Thor, disgruntled.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
What I've Learned Since Sunday
Bush isn't President of the United States, he is President of Big Oil. Got it. Good for them. Sucks for the rest of us.
Chugging half a liter of barium isn't quite so bad when you've been on your feet running around like a crazy person for ten hours with nothing to eat or drink.
Chugging a second half liter of barium eleven hours later isn't quite so bad when all you've ingested is a cup of tea since the last chug-a-thon.
Getting injected with CT scan contrast is the single most unusual sensation I've ever experienced, legal or non.
Wolfing down Fiery Ron's Home Team BBQ as your first meal after an extended fast, while extremely tasty, isn't the best re-introduction to digestion.
Only having two cups of coffee or tea a day does not protect one from massive caffeine withdrawal headaches.
Letting an almost 13 pound feline who has a normal body temperature around 101 degrees sleep on top of you isn't conducive to a restful night's sleep.
What I hope to learn by Friday:
Why I have had pain in my right lower abdomen on and off for the last year or so. (Well, we got the whole shortness of breath, heart palpitation mystery cleared up, so it was time to move on to mystery number two.)
That I don't have to have the second procedure that the GI doc recommended, quote: since you are going to have to have it in two years anyway, end quote. Evil freaking scope crazy fiends.
One of my new favorite pictures (taken by Jason, of course):
Loki sez: Excuse me! I'm playing with this toy right now, thank you very much.
Chugging half a liter of barium isn't quite so bad when you've been on your feet running around like a crazy person for ten hours with nothing to eat or drink.
Chugging a second half liter of barium eleven hours later isn't quite so bad when all you've ingested is a cup of tea since the last chug-a-thon.
Getting injected with CT scan contrast is the single most unusual sensation I've ever experienced, legal or non.
Wolfing down Fiery Ron's Home Team BBQ as your first meal after an extended fast, while extremely tasty, isn't the best re-introduction to digestion.
Only having two cups of coffee or tea a day does not protect one from massive caffeine withdrawal headaches.
Letting an almost 13 pound feline who has a normal body temperature around 101 degrees sleep on top of you isn't conducive to a restful night's sleep.
What I hope to learn by Friday:
Why I have had pain in my right lower abdomen on and off for the last year or so. (Well, we got the whole shortness of breath, heart palpitation mystery cleared up, so it was time to move on to mystery number two.)
That I don't have to have the second procedure that the GI doc recommended, quote: since you are going to have to have it in two years anyway, end quote. Evil freaking scope crazy fiends.
One of my new favorite pictures (taken by Jason, of course):
Loki sez: Excuse me! I'm playing with this toy right now, thank you very much.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Loki Sunday
Red bird sitting in the middle of the bed...
Here's a Loki claw for you...
All day long, you were only waiting for the Loki to arrive...
Red bird die, red bird die, at the end of a Loki claw.
with apologies to the Beatles.
Here's a Loki claw for you...
All day long, you were only waiting for the Loki to arrive...
Red bird die, red bird die, at the end of a Loki claw.
with apologies to the Beatles.
Friday, July 11, 2008
These Are a Few of My Favorite Things
A few days ago, I mentioned to Jason that we needed an updated photo inventory of the household contents for insurance purposes. Like the utterly marvelous fella that he is, he immediately grabbed his camera and began roaming from room to room, clicking away.
He then brought the camera to me so I could review the photographs. The man can make me laugh (aided and abetted by two glasses of wine). I'm scrolling through pictures of the fridge, the dishwasher, rugs, beds, chairs, books, computers and find several taken just for my amusement.
Loki's puff ball.
My pink shoes.
The litter box.
Grumpy Thor.
He then brought the camera to me so I could review the photographs. The man can make me laugh (aided and abetted by two glasses of wine). I'm scrolling through pictures of the fridge, the dishwasher, rugs, beds, chairs, books, computers and find several taken just for my amusement.
Loki's puff ball.
My pink shoes.
The litter box.
Grumpy Thor.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Thor's Day
Thor is afraid of thunder. As Alanis would say, "Isn't it ironic?"
