sorry for the convenience

I am back to my old blog again!

you can click the link off to the left here, or you can just click this one.

Back on citalopram, feeling a bit better.  I am always blown away by people saying "well you might not notice it working for a few weeks so blah blah blah" and I wonder what the hell is up with people that they don't notice when they put a drug in their body.  Taking this shit is like taking e without the insane euphoria.  I feel toothgrindy, I get little rushes, and I feel sick.  Oh, and I have a ton of energy and I can't sleep.

BZZZZZZZ

Still it is better than the crap I was on before.  This doctor actually appears to listen to me, and she let me cry on her about the kitten.

I miss kitten.  :(

The cause?

An acute asthma attack.

What the hell is happening to my family?

I was in the living room when I heard choking noises from the hallway.  I ran in and then stood there like an idiot in shock when I saw him apparently trying to throw up while lying down.  I ran over and picked him up, and he went into a massive convulsion in my arms.  I quickly deposited him on the floor of the bathroom and tried to clear his airway, but there was approximately a gallon of saliva in there and his gums were blue white - he must have been silently choking while I tidied up around the house, and I feel so bad that I wasn't there for him.  I did the kitty heimlich and then breathed into his mouth and nose, but there was nothing but another very weak convulsion.  I felt for his heartbeat and felt nothing, so I gave his ribs a few quick presses and then worked to clear his airways again and breathe into him, and he had another convulsion and his fur fluffed up and that was pretty much it aside from me freaking out and trying again.

I knew his breathing was abnormal, but I thought I had time to get him to the vet today or tomorrow.  Neither time nor luck were with us last night, and I feel so bad.  Choking is a horrible, painful death.  The vet says there's nothing I could have done and I wasn't to know, that the rest of his symptoms or lack thereof seemed to allow me that time, and I made sensible choices the whole way along.  Just bad luck, and he's sorry I lost such a nice kitty.

So am I.  i get to tell Rosie about it in a few hours, and I am really really scared and sad.

I miss you, little one.

you heard me.

So we have - hopefully - a solution to and name for Rosie's perpetual lung illnesses: Reactive Lung Disease.  In layman's terms?  ASTHMA.  Happily, hers doesn't come about as a result of exercise or changes in the weather... instead, it comes with illness.  The net result is that once she falls ill she doesn't get a chance to get healthy before the next one, because her lungs are freaking out all over the place.  We have ventolin for her now, and she will apparently grow out of it.

I'm glad, because one of them is a steroid and ... I dunno, I get all scared of that.  She's only five, and this past year has given me QUITE a healthy fear of drug reactions, side effects, and general badness.  Anyway, when I came home I decided to look up Reactive Lung Disease, and the first link was all official looking, aside from a rather hilarious typo.

"..a narrowing of the tube by constriction of muscles which rap about the tubes .."

they finally did it (whats that)
they stole the tubes i grip
now that they're gone (whats wrong)
i'm feeling tired and sick
(how did they do it) i dunno i wasn't sleepin that long
when i woke up (what happened brotha)
my tubes was gone
first i panicked (how)
i put the cops on the case
but they was stumped (damn)
without a clue or a trace
so sure as smoking cigarettes is bad fo yo health
if i want my tubes back i'll find em myself
so i picked up the phone (for what)
i called dizzy (what up)
my tubes is gone (word)
let's get busy

I'm not gonna lie to you, it's a really nice feeling to have a lawyer to call your own.  It's really great to call a busy law firm and have them put you through to him immediately.  It's nice to have a large enough retainer that he'll drop everything to use a little bit of it up reassuring you that all will be well.

