Joyeux Noël

A Distinct Lack of Cheer

It's the Island of Misfit Toys around here right now. In the few days remaining before the end of the year,we have to find a new place to live. In the spirit of Christmas, we're being evicted. Clearly someone has mistaken me for a pregnant virgin, and is under the impression that it would be best for me to bunk in a stable for awhile.

It's possible that we've found a place. We applied, and paid an application fee, but there seem to be some problems. I'm trying to be optimistic, but it's getting more difficult, what with the time crunch and all. At this point, I'm just hoping that we don't have to move in with my parents for any amount of time. I actually seem to be in a bit of denial about the whole thing. I know that I should be packing, but I can't wrap my mind around it. I don't know if I even remember how to pack and move. -sigh-

Blue Christmas

December has been here for 2 weeks, it has overstayed it's welcome, and while I know it will go back where it came from eventually, 16 more days is not soon enough. This is the point in the year when, for one reason or another, I am mostly likely to want to throw myself off the nearest cliff. Luckily (or not) I don't really live in an area where there -are- any cliffs, so I suppose I'll have to tough it out. Again.

During last and first months of the year I spend a lot of time crying, starting fights and stomping around. When I'm properly medicated, there seems to be less crying and stomping, but it appears that the fight starting tradition is firmly in place. I can't think of a single person on the planet that isn't making me grind my teeth right now. My closest friends seem to be the primary targets for my general unpleasantness (Probably because they have the most exposure. Edginess is like skin cancer, apparently.), but it's not limited to them. I have to fight the urge to yell at clerks in stores, coworkers and the Internet. I have no idea what to do about it. Well, maybe one idea.

Can we just do away with December all together? We could move Christmas to a more pleasant month like April, and all just hibernate for 31 days. It would be even better if we could throw January into the mix too. Just shut the world down for a couple of months, let everybody catch up on their sleep and reality TV and then start all over in February.

There is no way I'm putting up a Christmas tree.

.

Way Wrong.

Just a giggle before I go on vacation.

I'll be in sunny (probably rainy, actually) California for the next week. Start your jealousy engines sometime -after- I manage to make my 5:50am (yes, AM. Holy cats!) flight.

The Not-so-Friendly Skies

The terrorists have won. This became clear the moment that security measures in airports went from "increased" to "insane." It was ok when they told me I could no longer carry more than 3.4 ounces of liquid (or GEL, god, not the GEL!) through security. It was ok, when they thought that perhaps they should "randomly" search my bag...every time I fly. It was even ok when they told me that I couldn't travel with nail clippers, tweezers or a scalpel. However, it is not fine that they've decided that the best way to secure our skies is by sexually assaulting people. Not. Okay. In the past few weeks, stories have started being published about dozens of violations by TSA agents.

*A flight attendant was forced to remove her prosthetic breast. Which actually flies in the face of their existing rules for medical devices.
*A bladder cancer survivor had the seal on his urostomy bag broken, covering him with urine. After he explained his medical condition, and the need for them to be careful of the wafer. 
*A three-year old was terrorized by a TSA agent doing an invasive search.

Who are the bad guys here? In the past, TSA agents were to pat fliers down using the backs of their hands. Now, agents are instructed to use their palms and fingers to "investigate," including probing genitals and breasts. People have gone to jail for less. Excuse me, but I've already had my pap smear and breast exam this year, and I can assure you, it wasn't done by the federal equivalent of a rent-a-cop.

The biggest story about the TSA drama has come from Penn Jillette. In 2002 he was groped in the airport by a TSA screener, who didn't bother to ask if he could grab his business. Jillette got the police involved, and filed a report of assault and battery, with a very willing police officer. The entire time, TSA officials repeated "we have no problem here." Clearly, they do. I'm flying in 10 days. I'm a little terrified of what's going to happen when I get to security.

