Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Worst. Blogger. Ever.

I know...I suck. Please check my tweets.

In brief, Harry finally got his Keppra in, so maybe now I won't be on
24-hr watch. Christ. I think all these drugs are pickling his mind, he
is dumber now than he was, say, five years ago. Sad, but what can I

Meg is off to a conference in Las Vegas, and has left me her sick cat
who has now had two surgeries, the second of which was because he
developed an abscess from hell. This cat has now cost Meg about
$1,500, and she's going to hate me if he dies on my watch. :-(

Speaking of cats, I am down to about fifteen ferals at Eviljob; I was
frustrated in getting volunteer help about a month ago, but I guess
that is due at least in part to the economy. Everyone gave job- or
money-related excuses. I can only try again. Sigh.

I am really worried about my surgery next week, and my father is not
helping; he is against tonsillectomies, and so he is campaigning for
me to suck it up and not have the surgery, but I hate the constant
pain, irritation, and infections.

My mother is still completely batshit. I do not think she noticed that
I am having surgery, much less that I am constantly sick and/or
draggy-feeling. I actually do not think she notices much of anything,
really. I love her, but she really has to be one of the most
neglectful, self-absorbed, and delusional mommies of all time; it is a
miracle I made it out of childhood.

2009's attempt to make October the shittiest month of the year fell
short. This is a good thing.

I have to go into a meeting now, I promise I will write more later.
Srsly. Swear.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

...and on to today.

Picked up Meg's cat, and he has to be dosed with Meloxicam every six
hours...not sure how I am going to pull that one off. Other than that,
I spent the whole day trying to get a theory paper prettied up, and
reached the point where I was losing myself in my own thoughts. Grr.
And I was on the phone with Karen, who is having a nervous breakdown.
And Meg's cat plopped himself in a cat bed with his back leg hanging
out, and fusses at me when I try to help him in. Sigh. I would put
forth that I am more deserving of a vacation than ever, only I haven't
the time or money to go anywhere; I'm thinking chemical coma...what
say you?

Speaking of meds, Harry should be getting more Keppra soon-ish, and
said that my suggestion of Ativan, B12, and Benadryl made his head
stop feeling screwy. Idiot. Why am *I* his caseworker? Unfairness.

I can finish getting caught up tomorrow if I can get some peace, then
douse some Eviljob fires, and then tackle some busywork that is
necessary busywork. My fingers are crossed on this. Ugh. I probably
shouldn't have gone to that party and worked instead, but...well,
pfft. I always feel guilty...always.


...fell asleep writing this last night, but here:

I am going to bed after a Halloween party where I drank far more than
I usually do, but I was craving vodka and cranberry (and have been
ever since I had this PHENOMINAL GG Cosmo slushie...yes, slushie...the
weekend after my birthday), and there was a backyard tiki bar,
soooo... I made a bunch of...what are those called? Isn't it
something like 'salty dog'? Or close. Beach breezer? I don't know, and
am too lazy to look it up.

Butsoanyway. I am on Tamiflu, and I am pretty certain that the drug's
effects are not diminished with alcohol, so eh; I was not driving. I
am on Tamiflu cos a fucktard with whom I have the (dis)pleasure of
working had her two kids come down with Swine Flu, and was not feeling
so hot herself but was taking Tamiflu, so in the spirit of 'I got
mine, how you doing?', she came to work anyway and snorked all over
us, then sat down and actually posted her status on Facebook as 'Betty
Lou Myopia feels terrible that she had to come to work when she feels
sick and should be at home taking care of her children who have H1N1.'
Of course she left shortly after (because of several complaints and a
reminder of company policy), and -- of course -- she did not have to
come in; nothing but the need for drama and martyrdom dragged her
swine flu-infested ass in there. Then I had an appointment with my
ENT, and warned his office that I might have been snorked upon by a
selfish swine herpes carrier, but they said to come in anyway, and I
ended up with Tamiflu ('cos of Mommy's aged ass and infirmities) and
an appointment for a tonsillectomy. Yay. It will suck, but I will be
glad to not have sore throats all the time and a strep infection every
other month. I have been miserable for the past few weeks because of
just plain old tonsillitis...owwy. It feels as if I'd scrubbed my
throat with steel wool.

Needless to say, I fell asleep typing some of the above and just now
completed it. In Other News, I am helping Karen (formerly 'Pants here)
with her thesis 'cos her advisor does not do much, Harry is still an
unemployed idiot who took himself off Keppra cold turkey because he
decided it was too expensive (this is a VERY bad idea; one could end
up in status that way), Meg is going to all manner of cool stuff
without me, and has left me in charge of her bully cat, who just got
out of surgery about four hours ago to remove a wire in his leg that
was cutting into his leg muscle (the wire was there after being hit by
a car and having a shattered back end years ago), and I am having a
little difficulty moving forward in my course of study, but I shall
overcome. :->.

Well, maybe.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

saved by shopping

i am killing myself; i could not sleep last night, and here I am, up
again to all hours of the night. today at work sucked, in short it was
one of those 'why do i even exist?' days where you feel like no one
appreciates anything you do. i left early after one email exchange
with an opposite coast ended with the suggestion that i *might* get
credit for something i spent about forty hours on all by my lonesome.
they can do this because i am not technically 'in' any department. and
this is despite the fact that i have had, generally, a good rapport
with many in that group.

so i left, and was listening to my mp3 player oh-so-illegally driving
home to hide under the covers, hug squoosh, and sleep when meg phoned
to ask me where i was. we talked, and she reminded me that our
convention centre was having the annual Wimminfolk Fukkin Rock
Showcase, which i love. so we went there, and i bought a new toe ring,
some makeup, and got tons of samples. i also ate a square of pizza i
now wish i hadn't, they could put ex-lax out of business. smarty-pants
meg knew not to eat the colon cleanse pizza. ...where is the line
between being adventurous and prudent?


i *must* get some sleep. i'll write more later as soon as i wake up or

Friday, October 09, 2009

hold me.

i cannot sleep. i need everything to calm down so that i can catch my
breath. plus, i am near to obsessional over my need to visit Doom,
Despair, and Agony upon...oh, let's name her atilla. i swear to god, i
have not been so close to plotting someone's death in *ages*; if this
were some film noir thriller, i'd be the villain, plotting how to keep
a cigarette burning in an ashtray at work next to a sweaty soda can
whilst i've really hopped abord the concorde under a false name and am
strangling someone in paris.

only strangling is too nice; it ends too quickly. i need some kind of
life-long, duel-to-the-pain type thing.

i am doing ok; a few people around me have caught swine cooties, but
so far i have not. at first, i'd heard the vaccine was not
fda-approved, but it appears that it is. i am still up in the air
about getting it, and i am usually pro-vaccine.

mommy is still crazy, she could not have her renal artery stented
because the artery was wholly occluded, and she got into a fight with
her cardiologist who is so damned much like my brother that he stood
there and fussed back at the crazy woman on versed cos my mother
REALLY IS THAT ANNOYING and he knew she'd remember little to none of
it. i swear to god, no one else starts screaming 'THIS IS
UNACCEPTABLE!' etc..., in the middle of the cath lab. naturally, she
remembers none of this, but she has been texting my brother constantly
(despite the fact that the poor guy is killing himself at Institution
X right now) and has taken up some type of email correspondance with
someone at (i think) the mayo clinic. she is *that* hell-bent upon
having her kidney stented, though as i pointed out, not concerned
enough to monitor her diabetes and stop eating total crap. i am her
least-favourite daughter.


i still have not gotten to do anything holiday-funnish this year, but
i will, even if it is going to that chicken-ridden hardware store that
i love. :->

ok...going to try to get to sleep now; my father is in town for the
weekend, and i have promised to have lunch with him tomorrow/today.

Sunday, September 20, 2009


I won.  Plain and simple, I fucking WON!  I passed my quals with flying colours (except for one on which I did not distinguish myself in the slightest, but that prof committee has a dick on it, so that does not count, 'cos I'd bet he goose-egged me).  

Now I have a lot of work to do, but this will be *good* work; *fun* work.  I hope. 

I am such a crappy person that I slept in late after going out drinking, and so I am now wishing Ms Grammarian a happy birthday; I hope today was fantastic, and this next year will be full of nothing less than pure wonderfulness!  :->

In Other News, Mummers has a busy week; on Monday (tomorrow, her birthday), she is having a cataract removed, and then on Tuesday, she is having a test to see if she can have a kidney artery would seem that some of her kidney insufficiency is because of a blocked artery; they found this out during her last hospital stay.  Oddly, her cardiologist is doing this.  I would ask my brother, but he is too busy in this program at...I need to name this place, and I think I need to name my brother...anyway, he is too busy; he worked all Labour Day weekend in their CICU/surgery, and had to spend all this Rosh Hashana working, not that I didn't as well, but my point is...I cannot talk with him at all, and it might well be a year until I can, the way this is going.  I have been able to talk to my nephew (well, one of them), 'cos my brother bought this TEN YEAR OLD a cell phone when they moved to this new state.  Did I mention that he's TEN YEARS OLD?  kk.

Butsoanyway, I am supposed to drop off a large pile of scantrons tomorrow, but I am going to be all passive-aggressive and not.  I will be staying up to finish a paper, because I lost all yesterday to going out with my fellow closed-book cohorts and drinking like a fish, something I have not done in a while.  