Not that any amount of reassuring can make up for the fact that at 7:15am I dumped money into the LONE FUNCTIONING DRYER in the laundry room, only to have it say "GRONK" and then refuse to dry anything.  Still, I found a laundromat closer than where I thought I would have to go, and unlike downstairs I can do more than one load at a time.  Also unlike downstairs, it is well lit and doesn't look like the stage set for a fucking horror movie about how It Came From Storage Locker 9.

fffff

It's like Derek said... the hardest part of your death is that we're going to have to miss you for so very long.  My heart goes out to her family - and, as humans always do in times like this, I think of my own mortality.  I didn't know about this until this morning, when I saw on my facebook that there was a group called "In Loving Memory of Colleen Joy Mah".  At first I thought it was some kind of weirdly tasteless Halloween joke, and it wasn't until I started to read that I realised it wasn't.  The mind rejects loss.  I keep thinking that I meant to get in touch with her again.  I feel like there should have been a trembling of the earth or something.  It is wrong that someone so good should have died and I didn't know until I read about it on the internet.

I'm trying to figure out how I can get to Victoria for the memorial.

Do people actually still say this on their blogs?  Do they think they alone, out of everyone who expresses an opinion, deserve it?  Are they labouring under the delusion that the internet is a safe little womb where only their friends will ever see and comment on what they choose to reveal?

... and is anyone over the age of 15 still of the opinion that "friendship" means never telling someone when they're full of shit?

Stay tuned for the announcement of my new self-help book, "I'M JUDGEMENTAL, YOU'RE NEUROTIC."  And hey - if you're reading this: thanks.  I put it on the internet for a reason.  Feel free to let me know how you feel about it.  I do care, and I accept that as a human being you come equipped with something called "judgement" - and what's more, I actually expect you to exercise it.

.. and the next one is GO FUCK YOURSELF.

Sometimes I miss selling coffee for a living, and then someone will come in and buy a sparkly blue light-up vibrating anal plug and everything is suddenly okay.  My boss is a little crabby though - muy stress and fights with husband.  Far be it from me to point out to her that she is creating these arguments herself... I just wish they would stop talking to me about them when they catch me alone.

I AM NOT ONE OF YOUUUUU

My QC Faye monster shirt hasn't arrived yet, and given that I ordered it on the 2nd of July I doubt it ever will.  I think i will reverse the charges on my mastercard - if I can!!! - and try to order another.  Or does that seem like throwing good money after bad?  I dunno.  I loves me my QC, but this is making me a sad panda indeed.

"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims, may be the most oppressive. Those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."  - C.S. Lewis, 1952

Once again my mother and I have stepped off some kind of insane deep end and vanished into the black - or rather, she has.  I rather think this time I will stay afloat.  There was a predictable and sordid confrontation in my house today, and when she started acting like I was deliberately trying to anger her with my deliberate and manipulative display of sorrow and frustration, I told her to close her mouth and get out.  She refused to leave in favour of continuing to stand there and bitch at me about my failings as a mother and a human being, and escalated the problem into an actual argument, causing Rosie (who was in the same room, and who I was trying to spare the inevitable scene) to begin crying in fear and confusion.  My mother took this to be more evidence of my unfitness to be a parent, and she shoved past me to grab Rosie, stating that I wasn't going to stop her from saying goodbye to her own grandchild.  I caught her arm and tried to manhandle her out of the room before I realised she had the now-screaming Rosie clamped under her other arm in a vice grip.  I let her go, and then she stood there in my own house screaming at me, while I continued to tell her to shut up and get out.

Apparently I am abusive and neglectful, and she is going to call Rosie's dad so he can know what kind of "crap" is going on up here where he can't intervene.  After today, I am inclined to agree.  I think it would be a very good idea if he knew what was going on, and  I don't think this is going to work out the way she thinks it is.

I am really shocked at how far she has gone.  I am pretty sure there was a time when she wasn't this bad, but I can't think when it was because now that I cast my mind back it was always this bad.  I just didn't have anyone to protect but myself then, and she made sure I knew I wasn't worth protecting.

Anyways, apparently she's never going to help me again. 

Ok.

well that didn't last long.

There are otherwise perfectly ordinary and sane-seeming people out there who would look at the above picture and say "that is an obscenity".  Facebook agrees with them, and is banning the accounts of women who post breastfeeding photos of themselves, on the strength of obscene image complaints made by the above people, all of whom were apparently grown in vats.