This post doesn't even address complaints about the possible dangers (hello, undisclosed levels of radiation) of the new back scanners, and the general discomfort the public feels about the full body scanners. If I wanted strangers to see me [basically] naked, I would have become a stripper. I understand the need for safety, I really do, however I don't think that safety should come at the cost of freedom and dignity. Invasive screens should be reserved for people on watch lists, no-fly lists, and those behaving in suspicious ways. I'm not saying "only screen the Arabs! They're the ter'rusts," because that's certainly not true. However, a little discretion is called for. Flight attendants (with proper ID) should probably be free to fly unmolested. Children should not be accosted. Little old ladies/men should be given the benefit of the doubt without having to remove their various medical devices. Recently, a blogger leaked information about a new directive which advised airlines to restrict passengers from getting out of their seats, concealing their hands, or accessing carry-on luggage an hour before landing. Alright guys, if I'm flying to Dallas, that's the entire flight. If you're not gonna let me get to my carry on for my Kindle, we're gonna have a serious problem. Obviously, the TSA was pissed about this development, and they went to the blogger's house, armed (!! Who gave the TSA guns?!), took all his electronics and threatened to get him fired from his job. As a journalist. Something tells me the NY Times wasn't particularly eager to give into that request.

What the hell is going on? When did we give people with bare minimum, high school educations control over our lives? And how did we let them become so power hungry? The future's not looking so bright.

"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." --Benjamin Franklin

Cynical Haiku & Medical Update

Who are these people

who post things like "lovin' life!"

I'm not so enthused.

We found out last week that my thyroid wasn't working properly. I've been tested for this probably half a dozen times before, always with "normal" results. This time, my result was in the "normal" range, but it was the lowest possible result in that range. You also have to understand that the "normal range" is based on someone who is "average" in their height and weight. Obviously, while only slightly taller than the average American woman, I'm quite a bit heavier. Therefore, the "normal" range doesn't really apply. And, the lowest number on that scale, isn't even optimal for the "average" sized woman that they based it on to begin with. The numbers should be toward the middle, slightly lower than dead center for optimal performance. You should also know that the medical "averages" that most tests are based on were established somewhere around the mid 60's. Those numbers aren't anywhere near the actual averages of the population (not of this country, anyway). In any case, my thyroid has been slacking off. Which explains why, for the past few months, I've wanted to sleep for about 20 hours a day. I've never really looked at my previous thyroid test results, and so I don't know how long I've been at the bottom of the range, but I suspect it's been at least a year. I literally have -every- symptom of hypothyroidism. It's not like it could logically have been anything else. Finally a doctor has noticed that I'm not actually 5'4" and 135 pounds, and so perhaps a Free T4 level of 0.06 isn't quite enough. I must look MUCH (much, much) lighter than I actually am! (insert dream sequence in which I am a supermodel here...)

Oh. Hi there. Ahem.

Ok, I'm not delusional; there's no way I look like I weigh 135 pounds. Not even in my dreams am I that thin. (And actually, I wouldn't want to be. Hipbones hurt if they poke out when you sleep on them. Not that I know from experience, but it seems like a pretty good guess.)  My doctor isn't blind, so I guess I'm gonna have to go with the old, he/she's just not paying attention theory. Damn.

The same actually-paying-attention doctor also informed me that people with the type of chronic depression and anxiety that I have typically have exceedingly low levels of folic acid. She recommended that I pick some up post haste. I did, and I have to tell you, after one day of huge doses of folic acid and sublingual/injected B12, I felt better. Not anywhere near 100%, but better. And every subsequent day, my mood and fatigue have been noticably improving. I've also got some raw bovine thyroid on order. Just typing those words makes me gag. I have no idea how I'm going to make myself swallow the pills.

In Which I Get Crafty

I have crazy sensitive skin. Even -thinking- about the wrong additives or walking past a florist shop can be enough to give me a rash. After a particularly bad bout of what looked like leprosy on my legs, we decided there had to be a better alternative. It also happens to be super cheap, and it smells -amazing- without being overpowering and rash-inducing. Want to try it? Here's how:

You'll need a bar of Zote laundry soap. (You can actually use any bar soap, and I suspect Dove or Ivory would be good, but I don't want to risk a change in my formula. Plus, the Zote is PINK! (And costs about 98 cents.)

