New Year, Old Troubles

So much for starting fresh. I blew my knee out on the dance floor last night because seriously this torn ACL thing is a fucking drag and I'm going to have to:

1. Buy $200 boots to keep my pronated ankles and knees happy.
2. Work out my quads and hamstrings to a ridiculous degree to take over the function of that ligament.

Right now I can't really bend that knee to sit cross legged, or straighten it completely. I believe it's called "swelling." I believe it's a really crappy way to bring in the new year. Should I take this as a sign of things to come?

Password Debacle

Maybe they don't like that I haven't been here in over a month, or maybe they don't like the fact that I run this off a Yahoo account, or maybe the password was hacked in that debacle earlier this month.

It doesn't matter. They can suck my dream's dick. I'M BACK.

More to come...

I went to the allergist and had the "prick test" done. This is not a test to see if I'm a prick. It's a test that pricks a person's skin with allergens to see whether the allergic response is activated.

I am allergic to these fuckers:


Also teh kyoot Iz ahlerjik too:


And finally, a bunch of tree pollen, like birch and a few others:


Time to get Nazi on the dust mites.

I am shocked - SHOCKED - that I am not allergic to this nasty shit:

Why I have an anonymous blog

So I can say this:

I don't wanna fucking tutor and teach. I just want to write. All day. Every day. Maybe do some laundry in there but mostly just writing, schmoozing and taking a dip in the pool when the weather calls for it.

There. I said it.

Here's a song I've NEVER understood:



"Walk like a man, talk like a man" in falsetto.

What is wrong with moi? I can't wake up, I'm depressed, I can't focus, I can't get anything done. I managed to get up early this morning and drive to the retreat house (only after scraping ice off my car), but now it's 10:30 and I haven't accomplished a bloody thing. All I want to do is sleep.

I'm dreading the semester, I'm hating the winter with every essence of my being, and I'm just fed up. I'm fed up with the part time quilt of work that keeps me running like a beheaded chicken, and the lousy pay, and the fact that I need a new car and have bills that I can just manage to pay. I'm fed up with being cold and not seeing the fucking sun for days or weeks at a time.

Usually, coming here gets me on the path of productivity, but I'm in a different studio than I've been in the past. It's not as spacious and is in the ground floor, although there are large windows facing the same view as the desk I had upstairs in the other studio. There's nothing wrong with it, but somehow I can't get myself to focus in here. Maybe I have to move the desk to the windows, so I can stare out into the tundra that surrounds me.

I just don't know.

The Bottle of Wine Glass is located somewhere on the "classy" continuum between "a passed out drunk clutching the last sips of his bottle of Nightrain" and drinking straight from the bottle. And that's exactly where we like to be.

Maybe I can't smell the hints of chocolate or raspberry while swirling a fine Chardonnay. But I can put that entire bottle of self-indulgent smugness into my giant wine glass and make you pay another $75 so you can have some. And yes, I do bring my own wine glass to restaurants.

Vat19

Taking back the turkey

My entire life, I've believed that my drowsiness after eating a turkey sammich was due to tryptophan (an amino acid our bodies need which cannot be manufactured, only ingested, to help produce Vit. B3, melatonin, and seratonin). It was pointed out to me recently that this is a myth (the drowsy after eating turkey thing) and that I've been brainwashed into wanting a nap after eating said bird. Sure 'nuff, I looked it up on the internets, and I am here to set you all free of this web of LIES!

I am PISSED AS HELL that my post-turkey club nap-time has been based on a SHAM. Yeah, the reason why we're all so tired after Thanksgiving dinner is because we've been feeding our faces for HOURS, jamming in everything from bird to stuffing to smashed potats to pumpkin pie and ice cream all freakin' day. It has nothing to do with the poor, maligned turkey. Who started this massive gastronomical rumor? My money's on the National Cattleman's Beef Association. Maybe they even joined forces, temporarily of course, with the American Soybean Association (freakin' hippies).

And to think of all the turkey sammiches I passed up over the years because (whiny Luke Skywalker voice) "I didn't want to be tired in the afternoon." I plan on eating turkey for lunch AND dinner every day for a month to make up for all the turkey I've missed out on. Turkey meatballs, turkey clubs, roasted turkey, turkey cutlets, turkey cubes on my salad, turkey salad with red onions, Manwiches made with ground turkey, even turkey jerky. Hells I will even go to a REN FAIRE just so I can eat giant turkey legs all damned day!

The lie stops here. Join me. Take back the turkey.

This is frightening

Fake peer-reviewed medical journal.

Pharmaceutical giant Merck paid science publishing juggernaut Elsevier to publish a fake peer-reviewed scientific journal, Australasian Journal of Bone and Joint Medicine. (From http://www.boingboing.net/2009/05/03/merck-and-elsevier-p.html)

We will sell no wine before its... brrrp...

Thanks to B. for finding this treasure. Watching this, I can't help feeling the mix of shame and disappointment that one feels watching a trusted parent or mentor falling down at a party after too many martinis. I just want to drag him up to his room and tuck him in with a glass of water on the nightstand.

Also, it's fucking hilarious.

