Month: June 2004

The Alamo and Fred was giving his order. “What are the vegetables of the day?” he asked. “Blah blah blah,” said the waiter. “Oh.” Fred pondered. “I’ll just have a side salad, then. With bleu cheese dressing, on the side. Also, can I have my salad without cheese on it?” “No cheese?” the waiter said, writing it down. “Right.” Fred paused and then gazed earnestly at the waiter. “I like cheese, just not on a salad.” He looked at the waiter as though he expected him to write it down so that he could go into the kitchen and say “One side salad, no cheese! The guy LIKES cheese, just not on a salad!” The waiter nodded and left. “What the hell?” I said. “Why on EARTH would you feel the need to explain that to him? He doesn’t care WHY you don’t want cheese on your SALAD!” Fred just grinned. Later, when we went to the UPS store so we could pack a box with all the crap we’d bought and then send it to ourselves, Fred felt the need to explain to the lady working there. “We flew up,” he said. “On a very small plane and we’re not sure everything will fit. So we’re going to mail it to ourselves!” “I see,” the woman said. The next day, we went to a movie store to rent a couple of DVDs to watch on the laptop in the hotel room that night. We chose a couple of movies, then Fred went to the counter to pay. It was hot in the store, so I got the car key and went out to turn on the air conditioner and wait for him. Ten minutes later, he finally moseyed out. “What the hell?” I said. “What took so long?” “Oh, I got to talking to the guy,” he said. It turns out that Fred had a conversation wherein the following bits of information were disseminated: *We flew to Gatlinburg (from Huntsville, AL) in a very small plane for a very good price. *Fred is a software engineer. *We have a laptop with a 17-inch monitor. *Fred owns his own company. After telling me all he’d told the counter guy, Fred said “I can’t help it. I’m a friendly guy!” “Did you tell him you like cheese, just NOT on a salad?” I said. “Shut UP.” I guess his willingness to strike up a conversation with just about anyone is what makes Fred so approachable, although no one asked him to take their picture on this trip. I, on the other hand – maybe it’s the Yankee in me – tend to stick to “tell them only what they need to know”: I go into a restaurant, I order what I want, I feel no need to explain anything to anyone, I eat, I leave. I’m not UNFRIENDLY, mind you – if they strike up a conversation with me, I’m perfectly willing to respond. I smile in a friendly manner, I say “Thank you”, and then I go on my way. I guess we complement each other pretty well – he’s friendly and chatty, and I… make fun of him for it. Works for me! Heh.

* * * I spent a couple of hours cleaning the spud’s room yesterday, and now it looks pretty decent. I got her a new comforter – the old one was looking pretty ratty – and I went through her closet and took out the shirts she never wears (the child has WAY TOO MANY clothes, that’s all I’ll say), and I dusted and straightened her bookcase. All I have to do now is put up a bulletin board so that she can tack things to it instead of the wall. I’m also going to take down her Little Mermaid poster and put it away, and then I’ll be done! Usually it takes me half the summer to get my butt in gear and get her room cleaned. Go, me! * * * The Mighty Hunter.]]>

episode of Friends, where they’re playing the game that ultimately ends with the guys winning Monica and Rachael’s apartment. The question “What is Chandler Bing’s job?” comes up, and the girls say: Monica: It’s umm, it has something to do with transponding. Rachel: Oh-oh-oh, he’s a transponce – transpondster! It’s just a good thing the air traffic controller didn’t start talking about the plane’s phalanges.

