Life is Good

When I came home from work (which wasn't too bad), I walk in on a
marathon of Flavour of Love *and* the news that the next season of FoL
starts tomorrow! Okay, in between FoL and WWTBAS, I almost have too
many guilty pleasures going on. :-)

Be Just and Fear Not...

...be Ancodia and fear everything... It's too early to know for
sure--everything changes for me at the end of August--but i think that
just went well. Really, really well. And i had been dreading this.
What a (semi-) relief!

Could someone stop for just a second and tell me what in the hell is going on?

Butsoanyway.

I spent the first part of the day trying to help an out-of-state Eviljob comrade access something on our internal network that we ended up having to give up on because the dimwit had never (basically) gone through the ‘red tape’ of requesting off-site access. From his personal laptop. These last two points he didn’t bother to share with me until I had already been trying to walk him through it for over an hour, probably closer to an hour and a half. Fricking idiot. No, you cannot just (basically) copy a program over to your own computer and expect it to work. Sigh. So this was, basically, a morning completely wasted. And if anyone were to ask me, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing that, and that’s why he phoned *me*. Grr. And Stupid Me even gave him my password (everyone knows everyone else’s username) trying to help, which I promptly changed and probably won’t remember now. Idiot.

Then I skipped lunch in favour of running around the parking lot looking for signs of cats and putting food and water down. No cats.

Then I went on to Job II stuff, and spent the rest of the afternoon in a morass of paperwork, and Mom phoned and begged me to meet her for dinner…oh, and by the way, she was already in my driveway.

Hmmm…lonely, are we?

So we drove out to Mummers’ favourite halal Chinese food restaurant. Mom has been busy recently—she’s writing a book (no, really) with a co-conspirator. Sigh. Our conversation was completely nuts, as usual (and the two Indian men sitting behind us were literally in stitches for most of the meal), but I posted via phone to remind myself of one point Mummers brought up: That we should not support slave labour in third-world countries by eating fortune cookies.

No, really.

She says that she heard it on ‘the news’, which for her may well mean on Coast To Coast AM (ol’ Georgeanory).

‘You shouldn’t eat that! There are people in slave-labour factories overseas that are living their lives in squalor…’

‘The fortune cookie?’

‘Things like that; people slave away making pennies a day…’

‘…in a fortune cookie factory?’

‘…overseas…’

‘Overseas?’

‘Yes, Ancodia! Overseas! They go to work in the factories as children, and work there all their lives!’

‘…making fortune cookies?’

‘…and things like that. It’s inhumane. How do you think all those cookies get made?’

‘A really big machine in Hoboken, probably.’ I peer carefully at the wrapper; ‘…wait a minute! You’re right!’

‘What does it say?’ Mummers leans over the table to look at my wrapper.

I point to the fine print; ‘It says, “Made in a slave-labour fortune cookie factory in Guam”; Waiter,’ I call, waving the wrapper, ‘I want my money back—these aren’t genuine Chinese slave labour cookies!’

Mom stares into her tea, and the two Indian men seated behind Mom are literally shaking with laughter. Finally, Mummers starts laughing.

‘You aren’t as funny as you think you are.’

‘I’m not trying to be funny; I’m as outraged as you are—look!’ I try to look outraged, and fail miserably. ‘So what does your fortune say?’

‘Oh, I always get the same fortune,’ Mummers says, resignedly.

‘…which is,’ I prompt.

‘It says, “Help! I’m trapped in a Chinese Fortune Cookie Factory!”’.

I should have seen that one coming.

Then she got irritated at me ‘cos she thought that when I ordered falooda I was making fun of our server with a remark about Fallujah, and I had to explain to her that our server was Romanian, not Iraqi (this is the same server that has worked there for two years; one would think she would remember by now, and yes—this halal restaurant has a Romanian server. One.), and it would be a nonsensical ‘insult’, anyway. Sheesh. But at least I know she’s not been going there without me and scoping out their desserts. :-)

And when the Indian men paid and left, I smiled at them and one of them said to me, ‘good night to you and your beautiful mother’. :-) That’s cute—we’re the dinner show.

Or Mom is, rather; *I* am normal. I think.

Sigh.

So then I get home, and watch my new most favouritest show EVER, Who Wants To Be A Superhero. Here’s their official site: WWTBAS. But the Wikipedia link will have episode updates.

And I want some answers—how come *I* didn’t hear about this when they were looking for superheroes? Hmm? Damn it, *I* want to be a superhero!

Bastards.

Butsoanyway.

So then I got online to vegetate and play trivia, and I checked my email; an email that I received about ten minutes after I pulled out of the drive with Mummers informs me that I have to go tomorrow and see about changing work-groups. As in involuntarily.

Okay, this potentially sucks. Bigtime.