Ok:  Now I have to get to writing.  

Monday, September 14, 2009

ok, this one won't go to drafts...

Holiday season = NOW.

In Other News, my life is a mess; I am under so much stress from every
possible direction that I am entertaining the idea of running away
from home. I have NO days off any longer. Everyone is going batshit.
The sanest person I know right now (other than Supermom) is Baby Bat,
and that is saying a lot. And I am looking at switching up my
employment; I have been threatening, but...this is just stupid. I want
to have a NICE Holiday Season. Sigh.

Friday, August 21, 2009

i know...i suck.

hopefully things will get back to (somewhat) normal here shortly; i
have been enjoying three days of not having to do a whole lot, and it
has been great. i have so much written (real life, not here, though i
*do* need to go through my drafts here) that i need to get cleaned up,
and now (in theory), i will get on that. i have to put in another
marathon-ish day tomorrow at eviljob, but that is ok. i have been so
self-absorbed that all my family and friends hate me, but...that's how
i roll. my cats love me, the parking lot cats love me, and that's what

now sleep.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Well, my cats are well again, and I continue with the working/studying
thing. Today I went to visit my father, and one of my step-nieces was
there; she is a nice enough girl, but she reminds me how young
thirteen truly is. Sigh. I got home late-ish, and am trying to settle
down and sleep. My stepmother seemed to be in a bad mood, and perhaps
I should have cared more, I am having a hard time focussing
on anything but my own issues right now. Nothing should be this
stressful. Pfft. I keep trying to pep-talk myself, is not

Friday, July 10, 2009

Crazy Cat Lady Going Crazier.

I just found a really cool site -- Crazy Cat Lady Blogging.

She has an awesome discussion of Metacam here, and a B12 talk here.

I am taking a break from work/studying for a minute; Rhett's at the close of Week One of his respiratory infection, and is doing better.  Cookie and Squoosh, however, are just now starting in with the sneezing, despite my having jumped through hoops of fire to try to keep them (and all of their things) separated from Rhett.  I have them all on Triaminic for sneezing, and Rhett is already on antibiotics, and I have to pick up Squoosh and Cookie's antibiotics.  Pfft. 

It really is always something. 

In other Sick Cat News, my mother's cat has developed a mystery illness, so Mom is phoning me constantly to ask about this and that, and just had her cat scoped at the vet (some irritation, but nothing definitive yet, and her blood work all looks good). 

I feel a little overwhelmed, to be honest.  Sick cats plus work, school, the political bullshit at work and school...everything.  It's almost too much. 

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Snuffly cats.

I have a mountain of crap to wade through, and I am still battling
Rhett's URI; yesterday I took him *back* to the vet because he was not
eating and drinking, and was so stuffed up that he could not breathe
through his nose. Dr S was not available (though he did come by
because he live right behind the clinic and stopped to talk with me
about Rhett before the receptionist and I shooed him away to get to
his dentist's appointment...on time...for once in his life), so I got
one of Dr S's affiliates; he went to one of my brother's schools (the
vet part, not the human doc part, clearly) and I am pretty sure is
gay, so I like him. He said Rhett is 100% fine from the neck down --
lungs clear, feels good, etc.; it's from the head up that he is a
walking snot factory. Rhett had barfed, which is why I brought him to
the vet, so he said to take Rhett off the Clindamycin and just stick
with the Clavamox, because Rhett has a virus anyway, the Clavamox is
just to keep it from becoming pneumonia, and the Clindamycin probably
made his stomach queasy. I never knew that. And he also said that I
need to stop giving Rhett albuterol, and instead give him 0.05cc of
children's Triaminic for snuffly noses (orange flavoured, and we all
know cats are big fans of fruit; every day I'm reading about yet
another orange grove raid carried out by gangs of cats), and get a
humidifier and put Vicks' in it and put Rhett in a cat carrier, cover
the side vents with a towel, leave the back vents open, and run the
humidifier in front of the carrier. So I did this. The Triaminic
makes him sleepy, but it helps with the congestion some. I have also
been trying to suck snot out of his nose with one of those baby sucky
things for infant noses. He really does not like it when I use that,
and I cannot blame him; if I felt poorly and someone came at me with
one of those, I would kick them in the balls.


Well, after I humidified him today with some Vicks' menthol splooge,
he seemed to be a lot better. When he started licking and swallowing a
lot, I decided to call it quits, because the vet said Rhett's left
lymph node is draining a LOT into his throat, and I wanted to help
break up the snot, but not go too far. So then Rhett ate a little
afterwards, and that made me really happy. He ate turkey slices, about
3 whole ones. I still hadn't seen him drink, so I gave him about 2 - 3
cc of water slowly twice today. His fur doesn't feel *overly*
dehydrated (a little, but not serious), so as long as he goes back to
eating and drinking tomorrow, I won't do anything like more sub-q
fluids @ the vet. If he goes back to not eating though, I'll have no
choice but to go get fluids and syringe-feed baby food.


Now, I still have a TON of things to do as far as the rest of my life,
so...wish me luck. As always, I am poised on the brink of disaster.

If anyone has any non-kooky cat URI tips, I'm open to suggestions.
Non-kooky, of course, meaning that I am not taking him for
acupuncture, getting his aura re-calibrated, having the feng shui of
his room adjusted, or giving him homeopathically organic white milk
thistle mixed with water with black lead memory. In short, if they do
it in California, Rhett and I are having none of that. ;-)

Sunday, July 05, 2009

We're fine

Rhett has one hell of an URI, but he is much better, and his fever is down; I have spent the weekend grading and studying, breaking to take him to the vet, dose him, and etc...  He had atropine for the past two days and I think that drove his fever up, but today was his first day on albuterol suspension (0.05cc every *OTHER* day), and he definitely sounds a little better.  

I have spent the past three hours homesick and depressed.  I almost friended a few people from my old high school, but then I remembered that (1) I have hidden my profile because (2) they may be ok, but some of them have friended people I do not care for, for reasons from simply being a dick to having assaulted me.  So nix that.  

I have to go to sleep.  Sigh.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Rhett Butler

We're trying to keep his fever down with fluids. He's on two different
antibiotics, and I am trying to not be upset.

Thursday, July 02, 2009


Ok, so Rhett cracked a hind pawnail off, and he had to be declawed on
one toe last Saturday. Now he's come down with what appears to be a
respiratory infection, so I took him to the vet, where his symptoms
promptly disappeared. So when I got off work, I went to pick him up
(I'd had to drop him at the vet's en route) and he looks fine...until
I get him in the car. As we're pulling onto the main road home, Rhett
starts back in with the sneezing and wheezing. Now, mind you, this is
sneezing and wheezing that he has held in FOR OVER FIVE HOURS while I
was at work. What the hell?!?

I need an interrobang on this keyboard.

So how did he manage that? How? How can I 'prove' Rhett is sick? I
have an appointment for him on Caturday at eleven with Dr Superhero,
and we'll see how that goes. in the meantime, Rhett's been on 1cc of
Clavamox 2x/dy and 0.5 meloxicam, mobic...whatever, it's the
same...for pain 1x/dy, and I have him in this huge thing for dogs that
looks like a giant plastic cat carrier (with no handle on top) that I
bought cos I figured one day it'd be good to isolate a sick cat or use
when I move. Plus, I got it really cheap cos it was a floor model and
was missing the box, instructions (it has three pieces -- the top, the
bottom, and the door; what instructions do they think I *need*,
seriously? How about 'assemble so it works'? There: instructions.),
and was missing some assembly nuts that I literally went next door to
Home Depot with one of the surviving nuts (for an example) and
replaced the missing ones for somewhere around five dollars, if I
remember correctly. Protip: Cats don't notice when nuts don't match
exactly, but my wallet certainly noticed the fifty percent discount.

I have so gone off on a tangent from my point...grr. How can Rhett be
sniffly if he is on Clavamox? I don't get it.

In Other News, I am so fucking depressed that I could just die; big
test in mid-August, and I cannot get ahead enough to devote more than
a few hours a day to it. I am starting to freak. And I emailed some of
my old workgroup about when they are getting together to study for
this (it's like a licensing exam), and can you believe that no one has
gotten back to me? I really do not know how to take that; on the one
hand, it feels like a snub, but on the other hand, maybe the two main
people I feel snubbed by are thinking they do not have much to
contribute. I guess we will see; I intend to try one more time, and
then give up.