You'll also need Borax. We use this stuff, but I'm sure there are other brands out there:

Finally, you'll need either baking soda or soda ash. You can make your own soda ash by baking baking soda, but it seems to work just as well with plain baking soda. For the record, OxyClean is mostly soda ash, so if you're using that as a laundry booster, save some cash and buy the soda ash for $2 instead.

Step 1: Grate the Zote.

You'll use the entire bar. And then your whole house will smell vaguely citrusy. Ad your hands will be very soft and clean.

Step 2. Mix the grated Zote with 2 cups of borax and 2 cups of baking soda/ash.
Step 3. Use your grater to mix it up, and chop the soap strings into bits.
Step 4. Shake the bucket you've been putting your stuff in to mix.
Step 5. Laundry!! Use about 1/4 cup of this detergent for a regular size load, or 1/2 a cup if it's a really dirty or really big load.
Step 6. Congratulate yourself on being so environmentally friendly since the only thing you've had to throw away is the wrapper from the Zote. You'll have enough borax and soda/ash for at least 2 more mixtures, if you bought the regular size boxes and not the tiny ones.
Step 7. Remind yourself not to be smug about your thrifty and earth friendly ways.

Teapot

So, for some time now, (years and years, actually) I've considered getting a tattoo of a small teapot, representative of Russell's teapot. And now I've decided to do it for sure, having found an appropriate design, except I'm afraid that people will think it's some symbol of the Tea Party. I really would prefer not to be associated with most of those crazies. (Yes, I know some of them really -are- just about small gov't and lower taxes...but most of them are about the crazy. If they weren't about the crazy, they'd just be Libertarians.) So here's the question. If you saw a teapot tattoo, similar to this:

(Except, obvs. not on a black background.) Would you think "Ahh!! Crazy Tea partier!" or just "Interesting tattoo, wonder what that's about?" (Or, if you're -really- cool (read: geeky), I guess you could think, "Oh,wow! It's Russell's teapot!")

Slightly related: I found a notebook that says "I'll take your Pascal's wager and raise you one Russell's teapot." That might be the funniest office supply I've ever seen.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween Costume Circa 1910

And one more, from one of my favorite movies:

see more Lol Celebs

You Should Read This Book

Favorite Quote: 

“I won’t have a normal relationship. That’s not who I am.”
“Of course not.”
“I won’t be dragged down to what other people do.”

Any More Questions?

Bloody

Over the weekend, Justin and I watched a lot of movies. Probably more in 4 days than I've seen in the entire past year combined. One of those movies was The Backup Plan. Romantic comedy drivel, Jennifer Lopez, mediocre acting blah de blah, I know. That's the kind of movie I like at 3am, go on, judge.

Moving on to the point of this post. If you're unfamiliar with the plot, a 30 year old woman, having given up on the dream of the nuclear family, decides to get pregnant via a sperm donor on her own. Upon leaving the clinic, happily inseminated, she meets a guy, you can figure out the rest of the story. The thing that makes this particular movie notable, at least in my world, is the fact that during her first ultrasound post-insemination, the doctor checks her, and his glove is bloody when he removes it. Then, when he uses the trans-vaginal ultrasound wand, it too comes out bloody. I know, at this point I've lost half my audience, and at least another quarter of you are feeling a bit woozy. Stick with me.

