How Do You Spoon?

As the person who, for the last 20+ years has been in charge of my mother's computer fixing/helping/education, I take issue with this image that I'm sure we've all come across on Facebook:

It seems to make a good point, but  I taught my mom to copy and paste for the first time in about 1995. She's still not sure about it when she has to go from one document to another to paste. She freaks out when she has to attach a file or download a file. I guarantee you, if after 20 years, I still wasn't sure on the use of a spoon and I called her from college yelling at her that she broke my spoon when I was the one who just wasn't good with a spoon, she would yell at me just as much as I yell at her when I ask her for the 600th time, "WHERE DID YOU SAVE THE FILE!? NO! IN NOTEPAD ISN'T AN ANSWER! YOU CAN'T SAVE FILES IN A PROGRAM! THEY GO IN A FOLDER! WHERE IS THE FILE!!!!???"

For bonus content!

The Real Reason Cats Knock Cups Over

I am sure you have all seen the hilarious sign that reads: "Please don't leave drinks unattended [the cat's an asshole]!"

What if cats aren't the assholes?

Cheeseblarg on Global Warming

I was rage forced to do this comic because of Facebook posts by an old schoolmate who repeatedly posts weather reports about polar vortexes and snow and then adds the oh-so-witty "Global warming strikes again!" or something similar that reads as, "Yada, yada, I don't understand science!"

It's okay if you don't understand science. It is not a crime... and neither is talking about science when you don't understand it, by poorly quoting other people who don't understand it either... unfortunately.

It would be super awesome if people didn't talk about science when they don't understand it, for the sanity of people who do and so as to not infect more people with idiot ideas, but alas, there are scientific studies that say that when people are really bad at things, they are unaware of the deficiency (which is why I always thought I did really awesome on all of my algebra tests in college when I failed most of them*), so my request is really likely to fall of deaf ears through the fault of our silly monkey brains.

*-I was a late algebra bloomer - after I started substitute teaching, I used the teacher's guide and worked backwards until I finally understood it all.

Pintester Movement: That's Not A Moon!

It is also not a dented flamboyant golf ball though it looks like one of those, too.

So, I am back, thanks to Sonja Foust's Pintester Movement again. She really does a good job of getting me to post once a month. This time, we're all making ornaments (serious, go look at all the awesome ornaments in the links!), and I wanted to try out this awesome Star Wars Disco Death Star that I found on Pinterest.

This picture is not mine. This is what it should look like. This is awesome. 

It should be noted that there are no square sequins in all of Montana... in fact, there are hardly any sequins at all. I guess when you live in a place where eagles pick up baby deer and fling them at power lines, sequining shit is not a priority. After checking every other store in town, I finally found round silver sequins and since we are pintesting here, I figured, 'fuck it, that will do.'

Also, I don't know if this phenomenon is widespread but it seems that Montana thinks that Styrofoam is made out of unicorn spleens, because they are seriously pricey here. This tutorial was all, "under 5 dollars" and I was all, "bullshit!" So my ball is much smaller than their ball because I am cheap, and I wasn't paying over 6 dollars for a stupid ball, though I suppose it will never decompose, so maybe I'm supposed to be paying for longevity.

Anyway, once I started the project, it was pretty easy. Took me about 2 hours to finish it while not really paying attention to a football game on TV. I was kinda of tired of being covered in glue by the end of it, and of repositioning sequins that my giant clumsy fingers knocked out of place.

It doesn't look like the Death Star really because round sequins are built to reflect light everywhere, so it just looks like a gaudy silver ball really, but I am sure that if I tell everyone what it is when I put it in my tree, they will be able to see it... if they squint.

And, I don't really like sucking at things so I made another ornament to show that I really am good at things when I am given the correct supplies. This one is from the following tutorial I found on Pinterest, which I used as an inspiration, again, because I couldn't find exactly what it called for and these bitchin' hollow glass globes were on sale at our fancy craft store.

Here are their versions:

source

And here is mine:

TOO SOON!