* * * So, remember the mole I had removed from my stomach, and then the spot where the mole had been got infected? Despite being on antibiotics for a week and putting antibiotic cream on it, it didn’t really get better. In fact, it got worse. Naturally it did most of the getting worse while we were in Gatlinburg. It was continuing to drain and seemed to get bigger. I watched it to see if it would start putting out the red streaks or start hurting, neither of which it did. Since I had an appointment at 8 this morning to have the stitches removed, I just kept putting cream and a band-aid on it and taking my antibiotics. This morning when I got out of the shower I looked down at the spot where the mole had been removed, and messed with the stitches, making sure they were sticking up enough so that the doctor could remove them. Then I dried off, combed my hair, and grabbed a band-aid to put over the spot. The stitches were gone. “Wha?” I said. I poked around the spot a little to see if maybe the stitches had sunken below the puss-y looking area in the middle. Then I glanced over at the floor in front of the shower, and saw the little piece of thread that had comprised one of the stitches sitting there, still knotted. Apparently drying myself had pulled the stitches out without me even realizing it. When I got to the doctor’s office, I explained what had happened to the doctor (not my usual doctor; she doesn’t work on Monday and Tuesday) who was to remove my stitches. She took a good long look at the spot on my stomach, said she had a plan, and proceeded to remove the stitches from the spot on my back (which did NOT get infected, thankyajeezus). Then she had me lay back, and put silver nitrate on the spot on my stomach to cauterize it, so that it could heal from the bottom up. She said it might burn, but I didn’t feel a damn thing, although now – an hour later – it’s itching like hell. AGH! Make it stop! Anyway, it’ll take a couple of weeks to completely heal, but in the meantime I’ll be supporting the band-aid industry by putting antibiotic cream and a band-aid on the area three times a day. I’m just glad that this didn’t happen with the spot where the mole was removed from my back, because I can’t quite reach that spot, so it would have been a matter of driving to Fred’s office during the day so he could change the band-aid for me. That would be NOT FUN, I think. (Also, no word yet from the lab tests on the moles I had removed. She’s going to have her nurse call the lab and yell at them, so I should be hearing something in the next few days.) * * * Apparently everyone wants to know about my Seasonale experiences thus far, so here it is: My first two months on the Seasonale were just fine. At the end of month two, I accidentally skipped a pill (because I’m a dumbass), which seemed to be the trigger for a month of breakthrough bleeding. At the end of the month (month three), it was time to take a week off from taking the pill (I don’t bother with the placebo pills), so I did, and had a fairly normal period. The Sunday following that, I started up on the pill again. My period ended, and almost two weeks later I haven’t had any breakthrough bleeding (yet!). I said when I started taking the Seasonale that it was going to take my body time to adjust, and I wasn’t going to give up unless I’d been taking it for a year and was still having problems. I was on the regular pill for eight years before this year, my body had adjusted to that schedule, and switching to a schedule where I only have my period every three months is surely something that it’ll take time for my body to adjust to. I’ll give y’all a final report on whether it works for me when it’s been a year. * * * From my comments: Hi Robyn. I’m a long time reader (well a couple of years anyway). My family and I will be in Gatlinburg this weekend to. My two year old daughter and my pregnant self will be strolling the streets with Mamaw and Papaw (hopefully I won’t pass out from the awful heat we have been having). Do you ever wonder if you might run into one of your readers some day! Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, so if I see you and Fred I’ll just smile and be on my merry way!! 🙂 Did you see us? What were we doing? Oh no, don’t answer that – I was sweating my ass off, and Fred was carrying all the bags. Heh. Hey Robyn, here’s a question you might wanna answer someday in an entry: when you say “slap up an entry,” how much time are you really talking about putting into creating one? I’m curious to know what’s the longest amount of time you ever spent on 1 entry, and the shortest amount of time. It depends – if it’s 1:15 and I’m hungry, I can get an entry done in about 30 minutes, and about five of those minutes are spent putting the links at the bottom of the page. The longest I’ve ever spent on an entry would probably be this one, which took me two days to write, because the original entry was a lot more pissed-off sounding