too funny! i'm telling *everyone*..
so i am currently being a stoned tourist outdoors, waiting for the
next game. at least this is apl, and it's not for actual money -- meg
may be able to stomach this, but i just cannot play for that much real
money; i've said before that she's got more balls than i. tonight is
her first apl game, and she's doing well. :-) well, she's still in
there, at least. we went to play with her new minimeg, whom i met
before meg left for vegas. i like her minimeg; she's a post-doc whom
meg is raising up in the way she should go so that when she is old she
should not depart from it. ;-)
UPDATE...meg out, thinks apl is a silly soc thing, minimeg doing ok,
we'll play the next tourney tho.
'codia still elegantly wasted, by-the-by. but i'll have to quit typing
'fore meg comes back from the loo and asks what i'm doing.
It's making me stir crazy.
Meg is coming to pick me up and we will be driving out to my father's
for a couple hours. I am supposed to be on bed rest, but I have to get
moving or else I will go batshit. She's bringing taro milk tea with
boba because 1) she loves me and 2) her tacos collided with my colace,
and I had to take an immodium and extra narcotics to get back to the
happily constipated state I had previously enjoyed. And it's all her
fault; I told her this.
I expect to be ok for the travel since I discovered that sitting on my
fluffy flannel Christmas throw makes cars livable.
I am doing ok, though. I have a lot that I need to get done before
Monday, but I am not going to stress over it. I am on official leave
from Eviljob until 4 September, and Jobs 2 & 3 will just have to wait
until I have the energy to deal with them.
ok...why is everyone's shirt blurred out in Vegas Vampires?
And I'm cramping again; time for another pill. Argh.
and i am desperately craving a big-ass chef salad, only i am alone and
it is the middle of the night, and it is all stormy, so i can't have
one. if i *could*, it would be a ginormous salad with avocado, bleu
cheese crumbles, tomatoes, bacon, chicken...or, even better, that
saladwhatsis at california pizza kitchen that has all that stuff *and*
beets. beets rock.
sigh. i do not remember when i took my last pain pills. grr. i think i
am due. after my surgery in 2003, i was sent home with three brown
pills and a big bottle of percoset; this time i have just the
percoset. oh, well. mom drove me home, and in retrospect i should have
let kate or, well, anyone else who had offered take me, cos my mother
drives like shit. i ended up throwing her out, so she's currently at
home pouting, i am sure.
i would post more, but right now i am pretty boring -- my conversation
is limited to how i am in pain and hungry. you can fill in the blanks
from there, i am sure.
Well, wish me luck tomorrow.
I mis-remembered the speuterfest date -- it is *next* weekend, not
this coming weekend. In the meantime, a kitten was hit and killed in
Eviljob's parking lot on Tuesday, and I am so upset over this that I
cannot even describe how I feel. I tried to find where the body was,
what happened to it, *something*, and no-one seems to know. I could
find no trace of it, or I would have given it a decent burial. This is
so depressing, and I am so strung out emotionally that I have to stop
thinking about it or I will start crying again; as it is, I was in the
bathroom bawling, and I even feel guilty for crying, because no matter
what I feel, because I am incompetent, that kitten felt worse.
Today's pre-op went shittily as well; unlike my 2003 surgery (and this
is a different, allegedly better hospital), I was rushed through, the
admitting nurse neither listened nor knew what she was talking about,
and she was a tich rude besides. Oh, forget it; I am being nice -- she
was clearly one of those 'I hate women' women, and as long as I live,
I will never understand the animosity, the pure *hatefulness* with
which some women deal with other women. I am not saying we should all
go around calling each other 'sister' and fucking singing Kum-Bah-Yah,
but the womyn-y version of a fucking professional courtesy would not
be such a ridiculous proposition. We all hurt, we bleed, we have
rampaging fucktards in our lives and histories...why the cruelty, the
terseness, the dismissal? Why assume the worst? If nothing else, men
and women are more similar than different (don't tell me no, I study
and teach the brain), so this 'I get along with men, but I hate other
women' is just sexist bullshit, general stupidity, and a heaping
helping of wishful thinking.
As can probably be inferred, today has been a shitty day, and I am
tired and depressed.
And Soni just set a new world record...christ; I am going to start
wearing one of those Speedo Laser suits all the time like secret
Mormon underwear. That's freaking incredible!
ok, back to my depression:
I feel guilty about the kitten. Hideously, horribly guilty for
anything I could have done and didn't, and for any happiness or even
relief I may have had on Tuesday. I am aware that is irrational, but
it is the truth; I have regret enough to drown, especially when I
think about how I was trying to pick my mood up when I got back from
the hospital ordeal and was joking and laughing. Guilt. Total guilt.
So, in short, I suck. And we all knew that. Maybe my pre-op nurse knew
Harry's therapy crap went well yesterday, and I am off the hook for
further visits; I do hope he can manage on his own.
Tomorrow I have my pre-surgery blood work and stuff at the hospital,
where I will meet the anaesthetist, be told that I have a Class I
airway, and feign interest. I am not hostile, I just want this to be
over, and quickly. And I want Versed, lots of it -- that's some
wonderful stuff; it truly makes one not give a royal damn, and I need
much more of that in my life.
I finally heard from Baby Bat, the consummate bovarist; she's been
preoccupied with a *new* guy, and I'm a liberal girl, so I will
refrain from passing judgement, but I might have a little better
attitude if all of them weren't unemployed losers. It always goes the
same way with her -- they are supposed to rescue her, they instead
leech a few hundred off her and she stops wanting to have sex with
them, then they get angry at her and they say they dumped her, and she
says she dumped them, and I lose the will to live halfway through the
story, because it is always the same.