I needle felted the landscape from polyfill fiber and various colored wool, and the T-Rex came from our local animal feed/farming store. I have no idea why they have tiny dinosaurs in the farm store, but I am glad they do, because, while it is insensitive to dinosaurs, apocalyptic dino deaths are one of my favorite art subjects. Should I find the appropriate medium before Christmas, I may even glaze the back of this with reds and orange to really drive home the "imminent death" thing.

As a reminder, if you are sending Cheeseblarg's tree an ornament (and thank you to those who already have, they are all AWESOME), they should be to me by the 21st (if it is a day or two late, I'll cope, but I do need time to get them photographed and coded). I can't wait to see all the ones that are on their way! You guys are super awesome!

And while I am showing off my needle felting, though it has absolutely nothing to do with the Pintester Movement, this is still my blarg, and I can show off why I haven't been entertaining y'all as frequently. Part of it is getting Hanukkah presents ready for you guys (Starting Thanksgiving night, there will be daily posts coming for eight whole days), but mostly, I have been stabbing things and making money doing so to replace my husband's lost unemployment.

If you are interested in buying a felt from me, I have the white and black Dalek on Etsy (the rest have been sold), and I am happy to make almost any felt sculpture that someone is willing to pay for (unless it is a human baby) as long as you are willing to wait a week or so for it to be done. Remember, these are not sewn pieces, they are all stabbed and are solid (but soft). They are art pieces, and not really suitable for playing with, because tugging can pull the wool out of place. If you're interested, I can only manage about 10 of them before it becomes too late for gifting for Christmas, so feel free to contact me at cheeseblarg at live dot com so I can get a piece done for you. Fair warning, I am working at 15 bucks an hour on these, and most take me several hours to do, but as you can see, they are pretty damned awesome.

Anti-Anti-E

I was asked the other day if I have a Tumblr, and I must say, I really enjoy all of the things that Tumblr has to offer--  like GIFs of Evan Peters naked or licking peanut butter off of a blow up doll. Or for blogs like my friend's "Fuck Yeah, Goatse" page (again, if you don't know what Goatse is, don't just go wantonly googling that shit, you need to be prepared for it*),

 or Tard the Grumpy Cat's blog  (holy shit, I cannot get enough of that cat!), 

or Chandler Bing Dances on Things,   

(source, there ^)

but I don't have a Tumblr account, and I won't because I won't support companies that discriminate against the letter E.



I feel the same way about Flickr, but Yahoo went ahead and set up an account with them without my permission since once upon a time, I had a Yahoo email account and I verge on being an internet hoarder, so I never unregister for sites that sign me up (seriously, still get Netlog notifications... never signed up for it, but I am there, apparently).

I want to know what exactly they have against Es.

Yes, I know the E isn't needed. We don't REALLY pronounce it. But you don't pronounce both of the Es in my name but you don't see me spelling my name Jod.

So I guess what I'm saying, is that unless someone else signs me up for Tumblr, I won't have an account there where I will be forced to waste hours of my life looking at and reblarging pictures of cats and porny gifs.



*Also on the topic of Goatse, after watching this commercial (below) over and over again, I think that Goatse would be an excellent security password picture for a Windows 8 machine.

also, as a reminder, Hanukkah starts in 4 days, and as always, there will be 8 crazy days of me posting horrible/amusing things for you guys! So be there, or one of them will be Goatse.

The Tragic Tale of Carlos and Mari

(there is a video here, RSS subscribers)

I used to have two Siberian dwarf hamsters just like these when I was in college. My boyfriend and I bought them together. It was his idea and when we broke up, not long after we bought them, I retained custody of them. They were named Carlos and Mari. They were both very cute but they met bad ends.

Carlos died during winter break while being watched by my sister, and is buried behind the dorm I lived in at the time. I paid my friend to clean out the cage and bury him for me, because he had been dead a while apparently, before I had been made aware of his demise. We used a spork to mark his grave.

Mari had a stroke sometime the next semester, I think (though I am not veterinarian), and I released her into the wild to enjoy her freedom as an act of kindness, and also because seeing her dragging herself around her cage in circles made me sad. My family likes to tell me that she was probably promptly eaten by a hawk the moment I set her free.

This is part and parcel to why I don't own pets anymore and why I don't think having children is a good idea for me either.

