I have been poking around the Internet a lot lately, looking for random awesome things to try. I got inspired around Christmas and have slowly expanded my adventures in the homemade and crafty. Some of the projects have turned out totally cool, some have been kind of weird, and some took forever to make until I discovered a quicker way that looked better anyway...right before I was done...
You find a lot of rad things that are really nifty or yummy or inexpensive and work better and that is THE BEST. Then you come across things that, for some reason totally creep you out. Or sound disgusting. Or that you simply refuse to try because at some point, you have to draw the line. These are a few things I have come across that made me say...erm...No thank you...
1) Ketchup. I have heard just enough about how ketchup is made to know that I don't want to know how ketchup is really made.
2) Toothpaste. With coupons and sales, toothpaste is one of the easiest things to get for free or really cheap. We had about 10 tubes, got most of 'em for free, and then realized that 10 was borderline crazy, and sent some of them to my brother. Therefore, I am fine with store bought toothpaste. Plus, what if it turned out creepy?? I couldn't throw it away because every time you waste something a unicorn dies...this is a true story...
3) Lip Balm. First of all, the entire thing just sounds weird, and second, who has the patience to smash that stuff into those tiny little tubes?? Not me, that's who.
4) Deodorant. Really? This not something you want to take a chance on not working. Don't believe me? Let's take a walk and keep track of the stank/non-stank ratio of people around here. It's not good. Plus, I am not embarrassed to say that I have about 8 deodorants in my stockpile cabinet (although maybe I should be), and I payed less than 2 bucks for all of them. No, not each, don't forget who you're talking to. I paid less than 2 bucks for all 8.
5) Cold/Cough Syrup. Let's look at the ingredient list, shall we? Onions. Raw honey. Cloves. Ginger. Slippery elm. Notice there is no sleep crack in there, only the most important thing in the store bought stuff. And I don't care HOW sick I am, I don't want to be swilling on onion juice, but thanks anyway.
6) Mayonnaise. Although I love mayo on sandwiches, burgers, and french fries, I was once scarred for life when I encountered a 5 gallon bucket of mayo in the walk in fridge at Negri's when I worked there. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't bad, or spoiled, or sitting there with no lid. It was fine. Everything was all normal and OK. The cook was getting some out when I walked in to get some limes or something. The point is that it was 5 gallons of mayonnaise. I was just not prepared for that quantity of mayonnaise. So I don't want to be stirring it, or cooking it, or have anything to do with too personally. GAG.
There are a bunch of other things too, homemade Nutella, yogurt, stuff like that. Too weird, too complicated, and too weird. And don't you think the yogurt could turn out really really bad really really easily? I like experimenting with making my own stuff, but I certainly don't want to die for my craft!!!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Retro "Why I DON'T Think I Should Get Out More" Blog
**This a blog from last year...I was reminded of it this morning**
We moved out to the boonies when I was going into the 3rd grade. I was just citified enough for my new step brothers to have a great time scaring the beejeezus out of me, but I was also just bratty and spoiled enough to enjoy the hell out of them getting into trouble when I tattled…but something happened over the years as I grew up at the end of that 3 mile dirt driveway. The boys all ended up moving to town, the step brothers with their mom, and my big brother with our father (little bro, you weren't born quite yet), so I sort of grew up as an only child of sorts, riding motorcycles and raising pigs, and as a result have turned out different from any of my siblings. I’m the hillbilly of the family. I like the quiet and solitude of the country. I don’t have much use for the city life. Sure, maybe to visit, or even live for a little while, but I always end up back here in the sticks.
I, like everyone else, have taken a figurative beating in late 2010 and so far in 0’11. Got my uterus removed, lost my job, had to move, was tragically broke…all at the same time. We got settled into this new place and I’ll be damned if I haven’t turned into a hermit. But so what?? What’s wrong with staying at home? It’s free, for one. You don’t have to get out of your jammies, or listen to anyone’s crap, or get anyone’s cooties on you. I’m good at home.
Well, circumstances brought us to San Francisco the other day. It’s about an hour and half away, so we left early, did what we had to do, then decided to stop by Haight St because we had found some really rad vintage stores on a previous journey (I like to take weekend trips to cities, SF, Reno, stuff like that. Don’t ask me to go camping in the woods, I live there).
Ever tried to park a full size Chevy in San Francisco? I haven’t, but I must say, BF did a splendid job…but this was after about 20 laps around various blocks. That’s OK, the buildings are hella cool to look at. We don’t have those where I come from. We have redwoods. Anyway…BF was starving, so after we forgot to put $ in the parking meter (we don’t have those where I come from either) we walked down to the McDonald’s. We got our food and went to a table around the corner, in an area of the restaurant that BF referred to as “less crack-like.”