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Today I put $15 down to layaway a $135 pair of Naot sandals. Not because I wanted to. See, I've discovered that the flip-flop type shoe, even the expensive ones and the Birks (which I have), aggravate my ankles (remember I sprained bofe o' dose suckers last year). So add another tick to the list of my fucked up feet: messed up ankles, pronation, fallen arches, skinny heels, deformed second toe on my right foot. It's a miracle I wear sandals at all. For years I kept the toes of my right foot tucked under when barefoot to hide that toe. If I could have bound my foot Chinese style, I would have. Then a few years ago I had the revelation that that toe needs love, too, and that it's MY toe and my foot would look much weirder without it. I started painting my toes and letting that toe hang out of any sandal it wanted to. I let it off the leash. At first it would run screaming into the night and get all wasted and shit, only to drag itself back at three a.m. and vow never to touch rum again. But since then it's calmed down and pretty much stays at home with the other toes.

GOOD GOD that's the longest tangent I think I've ever written.

Back to the Naots. Right. So I tried on 5 other pairs of different styles and brands (all of which were way less expensive) but of course as soon as I tried on the Naots my feet let out an audible sigh. Arch support, no flip-flop action with a nice back strap, not too high, classy enough to teach in and not look like some crazy ESL lady with lace-up orthotics, polyester slacks, a dickie and a sweater vest. With plastic ball drop earings. Clip ons. And a schrunchie.

So in about 2.5 years I should be able to finish making monthly payments of... let's see... $4.33 per month... and I'll be all set with my sandals for work.

See the reason I want sandals for work is because I may have a line on a summer teaching job at a reputable university in the greater Boston area and I don't want to look like a podunk. And I also don't want to sprain my ankles again wearing insufficient shoes. This means, of course, that I'll have to step up the monthly payments so I can have them by this June instead of 2012.

The things we women do for our careers. Oh by the way, the color of the shoes (if you're interested): "metal." My bizarre and mis-matched wardrobe (or whatever's left of it that I can fit into) sports both blacks and warm tones, and I couldn't very well afford a pair of black Naots AND a pair of brown ones, so I went with some nondescript, brushed-metallic looking color that better not suck when I actually bring them home and hold it up to an actual outfit. They looked great with my jeans and a tee-shirt, though.

WTF Century are we living in?

What a fucking WASP piece of trash.

Betty Brown sez Asians should have names Americans "can deal with."

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Saturday Morning Cartoons

...are no more. Pokemon and Sponge Bob, Bratz ("They'll give you a blow job, then cut you." - Bizarro) and Cusco (they conveniently don't show the Spanish conquistadors spreading disease and severed heads).

What happened to Bugs Bunny and Road Runner, the Herculoids, hell even G.I. Joe? Sid and Marty Kroft: Sigmund the Sea Monster, Land of the Lost, H.R. Pufnstuff, The Banana Splits.

The best you can hope for these days are old "Zorro" Republic Serials from 1939.

Suicidal Salaryman

I know, I know, it's really in poor taste, but you HAVE to try this game. I was up until 1:30 a.m. with it last night:

Karoshi Suicide Salary Man from AddictingGames.com.

Seems very fitting for our current economic crisis, don't you think?

Has anyone else noticed...

...the ubiquitous internet ads for losing belly fat? I am so freaking tired of looking at pictures of ugly flab and lean tummies. Why are we so frakking obsessed with our bodies? It's fine to want to be healthy and feel good. It's a shame that people are making a killing off of other people's insecurities.

The Road Back

Still wrapping my head around the fact that Mom's gone. I'm striving for as much normalcy as possible here at home, which includes things like blogging, reading (currently "Sex Lives of Cannibals"), cooking (spaghetti just like Mom showed me), and going for Saturday breakfast with Bizarro.

I'm putting off stuff for work. I will deal with that come Monday. At least I have organized 95% of the stuff from Mom's apartment, including but not limited to clothes, jewelry, knick-knacks. Feels pretty good.

I am trying to give myself time to reconnect with the rest of my life, and to be gentle with myself. It's a long road, but I think so far I'm not in any danger of tumbling into the abyss of misery and sloth. And I will admit that I finally cracked open the bottle of little blue pills my doctor prescribed for seasonal affective blah blah blah. Of course Tom Cruise would have plenty to say about THAT, but he can just bite me.

Are you frakking KIDDING me?

My f'ing car broke down last night while Bizarro and I enjoyed a hot fudge brownie sundae at our local pub-n-grub. Came out about 8 p.m. and it wouldn't even pretend to turn over. Battery is fine. So it must be the starter. AGAIN. It has to be the electrical system. I just spend $260 in October on a new starter! At the crack of morning I walked in the below-freezing snow-and-ice tundra back to the car where we'd left it last night (after walking home in even more sub-freezing temps - the hot fudge did NOT keep me warm). The tow truck came around 8:45 this morning and I haven't heard a peep since (it's currently 1:25 in the afternoon).

I am seriously considering the need to buy another car. Paid this one off last summer, but between the multitudes of repairs and the need for car rentals for long trips to Cleveland or Boston, it's starting to feel like I need to bite the bullet and make monthly payments. The cost of repairs/rentals since June of '06 is averaging $100 a month anyway.

I spent the morning researching cars, dealers, APRs and budget constraints. So much for my plan for the day. Completely obliterated. I can still make out the thank you cards though; I don't need a car for that.

I am trying not to get too bent out of shape about this, but it is just one more reason why I need a serious job instead of this piecemeal adjunct crap. Just one more reason, in my mind, to get the hell out of Upstate NY where the winters are brutal and the jobs are flimsy.

And I just have to say: "LIKE I REALLY NEEDED THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW." The Universe can't even give me a full week of mourning without catapulting the next bag of moldy cow shit in my face.