To My Doctor...

So... okay, my colonoscopy was awful, and it was an anomaly*, I know, because I have a super liver (still) that filters medications out of my body at high speeds, so uh, I may have traumatized some people.

They also might not have taken me completely seriously when I told them that I ALWAYS wake up during the procedure. So, I woke up during the procedure...

And I feel it necessary, now, to make this card for my doctor because I am going to have to continue to see him, and I am fairly embarrassed that in my semi-unconscious state I couldn't stop myself my screaming like a crazed weasel and crying hysterically, like someone had just been cutting chunks out of my intestines while filling them full of air.

All I really know about my doctor is that he REALLY likes working out. And he seems not to be a serial killer, so I can safely assume that he likes kittens and rainbows and unicorns and mini Godzilla.

So, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.



*Please don't let this scare you off from getting life-saving diagnostic tests. Most people don't have this problem, and a few minutes of screaming while they run off to get you more meds is worth making sure your guts are okay, believe me. This is my fifth and it won't be my last, no matter how many times it traumatizes me.

An Apology 'Neath the Green Bay Tree

A letter to my nephew in the future:

Dear Booger,

I just want to tell you that I love you before I begin explaining.

I am writing this because some day, I am sure you will see the movie Gummo, and when you are done watching that movie, I'm fairly certain that you are going to hook your brain into the computer and google "WTF IS WRONG WITH MY AUNT!?"

And the answer is, "I don't really know. I guess I wasn't thinking about the fact that you would see that movie some day and it had the potential to implode your childhood."  Which probably won't help in your need for therapy, but it is my honest answer.

See, there IS something wrong with your uncle, as he really likes the movie Gummo and played it often before you were born. I tried to avoid watching it and would leave the room or retreat to the computer when he turned it on, but it starts with THAT DAMNED SONG, and that damned song is an awesome song... and somehow, when I first held you shortly after you were born, I thought, "I love my little rooster and my rooster loves me!" and so I sang it to you, and it became our song, and it wasn't until I heard you singing under your breath the other day, "Cock a doodle do, doodle doo, doodle doo," that I thought, 'OH CRAP, SOME DAY HE'S GONNA WATCH THAT FREAKING MOVIE! I AM THE WORST AUNT EVER!'

So, I am sorry. I could lie and say I didn't get the song I have sung to you all your life from a really upsetting awful movie, but clearly that is not true. I just thought it was better than Old McDonald and it has yodeling. Yodeling is good. Gummo, not so much, unless you are into that sort of HORRIFIC disturbing thing (which you are allowed to be if you are... I still love your uncle, you'll notice).

All my love,
Your Aunt J

The song in question. Research the movie on your own if you've been lucky enough not to see it. =P

Queen of the Nerds

I'm supposed to be writing a Secret Cupid Valentine Exchange Round-up because it went really well, but unfortunately, I received The Big Bang Theory on DVD for Valentine's day from my friend Vez, so I have no desire to do anything but fall in love with fictional nerds who will also ignore me and, on occasion, make me cry.  It is like single life all over again.
I must say, I'm proud of myself for understanding so many of the jokes (and not just laughing because they said something I didn't understand at all, which is what I imagine a lot of people do). I am disappointed that they referred to giving electric shocks as "negative reinforcement" when talking about operant conditioning. Any psychology nerds out there will understand my ire. Everyone else will just continue to call me nit-picky and say that I am too serious, but what the hell is the purpose of giving things names if we are just going to call psychological techniques anything we damned well please?!  Also, unrelated to the show, don't get me started on schizophrenia being stupidly and incorrectly mistaken for multiple personality disorders in popular culture. Seriously, cringe-worthy.



So, I'm going to do the round up tomorrow, most likely, and in the meantime, back to my imaginary nerd harem.

It was taking way too long, attempting to draw convincing comic versions of the cast. I don't have the patience while I am jonesing to watch more.

Skynet 1.0: Abuse of the RedBox

After watching my mother try to rape the Redbox Kiosk with the movies she was returning for me, because I have my nephew's cold and didn't want to get out of the car in subfreezing temperatures, I am fairly certain that this sort of thing  is the beginning of the Skynet Incident.
They didn't show it in the Terminator movies, but clearly, the repeated abuses of these machines are going to lead to a revolt where machines start attacking and murdering humans.