I do better about posting.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Not Dead Yet

This has been a rough month-ish. I changed one job, our product was
basically stolen at another, and I have the Summer Teaching Load From
Hell. But I live. I would promise to catch up on everything,
only...I'm *tired*. I have a licence-related competency test in a few
months, and I have to pass. I cannot promise a lot until I get out
from all the crap I have piled on top of myself. I have never needed a
vacation more. I would have tweeted, but it seems that 140 characters
has not been enough. I just have to make it through this...somehow. I
keep promising myself that when this is over, I will do something nice
for myself; I guess we will see. :-/

Eviljob is still...well, evil. What a mess. There was only ONE litter
born this year (thank god), so they will be ready for round up in
about a month-ish. As for the inside of the place, I am in Hell; my
immediate manager is still batshit crazy, and we (a couple people in
my workgroup) are dealing with another manager who used to be really
good friends with Supermom, but as far as I am concerned, she's off
her meds. Friendship with Supermom will only carry you so far. It's
especially bad, cos her area is surrounding ours -- we're smack in the
middle of her department, basically. She had a meltdown at work when
her husband left her, and started checking into getting plastic
surgery. No, I am not kidding. Then her husband came back and we
thought all was well-ish and she'd just get a boob job and go back to
normal, but no -- she starts cheating on him with someone at work who
is, literally, half her age. Yiii! Our nickname for him is Little Boy
(because he is one), and I joke that we're working at Ground
Hiroshima, which earns blank stares, but you get my joke, I am sure.
And this has turned into a spectacle...not cool or discreet at all. If
we didn't sort-of like her, it would be funny. As things are, we are
just hoping she does not make a bad decision...oh, who am I fooling?
Girlfriend is fucking up, bigtime; she pulls him off on projects that
she doesn't even have the authority to pull him off on, cos he does
not work for her. Sigh. I feel like carrying a riot shield to deflect
the carnage. ::ducking::

Mummers is ok; she went into the hospital with a diagnosis of renal
failure and was in for four days. All the stern talkings-to in the
world will not do anything. Sigh.

Meg is fine...testy, but fine. Annoying the hell out of me, but...fine.

My brother got the highly-coveted research position, and is moving.
Yay. After this, in a year, he'll be stationed possibly back in San
Antonio, but more likely in VA or HI. My vote is HI. He says I don't
get a vote, though. :-( I need an excuse to go back to Honolulu, cos
Tenkaippen puts fucking HEROIN in their noodle bowls, and I need MOAR!

Harry got fired, and is looking for a job. His girlfriend, Cindy, was
in hospital for a week and handful of days (I forget) with cellulitis,
which is really gross. Blecch.

Nurse Betty is on vaca in Vegas with her Nicholas Cage-lookin' husby,
Mr Nurse Betty. She's been gone from last Monday, and has a week and a
half left. Miss her!

Through the miracle that is The Facebook, as I tease Meg, (also Teh
Facebook; Meg picking-on to follow), I have found another long-lost now I have like three whole entire friends. No, not on LIFE. This is like a record for me; I am very picky. Ok,
that's not entirely true, I have more friends, feels that way
sometimes. I'm naming her Maria here (that's her ringtone on my cell
-- My Maria. Stevenson, natch...even though I like Brooks & Dunn's
version, too). So yay. I don't ever tell people what their ringtones
are, cos they might be insulted. Supermom's is Wendy Carlos' Ode to
Joy (yes, I know); Karen's is 'I Play Chicken With The Train'; Harry's
is a 'Bullshitter Alert' one which I got for free at; Meg's
used to be Zedge's 'Sister Alert', but I just changed it a few months
ago to Lady Gaga's Pokerface, cos Meg hates that song so much. My
brother's is a clip from KITH's 'I'm a Bad Doctor' skit, and his
wife's is a Laura Petrie montage, cos SiL reminds me so much of Laura
Petrie that I could spew, and often do. Speaking of Catholics, Mary
Catherine and a few others from Job 2.5 all share 'MMM Bop', cos they
tend to phone frequently to get me to fix their problems, and Meg made
the comment that I should set their tone as 'MMM Bop'; I thought that
was funny, then found out she was making a joke about House (that TV
show that I never get to watch), but from what I hear, that makes it
even more appropriate. Meltdown Manager's tone is Buckcherry's 'Crazy
Bitch'; it used to be Happythought Hall's 'Get Happy', but I moved
that over to my therapist for teh lolz (I may not have mentioned that
I actually started seeing a therapist, so *there*...I mentioned it. I
correct him a lot, and tease him cos he cannot do math, which is, of
course, why he went into clinical psychology in the first place. He
loves the attention, and phones me when I am late to appointments. I
would have rather had a girl, but I think he's gay, so...close
enough). Betty's ring tone changes most frequently of anyone's based
upon stuff that is going on in our lives, and right now it is Baroque
Hoedown; before that, it was some soundage I'd stolen off the
Hexbreaker slot/fruit machine (whichever I say, I get corrected by
someone), and the Old Faithful of Betty ringtones is either Jarreau's
'My Old Friend' or Chaka Khan's version of 'Ain't Nobody', and
speaking of breakdancing, a fair number of our trainers share George
Kranz' 'Trommeltanz', a/k/a 'Din Daa Daa'. Everyone from We Luvvem Cat
Rescue is the cats meowing 'Jingle Bells'. Oh, and Mummers' is a
really funny one I also got from Zedge; it's to the tune of Justin
(why do I always want to call him 'Joshua'?) Timberlake's 'SexyBack',
only the lyrics are 'your Mama's callin' back...for no real reason,
but just to chat...she'll waste your minutes talkin' bout the cat...'

SO hilarious! Of course I told her that hers was 'Begin the Beguine',
her favourite song. I am such a shitty daughter. :-O

And I have tons more, but I forget why I even started this... OH,
YEAH! Maria! Maria and I went to school together *ever* ago, and
lost touch; when I was putting her number in my cell, 'My Maria' just
popped into my head from nowhere. I am so happy that I have her back
in my life. I am trying to figure out how to visit her...soon. She was
with this one man for *years*, and he fairly drove me nuts; he was
much older, wealthy, the whole nine yards. Well, he's dead. If he had
a ringtone, it'd be a snippet from 'Suck My Dick...' by Lords of Acid:
' know, he's dead -- dead! hahahahaha'. IMHO, he treated Maria,
who is magical like Betty and Squoosh, like shit much of the time. He
did a couple of nice things for her, like buying a really *gorgeous*
pigeon's blood ruby ring that is probably worth my *house*, but other
things I think sucked. He cheated on her a few times, and that really
enraged me. Jerk.

Man, on a side note, I am having *such* a craving for steak sauce
right now...and earlier, it was for my super-special clam chowder with
vinegar and sherry ('s delicious). WTF? And now that I
thought about it, I'm back on the vinegar-sherry clam chowder kick.
Christ. And no, I am not pregnant, and I won't name it after you.
Shaddap. more thing, then I am finished: I tease Meg about her doing
what I call 'Jewing-up' the names of most popular social sites, hence
'The Facebook'. It's also 'The Twitter'; left to her own devices, Meg
often spouts off with stuff that totally makes her sound like an old
Jewish lady, seriously. A few years ago, one of the guys from her old
PhD alma mater, himself also a maths PhD, invited her to check out his
MySpace page (he's an idiot, what can I say? He also was friending a
ton of his students on there, and that is just creepy), and Meg, who
is ever-distainful of such things, mis-remembered the name and started
calling MySpace 'The Space Blog', or 'That Space Page', and hilarity
ensued; I was immediately giving my impersonation of some sixty
year-old Palm Beach sabra talking about keeping up with her friends on
their 'The Space Blog Page'. Over time, this has morphed into keeping
up with the rest of the koffee klatch in WPB via 'The Facebook', 'The
Twitterer', and so on; anytime a new outlet rears its ugly head, I add
a 'the' to the name and lump it in when I tease Meg. Hee.

ok...I am going to go see if I have any lemonade and go to sleep.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I need spell check.

Ok, so Supermom had the D&C and is ok. Sad, but ok. She should be back
at work tomorrow, though *I* think she should take more time off and
go to Fiji or some other FTW thing; I have been doing a bunch of her
stuff so that it wouldn't pile up while she's away. That made today a
little harsh -- Eviljob, teach, teach, Eviljob, class office hours via
email, and Eviljob -- but what's a few days for poor little PopTart's
mom? Fiji. Seriously.

I (we) am (are) still struggling with J 2.5 defection crap, and I
(just I) am currently deciding whether to put in a resume for a new
department at Eviljob, or find something different. Long story, but I
had to explain to the depressed manager for whom I wrote the action
plan that I was not even *thinking* of 'scooping' her, because she is
planning on applying for the same department, and she needs to get out
from where she currently is, and in no small way. Mom, in Other News,
is fine; her oncologist thinks her discolouration is the result of
poor drainage in the lymphectomy and lumpectomy areas, and was going
to have an MRI, but her creatinine is at 36, so she cannot have the
contrast dye (it is taxing to one's renal function, and I am phrasing
it that way cos I am on pda and too tired-slash-lazy to look up
whether I should spell the plural of 'kidney' with a -y or -ies. Yes,
I really am that paradoxically stupid, particularly when I am
exhausted; shut up. I can spell and define
'antidisestablishmentarianism', 'hermeneutic', and
'sesquipedalianism', but not pluralise 'kidney'. Eat me. At least I am
honest. The word 'monkey' fucks with me as well; wtf is the plural of
'monkey'? I don't actually *know* English, I just kind-of press keys
here randomly and hope it all works itself out,
bluhbluhbluhbluhhh...), so she'll have a sonogram, I think tomorrow or

The past year-plus of stress has finally caught up to me in a big way;
I feel like hell, and I think I might be contracting a bladder
infection because I am peeing constantly it seems, and am so crampy I
hesitate to even begin to describe (trust me, it's bad), and
almost-sweaty, so I'm at the doctor's tomorrow evening after I get off
work. I this point I am so undignified that I might as well
talk about *anything*, but truthfully, that's why I have this blog --
so that I can be as uncouth as I want...or need. Next week: bowel
movements. w00t!