Thor sez: I'm not afr....what was that?!?
And besides, I'm not afraid of thunder, I'm afraid of the sound it makes.
Thor sez: I'm not afr....what was that?!?
And besides, I'm not afraid of thunder, I'm afraid of the sound it makes.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
That Room
You know, that room. The one where everything that doesn't have a place ends up. The room where things pile up until it approaches fire and health code violations.
Yeah, that one.
Around here it's the laundry room.
Well, no more. It had reached the point of making me insane and something inside me snapped.
Three loads of stuff marked "Free Stuff! Warning: May contain cat hair." have been laid along the road.
Two trash bags and one box full of trash are in the shed waiting for next trash pick up day.
Two loads of stuff have been carried up to the attic.
I've swept up enough kitty litter from under the dryer to supply the Charleston Animal Shelter for a year or two.
I've swept up enough cat and guinea pig hair to make several new pets.
I won't even begin to mention the GP turds.
I cleaned out the closet in there (yes, drool if you must, I have an 8' by 8' laundry room with a ginormous closet and built in shelves, why do you think it always becomes that room?). We now have one empty shelf, the vacuum cleaner put away, the steamer cleaner put away. One shelf for tools, one shelf for paint stuff (because I swear I am going to paint the ceilings....some day).
The floor has been swept, vacuumed and mopped within an inch of its life.
This room....is clean.
The boyz say: About time you quit clanging and banging and cussing. We're trying to watch Cat TV here.
Yeah, that one.
Around here it's the laundry room.
Well, no more. It had reached the point of making me insane and something inside me snapped.
Three loads of stuff marked "Free Stuff! Warning: May contain cat hair." have been laid along the road.
Two trash bags and one box full of trash are in the shed waiting for next trash pick up day.
Two loads of stuff have been carried up to the attic.
I've swept up enough kitty litter from under the dryer to supply the Charleston Animal Shelter for a year or two.
I've swept up enough cat and guinea pig hair to make several new pets.
I won't even begin to mention the GP turds.
I cleaned out the closet in there (yes, drool if you must, I have an 8' by 8' laundry room with a ginormous closet and built in shelves, why do you think it always becomes that room?). We now have one empty shelf, the vacuum cleaner put away, the steamer cleaner put away. One shelf for tools, one shelf for paint stuff (because I swear I am going to paint the ceilings....some day).
The floor has been swept, vacuumed and mopped within an inch of its life.
This room....is clean.
The boyz say: About time you quit clanging and banging and cussing. We're trying to watch Cat TV here.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Forty Miles
In a little while, I will stuff both cats into carriers and begin the forty mile journey to the vet.
The first ten miles will be filled with outraged kitten meows demanding an explanation of this most horrible treatment. I tell them they are required by law to have a rabies shot and if they do not, the kitten police will arrest them. They do not care, preferring to live as vaccination banditos, the Under the Bed Gang.
Around mile eleven, Thor will have a massive freak out, screaming and clawing at his cage.
Around mile fifteen, Loki will begin hyperventilating, panting like a dog. (Once so loud I thought it couldn't be him, there had to be something wrong with the car.)
At mile twenty we will arrive at the vet. Silence will fall as they huddle in the very rear of the carriers, which we will have to dismantle to get them out.
The kittens that I had to shove into carriers will at this point leap back into the safety of their shelter.
The twenty miles back will be mostly silent, broken occasionally by a heart felt "I hate you" meow from Thor.
They will spend much of the afternoon hiding in the Under the Bed Gang Cave, refusing to even acknowledge my presence. Unless, of course, I open a can of tuna.
Loki sez: Look how sleepy we are. How can you disturb us?
The first ten miles will be filled with outraged kitten meows demanding an explanation of this most horrible treatment. I tell them they are required by law to have a rabies shot and if they do not, the kitten police will arrest them. They do not care, preferring to live as vaccination banditos, the Under the Bed Gang.
Around mile eleven, Thor will have a massive freak out, screaming and clawing at his cage.