We sat down and started our fine dining experience. Mostly eating, not much talking, we had some ‘sploring to do!!! BF and I both noticed when 2 hobos came in and sat down across from us…about 12 feet, I’d say. No big whoop, when I see a hobo, I don’t immediately think “terrible person.” All I can say in hindsight is “Meetzar, you silly, silly little naive child!!!” But anyway… woman hobo had her arm in a sling, so man hobo had to open her drink for her (they brought their own), then threw the bag on the floor behind him. I thought, “Ass,” and kept on eating until I heard a splash near me, then another. I thought man hobo was throwing the drink across the room and I was about to become seriously pissed that he came so close to getting it on my shoes when I realized 2 things in slow motion: one, it was pink and two, he was barfing across the room. I haven’t seen that since my kiddo was a baby and projectile vomited over my shoulder, across the counter and onto the kitchen floor, but anyway…
REALLY!!?!?! What in the holy horsefeathers are the chances of the one person that everyone says should get off that hill, out of the trees, go see some stuff, enjoy public again (namely, me) getting almost-barfed on the one time all year she left the county??? Do you believe in signs from above? Can you say, “Validation??” I think I’ll stay in the sticks, thanks. The redwoods may be messy, but at least they don’t barf on you!!!
We moved out to the boonies when I was going into the 3rd grade. I was just citified enough for my new step brothers to have a great time scaring the beejeezus out of me, but I was also just bratty and spoiled enough to enjoy the hell out of them getting into trouble when I tattled…but something happened over the years as I grew up at the end of that 3 mile dirt driveway. The boys all ended up moving to town, the step brothers with their mom, and my big brother with our father (little bro, you weren't born quite yet), so I sort of grew up as an only child of sorts, riding motorcycles and raising pigs, and as a result have turned out different from any of my siblings. I’m the hillbilly of the family. I like the quiet and solitude of the country. I don’t have much use for the city life. Sure, maybe to visit, or even live for a little while, but I always end up back here in the sticks.
I, like everyone else, have taken a figurative beating in late 2010 and so far in 0’11. Got my uterus removed, lost my job, had to move, was tragically broke…all at the same time. We got settled into this new place and I’ll be damned if I haven’t turned into a hermit. But so what?? What’s wrong with staying at home? It’s free, for one. You don’t have to get out of your jammies, or listen to anyone’s crap, or get anyone’s cooties on you. I’m good at home.
Well, circumstances brought us to San Francisco the other day. It’s about an hour and half away, so we left early, did what we had to do, then decided to stop by Haight St because we had found some really rad vintage stores on a previous journey (I like to take weekend trips to cities, SF, Reno, stuff like that. Don’t ask me to go camping in the woods, I live there).
Ever tried to park a full size Chevy in San Francisco? I haven’t, but I must say, BF did a splendid job…but this was after about 20 laps around various blocks. That’s OK, the buildings are hella cool to look at. We don’t have those where I come from. We have redwoods. Anyway…BF was starving, so after we forgot to put $ in the parking meter (we don’t have those where I come from either) we walked down to the McDonald’s. We got our food and went to a table around the corner, in an area of the restaurant that BF referred to as “less crack-like.”
We sat down and started our fine dining experience. Mostly eating, not much talking, we had some ‘sploring to do!!! BF and I both noticed when 2 hobos came in and sat down across from us…about 12 feet, I’d say. No big whoop, when I see a hobo, I don’t immediately think “terrible person.” All I can say in hindsight is “Meetzar, you silly, silly little naive child!!!” But anyway… woman hobo had her arm in a sling, so man hobo had to open her drink for her (they brought their own), then threw the bag on the floor behind him. I thought, “Ass,” and kept on eating until I heard a splash near me, then another. I thought man hobo was throwing the drink across the room and I was about to become seriously pissed that he came so close to getting it on my shoes when I realized 2 things in slow motion: one, it was pink and two, he was barfing across the room. I haven’t seen that since my kiddo was a baby and projectile vomited over my shoulder, across the counter and onto the kitchen floor, but anyway…
REALLY!!?!?! What in the holy horsefeathers are the chances of the one person that everyone says should get off that hill, out of the trees, go see some stuff, enjoy public again (namely, me) getting almost-barfed on the one time all year she left the county??? Do you believe in signs from above? Can you say, “Validation??” I think I’ll stay in the sticks, thanks. The redwoods may be messy, but at least they don’t barf on you!!!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
The Story of Why I am so Mean to the Wrong Number Lady
As I typed that title and hit "enter," my phone started ringing. I thought it was HER. I hate her. She drives me insane. Who is she? She is some stupid lady that is CONVINCED that my phone number belongs to one of her friends. And just in case I am one of her friends pretending that I am not, she calls every couple of weeks. Like I am going to forget her number. Thankfully though, it wasn't her. YAY!!
