that I can kiss and be kissed in peace and happiness, I am getting the shots, which will also contain all the other shit to which I am allergic...like cockroaches.  THIS is how much I love my cats -- I am getting injected with fucking fresh-squoze cockroach juice for them.  BLECCH. 

Ok, anyway...

I am coming down from a hellish migraine yesterday, brought on largely by a new manager at Eviljob deciding to try to...well, truth be told, I don't know what he was trying to do, but it backfired.  I was told last Friday or Saturday that he started talking shit about me in a meeting (one I was not attending, that was full of his subordinates who have no business having an opinion about me in place the firste) during the week that I took off to go play.  He was griping (I am told) to them that I am 'never there' as a resource (ummm...bbq?  I am NOT your resource, and have never been, so...put that in your pipe and smoke it), that there is 'something wrong with my mind' because I have been at Eviljob x years and am not on Senior Management or Director level yet, like [example Eviljob person who started close to when I did], and blah, blah, blah.  I was told he was really venting, and just kept going on and on.  This, from a person I rarely see.  Huh?  So yesterday I had to sashay my ass into one of our aforementioned Director's offices (over this schmuck) and let him know that I did not appreciate being talked about and was doing the favour of not letting this go to Human Resources, so...I guess I will find out tomorrow what in the shit is going on.  In the meantime, I cannot seem to shake the vestiges of this migraine and have had Eddi Reader's Ye Jacobites warring for headspace with Moby's Porcelain for the past six to eight hours.  Gah. 

In Other News, I am taking a sabbatical of sorts from Job 2 in order to teach a specialised class over the Summer; I'm all thrilled and honoured (and floored this was even offered to me -- that's a real poser right there, but I've no one to ask at the moment, and won't until next semester starts; I have to take care with whom I start yapping, is all) 'cos this is great for my CV, but I would have appreciated the advance warning, were I to have had any.  It's not a class that is normally taught by someone in my situation, and I am sure I'll have some snarky turds trying to give me crap about how they are disappointed that Dr Windadinder (not his real name, natch) is not their prof, but eh...they can cope or drop, 'cos I've already determined that I'm not replicating Dr W's class; I'm taking it off my own way.  I'm really happy, cos it is a high expertise class (good ol' Dr W is a well-known and respected expert), but I am also, well...nervous.  Really nervous.  But this also ups the clout of Job 2 when I return, so they were much easier to deal with than I was dreading.  :-)  I have tons of shite from my current class to get accomplished 'cos it's almost end of semester, so...sigh...I had better take a nap or get to work on that.  Sigh.  O how I desperately long for more free time.  :-( 

Oh!  Of the four or five films I did see, one of them -- Young@Heart -- was so awesomely funny and fab that I have to tell you to see it, should the opportunity present.  I laughed, cried, and had no idea how long i'd sat watching it.  I went to see it with Mummers during my fethival week, and was so happy I did, even though I missed out on a pub crawl with others from my program that night. 

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Ith a fethival!

Oh, my feet hurt. I had to have walked across campus twenty times
today. I did manage to get a lot of paperwork filed, people talked at,
and so forth. Tomorrow i have an early class, then a meeting, then i
am taking the rest of the day off. We're having a festival-thingy, and
i intend to go play. Yay. The next time i will have a chance to
participate is on Friday, and damn it, i'm going then, too.

Monday, April 07, 2008


Ok...so I live. Go, me; I just love it when I do that 'surviving,
barely' thing. :-)

I am glad that I did not vent more on Thursday or over the weekend,
cos I would have been doing nothing but inflicting batshittiness...but
at the time, I thought Job 2 was having a meltdown.

I would have a hard time explaining it all, but basically we had
someone explode, and so now I have a major special project...but I
didn't know about it until this morning, cos I was not even thinking
in the *direction* of my being put on this. Fuckaduck.

So I did the usual today, and tomorrow have a horde of meetings to
work out how this will, well...work out.

In Other News, I am ok. Getting better and less depressed over Romeo,
even though I am still nursing the vestiges of the migraine that
kicked in about two p.m. today. Meg is back from Biloxi's whatever
tournament, and she was REALLY making me angry on the phone this
evening as I was driving home after Eviljob and she insisted on
talking to me when I could barely understand what she was saying, then
started getting angry at me for asking her to repeat herself. I mean,
today's migraine was one of those where I have a really hard time
*thinking*, and have these flashes of nausea with NO warning that
leave almost as quickly. I mean, I had to theft graham crackers from
the kidlets today as I was babysitting, this nausea hit so fast. I
have a really hard time actively thinking, being creative, or being
funny/appreciating humour at all when I am like this, and even after
being around it for as long as I've been *alive*, Meg still doesn't
'get' that when I say I don't feel like talking, I mean it. A lot of
the time, I don't even have the metacognitive capacity to *say* I am
having a migraine, true...but after all this time...sheesh.

I have to get up early tomorrow, so I am debating whether or not to
take some Benedryl and try to finish this evil fucking migraine off or
not...I cannot find my Imitrex *anywhere*. At least the nausea and the
drilling feeling is gone. Needless to say, I was all-but-worthless at
Eviljob; it's good that I can be all stupid and robotic there and get
away with it.

What worries me is that even though this explosion is a big
opportunity for me, I think my illness today was fear-based. I hope
this was the worst of it. And I hope tomorrow goes well...I need no
more distasters right now. I am a fragile fucking flower, after all.

growl. hiss. spit.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

I have to vent...

Once again, i have been sucked into the jet engine of bureaucracy. I
need to work more on this Being a Weasel thing.