Around mile fifteen, Loki will begin hyperventilating, panting like a dog. (Once so loud I thought it couldn't be him, there had to be something wrong with the car.)
At mile twenty we will arrive at the vet. Silence will fall as they huddle in the very rear of the carriers, which we will have to dismantle to get them out.
The kittens that I had to shove into carriers will at this point leap back into the safety of their shelter.
The twenty miles back will be mostly silent, broken occasionally by a heart felt "I hate you" meow from Thor.
They will spend much of the afternoon hiding in the Under the Bed Gang Cave, refusing to even acknowledge my presence. Unless, of course, I open a can of tuna.
Loki sez: Look how sleepy we are. How can you disturb us?
Monday, July 07, 2008
The J-Files
I'm not much into conspiracy theories, they tend to be long on fantastical thinking and short on facts, but occasionally things happen that make me go, "hmmmm".
Enron loop hole law allows for speculation on oil.
Oil speculation contributes to sky-rocketing oil prices.
Sky-rocketing oil prices lead to sky-high gas prices.
Spoiled Americans have to spend more money putting gas into their Hummers and giant SUV's and start wailing like two year olds who don't get a candy bar in the grocery store check out line.
Sweet, innocent, trying to do their best oil company execs shrug their shoulders and say they'd sure love to help you out there buddy, gosh golly darn it all and gee whiz on the side, if only we could drill off shore for oil.
Spoiled Americans start screaming for off shore oil NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Damn the environment! Damn the coastlines! Damn the wetlands and marshes!
Fuck the fish!
We want off shore drilling and we want it now!
(Can you imagine the room gift baskets at The Sanctuary at Kiawah having tar remover in them like the fancy hotels in the Gulf region, so tourists can get the oil and tar off their feet after a stroll on the beach?)
What no-one seems to recognize is that, laying aside all my crazy environmentalist blither blather, there are no off shore oil rigs ready to go.
It would be years (some estimate 2030) before the oil companies had them built and running. And you really think they are going to eat the cost of building all those rigs? You think they are going to eat the cost of cleaning up?
No, you are going to pay for every penny and then some that they spend.
But they'll get the laws changed and get to drill off the coast so they can maximize their profits, oh yes, indeed they will.
And we'll still be paying over $4.00 a gallon for the privilege of having sold our children's future a little further down the river.
Just because we were too lazy and spoiled to wait and invest in new technologies, which will probably take just as long as Big Oil getting the rigs up and running after having the laws changed in their favor.
Playing us like fiddles they are.
Thor sez: Smells fishy to me!
Enron loop hole law allows for speculation on oil.
Oil speculation contributes to sky-rocketing oil prices.
Sky-rocketing oil prices lead to sky-high gas prices.
Spoiled Americans have to spend more money putting gas into their Hummers and giant SUV's and start wailing like two year olds who don't get a candy bar in the grocery store check out line.
Sweet, innocent, trying to do their best oil company execs shrug their shoulders and say they'd sure love to help you out there buddy, gosh golly darn it all and gee whiz on the side, if only we could drill off shore for oil.
Spoiled Americans start screaming for off shore oil NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Damn the environment! Damn the coastlines! Damn the wetlands and marshes!
Fuck the fish!
We want off shore drilling and we want it now!
(Can you imagine the room gift baskets at The Sanctuary at Kiawah having tar remover in them like the fancy hotels in the Gulf region, so tourists can get the oil and tar off their feet after a stroll on the beach?)
What no-one seems to recognize is that, laying aside all my crazy environmentalist blither blather, there are no off shore oil rigs ready to go.
It would be years (some estimate 2030) before the oil companies had them built and running. And you really think they are going to eat the cost of building all those rigs? You think they are going to eat the cost of cleaning up?
No, you are going to pay for every penny and then some that they spend.
But they'll get the laws changed and get to drill off the coast so they can maximize their profits, oh yes, indeed they will.
And we'll still be paying over $4.00 a gallon for the privilege of having sold our children's future a little further down the river.