And I think one of the few remaining un-spayed Eviljob cats may have
given birth, so I will be back in the trapping bidness in a few

If I don't jump off a cliff, that is. Ok...sleep. Maybe.

Friday, April 17, 2009

I'm quietly plotting.


I have to do something about this not sleeping thing. Anyways,
tomorrow I am doing part of my work at Eviljob and a load of
Supermom's work; she is taking a lot of time off right now. I feel
terrible for her. I tweeted about how she's lost her baby, and this is
upsetting to all of us in our functional group. Eviljob is going well,
my teaching is going really well, and I am working on kicking some Job
2.5 ass with the group of us that were on that contract.

After I get out of work tomorrow, I have to drive across town to pick
up some jewellery for Meg, then haul ass to Botany Bay to pick up a
load of cat food that I get for super-cheap through a rescue group out
there to feed all my parking lot ferals. I am still not sure how I am
going to fit it all into The Rolling Office (a/k/a The Deathcoaster);
semesters that I am teaching at satellite campuses (campii?), I lug so
much crap around in my car that it is ridiculous. Sigh. And while out
in Botany Bay, I will not, not, NOT contact a certain someone. Won't.

Ok, I am having Boy Tsouris. Gaaahd, I cannot even talk about it. No
worries, it will blow over.


And this weekend I also have to drive out to my father's (which is a
hell of a drive when time is tight), and make three tests and one
quiz. And Meg cannot help with any of this because...::drum
roll::...she's *busy*. Bwaah!

I am having a very stressful time of it, and that is bad. I am
really, really trying to not flip out, is tempting. And oh,
my, god am I all achy and crampy, not that I would ever let it show
publicly. But I am. And tense.

Ok, enough whining; I will try to sleep again.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Why Our Children Are Teh Stoopid.

I helped an 'Easter Egg Hunt'...and I use the term 'hunt' loosely.  See, the eggs were laid out in plain sight on a pretty large patch of grass, and the area was encircled by a paper ribbon.  The chirrin lined up and the ribbon was cut, and they all ran to grab plastic eggs.  

This was just dumb as hell.  I had nothing to do with the organisation of this.

I suggested that if we needed to help the kids out *that* much, then maybe they needed to get a cheat sheet that had pictures of plastic eggs in all their various colours, with the captioning of 'EGG' under each picture, along with a picture of blades of grass and a clump of dirt, each of which would be labelled 'NOT AN EGG'.  

No one but Meg and me thought this was funny.  

How in the fuck is this a 'hunt'?  Are our kids really that stupid any more?  Are we *really* this deeply in the throes of the 'everyone's a winner' mentality?  At the point where one is just setting eggs down to be picked up, why not just give the eggs out? Why is it that Meg and I are the only ones bothered by this?

I had decided to become more involved in holidaystuffs since I love holidays (especially the Autumn and Winter ones), and never get to do anything for them, it seems, but...this was bullshit. I may not do that again.  Feh.  

omfg.  That is really all I have to say.  Happy Easter.  And happy birthday to Squooshable, Cookie, and Rhett Butler...all Easter squooshables.  :-)

Saturday, April 11, 2009


i am too tired to give a full-out blog attempt, but this was the first
week of what is looking like many that will be spent trying to give
former job 2.5 hell. essentially, a group of us got completely
shafted. we have met with their personnel in the Great Complaints
Process, and we'll see how that goes. it does not look promising, but
at the very least we plan to try to cost j2.5 as much time and money
as they have cost us, and that still won't touch the whole
intellectual property theft issue.

this is a very involved story, and i just have not been up to
repeating it after being forced to go over and over it in realtime.
forgive me. this was not what we were expecting; we anticipated
honourable behaviour, and it turns out that we received anything but.
it is distressing to think one has to approach a contracting company
with the expectation of being treated badly, is what it is, i


after leaving there today and before turning up at eviljob, i felt
like doing something, but i did not know i went to go get
more of my hair cut off. it looks nice. i did not feel like going back
to the same place (no particular reason), so i stopped at this ancient
beauty school that i have driven past thousands of times travelling
in-between j2.5 and eviljob, and when i say 'ancient', i mean ANCIENT.
nicotine-yellowed walls, water-stained ceiling -- the works. i like
atmosphere. plus, the students looked really interesting.

i picked my student, even though i think we weren't supposed to do
that, cos i am in one of my 'moods', and she was off in her corner
talking to a male (and clearly gay) student, and if i were in a bar,
i'd gravitate towards their type. i was deciding which of the two i
would pester when i saw she had a tattoo of the cups -- like tarot
minor arcana -- and eighty million years ago when i wanted to be a hep
witchypoo girl, i always came up as queen of cups, no matter how i
tried for something cooler. even after i tried to be all malevolent,
still -- queen of cups. i think sandi used to stack her deck, or
something; once she got an idea in her head, she was hard to dissuade.

i am simplifying, but the queen of cups is a fucking apron-wearing,
brownie-baking, bandage-kissing, naive-as-hell soccer mom, the type
who stashes extra brownies in her purse so that no one goes without,
and really does believe her husband caught an std from the toilet seat
and passed it on, reader's digest version (what i can remember). that
really does not mesh with my self-image, then or now. i'm so glad i
am an agnostico-atheist now and do not have to believe, or pretend to
believe, that crap. but someone i really cared about thought it
described me to a T, so...that's how i picked my student hairdresser:
the empirical way.

well, it worked. she did well, even if she did nick me with the shears
right under my browbone. it just looks like i went a little
pluck-happy with my brows. i did not care, and she -- Rachel -- was
mortified and didn't seem to understand how i might not care. i told
her she was not even in the running to claim the title of Worst Thing
To Happen To Ancodia Today.

and i am really happy with my hair, even if i cannot sleep. :-) it was
the cheapest cut i have had in years, too -- seven dollars. no, i am
not kidding. i did give a normal tip, though. i think i will go back.
different is good. and were i a tattoo-getting person, i would get
unusual, deeply personal ones like Rachel has. i amn't a
tattoo-getting type, though; it's my Inner Jew. not that there's
anything wrong with getting tattoos...just not the tribal armband
type; there should be a law.

i have to try to get to sleep...i will try to post tomorrow, or at
least tweet. or twit.

sigh. consider yourself lucky that i didn't get into how crampy and
icky i feel. :-D

Thursday, April 02, 2009

what to do?

someone i work with wronged me two weeks ago. like, in a serious way.
now they have sent one of those 'gee, i haven't seen you around
lately' emails. my contract is ending in a month at this place, and i
am not renewing; i am basically quitting, though if money gets tight
enough, i will have no choice but to go back. how should i reply to this email?


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I have a new love...

And I am listening as I type my ass off.  ilu so much, CC...u r almost as xlnt as teh 808.

CanNOT believe I just typed that, but...yes.  S'true.  

Monday, March 23, 2009

Kill Me Now.

Every time I undertake something like this, I end up hating why do I do it?

In Other News, damnation do I now have some porky parking lot cats.  Four rounds of TNR seem to have done the trick, though I guess I will know when I *don't* see Easter Squooshables this year.  Cross your fingers.  

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Howard Hughes was never ill, it's just his brain was a little sore...

i still have not heard about my little...potentially fruitless attempt
last week; as soon as i know, i will share, albeit limitedly.

though if i have an epic fail, well...i will bitch here unreservedly. bank it.

in Other News, at Eviljob i have switched managers again, only this
time i am working under someone i worked *with* a few years ago, when
i was in IT (still for Eviljob).

what? i don't seem like a geekgirl?'s the lighting. truth be
told, i am a titanic weirdy-type geek. i got out of IT cos there was
No Future after Eviljob realised that once we (IT peeps) got a type of
certification, we left Eviljob to work for an even bigger, more evil
corporate entity. butsoanyway.

when i was in IT, ol' Howard used to crack me the hell up -- i was sat
right next to him -- because he is batshit crazy. like seriously,
completely, off-his-meds nuts. he was constantly talking about how he
was about to put a bullet in his brain, or how our facility should be
condemned because he saw a gnat in the bathroom, and so on. we all had
nicknames, and his was 'milton' -- as in from office space. and i got
parked in-between 'milton' and 'farva' (as in from super troopers).

and no, i'll not be sharing my nickname; it was rude. :-)

so i found out today that milton -- who is now floridly psychotic --
is my new manager.  So I am renaming him Howard Hughes; it was that, or Hunter S. Thompson.

lol... I accidentally published before I was done, so I had to recall the post to finish.  Anyhoo, so I scheduled a meeting for tomorrow morning about a testing crisis at Job 2.5, and then booked to Eviljob to find out that HH is our functional group's manager.  Everyone was upset, because he has the reputation for being, well...crazy.  I was deliriously happy; we have reviews coming up, and I was sweating mine under Miss Piss, our interim manager who we all thought was here to stay.  We were not happy over this especially because Piss took an idea over from another area manager and essentially stole it, but that is another story.

...and I just took an hour-plus long phone call, the short of which is SuperMom is pregnant, and I have run out of time to finish this post, 'cos I have to get my shit together for tomorrow's meeting.  But, in the middle of a shitty month, today was a good day.  And I didn't even get a chance to tell all about how HH kept me from climbing up a tree after one of the parking lot cats.  No, seriously.  Kiki got down all by himself just fine, as predicted.  It was funny.  Now I really have to get to work.  Bwaah.  

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Please, I beg of you...