It all started about a year ago. I got a call for Nancy. "No, you have the wrong number but have a nice day," I said. So she asked for Yvonne. "No, wrong number." then I hear, "Well, is this Sara?"
Let me tell you something about me. I am a lot nicer than I lead people to believe. I have a reputation for not taking any shit, but I was ringleader (bartender) at a circus (bar) for what? 13 years? What does one expect, for me to NEVER have had to yell at ANYONE for misbehaving? I WISH!!! ANYway, basically people get 2 freebies. The third time is the charm. So when this woman asked for Sara I hollered in the phone, "You f****** have the f******wrong f****** number!!!" Then I pressed that END button as hard as I could because slamming the phone down to hang it up is no longer an option, which sucks!!!
So you can probably imagine my surprise when my phone started ringing again. Same number. *Sigh* I answered like a normal person, "Hello?" She started asking me if I was supposed to meet Nancy for lunch. I said, very maturely I think, "I DON'T EAT LUNCH, STOP F****** CALLING ME, YOU CRAZY OLD WOMAN," and hung up again. Then, a few minutes later, RRRRING!!! Actually my phone plays a song, but you know what I mean...
That's when normal people would answer, threaten the woman, her children, her pets, everything if she ever calls your number ever again. I didn't do that. I pretty much just repeated the stop calling me mantra and hung up again. PHEW, that seemed to work! Halleloo!!!
Cut to a couple of weeks later, she called again. Once asking for someone, again asking for someone else, then on the third call she didn't have a chance to say anything because someone (me) was yelling in her ear to get my number out of her phone.
This happened every few weeks. BF knew about it, and the Kiddo knew about it too, because Wrong Number Lady had called a few times when they were home and I had to explain why I was hollering into my phone like an angry fool...basically because this was really starting to piss me off!!
I've been sick the past few days, so I was already totally grumped out when my phone rang the other day. I recognized the number and I was ready. I mean really, if you had a phone number in your phone, and every time you called that number you got yelled at, wouldn't you get one of your grandkids to get that number out of your phone for you? Apparantly not. SO, this time she asked for Deb when I said hello. So I told her, "No, I killed Deb, don't call this number," and waited for the second call. "Helloooo?" I said. W.N. Lady asked for Becky this time. I said, "Nope, I killed her too, quit interrupting me while I am trying to dispose of the bodies!!!" And I thought that would be it. NOPE!!! She called again, so as per usual, she got cursed and yelled at. As I said on Facebook, I really wish I wouldn't have done that. I am SO curious as to what in the holy horsefeathers she was thinking when she called back after finding out her two friends got imaginarily killed, and I can barely sleep at night because of it. I also wish I would have offered to remove my phone number from her phone, possibly with my truck. And I ALSO wish I was mean enough to REALLY ask where she lived so I could bang pots and pans together in her front yard at 3am because that is my go-to cure for everything. I have yet to try it, but I am SURE I would teach a bunch of lessons with that method!!
Hopefully this is over. Hopefully she doesn't call me anymore. The funny thing is, I think I just might know who W.N. Lady is (don't ask, I will never ever tell. EVER). The OTHER funny thing is, judging from the names she asked for, I am guessing she was looking for drugs. So if she ever calls me again, I may just give in and sell her some baking soda. Or corn starch. Or sugar. Or flour. Or powdered hazelnut creamer. I'll have to ask, because I don't know what the crap looks like, but I am beginning to think that I am going about this all wrong...
It all started about a year ago. I got a call for Nancy. "No, you have the wrong number but have a nice day," I said. So she asked for Yvonne. "No, wrong number." then I hear, "Well, is this Sara?"
Let me tell you something about me. I am a lot nicer than I lead people to believe. I have a reputation for not taking any shit, but I was ringleader (bartender) at a circus (bar) for what? 13 years? What does one expect, for me to NEVER have had to yell at ANYONE for misbehaving? I WISH!!! ANYway, basically people get 2 freebies. The third time is the charm. So when this woman asked for Sara I hollered in the phone, "You f****** have the f******wrong f****** number!!!" Then I pressed that END button as hard as I could because slamming the phone down to hang it up is no longer an option, which sucks!!!
So you can probably imagine my surprise when my phone started ringing again. Same number. *Sigh* I answered like a normal person, "Hello?" She started asking me if I was supposed to meet Nancy for lunch. I said, very maturely I think, "I DON'T EAT LUNCH, STOP F****** CALLING ME, YOU CRAZY OLD WOMAN," and hung up again. Then, a few minutes later, RRRRING!!! Actually my phone plays a song, but you know what I mean...
That's when normal people would answer, threaten the woman, her children, her pets, everything if she ever calls your number ever again. I didn't do that. I pretty much just repeated the stop calling me mantra and hung up again. PHEW, that seemed to work! Halleloo!!!