Just because we were too lazy and spoiled to wait and invest in new technologies, which will probably take just as long as Big Oil getting the rigs up and running after having the laws changed in their favor.
Playing us like fiddles they are.
Thor sez: Smells fishy to me!
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Loki Sunday
No, that isn't Loki. That's an OMG grab the camera before she leaps the fence picture of what I awoke to this morning.
And the liberal tree hugging environmentalist animal lover in me felt guilty about closing the gate so her baby couldn't get any yummy fresh tomatoes to munch.
But not too guilty, I'd like some yummy fresh from the vine 'maters myself, ya know.
Loki sez: Excuse me, but I thought Loki Sunday meant it's all about me.
I'd get that deer. I'd jump up like this and grab her and bite her ear!
Saturday, July 05, 2008
PSA
Please be aware that I am on the hospital hurricane lock down list this year. This means that every tropical storm and/or hurricane that forms in the Atlantic will threaten the Charleston area. (Note last year, I was not on the list and nothing came anywhere near us.)
Sorry. I have tried to explain this phenomenom to the powers that be to no avail. I mean, I'm not trying to get out of anything, it would be a public service, you know.
Loki sez: Yes, and if you feed me the $1.00 a can cat food, you wouldn't have to change the litter box as much. Just a public service, you know.
Sorry. I have tried to explain this phenomenom to the powers that be to no avail. I mean, I'm not trying to get out of anything, it would be a public service, you know.
Loki sez: Yes, and if you feed me the $1.00 a can cat food, you wouldn't have to change the litter box as much. Just a public service, you know.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Bambi?
Well, we've had Thumper hanging around, why not Bambi and his mother? Just so long as Flower doesn't show up! (If you haven't already, I highly recommend reading Felix Salten's Bambi: A Life in the Woods. Forget the Disney crap.)
They didn't do too much damage to the tomato plants (after Jason woke me at o'dark-thirty to tell me about it, I had a dream they'd eaten all the tomatoes and the entire planter of green beans). Just nibbled a few branches on the grape tomato plant and took all the fruit off. There are still plenty of blooms and I have three finishing up on the kitchen window sill.
As surprised as I wanted to be that deer showed up in my backyard (I live in a very suburban area), I'm not all that surprised. Nearby Bee's Ferry Road which is being developed faster than ice cream melts in August, was almost entirely hunt club land. Driving home from the Publix yesterday, I noticed an entire new area, scraped clear of every tree and bush for acres and acres, barely concealed behind the ten feet of "green space" left between the carnage and the road.
I looked at the Google map of the area and I suppose they could be living in the small wooded area behind the Canterbury Woods subdivision and just walked along the creek edge to my backyard. Or up Parsonage Point Road, there is a large property that the owners so far have resisted the lure of big money promised by developers. Perhaps they live there and took a swim across the creek to get here.
I really don't like the idea of deer eating my garden, but I'm happy they are managing to survive so far.
I won't go on a rant about out of state pus pockets on the bellies of leeches, I mean real estate developers, who come in, buy up land, strip it bare, plant a tree or two, slam up some vanilla slum McMansions, then leave with all our money. Not even when the housing market pretty much sucks and I sure hope that desecrated land doesn't just sit there, destroyed, because no-one wants to buy a house there.
But I'm sure people will buy. They'll be happy to live in a subdivision named for what it destroyed. There is already a Hunt Club Subdivision built on the deforested land of what used to be a real hunt club, rife with life. Now dead and sterile, the only reminder of the abundance of life once found there is the occasional carcass on the side of the road.
So maybe I'll mosey on up to Cross Seed and buy some deer feed and put it out in the marsh.
Thor sez: I would have run them off for you, but as you can see, I have no thumb with which to turn the deadbolt.
They didn't do too much damage to the tomato plants (after Jason woke me at o'dark-thirty to tell me about it, I had a dream they'd eaten all the tomatoes and the entire planter of green beans). Just nibbled a few branches on the grape tomato plant and took all the fruit off. There are still plenty of blooms and I have three finishing up on the kitchen window sill.