They will be trapping without me this weekend; I am in pain, plus have
too much to get done before Monday. It's ok, though; the guy who is
heading this up on behalf of the rescue group has this under control.
If anything, I would probably create problems because after three
years of being an amateur, I am...well...still a monumental fuck-up.
ok...Mom left a few hours ago (I have been typing this off and on
since I came home, and now am watching The Fifth Element...can you
tell?), and I need to get some sleep. One thing I quite decidedly *am*
anticipating with glee is being out of this constant, horrible pain,
if only for a year or two, like last time. Yay.
And yes, 'rilly' is exempted if being used for comedic purposes. ;-) Rilly.
I am planning -- or, more correctly, *trying* to plan -- to have a
really good 2008 Holiday Season. I am planning on doing some
completely non-productive things, and I am totally committed to making
a birthday cake for myself this year. w00t!
In other news, my back is just *killing* me, and I think it's stress.
I have a LOT to get done this week, not the least of which is
remembering to take the nail polish off my toes and not wear my toe
Right now, Action Jackson is coming on, and I may stay up to watch it
-- I haven't seen it in *ever*, and it makes me homesick. :-) Hey, I
kinda liked the movie -- it was cute, funny, and I'm all for redeeming
heroin addicts. Plus, any movie that kills Sharon Stone cannot be all
Oh! And! I have MALL HAIR! No, seriously; after going to The Goddess
ever since I moved here, I slutted around a bit and then just found
this AWESOME stylist at an anchor store salon who is a third of the
Goddess' price, and on Saturday she gave me the best haircut I've had
in ages. I let her take a lot of length (fear not; it's still long),
and she made these 'functional layers' (her term) that don't *look*
like layers, but totally gave me my curl back. I couldn't be happier,
and if I do die on Monday, at least my hair will look great. :-).
I ended up today having to deal with one of the people I'd had to file
a complaint about at Eviljob, and it went well -- I'd been dreading a
confrontation, and it was a relief to have them behave in a civil
manner, especially since this person was documentably in the wrong. So
Mom took it upon herself to make dinner for me; she brought over some
really nice salmon croquettes and other stuff, and it was actually
pretty good (which makes me wonder if they were from elsewhere, cos I
would have expected ol' Mummers to do something like try to 'break up
the taste' of the salmon by adding lemon juice, walnuts, thousand
island dressing...and marshmallows, served on a bed of pineapple. With
sausage gravy). But, seriously, these were good. :-) I think she knows
I'm nervous and stuff.
I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday for a checkup of Millicent,
my beautiful-but-stupid left ovary's new little cyst; I didn't mention
it because it was supposed to be a routine visit.
I walked out scheduled for emergency surgery on the eleventh. As in
this coming Monday.
Thursday morning I cemented crap with my gyn's surgery scheduling
department -- appointments for pre-op blood work and so on. I started
freaking out -- I NEVER freak out; not in real life -- so much that I
kind of blacked out for the end of the conversation (as cc is my
witness, I have officially PEGGED my stress-o-meter) and was just
blank-brainedly staring at the walls for about an hour when my gyn
herself phoned...I can only assume that I freaked out her scheduler,
though I honestly don't remember what I said, or even hanging up. So
my gyn pep-talked me for a few minutes (she even apologised for having
to get through a couple pts to give me a ring). She really understands
me, understands *women*, just when I honestly thought I would never
trust a woman gyn again. She reminded me that I'll be pain-free (I
have been in tragically awful pain for seemingly ever), out of danger,
will NOT lose Millicent (no oophorectomy form 'just in case' like last
time with the other gyn in 2003 -- she promised, and even said she's
looking forward to delivering my babies, so why would she take an
ovary :-) ), and I'll be 100% happier, and she's right, I know.
Typical girl (she's a lot like me -- a hyper-competent
girly-girl-who-could-kill type), she's giving me a gift-with-purchase
that I'll go into later lest I sound frivolous (ok, ok, *more*
frivolous). So after talking with her, I felt more together, and
started phoning around to get everything in order -- FMLA paperwork
for Eviljob, a sub for Job 3, and letting Job 2 know when my Do Not
Disturb signs will be hung, and whatnot. Then the hospital phoned to
confirm my pre-admit stuff, and then my gyn's scheduler phoned back a
few hours later -- she'd had a bigger emergency that she needed to put
in my spot, and needed to move me to the eighteenth. That was fine
with me, cos it gives me a week to finish my syllabus and initial
lesson plans, make arrangements to board Rhett, Cookie, Squoosh, and
Weebie until Meg gets back in case I die or something (listen,
shaddap; I really do worry about these things). I was ok for the rest
of the day, then I started to freak out again.
I am ok now, just scared and kind of lonely. Staying up past my
bedtime and watching Motel Hell isn't helping. But I'm ok. This is
going to be a busy and stressful week. Pfft.
Wish me luck, I guess.
I sent a text to Meg to let her know; I don't remember what she is
doing today, but I think it was a tournament. Late last night when I
spoke with her, she was going in Circus Circus, and she said the
outside reminded her of a dead mall, and the clown is creepy...so she
was thinking of me. Funny girl.
In Other News, I have Mummers' bronchitis, and a raging headache from
the clarithromycin. Bwaah.
oh...and...as mom was filling out her 'what's new with you' med update
forms, I noticed she made a 'bronchitis/bronchitic' slip like I do
(even more frequently when typing quickly), and I just found that
humorous; it's good to know that I'm not the only one suffering from
the occasional cyrillic bleed-over.
I have taken everything I can get my hands on for this headache,
including half of one of Mummers' Mobic tabs, and nothing has
*touched* it. I may explore trephanation soon.
Oh! In Cat News, huge speuterfest next weekend. Yay.