Cut to a couple of weeks later, she called again. Once asking for someone, again asking for someone else, then on the third call she didn't have a chance to say anything because someone (me) was yelling in her ear to get my number out of her phone.
This happened every few weeks. BF knew about it, and the Kiddo knew about it too, because Wrong Number Lady had called a few times when they were home and I had to explain why I was hollering into my phone like an angry fool...basically because this was really starting to piss me off!!
I've been sick the past few days, so I was already totally grumped out when my phone rang the other day. I recognized the number and I was ready. I mean really, if you had a phone number in your phone, and every time you called that number you got yelled at, wouldn't you get one of your grandkids to get that number out of your phone for you? Apparantly not. SO, this time she asked for Deb when I said hello. So I told her, "No, I killed Deb, don't call this number," and waited for the second call. "Helloooo?" I said. W.N. Lady asked for Becky this time. I said, "Nope, I killed her too, quit interrupting me while I am trying to dispose of the bodies!!!" And I thought that would be it. NOPE!!! She called again, so as per usual, she got cursed and yelled at. As I said on Facebook, I really wish I wouldn't have done that. I am SO curious as to what in the holy horsefeathers she was thinking when she called back after finding out her two friends got imaginarily killed, and I can barely sleep at night because of it. I also wish I would have offered to remove my phone number from her phone, possibly with my truck. And I ALSO wish I was mean enough to REALLY ask where she lived so I could bang pots and pans together in her front yard at 3am because that is my go-to cure for everything. I have yet to try it, but I am SURE I would teach a bunch of lessons with that method!!
Hopefully this is over. Hopefully she doesn't call me anymore. The funny thing is, I think I just might know who W.N. Lady is (don't ask, I will never ever tell. EVER). The OTHER funny thing is, judging from the names she asked for, I am guessing she was looking for drugs. So if she ever calls me again, I may just give in and sell her some baking soda. Or corn starch. Or sugar. Or flour. Or powdered hazelnut creamer. I'll have to ask, because I don't know what the crap looks like, but I am beginning to think that I am going about this all wrong...
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
I Have Big Dreams and Plans
Ever felt like a bump on the couch? Like that you were mostly on this Earth to keep the couch company and maybe dust some stuff off and wash some other stuff once in a while? I did for a while, but as I get out and about more, I am realizing that I have big dreams and plans. Like BIG.
I live in Northern California, land of the Starbucks and the "smoke" shop. I am actually sitting at a Starbucks right now. In SEBASTOPOL even. Next to a smoke shop. I am breaking Wild West Rule #1 and sitting with my back to the door (so I don't get too horribly distracted). Although the ladies sitting over there talking about who has died lately is sort of interesting. Mostly because I haven't recognized any of the names.
ANYway, back to the dreams and plans. First on the agenda: I want to go to CHP school and get my lights and siren for my vehicle, my tazer, and most of all, MY TICKET BOOK. Then I am going to sit outside El Molino High School and give really expensive tickets to all those idiots that drive around like they are the only vehicle in the world even though it is dropping-off-at-school time. Guess who would get the most tickets? You probably think I want to ticket the holy horsefeathers out of those teen aged drivers, but you would be wrong. It's their parents, or whoever drops them off that need some freaking tickets!! Then I would start a campaign. I am not sure of the title, but it would be something like, "If you insist on driving like the King or Queen of Douchebagistan, don't do it in a tiny little car!" My poor truck almost got a Prius stuck in it's grill this morning, and it's embarrassing to drive around like that all day...
Then I think I want to buy a "smoke shop" and call it what it really is. The name would be, "Paraphernalia Shop That Sells Some Cigarettes." (Hey dude, just because you are sitting in the corner doesn't mean I can't see you picking your nose...oh wait, eyes back to the screen, Melissa!) Smoke Shop...whatever hippies. That's kind of like the Garden Supply Store...
Well shoot, the ladies next to me are talking about their now dead dogs having seizures, and ripped the Kleenex that was my Big Dreams and Plans right out of my head. But that's OK, because I can really do a lot with this list...and the ladies are now talking about gorillas, so I have to go...
I live in Northern California, land of the Starbucks and the "smoke" shop. I am actually sitting at a Starbucks right now. In SEBASTOPOL even. Next to a smoke shop. I am breaking Wild West Rule #1 and sitting with my back to the door (so I don't get too horribly distracted). Although the ladies sitting over there talking about who has died lately is sort of interesting. Mostly because I haven't recognized any of the names.