As surprised as I wanted to be that deer showed up in my backyard (I live in a very suburban area), I'm not all that surprised. Nearby Bee's Ferry Road which is being developed faster than ice cream melts in August, was almost entirely hunt club land. Driving home from the Publix yesterday, I noticed an entire new area, scraped clear of every tree and bush for acres and acres, barely concealed behind the ten feet of "green space" left between the carnage and the road.
I looked at the Google map of the area and I suppose they could be living in the small wooded area behind the Canterbury Woods subdivision and just walked along the creek edge to my backyard. Or up Parsonage Point Road, there is a large property that the owners so far have resisted the lure of big money promised by developers. Perhaps they live there and took a swim across the creek to get here.
I really don't like the idea of deer eating my garden, but I'm happy they are managing to survive so far.
I won't go on a rant about out of state pus pockets on the bellies of leeches, I mean real estate developers, who come in, buy up land, strip it bare, plant a tree or two, slam up some vanilla slum McMansions, then leave with all our money. Not even when the housing market pretty much sucks and I sure hope that desecrated land doesn't just sit there, destroyed, because no-one wants to buy a house there.
But I'm sure people will buy. They'll be happy to live in a subdivision named for what it destroyed. There is already a Hunt Club Subdivision built on the deforested land of what used to be a real hunt club, rife with life. Now dead and sterile, the only reminder of the abundance of life once found there is the occasional carcass on the side of the road.
So maybe I'll mosey on up to Cross Seed and buy some deer feed and put it out in the marsh.
Thor sez: I would have run them off for you, but as you can see, I have no thumb with which to turn the deadbolt.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Enriching the Lives of Others, One Tall Tale at a Time
We didn't go on my May birthday trip to some where we'd never been before this year. Deadlines, financial obligations, skyrocketing (no pun) air fare all contributed.
I had been planning a trip to Utah's south east corner to look at canyons and dinosaurs, but alas, it was not to be this year.
Instead we are looking at a big Autumn get away. Jason mentioned an art gallery or museum or something that had a display of one of his favorite artists. It is in East Stroudsburg, PA. So I looked and East Stroudsburg is right next to the Pocono region, nestled up to the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area.
That sounds good for October. Crisp cool mountain air. Pretty leaves. Nice hikes to scenic vistas.
The problem I am having is finding accommodations. While I do not mind the likes of Budget Inns and Best Westerns for single night use, staying for a long stretch just doesn't appeal to me. (Because I'm a luxury snob, that is why - if I am on vacation I want to live an income class or two above myself - it's my vacation!)
So I have been looking into B&B's in the area and have found one in particular that I really, really like, but the cost per night is making even me blanch a wee bit. The only real problem I have with B&B's is the feeling that you have to mix with the other guests at breakfast (although we are usually up and on the trail hours before the 9am breakfast time - got to get that early morning light).
Once, at a B&B in the NC mountains another couple struck up a conversation with us, telling us all about the property they had looked at the day before, but at one point whatever-it-was million dollars, they just weren't sure if it was exactly what they wanted. The conversation then drifted to where-are-you-from. When I answered that we were from Charleston, the wife gushed how beautiful Charleston was and the husband asked if we lived near the Battery area. I gave him my sweet smile and replied, "Oh, no, we live up near the Gardens." Jason about choked on his coffee.
In preparation for a possible B&B breakfast in the Poconos, which will most likely be rife with fresh faced, dewy eyed honeymooners, I have concocted a story in which I add about ten years to my age, subtract about ten from Jason's age and tell the tale of true love discovered, never mind his six children he left behind or my ex-husband with the problem that even Viagra can't cure.
Jason won't go along with it. But really, I'm thinking of the poor honeymooners who lack the imagination to come up with a better spot for honeymooning than the Poconos (which I'm sure will be lovely, but it is a bit of a cliche to honeymoon there, no?). What a great bit of gossipy storytelling they will have to tell once they get home.
Loki sez: I'm amazed you are let out in public.
I had been planning a trip to Utah's south east corner to look at canyons and dinosaurs, but alas, it was not to be this year.