than the finished entry. I had to do an awful lot of editing. On the average, though, because I almost never sit down and just write an entry – I’m always distracted by email, cats, shiny things – I’d say it takes about an hour. (Hard to believe, eh?) Your Gatlinburg trip sounded wonderful! My sister and I are going down there to do some hiking in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if the cicadas had invaded Gatlinburg. As far as I know, I didn’t see any cicadas. But then, I’m not quite sure what they look like. In any case, the streets weren’t littered with dead bugs, so I’m going to say that the cicada invasion hasn’t hit Gatlinburg. Yer killing me! No review posted for Crow Lake yet? Put me outta my misery, I’m dying to know how many stars.. or square thingamajiggys.. (That comment is from the wonderful Adena who asked me if I’d read the book yet – I hadn’t, so I put it on my wish list, and then she went and bought it for me! Adena rocks.) I absolutely loved it, and I rated it 5 Poos! Thanks again for recommending it and then buying it for me; I had never heard of it before you mentioned it, and it was a total gem of a book – I enjoyed every word of it. Don’t know if your pharmacist told you this or maybe you already know but some antibiotics can mess with your birth control and since you guys are going to be doing the nudist thing while spud is away I thought I would remind. People. Nudity does not NECESSARILY lead to sex. Get your minds out of the gutters. Heh. I think the airlines are NUTS. They shouldn’t charge (IMO) parents who want to take their minor kids to the gate, I mean you cant go anywhere w/o a ticket anyway, whats wrong with a free pass? I just called my dad, my mom took my grandma to her gate several times and they never charged her. Oh well. No, they didn’t charge me the $75 to acompany her to the gate – they charged me the $75 so that when she landed in Atlanta a flight attendant would take her from the gate she landed at to the gate her flight to OC was leaving from, so she wouldn’t get lost and spend the rest of her life wandering around the airport. $75 is SO worth it for the peace of mind, knowing that someone will make sure she gets to her gate okay. My pass to accompany her to the gate she left from at the Huntsville airport didn’t cost me anything. Didn’t you write recently about an Experience you had with Pizza Hut’s buffalo chicken pizza? Cause I think I had that same experience. What the hell is in that pizza? No, it was Alicia and Nance who tried the buffalo chicken pizza and suffered from it. I did say that I still wanted to give it a try, but I’ve since changed my mind. The funny thing is that when we were in Gatlinburg, Fred wanted to order the buffalo chicken pizza, and I wouldn’t let him. Because who wants to be sick while they’re on vacation? I have a question as well: I’m not a native English speaker, so I am wondering what the word “Spud” means? “Spud” is slang for “potato.” Heh. So, you say that Spanky is your ‘special’ kitty… what makes him not the brightest bulb in the pack? I must’ve missed it somewhere! Everything scares him. EVERYTHING. I’ve watched him see a spot of sunlight on the floor and get freaked out by it. Also, when he sits and stares into space, you can just tell there’s nothing going on in there. Of course, we love him to death, dumb or not. Ok….why couldn’t you drop Fred’s ass (and his fucked up leg!) off at the door of the auditorium? I could have dropped Fred’s ass off at the door of the auditorium the night of the spud’s (last!) band concert, but it really is quite a hike even from the door, so I decided to be the wonderful person I am and give up the fight. Now I have something to hold over his head for all of eternity. When I’m 93 and he won’t go get me a Diet Coke, I can say “Okay, that’s fine. EVEN THOUGH I didn’t make you go to the spud’s last band concert, you bastard!” * * * I went to the pet store to feed the cats yesterday. After I had pressed the buzzer so that someone would come and let me in, I looked to the side of the door and realized that there was a carrier sitting there. And then a cat peeked out at me. When one of the guys who works at the store came to let me in, I pointed and said “Did you know there’s a carrier over there with a cat in it?” He hadn’t known, of course, and went out to pick it up. Later, he came and got the number to the cat shelter from me. I expect once the cat is medically cleared and neutered or spayed, I’ll be seeing it at the pet store. Poor kitty, it looked absolutely terrified. I’d go on a rant here about people who are assholes and abandon their pets, but I’m actually kind of glad that whoever left the cat there did that instead of taking it out into the country and dumping it alongside the road. But still. Poor kitty! Pet store pictures are here. * * * “I am NOT stupid. YOU’RE stupid. Bitch. Stop calling me stupid, or I’ll come steal your breath while you’re sleeping…”]]>