ANYway, back to the dreams and plans. First on the agenda: I want to go to CHP school and get my lights and siren for my vehicle, my tazer, and most of all, MY TICKET BOOK. Then I am going to sit outside El Molino High School and give really expensive tickets to all those idiots that drive around like they are the only vehicle in the world even though it is dropping-off-at-school time. Guess who would get the most tickets? You probably think I want to ticket the holy horsefeathers out of those teen aged drivers, but you would be wrong. It's their parents, or whoever drops them off that need some freaking tickets!! Then I would start a campaign. I am not sure of the title, but it would be something like, "If you insist on driving like the King or Queen of Douchebagistan, don't do it in a tiny little car!" My poor truck almost got a Prius stuck in it's grill this morning, and it's embarrassing to drive around like that all day...
Then I think I want to buy a "smoke shop" and call it what it really is. The name would be, "Paraphernalia Shop That Sells Some Cigarettes." (Hey dude, just because you are sitting in the corner doesn't mean I can't see you picking your nose...oh wait, eyes back to the screen, Melissa!) Smoke Shop...whatever hippies. That's kind of like the Garden Supply Store...
Well shoot, the ladies next to me are talking about their now dead dogs having seizures, and ripped the Kleenex that was my Big Dreams and Plans right out of my head. But that's OK, because I can really do a lot with this list...and the ladies are now talking about gorillas, so I have to go...
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Can't be Funny all the Time...AntiDepressants
I am not sure how I should start this, but it's a story that needs to be told, so here goes...
We have established that the last year and a half hasn't been the easiest for me to deal with. Whatev, it happens to everyone from time to time. Constantly waiting for the bottom to drop out (again) was making me tense all the time, and so I became one of those people that got anxiety attacks. OK, I have been one of those people since the bus hippie days (fight with my best friend, who was also my landlord, mostly because we were too stupid to see that our boyfriends at the time had serious issues, ended up moving into a hippie bus and that's where I discovered that I was too redneck for the hippies, lost just about everything, but got it back thanks to my parents and my 3 jobs...anyway...). THIS battle, however, became a thing I had to deal with almost daily, as opposed to bi-monthly-ish. I had also recently gotten most of my interior female organs removed, which one would think would put a hitch in your giddy up, or a bitch, whatever...
So I went to the Doctor, who once again decided that I was depressed and prescribed something for that. The first set was Celexa, I think. WOW! Let's just say they weren't exactly compatible with my system, and I didn't feel better, then one day...how do I put it delicately?? Some stuff got broken. Really really broken. Luckily no one was home to witness my tantrum, because it was really really stupid, but borderline really really serious. So we decided that we needed to change the pills. Well, not WE, but you know what I mean.
Unfortunately, I guess it never occurred to anyone, including me at the time, that my life had simply hit a rough patch, and quite frankly SUCKED. Of course I was sad, bummed, freaked out, pissed off, all of that!! So I get to take a pill for that instead of trying to fix stuff? There was no question in the Doc's mind that my lone ovary could do the job of two with ZERO effect on my sense of well being, so let's not check that, let's take this pill. Well guess what?? The PILL didn't get BF a job, or a new battery for my truck, or the bills paid, or whatever else came up that needed to be unsucktified, WE did that. Hindsight is cool...
NOW, because of a paperwork snafu, I had to go off these pills, rather suddenly. I had wanted to anyway, but was going to try to stick it out the full year, as the Doc had suggested, and I most certainly DIDN'T want to go off them cold turkey!! But I did, and let me tell you what...It's pretty rough!!! It's been about two weeks, and I am still dealing with crap, some of it is even getting worse. Like I am not allowed to sleep anymore, for some reason. And I think it's called vertigo, that delightful feeling that you stepped in a hole and are going to fall, but you really didn't step in a hole? And headaches, oh boy, doozie headaches that hit you like a 2X4, all of a sudden and HAAAAAAAARD. And what was I just talking about??? Oh yeah, side effects. I can't remember a freaking thing half the time. In the middle of a conversation something happens and I forget what we were talking about. It's like the conversation is a Kleenex, and someone comes and pulls that idea right out of the box and it's gone...
So I say, if the Doctor says, "Here, take these," before you just fill the prescription, think about it. Do you think you are depressed because you have depression, or are you depressed because your life hit a rough patch? Will these pills fix whatever is upsetting you, or would winning the lottery fix it, or getting a puppy, or a night out with the girls, or my personal favorite, punching someone in the face? And keep in mind that I had gone in for severe back pain once or twice, and came out with the suggestion of antidepressants. And the reaction to all my other symptoms was sort of, "Bummer."
Just be careful and make sure it's actually worth taking antidepressants. If they will help, great, if not...well, it sucks to start them, and it SUCKS to stop them. My family has been awesome, because I haven't been able to drag my ass out of bed lately either, so they have been picking up some slack. THANK YOU R AND M!!!
It used to be pain pills the Doctors would throw at you like beads at Mardi Gras. Now it's these...and I don't think there is a Black Market for them. Or is there?
