Jan 17 2008

In fact, I’m doing the pee-pee dance right now!

I am simultaneously spun up and wiped the fuck out. I have been eating like a teenager the last two days, which is something I tend to do during… um… certain times of the month. I had pepperoni Boboli pizza for dinner, several homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert, more cookies for breakfast, a pizza bagel with cream cheese for brunch, two bowls of Life cereal for lunch, and about 8 more cookies for “snack.” I am the paragon of good health.

I have that anxious, twitchy feeling inside but all I want to do is sleep. It’s nothing new- I’ve been feeling that way all week. But now I also have a headache, a sore throat, and it feels like my face will be erupting in hives any moment. I’m so hott.

I have an odd personality glitch. I don’t have the trigger, as other people do, that tells me that I’m thirsty or hungry. I can go all day without eating or drinking, especially on the weekends. It takes suddenly feeling nauseous because of hunger or having my lips actually crack and bleed from dehydration to get me to do anything about it. But then, when I finally do, I’m obsessive about it. It’s like I also lack the trigger that tells me to stop. Especially with eating. I can eat and eat and eat until the food I’m shoveling is gone or it feels like I’m literally going to bust a gut. I’m sure that this is all great for my already seriously effed up metabolism.

This doesn’t stop with food, though. I also won’t pee until I am just about to pee my pants. I can be living in an insanely messy house, but won’t even notice until some random point when I will walk in and suddenly think “Holy shit- this place is a sty!” and then will obsessively clean for hours, if possible. I have also been known to irrationally dislike someone because of an early interaction, even if their later behavior was redeeming.

I don’t know what makes me do this, but it’s the cause of some of my worst behavior and I would really enjoy making it stop. So tell me- in your ever so humble but tremendously appreciated opinion, is this a legitimate reason to seek professional help?

Jan 15 2008

He’s a doctor, not an artist. Or is he…?

I went to a new doctor today. My old doctor closed her practice, so I went to the guy who replaced her (he’s Egyptian, not Indian! Because you thought he was Indian, right? Cause he’s not- he’s Egyptian*).

There’s a history of thyroid problems in my family, and last year I had started to get tested to check for problems but, because of financial issues, I never followed through to find out if there’s actually anything wrong.

He looked at my thyroid ultrasound, hooked me up to an ekg, and asked me a bunch of questions. And then he started drawing.

I’m not sure who his patients are other than me, but apparently he feels that we all need illustrations to go with his explanations. I think I could have understood everything without the visual aids, but it was amusing to watch him draw, so I just let him go. I considered lifting the sketches as I left the exam room, but I wasn’t sure if he would get pissed about me posting his artwork on the internet, so I have re-created them for your viewing pleasure.

First, we have my heart.
I never knew my heart had such a luxurious mustache, but… whatever! And please note: I DO NOT have a pacemaker. I’m unclear about why that particular detail was included. Also note that my doctor used much more appropriate language than “stuff,” but I do not have a medical degree and so will leave it at that.

It seems that my heart has a minor abnormality. A few of the fibers leading to the right side are blocked (as seen on the drawing). But, as that side is “unimportant,” there’s no need to worry at this time. It’s just the blood flow to my lungs, after all. No biggie!

Then we discussed my thyroid:
Frankly, I don’t remember much of what he said after he drew this picture, as I was doing my best not to die of internal sniggering. Hi! I’m 12!

The dark spots are two tiny little nodes on my thyroid that probably mean just about nothing. I basically got the impression that I should “stop your damn whining, you whiny hypochondriac, you!” I was specifically told that he had “seen MUCH worse!” That’s all I need- a one-upping doctor.

So I’m going in for blood work later this week to determine the actual levels of my T4 and T3 hormones. Gosh, I love needles SO MUCH! I just CAN’T WAIT!!!

(*The first thing he said to me when he walked in was “Hi. I’m doctor _____. Because we’ve just met, what nationality do you think I am?”
Me: Uh… I didn’t really give it any thought.
Him: You thought I was Indian, right? Because I’m not. I’m Egyptian. Did you think I was Indian?
Me: I didn’t really think about it at all, actually.
Him: Oh. Really? Because I’m Egyptian.)

Jan 14 2008

But I wasn’t really goth- I swear!

I spoke with a woman this morning who I have known since I was VERY young- like, 4 or 5. She admitted that she was scared of me when I was young and going through my “black phase,” meaning the (very long) time in my life when I wore all, or mostly all, black every single day.

You learn something new every day.

I’m going to be in an art show in March. I don’t think I’ve been in a real art show since I was 11 and entered a painting of horses in silhouette against a sunset. I don’t paint horses anymore. I hope they know what they’re asking for. I tried to give her a clue, but I’m not sure she quite understood. I think she’s thinking risque like my mother’s art, but mine is not quite the same. I’m not sure whether to give her both barrels or try to pick the tamest stuff.

Maybe I’m flattering myself and it’s actually all tame. I’m probably really not as interesting or edgy with my art as I’d like to be.