Do not -- ever -- make a word which ends with the letter 's' a possessive by way of slapping an apostrophe and additional 's' at the end, especially if this word is someone's last name.  It will never be, ever, no matter how much you may wish it, "Fitts's Law".  EVER.  How would one pronounce that -- 'Fitzes'? 

Great googly moogly...NO.  

Paul Brians (yes, I looked it up) said, essentially, that it is an issue of 'style', where I -- with my tenuous grasp of the English Language -- feel this falls under the same category as the pronunciation newk-yew-lerr for 'nuclear'; someone did it, others mimicked out of ignorance, and now it has found its way into the dictionary.  Once I can do some blogcleaning, I am totally filing this under 'Signs of the Coming Apocalypse'.  

In Other News, my throat hurts!  It is stress, hurts.  :-(  Pray for me and stuff.  Well, as an agnostic, I cannot endorse praying, but...thinking a nice thought would be kind.  I need a hug.  And sleep.  

Sunday, March 08, 2009

God, I Love PirateBay

I just thefted the entire TTC lecture series I needed.  OMG, PB, ilu.  

In Other News, it's really sad that I remember Bloch's Law, It = K, and prefer to write it in that form (as opposed to C = I(t), because it reminds me of IDK. in, IDK, my BFF Jill?

I guess whatever works, eh?  

Sigh...wish me well.  

Monday, March 02, 2009

Cabin Fever

We're almost at our deadline, and I have been, at this point, around
some of my team members for so long that I have begun to be annoyed by
them to the point of homicidal rage over every little fault and habit.
I wake up at four in the morning from sheer stress, then have to
medicate to get another two hours' worth of sleep. This is bad; I
could not live like this.

My cats are concerned about me; they seem to be able to sense how
stressed I am, with the exception of Rhett Butler, who is a simple,
loyal, blue cat, and deleriously happy only that I have come home
again, for however short a time.

I ran Squoosh back to our new vet (for a MIDNIGHT appointment...I love
Dr Superhero!) for a check-up, and because he barfed again; Squoosh
has a confirmed flea allergy, has stopped most all the over-grooming,
and got another shot of famotidine and depo (to settle his stomach and
a steroid for his itchy skin), and seems to be doing well -- the
Linotone (or whatever it is called) has made his coat soft and
patent-leather shiny in only two weeks, so he is getting his EFAs to
help with the itchy skin from both the fleas and the heater being run
so long and often this year. I hadn't realised how dry he had become,
'cos it happened very slowly. Everyone has really benefitted from the
Linotone as well, I think Squoosh was just the most sensitive. Dr S
has a gold-coloured bag of some granular stuff that is called
'Nature's Miracle', or something like that, which I will buy when I
run out of Linotone (the Petsmart girl had said Linotone was best out
of what they carried, that is the only reason I had picked it),
because it has Omega 3, 6, and 9, plus other stuff in it. I also need
to ask if I can simply share my fish oil pills with my cats, 'cos my
pills have 3, 6, and 9 from fish, flax, and borage (wtf is borage?),
and smells like sardines, so when I whip them out, all four of my cats
are always interested.


I will make an effort to not massacre any of my co-workers for their
idiosyncrasies, and I would have vented here, but I honestly have not
had the time to spare, plus my tack so far has been to defuse myself
by not focussing on the behaviours (for example, Mary Catherine, who
is going to end up right back in the emergency department if she
continues to pick apart everything I say and do and react so poorly
when I swipe right back at her...why are some types of women so
difficult to get along with?) in my so-called spare time, which has
worked well enough so far. After this is over, I will vent my ass off;
please understand my nervousness and tension. And I am taking a short
vacation after this is done, cos I will be waiting quite some time for
a decision.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009


I am working from home, trying to throw a project together at the last second (one week 'til death, kids), and I see this commercial for the Slap Chop. The host reminds me of a squirrel on meth, and his 'you're going to love my nuts' line even made Squooshable's mouth fall open. Holy freaking shit:


(spoken like Velveeta from Idiocracy) I just found this remix, and it's even more better!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

[Be Just And] Fear Not

I got up EARLY this morning and took Mr Squooshable to the vet (you should know by now that I am far too neurotic to wait), and it turns out that Mr Squooshable is probably my hairball-barfer, cos he has groomed off a patch of his tummy fur that I had not noticed.  The vet said it could be fleas or nerves, so he got a shot of cortisone and a flea treatment (I let that go past-due, because I am a negligent kitty mommy and suck and all), and he is back on antibiotics for his arm, which the vet thinks he might have scratched when reaching for something, then groomed the hell out of to make the larger rough area and bald spot.  If his fur does not grow back (in other words, he keeps over-grooming), he's going on some kitty Valium for nerves for a month or two, but the vet thinks we'll try to see if this is a dermatological issue first before deciding it is a behavioural problem, and thinks that Squoosh is probably just fine, and has a flea sensitivity.  I didn't think I *had* fleas (how would they get in???), but the vet says I do, and that even one flea can make an allergic cat over-groom and be freaky, so...I will concede to the opinion of an expert and admit I have fleas.  So I gave everyone their flea treatment and now I am at work and stressed.  I feel like over-grooming.  Sheesh.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Oh, foo!

so i am drowning in work from all sides, i have a ton of stuff to prep
for tomorrow, and i come home to find that it appears one of Squoosh's
projects today was reaching after something he couldn't get, cos he
has a v-shaped patch of missing fur on the inside of his right arm,
and a little scrape-y looking sore. it does not look infected, the
scab area is not bad, it is not deep, but i guess i need to take him
to the vet to have it looked at tomorrow anyway. i have no way to do
it until tomorrow evening, though. and i have no way to keep him from
doing it again, because i don't know what he did!

why me?

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I want Colbert's job

And no, I am still non-partisan, mainly 'cos I don't care.

This stimulus package -- why is he signing it in Denver?

Clearly, it is because he intends to hide in Crystal Palace after hearkening the end of the world. 

Oh, tell me I am not funny...g'head. one gets my jokes.


Saturday, February 14, 2009

on second thought...

i cannot sleep; i am a tich annoyed, and i have another work meeting
thingy tomorrow. i know that i am being sparse on the personal issues
right now, cannot be avoided.


i just have to get off my chest that, in addition to worrying about
hairballs on valentine's day, i was stupid enough to get roped into an
earlier dinner with someone who is their own most fascinating subject.
and the food sucked. this came about when our group cancelled any
project goings-on today because we lost anyone even remotely
permanently-partnered, and with meg and her friends off at a
conference this weekend, i am alone, lonely, plus i felt obligated to
go. now i wish i had not, and it says a lot that i would have rather
stayed alone at home, cos then i'd know who has hairballs.

well, probably.

there are some things in my life that simply *must* change. ...i just
cannot enumerate them. just feel pity towards me. this sucks. i
eventually want one nice valentine's day; it is on my to-do list.

p.s.: happy v-day. :-*



Ok, so I have one Siamese with no hairballs, ever.  Two black cats, and one blue tuxedo cat -- they are my only hairball candidates.  I have a barfed hairball which is currently drying out, so that I can try to narrow it down to the two black cats, or the one blue cat.  The problem is, this is a big-assed hairball...yet everyone is healthy, happy, eating, drinking...everything. 

How in the hell can I tell whose hairball this is?  Could a cat barf up a hairball the size of the one in Wikipedia and be ok?  I gave everyone a dose of Laxastat (I keep it on hand for Squooshable), but...heavens; I have never had hairball problems until now!  Who?  Why? 

One more thing to stress over.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

fetch russell's teapot; we'll have a cup and discuss this.

i was told this morning in my History-based class that i am very
'different' to listen to and learn from, and occasionally 'a little
upsetting'. this is because the person was (per them) raised catholic.
and i 'pick on' catholics. i do this by, in general terms, discussing
history, including numerous epistemological paradigms, some of which
are contrary to, well, dogma. we cover the dogmatists, too. :-) but i
'pick on' if i could make up the dark ages, or tetzel.
snort. no, i told them, all confirmation biases aside, listen
carefully and you'll hear that i have a throughline that is impartial
to any religion or belief system -- i 'pick on' them all, equally.

'you mean i am listening for the catholic ones?'

i do not know if this means i can notch one up for freethought or not.
it may be too early to call.

i probably should not have first asked if the blame was on me, them,
or the catholic least not in such a deadpan way. hee.

oh, i crack me up.