We have established that the last year and a half hasn't been the easiest for me to deal with. Whatev, it happens to everyone from time to time. Constantly waiting for the bottom to drop out (again) was making me tense all the time, and so I became one of those people that got anxiety attacks. OK, I have been one of those people since the bus hippie days (fight with my best friend, who was also my landlord, mostly because we were too stupid to see that our boyfriends at the time had serious issues, ended up moving into a hippie bus and that's where I discovered that I was too redneck for the hippies, lost just about everything, but got it back thanks to my parents and my 3 jobs...anyway...). THIS battle, however, became a thing I had to deal with almost daily, as opposed to bi-monthly-ish. I had also recently gotten most of my interior female organs removed, which one would think would put a hitch in your giddy up, or a bitch, whatever...
So I went to the Doctor, who once again decided that I was depressed and prescribed something for that. The first set was Celexa, I think. WOW! Let's just say they weren't exactly compatible with my system, and I didn't feel better, then one day...how do I put it delicately?? Some stuff got broken. Really really broken. Luckily no one was home to witness my tantrum, because it was really really stupid, but borderline really really serious. So we decided that we needed to change the pills. Well, not WE, but you know what I mean.
Unfortunately, I guess it never occurred to anyone, including me at the time, that my life had simply hit a rough patch, and quite frankly SUCKED. Of course I was sad, bummed, freaked out, pissed off, all of that!! So I get to take a pill for that instead of trying to fix stuff? There was no question in the Doc's mind that my lone ovary could do the job of two with ZERO effect on my sense of well being, so let's not check that, let's take this pill. Well guess what?? The PILL didn't get BF a job, or a new battery for my truck, or the bills paid, or whatever else came up that needed to be unsucktified, WE did that. Hindsight is cool...
NOW, because of a paperwork snafu, I had to go off these pills, rather suddenly. I had wanted to anyway, but was going to try to stick it out the full year, as the Doc had suggested, and I most certainly DIDN'T want to go off them cold turkey!! But I did, and let me tell you what...It's pretty rough!!! It's been about two weeks, and I am still dealing with crap, some of it is even getting worse. Like I am not allowed to sleep anymore, for some reason. And I think it's called vertigo, that delightful feeling that you stepped in a hole and are going to fall, but you really didn't step in a hole? And headaches, oh boy, doozie headaches that hit you like a 2X4, all of a sudden and HAAAAAAAARD. And what was I just talking about??? Oh yeah, side effects. I can't remember a freaking thing half the time. In the middle of a conversation something happens and I forget what we were talking about. It's like the conversation is a Kleenex, and someone comes and pulls that idea right out of the box and it's gone...
So I say, if the Doctor says, "Here, take these," before you just fill the prescription, think about it. Do you think you are depressed because you have depression, or are you depressed because your life hit a rough patch? Will these pills fix whatever is upsetting you, or would winning the lottery fix it, or getting a puppy, or a night out with the girls, or my personal favorite, punching someone in the face? And keep in mind that I had gone in for severe back pain once or twice, and came out with the suggestion of antidepressants. And the reaction to all my other symptoms was sort of, "Bummer."
Just be careful and make sure it's actually worth taking antidepressants. If they will help, great, if not...well, it sucks to start them, and it SUCKS to stop them. My family has been awesome, because I haven't been able to drag my ass out of bed lately either, so they have been picking up some slack. THANK YOU R AND M!!!
It used to be pain pills the Doctors would throw at you like beads at Mardi Gras. Now it's these...and I don't think there is a Black Market for them. Or is there?
Monday, January 2, 2012
New Year's Eve
I realized this year that I haven't really gone out on a New Year's Eve without being the bartender in I don't know how long. And it's been at least a coon's age since I have even BEEN a bartender (without a golf cart anyway)...
So last night, there was no way we were sitting at home, so we wandered down the hill to The Holey Cow because we were enticed by the delicious sounding Community Dinner. As it turns out, it wasn't only delicious sounding, I was actually thinking about licking my plate...but we hung out with Jamie and her daughter Lily for a bit, the grownups toasted the Old Year while the kiddo did dishes, and it was the beginning of a pretty epic night, but not epic like in the olden days...and I don't even know what that means, so don't ask...
Then we dragged our fat and sassy butts up the hill, got the truck and headed to Northwood, or The 'Wood, as we call it when we need to sound extra cool. The Thugz were playing. HippieFest, Northwood edition. YES!!!
So we walked in and looked around for a bit. It was quite a crowd. One of the first people we saw was my pal C. He was dancing with his lady, singing all the words like he does...I used to think C was a really serious Thugz fan because he could sing every single word. Then I remembered that The Thugz play a lot of The Dead. A LOT lot. They're kind of known for that...