At the very least, RedBox should set up hidden cameras to record and broadcast, for our amusement, the various ways in which people are unable to figure out the operations of their machines.

Laughter is the best medicine cause it is free.

I'd like to talk about a major issue in my life right now. It's a downer, so prepare yourself.
So, I'm poor. I know I have said that before but when I say I am poor, I mean we survived last year on less than $6,000 income. Like super poor.
And one would think, "Oh, you're taken care of by the state," but nope.  If you don't have kids and you are poor, you can pretty much go fuck yourself... which apparently I have done by becoming ill while poor.
I have been chronically ill for about 8 years now. Longer really, but it has been steady for 8 years. I used to have a job, and I worked, and I loved working. I would even work for free, if they didn't have money to pay me because working was awesome and fun. But then I got sick and I had to go home from work all the time and had to ask people to cover for me, and my job was such that I couldn't just leave when I needed to... I had to wait for someone else to be there before I could go, so it sucked, and it made many people mad at me, and at the end of the year, I got let go. And the next year, my contract wasn't renewed. And then my day to day jobs stopped because I was making errors of judgment from being on pain pills that I was required to take... and then 4 years ago, I stopped working. I was making it through my days by refusing to eat or drink, because those things made me sick and made me have to go home, and working is hard when you have no food in you.  I know models do it, but they just have to stand there and look pretty... they don't have to keep other people safe and alive and stuff.
And the point of telling you that I am poor is to tell you I have no insurance. I have no medicaid, I ain't got shit... except a bunch of chronic illnesses that like to make me miserable and a moral code that tells me it is wrong to run up bills and not pay them.
Beyond that, I have several diseases, all autoimmune, that don't have cures.  My experiences with doctors has been this:

I am certain there is something actually wrong with me that hasn't been diagnosed, as far as my chronic pain and lessening muscle control, but I think I come off to doctors as a hypochondriac.  I say this because I complain and I complain and they just look at me cross-armed and say "Mmhm." and nothing gets done.
I had one doctor lady stand across from me, when I was pleading that she do some test, test for MS maybe because it runs in my family and I have almost all the symptoms of it, and I was being told "we don't know what is wrong so we aren't going to do any more tests on you," please test me, for the love of God, test me,  and she crossed her arms and her legs and said in a nasty accusatory tone, "Do you WANT to have MS?"
And you know, yeah, I would rather be diagnosed with MS when I have most of the symptoms of it anyway, and actually fucking be treated, than to sit in a room with shitty doctors who treat you like crap because you have problems that they don't have a name for. You get screwed because your symptoms are too hard to figure out and testing costs money and you don't have money, and people subsequently think you are making it all up, but you are in pain all the time and you know this is real.
So, I have tried to get help but all of the agencies say that there isn't enough documentation to prove that I am sick enough. Because when I am feeling my worst, I don't want to go sit in a doctor's office, or ER, for hours to tell them "I feel like shit, I am going to take some narcotics and lie in bed for the rest of the day. " Or "I feel like shit, I am puking and crapping and I can't stop." yelled through the bathroom door of the doctor's office because I don't relish the idea of wearing a diaper out in public. Or "Hi, my intestines are bleeding again. I have ulcers on every mucus membrane of my body. I can't sit up because it hurts so bad. You can't do anything about it because taking steroids all the time is going to kill me... so hi, bye, thanks for writing it down after I sat here miserable for 5 hours. That will be $500 I don't have. Please, make sure you call me every day to stress me about it which will make all of this flare worse."
And because it has been suggested that they can't do anything for me, it seems an exercise in futility to mention it. I don't WANT to spend every second thinking about being sick. I want to ignore it and do whatever I can to bring myself joy (like writing this blarg here, that I love, and interacting with all of you), but in order to get any help from any agency that is in place (disability, voc. rehab, etc), it seems that you can't have a moment of joy in your life, which is about how I feel right now. So, please, I can have help nao?

Why you should leave aversion therapy to the professionals.