Monday, February 09, 2009

in sickness and...well, sickness.

omg, am i sick. unfairness! i got a flu shot! this has to be a flu,
cos the headache is monsterous. i am the last person at my doctor's
this evening, and feel like i am going to freaking die. i am sooo

this helps the stress i am feeling not in the least. one month to a
serious project deadline. this is not good. not at all.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Everything Old is New Again

Eviiljob is a fairly tech-heavy company.  I cannot actually name Eviljob; once I quit, we might be able to talk on that point, though.  ;-)  For now, just trust me that Eviljob, like Elvis, is everywhere in most, or at least many, technically-based lives.  We (allegedly) hire the best in their field, blah, blah, blah...  Which is why I always am amazed at how completely fucking young and lost many of our techboys are.  Today, I had this happen as I am in Tech Dep't Y to help draw up some new training manuals for them:

Ancodia: Chris, come over here and show me again how demo xx works.
Chris (playing a video game on his iPhone): I'm on break. No!  Oh!  Oh!  
ChrisBoss (about 50 yrs old): I can show you ::pulls up demo xx::
(this continues for several minutes)
Ancodia: Are you still on break?
Chris: Oh, man...
Ancodia: Woman.
Chris: Ohhh, man!
Ancodia & ChrisBoss: ...and WOMAN.
Chris: That was the greatest *ever*! I burned him so bad! I'm like, 'take that, whoa!'
ChrisBoss: What're you playing?
Chris: Oh, man...Light Bikes!
Ancodia: ...light bikes?
Chris:  Yeah!  It's on the iPhone, and you're in this motorcycle that makes a wall of light behind you that you can't cross, and you play against another bike, and you try to make the other bike crash into a wall of light, or the wall of the game, and...
Ancodia:  Sounds awesome -- they should make a movie about it.  ::elbowing ChrisBoss:: Maybe Disney, or something.  
ChrisBoss (jokingly): Hey, yeah! That'd be cool!
Chris: I dunno...
Ancodia: Oh, god...Tron.  You're playing Tron.
Chris: No -- Light Bikes!
Ancodia:  No, TRON -- light *cycles*, to be exact.  It's a trillion years old.
Chris:  This is's on the iPhone.  See?  Light *Bikes*!
ChrisBoss: What do they say about being doomed to repeat history?
Ancodia:  This is a knock-off...what're you going to play next, Circle-Guy?  Where the little circle runs around the maze and wocka-wocka eats all the little dots?
Chris: No...I don't have that one...
Ancodia: Kill me now.
ChrisBoss: Photo Finish! (earns a winky point from me)
Ancodia:  I hear the iPhone's PointyThing 3000 is fun.
ChrisBoss: You are way too young to be making these jokes...I think.   
Ancodia: Meh...I thought *he* (at Chris) was too smart to not be *getting* these jokes, and look what that got me. 
ChrisBoss: Truth; maybe *I* should write some iPhone apps, reinvent Asteroids, or something.  Maybe iPhoneroids?
Ancodia:  Hey (in an elderly voice, to Chris)! Can your li'l gadgee there pick up The Q-Link? I hafta meet some'a me droogs in People Connection.

Chris looks confused.  ChrisBoss is in hysterics.  

Sigh.  I am the premier comedienne for the over-fifty crowd, and the unappreciated equivalent of Confuse-A-Cat for the under thirty crowd.  Yep, yep.  Credits!!!


Thursday, January 29, 2009

Oh, noooooo!

I have to miss playing QB1 for this Superbowl for the first time in...EVER!  I mean, we are talking *years*!  I am *so* upset!

Oh, there is no Justice...

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

do not try this at home, or, why dumb things happen to smart people.

Just call me Rescue Annie-codia, l'inconnue du blog. And for what it
is worth, we shall shortly see that I am clearly NOT okay.


We were bored tonight at Eviljob, so we started talking about kinky
sex, which somehow morphed into the best combat wrestling techniques,
which further morphed into a discussion on rescue (lifting/carrying
dead weight was the segue there), which ended with my knocking the
wind out of myself by hitting a tich too hard whilst demonstrating how
easy a precordial thump is to perform...on myself. The conversation
died out at that point, largely because everyone was preoccupied with
asking me if I was sure that I was ok.

ZOMG, my chest hurts. The take-away message here is that this was a
really, really stupid thing to do. Not too bright too much is this
writer. No, not at all. Plus, the sex talk was way more informative;
next time, my contribution will be limited to Intro to Conversational
Polari for Straight Businessmen, or any low-contact sport. Fuck.

Monday, January 26, 2009

they make no mention of the beauty of decay

mary katherine (my team, job 2.5) is in the hospital, and we -- my
other teammates are having a conniption fit; we are worried over her,
and we have a looming deadline that is, frankly, starting to freak us
the fuck out.

great googly-moogly, i believe i might be having a nervous breakdown.

it is a shame, too; i was such a nice girl.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Things are going...drowningly.

I am trying to get through what is essentially a special interest group development at Job 2.  At the end of it, if all goes well, things are good.  If all goes badly, well...then it will suck, seriously and severely, to be me.  Sigh.  I would love to describe around the issue, but the truth of the matter is that I haven't the time, and will not for another month-ish.  We are meeting, it seems, constantly.  Right at the moment, we're taking a break (notice, please, that this is SUNDAY EVENING), then it is back to work.  :-\  I have had to completely farm out my cat maintenance at Eviljob, as I barely have time to take care of my own right now.

This too shall pass. 

...and then I will need to be held.  

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

You're sooo...perceptival!

Yes, it is true.

I am in agony.

Yes, it is true.

I cannot talk about it, at least not until it is over. Just bear with me as I am shallow and petty.

I am sorry; now back to your regularly scheduled blog...

Friday, January 16, 2009

A Really Incomplete Education

Okay...I had to change quite a bit, but...this really had me laughing; one of Meg's co-worker Sabra's graduate students forwarded this to Sabra, who in turn passed it on to me (among others).  I had to work hard to keep all the original typos and stuff in it.  Hee.  And no, of course Professor R did not send this to the student.

Dear Student,

While I appreciate your blatant incoherence for its entertainment value, I do have one concern regarding your academic situation:  Are you simultaneously enrolled in prep English I?  If not, may I recommend an instructor?

Yours in amazement,
Professor Radebaugh

p.s.: I do have a tomato stain on a white long sleeved dress shirt, but I do not know if you consider that to be a “problem.” Please advise. 

>>> “Douglas Radebaugh”

Names and email addresses have been erased to protect the identity of this poor soul.


Hello Professor Ray,

I am notify you on my unappearance in your first week of beginning alegebra 12:00 p.m-2:15 p.m. MW classes for mth002. I had to sign up on your class before all other classes were taken before. I was unable to make it because of housisng situations. I wanted to notify you that I will be appearing here on out to your class startin next class appearance.Is there any assignmets that I may have not have gotton due to my absence would you please let me know? If you could you please reply back at me about any concerns or the problems that you might have.

thank you.


Thursday, January 15, 2009

An Incomplete Education

Took Squoosh to the vet (see mes tweets); took him home, and went to dose him this morning, and heavens to mike did my baby stink!  This *hideous* smell that was close to what I would imagine rotting maple syrup (I know, but work with me here) being poured over a pile of burning tires would smell like.  Naturally, I start freaking and worrying that Squoosh has an abscess from the injection last night, or has developed diabetes, or his bowels are rotting out, so I phone the vet with Squooshable in my arms, looking up at me, purring and smelling.  The tech that came on the line laughed at my maple syrup and tires description and told me that it was probably Squoosh's 'anal glands'.  Huh? After I told her that I do not think Squooshable has 'anal glands' (???), and kept mentioning things I thought it could be, she finally told me to bring him in for a sniff.  

I packed him (protestingly) into the carrier and over to the vet's where *two* techs came out to sniff him, 'cos the one tech that had been on the phone with me said (really politely) that she had a feeling that I would want a confirming opinion.  I really like Dr S's staff.  So I pulled him out and they could not smell it at first, and then when I showed them the spot it seemed to me to be coming from (on his left haunch), both of them came closer and then smelled it and 100% assured me that it was 'his anals', and that he looks fine and his anals look fine, and he probably accidentally got his fur in it in the litterbox, or spooged it out last night when he got stressed over the vet visit.  

Well, okay then.  

So I googled it on the way home, and guess what?  Squoosh has anal glands .  And not only does Squooshable have anal glands, but *all* cats have them, and god damn do they smell.  Normally the anal gland stuff comes out when they poop.  Who knew?

I know you knew.  Shut up.  How in the hell was I supposed to know that??

But now I know what it is when I see other people's dogs scooting their butts across the floor and stuff -- their anal glands are infected and they need to go to a vet.  The article I found says that cats scoot like that too, though I do not think that I have ever seen that.  If Squoosh scoots, he's going to the vet ASAP, but he is on Clavamox for the respiratory infection already, and he seems fine.  


Relatedly, I also found this article about anal glands from the ADM and damn near died laughing:  Senile Human Bitch Allows Cat's Anal Glands to Swell and Fester .


I am extremely unhappy...much, much, much to be done in only about a month and a half.  Polkaroo...polkaroo...polkaroo...


Mental Weather Forecast

...look for my being exceptionally petty, distant, self-absorbed,
small-minded, and sporadically posting until probably about April-ish.
Big things are now afoot. Whee.

On a brighter note, if I make it through this, I can make it through
anything. :-)

...well, make it through without huddling in a corner mumbling
'Polkaroo' over and over with my thumb in my mouth, that is. :-D

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

What I get for being honest I get home, and I have an email from an old high school (former) friend, who is a current acquaintance, if for no other reason than we have simply not seen each other in so long. Anyway, so this email is entitled, 'CHECK THIS OUT!', and includes a what is apparently the website of yet another of our friends (the link being, I quickly picked up that it was the website of our friend, Suzette Bananas-Foster; I am mentally swift like that).

And no, SB-F is not her real name, of course.  