There's nothing quite like a HippieFest night. That's what we started calling Thugz night a long time ago, by the way. I think I came up with the name, actually...you can tell because it's not terribly creative. None of my nicknames for stuff are...HippieFest, Creepy Tom, Yucky Tom, Visor Boy, Bad Mike ;) You get the picture. But back to HippieFest...there is such an awesomely eclectic crowd ALWAYS, no matter when these people play. Ya got C and his lady, then, I saw Moss. All you locals know who Moss is, even if you don't know you know...he's the guy that is either on a skateboard, a bicycle, or a skateboard with a handle. He's maybe 60ish and likes to color his hair and has a very festive way of dressing every day. But guess what? This was special. This was NYE. Moss was wearing a black cape. Not only that, he knows the rules of wearing one. In the cape wearing rule book it clearly states that if one is wearing a cape, one must allow it to swing in an awesome way when one turns whilst walking...Moss nailed it.
We grabbed some seats and proceeded to people watch and sip our beers. Always the observer, I noticed that white people do this thing on the way to the dance floor. About halfway between wherever they're sitting and the dance floor, they make the dance face (it's different for everyone, but usually is some version of the duck face) and start dancing their way to the dance floor. I've watched a lot of people, and it's usually just us white folks. I do it too. Whether there is music or not. Well of course, soon after that I have to join the fun on the dance floor. BF thinks I laugh at him, but I always giggle the entire time I dance at Hippiefest. Why? Because it is awesome. You have C and his lady. You have BF and me. You have the one creepy dude standing in the middle of the dance floor geebing at everyone cuz he's to drunk to actually dance. You have people in their 70's dancing their butts off, having a groovy time. You have your token dreadlocked hippies, usually barely 21, but having fun. You have a lot of tye dye. You have a lot of different people doing their thing, but having a blast together. No matter what you do or what you look like, you will not be the most eccentric dresser, or the dancer with the oddest rhythm. I don't know if it's like this everywhere, but I have a feeling it isn't and I feel a bit sorry for people that don't get it. Weirdos are totally rad and it was awesome to ring in another new year with my people!!
So last night, there was no way we were sitting at home, so we wandered down the hill to The Holey Cow because we were enticed by the delicious sounding Community Dinner. As it turns out, it wasn't only delicious sounding, I was actually thinking about licking my plate...but we hung out with Jamie and her daughter Lily for a bit, the grownups toasted the Old Year while the kiddo did dishes, and it was the beginning of a pretty epic night, but not epic like in the olden days...and I don't even know what that means, so don't ask...
Then we dragged our fat and sassy butts up the hill, got the truck and headed to Northwood, or The 'Wood, as we call it when we need to sound extra cool. The Thugz were playing. HippieFest, Northwood edition. YES!!!
So we walked in and looked around for a bit. It was quite a crowd. One of the first people we saw was my pal C. He was dancing with his lady, singing all the words like he does...I used to think C was a really serious Thugz fan because he could sing every single word. Then I remembered that The Thugz play a lot of The Dead. A LOT lot. They're kind of known for that...
There's nothing quite like a HippieFest night. That's what we started calling Thugz night a long time ago, by the way. I think I came up with the name, actually...you can tell because it's not terribly creative. None of my nicknames for stuff are...HippieFest, Creepy Tom, Yucky Tom, Visor Boy, Bad Mike ;) You get the picture. But back to HippieFest...there is such an awesomely eclectic crowd ALWAYS, no matter when these people play. Ya got C and his lady, then, I saw Moss. All you locals know who Moss is, even if you don't know you know...he's the guy that is either on a skateboard, a bicycle, or a skateboard with a handle. He's maybe 60ish and likes to color his hair and has a very festive way of dressing every day. But guess what? This was special. This was NYE. Moss was wearing a black cape. Not only that, he knows the rules of wearing one. In the cape wearing rule book it clearly states that if one is wearing a cape, one must allow it to swing in an awesome way when one turns whilst walking...Moss nailed it.
We grabbed some seats and proceeded to people watch and sip our beers. Always the observer, I noticed that white people do this thing on the way to the dance floor. About halfway between wherever they're sitting and the dance floor, they make the dance face (it's different for everyone, but usually is some version of the duck face) and start dancing their way to the dance floor. I've watched a lot of people, and it's usually just us white folks. I do it too. Whether there is music or not. Well of course, soon after that I have to join the fun on the dance floor. BF thinks I laugh at him, but I always giggle the entire time I dance at Hippiefest. Why? Because it is awesome. You have C and his lady. You have BF and me. You have the one creepy dude standing in the middle of the dance floor geebing at everyone cuz he's to drunk to actually dance. You have people in their 70's dancing their butts off, having a groovy time. You have your token dreadlocked hippies, usually barely 21, but having fun. You have a lot of tye dye. You have a lot of different people doing their thing, but having a blast together. No matter what you do or what you look like, you will not be the most eccentric dresser, or the dancer with the oddest rhythm. I don't know if it's like this everywhere, but I have a feeling it isn't and I feel a bit sorry for people that don't get it. Weirdos are totally rad and it was awesome to ring in another new year with my people!!