There are a couple of reasons that I like this. (Not counting the fact that I particularly enjoy blood in clinical settings.) 1. It will hopefully make people realize that a little bleeding during pregnancy is normal. Maybe that will prevent so many people from marching up to L&D the moment they have a bit of pink on their toilet paper. 2. It normalizes vaginal bleeding in general. Historically, this has been completley NOT DONE in the film industry. Whether it's a girl starting her period or a woman losing a pregnancy, the blood is always implied, but never really talked about and certainly not shown. That's the sort of behavior that makes people freak out over every little spot in their panties. We have no problem with blood in general, even massive, obscene amounts of it. Check out any Quentin Tarantino movie, if you don't believe me. The freak out, need-to-hide mentality only comes in reference to blood from the lady bits. So thank you CBS Films, Escape Entertainment and Jennifer Lopez for showing the world that whether it's from a nose, a gunshot wound, or a vagina, blood is just blood.

Young Turks

I never really thought that Rod Stewart lyrics would speak to me, but there it is. Weird stuff happens at 5am when you've had no sleep.

Young hearts be free tonight. Time is on your side,

Don't let them put you down, don't let 'em push you around,

Don't let 'em ever change your point of view.

Ahh, teenage rebellion at it's best.

(Well, except for the stuff that Bon Jovi sings about. That might be better.)



Updates to the Life List

I realized that it's probably time to take a look at my Life List and see where I am. There are a few things I also want to add.

Develop a signature style--Almost there...
Go to a fancy spa and get the works
Visit the Winchester Mystery House
Get perfect porcelain veneers
Work on a political campaign
Find just the right perfume
Learn to like coffee
Live through a moment when real history is made
Take my nieces to Europe
See Willie Nelson in concert
Win a hand of Blackjack in Vegas
Learn to make activated charcoal soap
Live in a blue state
Attend Carnaval in Brazil
Bask in the sun on a beautiful beach
Have a drink named after me
Direct a musical
Own a professional grade camera
Learn to take really good pictures
Learn to make Nan's cherry cobbler
Have a llama and a donkey as pets
Learn to make margaritas from scratch
Go on a real honeymoon
Throw a rockin' Halloween party
Personalize my own nail polish color It's called "Naked Fairy!"
Go to Disneyland
Go to the Tony awards
Hit 50 thousand visitors on my blog
Sing karaoke
Ice skate in Rockefeller Center
Go one full year without falling down
Develop my digital photos
Own a Mac, see what the fuss is about
Get a professional bikini wax 
Read all of Ovid's Metamorphoses
Own a hybrid (or fully electric) vehicle
Visit Monaco
Hold hands with Neil Patrick Harris 
Start a collection Magic wands!
Purchase designer sunglasses
Avoid losing designer sunglasses 1 full year!
Learn about my great-grandparents
Visit Salem at Halloween
See the Birth of a Baby
Live in France for a year
Learn to make a really fancy dessert
Host a holiday dinner at my house
Catch Fireflies in a Jar
Learn to pair wine with food
Have a fabulous 30th birthday party
Sit in on an autopsy
Sit on a jury

Smack

I don't believe in spanking (a very unpopular opinion in this area). That's not really what this post is about, but it is related, so I'll just come out and say it. Psychiatrists agree. Spanking children is an ineffective punishment that does more harm than good. It's hypocritical to tell a child "don't hit," and then hit him. I realize that there's a difference between "regular" spanking and abuse, and I don't judge the parents who choose it as punishment. It's just not for me. Luckily, I don't/won't have children.

 Moving on. When I was teaching regularly at the high school here, students who were in trouble for one reason or another were given a choice between detention and "swats." Invariably, they chose swats. Teenagers have stuff to do. Detention takes at least an hour after school; Swats take only a few minutes. The thing is, I'm pretty sure that spanking isn't an appropriate punishment for teenagers. If a person can:

1. Drive

2. Get Pregnant/get someone pregnant

or

3. Work for a paycheck

spanking is assault. One adult cannot tell another person who is, for all intents and purposes also an adult, to bend over so that they can whack them across the ass. Unless, you know, they're in a very specific kind of relationship. When the people in question are a middle aged man and a comely teenage girl, the situation is practically the opening scene for cheap pornography. Perhaps someone should mention that to the school district.