So I check out Suzette's website, surely is her.  Or 'is she', I think.  She does appear to be a tad worse-for-wear, but she was a few years older than myself and others, too.  Anyhow, she has her hair dyed (good dye job -- it looks natural), and is looking all sunlight-y and breezy here on this...::gulp::...spiritual guidance site for motivated individuals and executives (that is a modified quote).  Good lord, Suzette Bananas-Foster is a spiritual-guide-y type, and is thanking Jeezy Creezy and angels and shit for choosing her to deliver their message, 'cos it's brought her several years' worth of 200k-plus income, and sent to her the lurve of her life, with whom she resides in this huge home...when she isn't holding rah-rah-lizardshit spiritbuilding conferences in Hawaii, Jamaica, Caifornia, and other places.  

I couldn't help it -- I phoned my friend (and really enraged her husband, whom I abhor), so she got back on IM with me for a round of 'this has to be a joke', 'no fucking way', and so forth, until my friend pointed me in the direction of Amazon, where Suzette has books, DVDs, and so on.  She has them on sale on her site, sure, but the whole site could be some fucked-up joke...I mean, *I* would pull a stunt like that just to screw with people if I had a ton of free time.  But no...the books are all real.  They have *reviews*.  By, like fifty people plus, who all think Suzette is the bees' knees and cannot wait to go back to another one of her retreats.    

Oh. My. God.

That DOES it.  That TOTALLY DOES IT!  Because...thing is, you'd have to know Suzette -- I mean *really* know her, as we do -- to grok this, but...

Heavens, it pains me to say this, but...

SHE'S FULL OF IT.  Angels, my ass.  There is NO WAY IN HELL she believes this shite, not any more than I would...which leads me to my point.  

Fuck this crap.  I mean seriously, fuck it.  I can spin this god nonsense better than the best of 'em (you should see what whacked-out branches I have on my fambly tree), but...what has being honest brought me?  If my current endeavours do not work miracles, I am writing a fakakteh god book and making some serious damn money.  I will write a self-help book and throw a a ton of Jeezy Creezy in there, and see if I don't. would be really funny to totally plagiarise the stew out of Ragnar Redbeard and just make it all legitty RHP xtian. I wonder if there are any other sceptics like myself who do horrible, terrible things just because they are tired of killing themselves promoting reason and science and just want easy money?

Well, besides Suzette, I mean.  She was with me when we were all little druggie witchy small-peoples, and she was faking, and I was faking, and none of us believed any of *all*, we just wanted attention.  Rilly -- like most 14 - 18 year olds.  But, unless a brick fell on her head, methinks she heard the call of the wild...loonie.  I believe *none* of this, and neither does the friend who emailed it to me after someone else who didn't believe it emailed it to *them*.  

Christ.  I need a drink.  Seriously -- I do not drink that much normally, but...I am going to have a glass of wine and calm the hell down.  

I totally could buy SOOOOO many cat beds for Squooshable!

I could even marry some thimble-brained xtian man and tell him that the angels said that *he* has to do all the cooking and cleaning.  No, came to me in a dream, babe.  

Snort. for that glass of wine...

Friday, January 09, 2009


I love the pic below!  Everything is...special.  Hold me, please!  I have to get into a cat fight at Eviljob -- it's an Us versus Them thingy, where one group is trying to commandeer a project, and our group is trying to *not* let them do that.  

Then, I am currently trying to do a six-person research project ALL BY MY FUCKING SELF.  Yes, that would be Job 2.5.  Kill me now.  

Job 2 I am behind on prepping for, will all work out.  I hope.  Sheesh.

Job 2.5.1, however is FUBAR; Job 2.5.1, which was originally Job 2, then became Job 2.5 and then changed to Job 2.5.1 is...craziness.  I cannot even *explain* it.  I have to really explain this later, when I am not exhaused.  Basically, I have fucked up because I spent abouuuuut...ummm...two and a half (?) of the past years being dazzled by money, and am trying to fix it.  It is hard to know precisely how long, and -- again -- I will explain better later, 'cos I am going to need a lot of positive energy (Milli Vanilli-style, ha!) and stuff over the next few months as I fix this and begin hiking forward towards my density...errr...destiny.  

Heavens, I crack myself up.  

Ok...I have also been transcending stressed because -- in addition to everything else, I *just* found out (I started finding out on 15 December, when I got some f'ed up insurance card in the mail) that when I came back from leave from my surgery in August, Eviljob's jackass fucktard leave administration company SWITCHED MY INSURANCE over a month after I returned.  That's right -- I was essentially barebacking for three months because none of my physicians take the insurance offered by the Eviljob Plan Q (through like, Crazy Eddie's House of Insurance...only $50 a paycheck, and their prices are in-say-ay-ay-ayne!) that the leave administrator company dumped me into.  That's why I pay through the nose for Eviljob Plan A, which is through United Health, which everyone takes because UHC rocks.  Every year, during open enrolment I pick the same thing because I *like* my PPO, or POS, or whatever it is through UHC.  I get *everything* paid for (including the Gardasil vaccine, and jes --I am over 25, or 23, or whatever the ludicrous 'off-label' age starts at...UHC, you *rock*!), I do not have to ever have anything ok'd through a PCP, or get referrals, or whatever (even though I love my GP, having to go to him for everything is retarded; what do people do...go to their GP to get a referral for a PAP smear?  ...barbecue?).


So, in sum, they changed my insurance, and I did not know.  Then I found out and freaked the hell out, *then* I started getting bills.  At first I emailed our Human Resources staff, then I started pulling out old emails I have archived with contacts at our leave administrator's company and started cc'ing everyone.  Well, I just found out today that finally they fixed it -- I can ask all my doctors to re-file.  Jesus.  

I am going to have to finish this later, 'cos I am totally crashing, I am so tired.  

Obama Pictures and McCain Pictures
see Sarah Palin pictures

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

more fun than a barrel of lolcats

i submitted a ton of paperwork today, some of which was an
attitude-adjustment request for a team leader at eviljob; she's
apparently been bad-mouthing my special-project work group, telling
people that we are stealing her ideas, specifically for this new
division whose starting metrics i cranked out BY MYSELF on a lonely
caturday, so i am taking no small amount of personal offence here.

sigh...gtg...helping betty shop on ebay; she had horrors happen at
work and needs me (she was on a dilaudid run and her cna stuck herself
when a pt fell and a line came loose. pt has aids and hep c; this
means six months on pins and needles for the cna (seroconversion takes
its own sweet god-damned time), and it could have been betty by
literally minutes). we're starting up quite the little toy camera
klatch here, and god only knows you need a russian to tell you to also
search for 'cmeha' to get good deals from peeps who are cleaning out
dead grandpa's attic and do not know what they have.

i know...i am teh brillinz wizzerdezz. ;-)

i love you, you, love you, love you. i keep it here cos
she wants to talk about other stuff. cannot blame her.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Not very cool sounding. Not at all.

gURL.comI took the "The Animal Spirit" quiz on
My animal spirit is...
The Mongoose

The mongoose is the only animal that would risk life and limb for a loved one. The mongoose also uses its speed to escape danger when it finds itself in a tight spot. According to shamanistic wisdom, mongoose people value relationships over everything and are the most loyal of friends. Read more...

What is your animal spirit?

Monday, January 05, 2009

Sunday, you say?

Sunday is *not* a day of rest here at the International House of
Ancodia! Ohellno. Today I *tried* to finish all this stuff for this
semester's classes (and failed), tried to clean my bathroom (epic
fail), got all my pillows washed (score), and got the three babies
vaccinated (1/3 fail). Weebie does not need vaccination until August.

I went to my old standby, Dr Superhero -- the one Chrissy introduced
me to so I could get a Rescue Group discount from him when I first
started TNR-ing the cats at Eviljob, the one who would have trusted me
enough to give me that-which-shall-not-be-named (I have since been
advised, threatened really, to not EVER speak about this offer to
ANYONE by another rescue lady here, so I will not; there are a lot of
wagons ready to rally around Dr S, and I would like to believe I am
one of them) to tranq Mehitabel with if I could have gotten my hands
on a housecat tranquiliser gun, the one who *did* give me pre-surgical
anaesthesia drugs, ACE-something and Valium to try to knock her out
(Mehitabel was woozy, but still evaded my net. True to my word though,
I stayed with her -- trying to catch her -- for a little over six
hours until the drugs wore off), the one who is open twenty-four hours
(mostly) and who took my freshly-trapped ferals for rapidspeuter
service at a discount (thanks to Chrissy...ilu, Chrissy) and gave them
all vaccinations on the cheap as well. I made an emergency appointment
for Saturday evening (Dr S's shift; he runs and owns the place, but is
of course not doing this alone -- he is a super*hero*, not
super*human*) because I thought Squoosh might have a respiratory
infection, then I decided to save myself the $85 emergency fee and
make a regular appointment on Sunday night, 'cos Squoosh was not
sneezing, coughing, or anythinging, I just thought his purr sounded
deeper than normal.

stfu. I am *not* batshit.

I was worried because I did not vaccinate the three in 2008 because I
was busy, forgot, whatever. Okay, I SUCK, and I am a BAD KITTY MOMMY.
There. Happy? But they are indoor-only cats who NEVER come even close
to getting out-of-doors (I close off my foyer, largely for privacy
reasons because otherwise any random salesperson or Jehovah's Witness
can see all the way into my family room, most of my living room, and
some of my kitchen, none of which is their business, and so the cats
cannot even get near the door), and I am always so super-careful with
them that Meg tells me I am batshit on a regular basis. Plus, I have
been told by more than one vet that cats do not *have* to be
vaccinated every twelve months, that you can go a little over, kind of
like how you do not have to change the oil in your car every three
thousand miles. But missing 2008, I was a little worried in case
Squoosh did have an infection, cos there is all kinds of stuff out
there, and with my luck, it is some especially virulent Calicivirus,
and is about to kill him. So I decided to get them vaccinated and
checked out tonight (Sunday), also on Dr Superhero's shift.