Monday, December 19, 2011
TV Foolishness...
My back has been acting up again, which means that I have been watching a lot of TV...I mean a LOT lot. My TV watching lately rivals that of the children of an exhausted single mother...
Flipping through the channel guide like my thumb has to move 50 MPH or the couch will blow up, I have noticed several things. First of all, as everyone knows, there is far too much "reality" TV. Second of all, they seem to be running out of names for these stupid shows. I blame CSI, cuz they started it with their CSI Miami (which RULES) and their CSI NY. And the upcoming one, CSI Russian River District. Baxman will be the Head CSI...
And everything now is "Wars." Storage Wars, Weed Wars, Swamp Wars, Pawn Wars, Ice Cream Wars. So I thought of one. How about STFU Wars?
The premise of the show is a bunch of people that keep their mouths shut and live the good life. I, of course, would be the star...the cameras would follow me around doing day to day things. Like taking the 65 pound Catahoula pup down to the river to run some beans off. We attract interesting-ness, I think. Like the emo kids that had to walk within feet of us on the deserted beach to go smoke some grass behind the bathrooms. I didn't care, live and let live, right? If they were that intent on getting where they were going that they didn't notice the squirrely-eyed psychopath of a canine running about, it's all good. If any one of them had an aversion to getting splatted with drool or sprayed with doggie river water they could have opted out of veering in our direction. If there were cameras, maybe I would have tossed Rex's tennis ball towards the emos because that would have been good television, but I would have still STFU'd and minded my own business and enjoyed the lovely day...especially after seeing Rex take out 3 of the emos like bowling pins and scaring the crap out of the one the ball landed closest to...
The television audience would be treated to very very little drama, almost zero bullshit, and a LOT of dish doing. Like, a crazy amount. My family is allergic to clean dishes, they really are, I got the diagnosis from webmd...they break out in awful hives and their throats swell up if there aren't at least 2 dirty dishes in the sink. The fact that the dishes are in the sink is certainly a step in the right direction, but still. It could be 4am and they can sense when the last dish is clean and one of 'em will wake up and cook a 7 course meal...dessert and all...
Everyone would get along on the show, no one would talk shit behind backs because we all would know that it's way more fun to talk shit directly TO the jerk, if one must. The best part would be that not one of us would complain about not having the biggest TV or that their mom wont get them the latest electronic gadget...we'd be happy with what we have and make the best of life and not be the stereotypical butthead TV people...
It would be totally awesome...and we could sometimes travel and teach people around the world not only the benefits of STFUing, but HOW to STFU. Then we would have an a spin off show called Mind Yer Own, and that would have people that are very good at keeping their noses out of other peoples' business. And again, we could take it on the road occasionally and spread the knowledge...oh my goodness people, we could break the cycle of rampant stupidity, we could change the WORLD!!!
And if that didn't work, we'd just add booze...
Flipping through the channel guide like my thumb has to move 50 MPH or the couch will blow up, I have noticed several things. First of all, as everyone knows, there is far too much "reality" TV. Second of all, they seem to be running out of names for these stupid shows. I blame CSI, cuz they started it with their CSI Miami (which RULES) and their CSI NY. And the upcoming one, CSI Russian River District. Baxman will be the Head CSI...
And everything now is "Wars." Storage Wars, Weed Wars, Swamp Wars, Pawn Wars, Ice Cream Wars. So I thought of one. How about STFU Wars?
The television audience would be treated to very very little drama, almost zero bullshit, and a LOT of dish doing. Like, a crazy amount. My family is allergic to clean dishes, they really are, I got the diagnosis from webmd...they break out in awful hives and their throats swell up if there aren't at least 2 dirty dishes in the sink. The fact that the dishes are in the sink is certainly a step in the right direction, but still. It could be 4am and they can sense when the last dish is clean and one of 'em will wake up and cook a 7 course meal...dessert and all...
Everyone would get along on the show, no one would talk shit behind backs because we all would know that it's way more fun to talk shit directly TO the jerk, if one must. The best part would be that not one of us would complain about not having the biggest TV or that their mom wont get them the latest electronic gadget...we'd be happy with what we have and make the best of life and not be the stereotypical butthead TV people...
It would be totally awesome...and we could sometimes travel and teach people around the world not only the benefits of STFUing, but HOW to STFU. Then we would have an a spin off show called Mind Yer Own, and that would have people that are very good at keeping their noses out of other peoples' business. And again, we could take it on the road occasionally and spread the knowledge...oh my goodness people, we could break the cycle of rampant stupidity, we could change the WORLD!!!
And if that didn't work, we'd just add booze...
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