Anyway- it’ll be fun to be in a show again. It also gives me a good excuse to start working again. I haven’t painted since Cole was born. I don’t really know where to start, though I suppose getting my hands on some canvases would be good…

Jan 11 2008

I’m a big geek.

Only, I’m a big geek who is still just discovering the joys (and frustrations) of Photoshop.

Yesterday evening we had The Fog roll in. It was thick. It was dangerous for driving. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

To make driving even that much more dangerous, I decided to whip out my camera and take some photos. While doing 30 mph. In the fog.


But only good came of it. Behold!

I fear my lighting techniques are still painfully obvious, but I’m generally pleased with the result. I was blindly clicking through the car windows with the flash off, so I could have gotten nothing. It was a fun experiment, though one I should consider NEVER trying again, perhaps. Anyway- what do you think?

Jan 10 2008


Okay- I’ll be honest. When you don’t comment, it’s me who cries.

I’m also crying because I just looked at how much it would cost to go to BlogHer this year and HELLO*! Do you know how much lawn I could get for that? Or paint? Or furniture? Or new flooring? Or mortgage? Or booze?!

It seems that my best bet for going is to try to sleep on my sister’s floor (across town) and maybe get a volunteering gig at the conference. Because, DAMN. How do people afford this shit?

Alternatively, who wants to hold an Alterna-BlogHer in San Francisco? Or my house? I’m up for it! I’ll even vacuum and clean up the dog bombs from the backyard. And with the money I’ll have saved from not attending BlogHer, I may even have GRASS back there! Because we’re CLASSY**!

Who’s in? Don’t make me cry some more!

*We’re talking $681 for the hotel and $250 for the conference! Holy Fuck!!
** Classiness not guaranteed.

Jan 10 2008

Oh Pretty Please?!?

If not for me, do it for the children. When you don’t comment, it makes babies cry. You don’t want that, do you?

But, y’know- no pressure or anything.

(Thanks to Chris for the button and the kick-off this year!)

Jan 08 2008

“Brief” ly

I really need to invest in some thongs.

That is all.

Jan 04 2008

Why is it not the end of the day yet?

We are in the midst of what might be the worst storm in 50 years, I have one special circumstance project after another leaving me no time to do the rest of my job, I have to work with the two people I strongly dislike ALL OF THE TIME now, and I haven’t been to dance class in FOREVER and am feeling dumpy, bloated, and foully cranky.

Party at my place on Saturday?

Jan 02 2008

The Time I Have Been Fearing

It has arrived.

Cole is an INCREDIBLE parrot. I am having an unbelievably hard time trying not to laugh when he comes out with things I’d rather he not say. Just a couple of current examples:

  • Screaming SHUBBUP! SHUBBUP! at me and John when we dared try to talk over a story he was listening to. (You understand what he was attempting to say, don’t you?)
  • Smacking his head and saying “Oh MAN- so DUpid!”

I honestly have no clue in the world where he picked up either of these. I’ve got to clean up my fuckin’ language.

Oh Shit, I said Fuck!

Damn, I did it again!


Uh oh.

(Seriously though- I NEVER tell him to shut up and I CERTAINLY don’t tell him he’s stupid. Where does he get this stuff?!)

Jan 02 2008

Cooking Good, Snot Bad.

Cole’s been besieged by the Snots since last weekend. I was here for the length of A Bug’s Life on Monday- just long enough to get out a draft of a document I’m finishing today and just as long as Cole is willing to sit. He was with me and, aside from hollering out warnings to the bugs in the movie, was perfectly behaved. It was great- I worked on the report on one monitor and gave the other over to his movie.

(Oh- you didn’t know I got a new computer? Yes- big, beefy, strong as hell, and two lovely monitors. I could kiss it. I really compliments my “jumping between a million different tasks in a minute” working style.)

After that I went home and pretty much stayed there for two days. AMEN!

Actually, that same day, Cole decided to take a three hour nap. I used the time to make cinnamon rolls from scratch (but, Dude, mine were so NOT that pretty!). I made 5 pans and drove 4 around to friends and family as New Year gifts. After cooking the remaining pan on Tuesday morning, I kind of wished I had given all of those people a big FUCK YOU and kept all of the rolls for myself. But, considering the amount of butter I used making them, it’s probably better that I was generous.

(But if you are one of the people I gave them to and you have leftovers? You know who to call!)

I am now starting to feel the beginnings of the illness that took over my husband, then my father, then Cole. It starts with a sore throat and continues with much kvetching, if their experiences are any indication. Sounds like fun, no? Would you like to join me?

(Don’t worry- the cinnamon rolls were made with gratuitous hand washing and no spoon licking.)

I finish with this, for Queenie: Twice-baked potatoes (don’t even bother with the bacon. Just use more sour cream. And butter.) are so delicious that they should be illegal. They are pockets of perfection, bundles of bitchin’ (the good kind). To make these delicious creatures, you first bake potatoes. Then you slice them in half and scoop out their tasty, soft innards, mash them with sour cream, milk, butter, cheese, and green onions, plop that good stuff back in the potato skins, top with more cheese, and bake those suckers again. YU-UM! They are particularly good with beef, I find. They are like baked potatoes on the best, tastiest crack ever.