Gnnnnrk.
2006-02-10 2:05 p.m.
Grrrk! GNNNNRRRRRRk. Ack. Ack. Ack! Gnrrrrr. clickclickclick. Whiz-bang. Gnrrrrk! GNRK GNRK GNRK! No, that�s not the sound of my car. That�s the sound of the hard drive of my iBook slowly dying. Argh! Thhis after I just paid $150 for some killer RAM from Apple.com. Now I�m in a quandary. The iBook is about four or five years old. Do I send it to Cuepertino (No, I don�t have Apple Care) and have them take her apart and figure out what the problem is, (I�m having some serious Miata d�j� vu) or do I just throw in the metaphorical towel and buy a pretty new iBook which would probably be cheaper anyway. Not that I have $1,400 to throw around about now. Really, I just need something with at least 80 gig hard drive that I can carry around with me. I just need a laptop for writing novels, downloading music and bouncing around in cyberspace. That�s it. I don�t do any serious programming or need to partition off parts of my computer into cool complex parts. I know all about Linux but I don�t feel the urge to play with it or live it. I just want my beloved tiny iBook back, damn it. With that said, I don�t have phone service and have not been able to figure out how to set up my stupid broadband or Vonage so this may be last you hear of me until Monday. I shall be incommunicado. Or Ill Communicado if I was a Beastie Girl.
1 People have tried to sell me ViagraI know I sound crazy.
2006-02-09 11:21 p.m.
"I don't want to sound like I'm crazy," I drawl. My psychologist giggles. "Well, think about who you're talking to," she says. She's not just a psychologist but she's also a Peruvian Shaman. She more of a guru slash spiritual guide than a psychologist. I can use a bit of each about know. "There's an old woman standing behind your left shoulder watching us," I say. It's not clear as day, it's not like I'm hallucinating, it's just an overhwelming feeling and a mental picture that's clear as day. My guru nods and laughs a little. She knows, the old woman is one of her spirit guides, and she's not surprised that I can see her. We talk for awhile. This particular guide is into herbs and has some ideas on what I should take to keep my liver healthy through the whole medication process. "This room will get full sometimes," my guru says. "It's amazing how full the third dimention can get." We know we sound crazy but we also know that we're doing good work here. Part of getting well is making sure that mentally I'm handling all of this as cavalier as I pretend I am on this blog. And for the most part, I am.
1 People have tried to sell me ViagraSucks to be me.
2006-02-08 2:38 p.m.
I discussed the advantages of showing cleavage with the nurse who drew four vials of my blood this morning. She told me that most of her low cut sweaters she wore to church. I found this quite amusing for some reason. I�m guessing God likes cleavage or he wouldn�t have made it so pretty. I guess it all started because I was wearing an uber low cut sweater with a little sparkly lace inset that helped cover the puppies a bit more � but apparently not enough to not start a conversation about them. Ooo, how I hate those double negatives.
Gone are the days of taking blood from the cute little veins in the corner of my elbow. To avoid scar tissue, she dug the needle into the purple snakey vein on my forearm. Eventually I�m expecting someone to come at me with a huge needle that they�ll stab directly into my chest and draw blood from a chamber in my heart. We�re taking blood to make sure I don�t have any hepetitises and to get a baseline for methotrexate therapy. I did it. I�m taking a chemotherapy drug. My doctor also told me I can�t drink. I�ll sit here for a second and let that sink in while you shriek and rend your clothing. I can�t fucking drink.
"Is this the you can�t drink because if do you�ll immediately drop dead and it�ll be your own damn fault. Or is this you can�t drink because the loud whimpering noises that your liver makes will disturb the other people in the bar?" I asked my rheumatologist. We negotiate on one glass of red wine once a week. That will allow me to enjoy my vino but won�t cause any of my internal organs to explode. Le sigh. Sucks to be me.
You can't make me wear cotton underpants. Dammit.
2006-02-07 5:40 p.m.
I called Qwest and broke up with them today. I didn't even try to give them the "it's not you, it's me" speech because it was totally them. "So where are you going?" she asked. "I'm getting cable modem with Comcast." she groans audibly on the other line when I mention their archnemesis. "Why?" she asks timidly. "Because," I say through clenched teeth. "You fuckheads* pushed me into get MSN and when I upgraded my operating system to Panther you quit supporting Apple and now I can no longer download my e-mail. Basically I'm spending $34 a month for an e-mail address that I can't access." "Oh, yeah, well that's a good reason."
*Okay, I really didn't call her a fuckhead. She was actually a pretty nice and we were working on outwitting each other and talked about hosting an Apple and Microsoft summit where everyone would hold hands and sing "Why Can't We Be Friends."
As a side note: I am the number one Yahoo search engine hit for I hate cotton underwear. Let's hear it for hating ianimate objects.
On a sadder side note, Cingi had to put her dog Muffin-Anne down, who was sufferring pretty badly from cancer. It came on fast and she only felt like crap the last few days of her life. Angi sent me some digital pictures last night and I spent some time making them pretty and posting them on her site so you can see what a cool dog she was (and what a hot tamale Angi is). Stop by and give her a hug.
1 People have tried to sell me ViagraHot for Teacher and Potatobug Kung Fu.
2006-02-06 9:10 p.m.
My company's gym costs a whopping $24 a year so there's really no reason not to be a member. If you go twice a year you've pretty much paid for it. I decided that in order to get better I need to start working out no matter how crappy I feel. Actually it was after looking at myself naked in a full length mirror that I decided I needed to start working out. I have absolutely no muscle mass left - it's not a pretty sight. The once fairly buff girl who could withstand an hour and half kung fu class while barely breaking a sweat is severly out of shape. Long gone are the days of sifu yelling "drop and give me 25 knuckle push ups" and me being able to comply without whimpering noises. This afternoon's goal was to lift weights, hitting all the major body parts: chest, back, shoulders, triceps, biceps, abdominals, back, quads, hamstrings and calves. Two sets of ten reps to start with and then I would hit the elliptical machine for a quick mile for my cariod. Viola! What could be easier? I did manage to make it through the weights but by the time I was done I was so out of breath and shaking so badly that I sat on the ground and pretended I was stretching so I wouldn't pass out. Luckily there were two other people in the gym so if I had dropped on the spot, someone would have dialed 911. I eventually recovered enough to hop on the elliptical machine but my new goal was to make it through one song on my iPod. Just one song and I could call it quits for the day. Somehow I settled on something from my "It's got a good beat you can dance to but there's no accounting for taste mix." and made it through exactly four minutes of Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher." My heart rate was a steady 170 and has now calmed down to a tachycardiac 110. I blame the prednisone for my heart rate. I blame being sick and in bed for the last year for everything else. I need to rethink my kung fu training. If someone were to attack me right now I don't think Mo Duk Pai would come in very handy. Right now I'm best suited for Potatobug Kung Fu. If someone attacks me I'll just curl up into a tight ball and pee myself until they leave me alone. I've seen it work against my cats.
3 People have tried to sell me Viagra