{Editor's Note: I am not saying that anything inappropriate is going on in this school district. No one has ever breathed a word about any kind of sexual misconduct, as far as I know. The staff and administration are excellent at their jobs, and generally good people. I just think that they should look into what could possibly be assumed by those with less wholesome intentions and perhaps reconsider their position on corporal punishment, at least for those over the age of 10.}

Head*Desk

How does anyone ever know what the right thing to do is? How do you know if you're jumping off a cliff for  the right reasons or just for the sake of jumping? If you choose to stay grounded (there's a reason that's a word for punishment), how do you know if it's because it's the right thing to do, or just a reaction to fear and/or complacency?  I don't want to be complacent. I don't want to make a mistake either.

Where the hell are comfort foods when you need them?

Just got back from sunny (and it was) California. Glad to be sleeping in my bed again. Less glad to note that the washer is still broken. Must do something about that. I'm scared of the laundromat.

I'll be 30 in 8 months. Crap.

On This Episode of Magic Schoolbus

We explore what goes on in the brain of a man when he notices a sink full of dirty dishes. Let's board the bus and see what we find!

**Magical Noises**

Teacher: Here we are! Wow, look at all the storage space devoted to football...
Man Brain: Oh the sink is full. Maybe I'll help out by washing some of these dishes!
Teacher: Wow, initiative! I'm so impressed!
Man Brain: Let's see, I'll wash this cutting board, tea pitcher, microwave plate and...colander!

**Scrub**Scrub**Scrub**

Man Brain: Oh! The drainer is already full! That didn't take long at all. I don't know what Wife is always complaining about. She must just be lazy.

Teacher: Hmm...that might not be such a good example to follow boys & girls.

Man Brain: My turn with the dishes is over. Wife can wash these 300 plates, glasses, silverware, pots and pans. I've clearly done my part. Maybe I'll even get a special prize for my contribution!

Teacher: Ok kids, lesson over. Next week we'll learn all about the inner workings of bad drivers!

Auto-Correct, You're Making Me Look Bad!

Yesterday after work, I hung around the hospital for awhile to get my yearly TB test and my (every 10 years)  DTaP booster. Naturally, the world being what it is, I posted what I was doing to Facebook from my phone. Now the whole wide world thinks that I think the abbreviation for tuberculosis is TV,as opposed to TB. Shameful.  Or perhaps they think that I'm running some sort of diagnostic on my television. Which would make sense, as it's the only electronic in my house that hasn't decided to sigh deeply and die this month. Anyway, I'm going to have to give Auto-Correct a formal counselling. (That's what they call it at work when I get in trouble for something. Not that I have.)

Auto-Correct, you've come in handy in lots of cases. Particularly when I'm trying to quickly text while stopped at a red light. You always know that my garble of random letters is actually supposed to mean dinner, or groceries or pretty much anything besides cgeeklw. And for that, I'm grateful. I am not, however, as proud of your performance concerning actual words that you just don't know. For example, it's not funny to change "haha!" to "hats!" without some kind of warning. Ok, well it was funny the first time, but not after that. And sure, it was hilarious when you changed Dick Cheney to Anal Cheney, but not when I'm trying to be serious! I guess what I mean to say is, check with me before you try your clever little tricks on my FaceBook page. And especially give a little warning when I'm texting my mother. The version of TB test that she got read "TV tits," and, well, she was not exactly amused. In short, stop getting me in trouble!

There now, I feel much better.

A Series of Wrong Answers

Me: Do you think I'm crazy?
Him: (a little too quickly) Well, yeah!

Me: Do you like these new (slightly too big, boy-cut) panties?
Him: Yeah....they're kind of tight.  (rude and untrue!)

Me: Do you want to (whatever)?
Him: Not really, but I will. (And thus begins the "I want you to want to" fight.)

Sigh. Why do guys always get the wrong version of the script?

Excuse the Mess!

I'm working on a new look for fall.