Sigh. Whatever. I don’t care. Sell me into slave labour. Do your worst; I tried to make fortune cookies once, and ended up with a tray full of fortune lumps. ;-)

I guess that I will see what this is all about tomorrow.

Pfft.

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Quick PSA in response to hits...

what do u do if your cat has an allergic reaction to Clavamox

Well, before my cat had one, I would have vowed to myself to spell 'you' Y-O-U, at least in searches. Google doesn't care if you're cool or not. And writing 'u' is very not-cool. Double-plus uncool. Prince does that, fer chrissake, and he did it in the '80s; how much more uncool could it possibly be?

Ok; having said that:

Now, I AM NOT A VET (and when I see these searches, I begin to wonder where they are all hiding, 'cos if Dr Vet knew that I was giving advice on feline medical stuff, he would pee himself laughing; I'm thisclose to being the girl who thinks Kitty may need new batteries, my knowledge is so (un-) extensive), however for me--A LAYMAN (I also think gratuitous de-sexing is uncool)--it would depend upon what *type* of allergic reaction. I won't even pretend to know what the full spectrum of reactions could be, but here's my stab:

1) Cat threw Clavamox dose back up.

This is normal--a lot of cats barf Clavamox, I am told--it may hurt their tummies if they don't have enough food before the dose (or it may still make their tummy hurt anyway). My vet has always told me to skip the barfed dose and pick it back up at the regularly-scheduled time for the next dose, and make sure that I give food before the next dose. If the cat barfs up *that* dose, it's time to phone the vet; your Dr Vet may need to change to a different antibiotic. If the cat is critically ill and should not miss a dose, phone the vet. If the cat *continues* vomiting, phone the vet. One barfing--maybe (MAYBE!) two is ok; more than that, and I (as a layman) would want reassurance.

2) Cat is constantly vomiting, retching, having what might be a seizure; cat is extremely lethargic or unconscious; cat is breathing in any unusual way (shallowly, rapidly, or unconscious *AND* not breathing at all*); cat's face looks swollen; cat is acting disoriented, or seems to be in pain; cat will not let you touch it; a non-violent cat is acting violent; cat will not eat or drink; a normally litter-trained cat is going to the bathroom out in the open (big clue: it is trying to tell you it is very sick and needs help; don't get angry at it).

PHONE THE VET IMMEDIATELY AND TELL THEM YOU ARE ON YOUR WAY OVER. DO NOT WAIT. IF THE VET IS CLOSED, GET TO AN EMERGENCY VET CLINIC.

I am sorry; I wish that I could be of more help and if it were within my power right now, I would vow to become Miss Queen Clavamox, but I can't; I don't have the time. If anyone has any addendums or corrections, I will be more than happy to add them; this is all based on my own personal experience, and probably is not worth much. I have just been told by Dr Vet (or staff) that, as a general rule, if it is a one-time barfing, that's not a big deal, as long as the cat is still pooping, peeing, purring, and eating/drinking. Or if the cat suddenly develops a 'sensitivity' to Clavamox, it will probably not be sensitive to a different antibiotic, and needs to be switched. Hope this helps, and now I have to go write my regular post. And play trivia.



*unconscious *AND* not breathing at all (the AND is important)= GET OFF GOOGLE AND START CAT CPR. Cat AND DOG CPR. Small kitten CPR. Newborn kitten CPR. Cat CPR with pictures

**DO NOT EVER PERFORM CPR ON AN ANIMAL (or human) THAT IS CONSCIOUS/STILL BREATHING**

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Gah!

Mummers wants me to put George Noory's intro song on her cell as a
ring tone. Of course. And i have all kinds of interesting
information about chinese fortune cookie slave-labour camps. Oh, yes.

Things That Make You Go, ‘Hmmm….’

One more thing:

Today, as I was getting gas I saw a guy get out of his car, and he was wearing a KISS t-shirt. I was totally going to accept that it was maybe Laundry Day—though it’s a sad Laundry Day indeed when one has to reach all the way back into the 1976 closet—but the t-shirt was new.

Huh? KISS??

I’m frightened. Hold me.

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Everyone Hates Mel, the Neener-Head

Awwright…

Being a sensible, reasonable girl, if Gibson can convince Rebbe Foxman (I’m deciding that he’s *my* rebbe on this issue, since I have too much to keep up with already), I’ll agree. IF he can. Until that time however, you’re still on my Shit List, Mel.

Sheesh. I am too nice, over here.

Today was the same as ever, I didn’t see Mehitabel, I can’t get a hold of Chrissy anymore, and I think Bonnie had to leave town again, and I’m just going to shoot myself, ok?

And I’m achy.

Harry skipped out on trivia tonight to talk with Muffin. I offered to come, but he said that he wanted to try it himself, first. Hope it went well.

Okay. I’m going to go vegetate now.

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