Squoosh is fine. He has no *anything*, not even fungus (he enjoyed the
sweep with the black light, though), so he and Rhett were vaccinated
for everything from soup to nuts, including the droppy-stuff in the
nose, some of which he snorked into his eye and loudly declared,
'BABY, THIS BULLSHIT!'...then calmed right down as if nothing had ever
happened. We are such a cute baby!

Cookie, however, turned out to be running a fever of 104; Dr Superhero
said no vaccinations for her today. Then I noticed she was doing that
upset-stomach lip licking thing (back when I was going to Dr Vet, they
diagnosed her as having a sensitive stomach after she ate some seafood
I brought home and puked for a week and came down with pancreatitis,
and a week of Tagamet and antibiotics fixed her), so Dr S put her on
Clindamycin, gave her a 100 (ml or cc, or are those the ones that are
the same?) bolus of water to break her fever, a shot of tagamet, and a
shot of clindamycin, baytril, B-12, and vitamin C. But she did get a
just-in-case de-worming (my babies do NOT have worms, I just believe
in being better safe than sorry) as did Rhett and Squoosh. Then I give
her Clindamycin 2x/dy for tomorrow, half a Tagamet once, and bring her
back Tuesday to see if the fever has gone down; if so, she can be
vaccinated. And Squoosh and Rhett also each had shots of the mix of
Clindamycin, Baytril, B-12, and C, just in case. Dr S said that
usually works really well, and otherwise our alternative is to run a
pack of fishing-expedition tests on Cookie to see what comes up, and
in the end it may just be pancreatitis again from her having sneaked
people food when I wasn't looking, in which case we would do exactly
what we are doing now, or something more serious might turn up on a
test (he mentioned like FIP, though I doubt she has FIP only being
unvaccinated about eight months), in which case she will still be sick
come Tuesday, and I need to really start worrying, because Squoosh,
Rhett, and possibly Weebie may have it. Sigh.

Now on the 'up' side, Dr S figures that probably Cookie is fine; he
said she's clearly alert and responsive (I'd not noticed *anything*
wrong with her at all!), not sore in the tum, not vomiting, no
diarrhoea, she is eating and drinking well, and might just have a cut
or fanging somewhere (from tussling with Rhett or Squoosh) we cannot
see that has become infected, or the beginnings of a bladder
infection...all of which are treated the same route: shot of
Clindamycin, Baytril, B-12, and C, and water for the fever.

And what a good little Cookie -- she did not have a single attack of
nerves whilst there! Normally she is very skittish away from home or
around strangers -- she will freak out and start trying to kill you
pretty easily if she is spooked; I think it is a hold-over from her
feral kitten days, so I just try to not spook her. For example,
beeping things spook her (why? who knows?), so I try to keep those to
a minimum in my home. I mean, she cannot help it, and the little baby
clearly thinks her life is in danger. I just hope she will some day
realise that she is safe, and vet visits like today really reinforce
my belief that this will one day occur. Yay.

I had to ask Meg to come with me to help manage the cats -- I have
*nightmares* about something horrible happening, like my tripping and
knocking the cat carrier open in the parking lot -- and I tried to
tell her about some of the really cool things Dr S has done, like
leaving for two whole weeks to volunteer helping pets after Katrina,
and all the things he has done for this and that group. Meg was
uninterested, to say the least (being her sister, I can see through
the feigning polite interest schtick), though she did ask me why I did
not go to Dr S, and I explained to her about having heard about one of
his relief vets from Baby Bat -- BB went to her mother's house, and
her mother's 800-year old dog was on the kitchen floor, convulsing. BB
phoned her mother at work to ask what to do (BB is a little too much
of a follower, imho; I can understand my friend asking what to do
about my Harry, but family is different, plus Harry wasn't
convulsing), and her mom told her to bring the dog to their vet -- Dr
S -- and have him put to sleep (the dog was terminally ill, I forget
with what, but he was like, twenty years old, seriously), and that she
was driving right over to Dr S's. Well, Dr S was off then, and BB saw
this guy, we'll call him Dr T, so as to not tax my brain too much.
Baby Bat said that Dr T took an attitude with her from the start, and
refused to euthanise the still-convulsing dog because Dr T had never
seen the dog, only Dr S, which to me sounds ludicrous. Not knowing
what to do, BB said that she started screaming at the top of her lungs
-- just howling; I have seen her fitting like that over other things,
so I have no doubt that she would, and she should be embarrassed over
it, so why volunteer such a humiliating falsehood? -- and then one of
Dr S's vet techs came in with the euthanasia shot and administered it.
BB said this Dr T was in the surgery or kennel area (this place is on
a small farm, and it is HUGE for a vet's office) literally yelling at
the tech to get out of the room, that they were in huge trouble,
fired, and so on; BB said she asked the tech if they were getting in
trouble, and the tech said that they would have Dr S's ok later and
everything would be fine, they did not know why Dr T was doing this,


So I explained to Meg that when I left Dr Vet's, I had intended to
come here simply out of convenience (it is very close, plus I can make
appointments for nine in the evening on Sundays), plus Dr S loves
animals more than I can explain; I mean, he calls them *people*.
Seriously. But Baby Bat's story scared the shit out of me -- at the
time, Romeo was still alive, and as a result of BB's experience, I
made damn certain that Romeo had all his euthanasia paperwork already
filled out and sitting in his file on his very first visit to the new
vet (after we left Dr Vet's), and that Doc (the new vet) and all his
staff knew that *anyone* bringing Romeo in for euthanisation was ok
with me, just in case someone stopped by and Romeo had crashed -- so,
I explained to Meg, with Romeo still alive, I was worried that I might
have an emergency that could not wait for Dr S to come available, and
what am I supposed to do to be merciful to my cat -- strangle him with
my bare hands?

Yes, I do worry about things like this.

And I do have Dr S's cell number (one holiday season he told me to
phone him if he was not on instead of taking Romeo to the *actual*
emergency vet, because they charge so damned much and getting someone
good is often a crapshoot there, and he knew how much Romeo meant to
me), but he gave it to me for one specific reason, and that was not to
just ring him any old time. It is a really smart move to give a
doctor's child your cell number; after living through all the
cut-short or even solitary birthday parties, abbreviated
Thanksgivings, and Xmas Interruptus, a doctor's kid will phone you
NEVER; off means OFF.

Meg, incidentally, says that I am too neurotic about my cats, and Baby
Bat is a narcissistic, psychopathic drama queen. I am just trying to
give fair voice to opposing sides...although I do agree with her about
Baby Bat. Sad, but true.

Anyway, so when we finally got in, Dr S was running back and forth
like he always does; we were sandwiched in between a dog with a
chronic cough (pulmonary oedema; Lasix, for those keeping score at
home; owner, ironically, was just dx'd with the same thing. Meg
marvelled over how pets mirror their owners, I pointed out that
someone's clearly been sharing table scraps for twelve years with
their twelve-year old dog, and twelve years of eating McDonald's and
beer has packed *everyone's* heart in fluid ...and Meg says *I* am
illogical...hmmph), a guinea pig with a hurt leg (spending the night @
Dr S's tonight, we both laughed over the call over the intercom to
prep an overnight bed in the kennel for a guinea pig; a whole cage? No
one has an empty desk drawer and a shoebox?), and another dog with
what sounded like it was an intestinal problem (too far down the hall,
sorry -- could not hear). As he left each time, he would tell us to
'get the next person out [of the carrier]' and he would be right back.
Meg cracked up over that; she had not believed me, I guess (back when
I was trapping ferals nightly, once I came in with two, and Dr S got a
tech to make room in the kennel area for 'two more people'; I adored
him on the spot). When he came back, we were talking about all kinds
of things, and I could tell that Meg thought he was weird, but she
later asked me if I had dated him or something (erm, no, and do not
dare say that around Chrissy, or she will go crazy) and, considering
that I said no to the first question, if I thought he was trying to
pick me up because he asked me if I were married yet or in a
relationship, to which I reminded Meg that was because we were talking
about how pets round out a person's life, and how Elvis might be alive
today if he had a Siamese cat or two to tell him that he was really
fucking up.

Seriously -- can you imagine the humiliation and extreme reality check
of waking up in a pool of your own grossness to see a Measle staring
at you like, 'Have you no pride, Babe? Eew.'? That would have set
Elvis back on track. Yep, yep.


I fell asleep composing this, and now I have to do that Conquering the
World Thing, and I have to give Cookie her Clindamycin and half a tab
of Tagamet. I have already checked on her (Cookie holds grudges, and
is currently not talking to me; when I found her, she promptly climbed
up high on the cat tree and sat down with her back to me), and her
fever seems to have gone down. Sigh...wish me luck today; this is
going to be a hellish week, and not just because Cookie hates me at
the moment. I was awakened by a text message from a manager at Eviljob
calling out and asking me to do eleventy-billion things for him. Pfft.
And man, am I hungry; I think I forgot to eat yesterday. Argh.