Instead we are looking at a big Autumn get away. Jason mentioned an art gallery or museum or something that had a display of one of his favorite artists. It is in East Stroudsburg, PA. So I looked and East Stroudsburg is right next to the Pocono region, nestled up to the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area.
That sounds good for October. Crisp cool mountain air. Pretty leaves. Nice hikes to scenic vistas.
The problem I am having is finding accommodations. While I do not mind the likes of Budget Inns and Best Westerns for single night use, staying for a long stretch just doesn't appeal to me. (Because I'm a luxury snob, that is why - if I am on vacation I want to live an income class or two above myself - it's my vacation!)
So I have been looking into B&B's in the area and have found one in particular that I really, really like, but the cost per night is making even me blanch a wee bit. The only real problem I have with B&B's is the feeling that you have to mix with the other guests at breakfast (although we are usually up and on the trail hours before the 9am breakfast time - got to get that early morning light).
Once, at a B&B in the NC mountains another couple struck up a conversation with us, telling us all about the property they had looked at the day before, but at one point whatever-it-was million dollars, they just weren't sure if it was exactly what they wanted. The conversation then drifted to where-are-you-from. When I answered that we were from Charleston, the wife gushed how beautiful Charleston was and the husband asked if we lived near the Battery area. I gave him my sweet smile and replied, "Oh, no, we live up near the Gardens." Jason about choked on his coffee.
In preparation for a possible B&B breakfast in the Poconos, which will most likely be rife with fresh faced, dewy eyed honeymooners, I have concocted a story in which I add about ten years to my age, subtract about ten from Jason's age and tell the tale of true love discovered, never mind his six children he left behind or my ex-husband with the problem that even Viagra can't cure.
Jason won't go along with it. But really, I'm thinking of the poor honeymooners who lack the imagination to come up with a better spot for honeymooning than the Poconos (which I'm sure will be lovely, but it is a bit of a cliche to honeymoon there, no?). What a great bit of gossipy storytelling they will have to tell once they get home.
Loki sez: I'm amazed you are let out in public.
Monday, June 30, 2008
It's Ebola, Now You're Gonna Die
This has happened before. Must be all the rude transplants from Ohio or something [late edit: this is a local joke, if you are reading this from Ohio, I'm sure you are a very lovely person and please, ya'll come back now, hear?] because my momma would whip my behind with her wooden rice spoon if I ever was so rude to a complete stranger.
The scene, the line at a local store. The time, well enough past my bedtime this morning. My attire, a rumpled pink scrub set with matching hospital ID tag.
Complete Stranger: Eww. What is that thing on your arm?
Me, groggy, sleepy: Huh? (look down at arms, they look like my arms)
CS: That. (points) That big red lump.
Me: Oh, that! That's a PPD bleb. It tests for tuberculosis.
CS: (leans back) You got TB?
Me: No, I work in a hospital and we have to get tested for TB every year.
CS: Why?
Me: Shut up, I'm tired and I have a sore throat.
Oh, wait, I just thought that. We aren't allowed to be rude while in uniform. FloGale would haunt us and give us bone spurs and hurt backs.....wait..hmmm.
Me: Because there is a higher risk of exposure to TB when you work in a hospital so we are required to be tested once a year, more if you work with patients who have or who are at high risk for TB.
CS: But why is it all swoll up like that?
Me: Because I just had it placed half an hour ago and there is an initial local reaction.
CS: But won't you get it if they keep injecting you with it every year?
Me: OMG how fucking stupid is the general public?
Sorry, Flo, just kidding again.
Me: No. They don't use live TB for the tests.
CS: It looks gross.
Me: Thanks.
I guess I should have been happy that CS just wanted to point out how freaking gross the small round spot on my forearm looked. Most people want to show me some infected weeping boil or something equally as nasty and ask my opinion. Or tell me about their hemorrhoids. Or ask me whether they should be taking this or that medication.
Like I'm supposed to freaking know. If you are over 10 days old, I don't know what to do with you.