Is this still 2007?  People camp out in space and leave golf balls on the fucking moon, but we still can't get a safe, reliable birth control and our bodies are obscene.  I am so tired of this shit.

I bought some little plastic tumblers to drink cold drinks out of, and it's a DAMN GOOD THING that was my plan all along, because while I was washing them a little label came off the bottom of one of them.  It reads as follows:

DO NOT POUR THE BOILING WATER INTO THE MERCHANDISE
DISHWASHER SAFE
NOT RECOMMENDED FOR USE IN OVEN

And then in larger letters:

MADE IN CHINA

You don't say!  It's sound advice, though.  I can't tell you how many times I have totally ruined stuff at the store by pouring boiling water into the neatly stacked shelves.


edit:  when do purchases stop being merchandise and start becoming belongings?  Is it when the transaction is completed, or do you have to take it home and take it out of the bag?  I favour the latter.

My Blizzard technical support woes are currently being handled by a gentleman who goes by the name "Peter N."

....




ahahaha what


It makes it SERIOUSLY entertaining to imagine Peter North asking me for my DX diagnostic export.  I figure if I beg I can get him to cram his huge help file into my waiting inbox.

bahaha

thanks for posting this, godoflint.  don't mind me while I pass it along.




Yeah, what is with young people these days?  I mean, I know we were stupid, but we were DAMN THE MAN stupid, not HOORAY FOR THE THOUGHT POLICE stupid.  We actually thought that going out and protesting in the local civic centre in Nowheresville, BC was an intelligent response to being invited to the Gulf War Party that America was holding in the Middle East.  I remember one girl got up, snivelling and weeping into the mic, to tell us that she had been beaten and raped by her dad, so WAR WAS BAD. 

Ok, actually, I recall being rather cynically unimpressed about that.  Violence is a perfectly legitimate answer to any number of things, it's just that we were there to object to it being the answer to "No, I don't want to give you all of my oil for free."

What are kids doing now?  Holding prayer meeting in the halls at school and crying about the fact that other people having different spiritual goals and ideas is a direct and oppressive attack on their religion, as though somehow their prayers can't get through the chatter on the big old heavenly party line. 

Oh god I am complaining about politics and religion again.  It's like I have three subjects: RIGHT WING BULLSHIT, RELIGON, FAT.

I will just write those and three others on a die and roll it to see what I will write about today.

Please suggest three more in your responses:

I love my kitten.  He gets the midnight crazies something fierce, but where most cats work their wrigglies out running around and knocking shit over, my little guy gets his jollies setting toys up for himself and then going apeshit on them.  This evening he found a piece of string and took it up into his cat tower.  He dragged it back and forth and up and down until it was well and truly tangled around the whole thing, and then he ATTACKED IT LIKE A MADMAN.

He is currently hanging upside down in the access hole in the top level, with both front paws hanging on to pieces of string and biting another.



Update: he keeps getting distracted by his own madly lashing tail.  It is very long and graceful, and every time it whips into his peripheral vision he gets all het up thinking something is attacking him.  YES, ANANSI.  YOUR OWN ASS IS ATTACKING YOU.




omg mice omg omg

I spent a good portion of today thinking about what I eat, and the fact that my irritation with some aspects of my fat could be solved by simply eating better instead of snacking on shit that would make a nutritionist faint or choke.  Take my friend Andrea, for instance.  Today she ate a bagel, an apple, and a few oat biscuits.  She also ate some salad, brought home from a restaurant.

To say that she's slender and beautiful is to miss a chance to say "DAMN" and jump around and hoot like a monkey.

What did I take home from the restaurant?  The french toast from my Fat Platter that I couldn't cram in my face no matter how hard I tried.  I later thought to myself, "You should eat more like Andrea."

When I came home from Pat's today with some movies and my leftovers, I was planning on sitting in front of the TV and digging in to my french toast, despite my thoughts on healthy eating.  I opened it up just now, and it looks like I accidentally brought home Andrea's salad.

I can't... I just... I

....





Fuck you, irony.