This is why nurses will kill you if you blow their cover in public, especially when there are old people around.
Thor sez: I yarked up a hair ball in the hall, can you take a look and tell me what you think? I'm thinking I need a better grade of cat food and three times a day brushings, followed by a catnip party.
The scene, the line at a local store. The time, well enough past my bedtime this morning. My attire, a rumpled pink scrub set with matching hospital ID tag.
Complete Stranger: Eww. What is that thing on your arm?
Me, groggy, sleepy: Huh? (look down at arms, they look like my arms)
CS: That. (points) That big red lump.
Me: Oh, that! That's a PPD bleb. It tests for tuberculosis.
CS: (leans back) You got TB?
Me: No, I work in a hospital and we have to get tested for TB every year.
CS: Why?
Me: Shut up, I'm tired and I have a sore throat.
Oh, wait, I just thought that. We aren't allowed to be rude while in uniform. FloGale would haunt us and give us bone spurs and hurt backs.....wait..hmmm.
Me: Because there is a higher risk of exposure to TB when you work in a hospital so we are required to be tested once a year, more if you work with patients who have or who are at high risk for TB.
CS: But why is it all swoll up like that?
Me: Because I just had it placed half an hour ago and there is an initial local reaction.
CS: But won't you get it if they keep injecting you with it every year?
Me: OMG how fucking stupid is the general public?
Sorry, Flo, just kidding again.
Me: No. They don't use live TB for the tests.
CS: It looks gross.
Me: Thanks.
I guess I should have been happy that CS just wanted to point out how freaking gross the small round spot on my forearm looked. Most people want to show me some infected weeping boil or something equally as nasty and ask my opinion. Or tell me about their hemorrhoids. Or ask me whether they should be taking this or that medication.
Like I'm supposed to freaking know. If you are over 10 days old, I don't know what to do with you.
This is why nurses will kill you if you blow their cover in public, especially when there are old people around.
Thor sez: I yarked up a hair ball in the hall, can you take a look and tell me what you think? I'm thinking I need a better grade of cat food and three times a day brushings, followed by a catnip party.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
If I Believed in the Devil
I think he would be in advertising. Hands down, next to real estate "developers" (read: destroyers), advertising is the most insidious, slimy, corrupter of values, destroyer of happiness and contentment in the world.
And I note two commercials recently. One which exasperates me with the level of contempt in which the advertisers and their clients hold we the buying public. The second just infuriates me with the level of stupidity they display all the while holding up innocent children and attempting to guilt trip mothers.
First is the new Crest Night time toothpaste. Really. It is specifically designed for night time brushing. So now you need to buy two tubes of toothpaste. And if you fall for that (like we all fell for toothpaste when it was invented) well good for you. You know, we were all perfectly happy with baking soda for hundreds of years until someone figured out it they told us our breath still stunk and we were embarrassing ourselves with our less than pearly whites, we would throw money at them hand over fist.
Second is the beginning of the "green" backlash. I knew it was coming. All those wasteful products out there, the things we spend a little extra money for, they have been hurting in these tight economic times. Combine that with people honestly trying to to the little things they can to help this poor feverish planet, products like Dixie Paper Plates must have seen a drop in sales.
Their answer? The one I hate and despise the most: mommy guilt. Commercial opens with happy, adorable children gleefully playing with well dressed, well groomed, happy carefree mommies. Mommies all start saying things like "I don't care what people think" and "spending time with my children is the most important thing".
Well, garsh darn it, Opie, who doesn't agree with that? You may start humming I Believe Children Are Our Future now.
Problem is, these women are claiming that they are giving up washing dishes so they can spend even more time with their children, and they ain't getting Daddy to do the dishes, no, no, no. They are serving all meals on Dixie Paper Plates which they can then just toss into the trash, easy breezy, and be off to play with their children.
Never mind the trees cut down to make all those paper plates, never mind the pollutants produced in manufacturing the plates, never mind the gas used and exhaust spewed into the air by the trucks delivering those paper plates to your local grocery store, never mind the gas you use going to buy more paper plates every week, never mind the ever increasing garage dumps gobbling up land, never mind the trash incinerators vomiting out toxins into the air.
No, never mind any of that.
Your children won't mind having to live in a treeless land with polluted soil and water, acid rain falling from the skies.
Because you spent five minutes playing with them instead of reusing dishes.
Loki sez: Hush, Thor, you know there is no talking to her when she gets like this.
And I note two commercials recently. One which exasperates me with the level of contempt in which the advertisers and their clients hold we the buying public. The second just infuriates me with the level of stupidity they display all the while holding up innocent children and attempting to guilt trip mothers.
First is the new Crest Night time toothpaste. Really. It is specifically designed for night time brushing. So now you need to buy two tubes of toothpaste. And if you fall for that (like we all fell for toothpaste when it was invented) well good for you. You know, we were all perfectly happy with baking soda for hundreds of years until someone figured out it they told us our breath still stunk and we were embarrassing ourselves with our less than pearly whites, we would throw money at them hand over fist.
Second is the beginning of the "green" backlash. I knew it was coming. All those wasteful products out there, the things we spend a little extra money for, they have been hurting in these tight economic times. Combine that with people honestly trying to to the little things they can to help this poor feverish planet, products like Dixie Paper Plates must have seen a drop in sales.
Their answer? The one I hate and despise the most: mommy guilt. Commercial opens with happy, adorable children gleefully playing with well dressed, well groomed, happy carefree mommies. Mommies all start saying things like "I don't care what people think" and "spending time with my children is the most important thing".
Well, garsh darn it, Opie, who doesn't agree with that? You may start humming I Believe Children Are Our Future now.
Problem is, these women are claiming that they are giving up washing dishes so they can spend even more time with their children, and they ain't getting Daddy to do the dishes, no, no, no. They are serving all meals on Dixie Paper Plates which they can then just toss into the trash, easy breezy, and be off to play with their children.
Never mind the trees cut down to make all those paper plates, never mind the pollutants produced in manufacturing the plates, never mind the gas used and exhaust spewed into the air by the trucks delivering those paper plates to your local grocery store, never mind the gas you use going to buy more paper plates every week, never mind the ever increasing garage dumps gobbling up land, never mind the trash incinerators vomiting out toxins into the air.
No, never mind any of that.
Your children won't mind having to live in a treeless land with polluted soil and water, acid rain falling from the skies.
Because you spent five minutes playing with them instead of reusing dishes.
Loki sez: Hush, Thor, you know there is no talking to her when she gets like this.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Huh?
Okay, huh? Really. James Dobson (shudder), who uses the Old Testament to support hatred and discrimination against a certain segment of the American population, apparently had his staff go hunting through archives until they came upon a 2006 speech given by Barack Obama in which Obama said that it would be hard to govern based solely on the bible because some Old Testament stuff like owning slaves being cool with The Big Guy and eating shrimp and grits being a going to hell offense wouldn't go over so well in today's multi-spiritual America. (Sheesh, what a Faulkner-esque sentence!)
So Dobson (who I've read suggests that young boys take showers with their fathers so these boys can see their father's big grown up penises and have something manly to aspire to) says that Barack Obama should not be "referencing antiquated dietary codes and passages" from the Old Testament that are "no longer relevant to the teachings of the New Testament."
But isn't that where the fundies get their ammunition to continue to spew hatred in the form of "God's love" against gays?
So, do I have this straight? The Old Testament is relevant if it supports your bias, irrelevant if it does not?
Is that how it is?
Loki sez: Eww.
So Dobson (who I've read suggests that young boys take showers with their fathers so these boys can see their father's big grown up penises and have something manly to aspire to) says that Barack Obama should not be "referencing antiquated dietary codes and passages" from the Old Testament that are "no longer relevant to the teachings of the New Testament."
But isn't that where the fundies get their ammunition to continue to spew hatred in the form of "God's love" against gays?
So, do I have this straight? The Old Testament is relevant if it supports your bias, irrelevant if it does not?
Is that how it is?
Loki sez: Eww.
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