I hate black pepper. You know, the seasoning, that everyone in the world uses, that makes people sneeze? Yes. I hate it. And I hate it, I realized a few years ago, because I was conditioned, as a child, to hate it.

Here is a pro-tip for you: If you decide that it is a good idea to do DIY aversion therapy on your grandchild to get her to stop sucking her thumb by mixing something bad tasting into nail polish that is placed on her thumbnail, don't use a common spice that will be in her food for the rest of her life. Unless you want to be a dick, in which case, go for it.

November Sticker Sale- Tom Llama

These stickers are only available during November. It is a limited edition sticker with only 25 available for sale. With shipping, each sticker is $2 USD. You can choose to send me more if you like, in case you are feeling generous, but of course, you don't have to.

 Each hand cut sticker is around 3.6  inches high by about 2.6 inches wide and has a matte finish. Will be sent first class mail by USPS.  For those outside the US, please choose the outside US option for the first sticker, and $2 for any additional sticker in the same order.

No longer for sale, sorry!

(for those viewing by RSS, there is a button to purchase the sticker on the actual post)








Why am I selling stickers?


Because people buy them and collecting things is fun.
Also, my husband lost his job in May. He still doesn't have a job. And, stickers are awesome, are within my skill set, and I like being able to not be stressed constantly about money.


Donation? Why would I give you a donation? Stop panhandling!


 The "donation" is just an option to pay a little bit extra, if one feels like it- for example, if you feel you have gotten extra value out of me drawing for you and making you laugh on a somewhat regular basis. One of my favorite musicians offers her albums for "60 cents or more," online and I wanted to do something similar, but I couldn't do it the way I wanted to because I needed to keep track of how many items sell, since the stickers are limited edition. No one is obligated to send me more, but it is there if you want to. 
And stop being mean, I am not panhandling... panhandling implies that I smell bad and have a sign. I have no sign.

New York: Secrets Revealed

I've learned from my trip here that all of the toilet paper in New York City is made from sadness and crushed dreams.

Really, I think it may be the reason for the stereotypical bad attitude associated with New Yorkers. They seem like great people, their nether regions are just horribly chaffed.


p.s.

The Craptacular Day

I have several obnoxious and rather icky chronic diseases, which is why I am now trying to make a living by writing funny stories and drawing silly pictures on the internet instead of working "a real job."  Sometimes these diseases all gang up on me and make me not want to do a damned thing, which includes entertaining other people.  Sometimes, I force myself to do it anyway, and sometimes, those posts aren't very amusing because my heart is not behind them.  Today is one of those days.  Not that I mean my heart isn't behind this post, I just mean, I feel like crap and this probably won't be very entertaining.  And I don't mean, my darling readers, that you should to try to guess where I wasn't feeling very well in my blarg archive and let me know, because it might just insult me when you guess that a post I loved and thought was my best was crap but you know it's only because I was sick and you were just trying to be supportive by pointing out that I am not funny, and nevermind, let's just pretend like all of my posts are fried gold.

Anyway, when I am having one of these days, distraction is the best remedy for wanting to dig a hole and never come out. It helps me not to feel so guilty for not wanting to do my job, and for not getting out of bed, except to go to the bathroom 7500 times (this may be a slight exaggeration, which is clearly a symptom of my illnesses too, both the exaggerating and the bathroom trips, that is).

These are the things that are serving as my distractors today:

MTV's Teen Wolf
Yes, I know this is a show made for teens and I am roughly twice the age of the target demographic, but as a fan of the original Teen Wolf movie, I had to check it out, and since I feel about 14 years old most of the time, it appealed to me.  It is absolutely nothing like the movie though there are nods here and there, and it is ridiculously melodramatic, and I freaking love it. There. I said it. I'm a dork. Plus, Stiles... duh.

Looking up candies
I could have sworn that Whatchamacallits had marshmallow in them once upon a time. Apparently, I am completely wrong.  But there was some candy bar when I was a kid in the early 80s that had a wafer and chocolate cream and peanuts and marshmallow in the center, and damn it, I want to know what it was, because in my nostalgic memory, that was THE most delicious confection in the entire world.

And may I say, as a collector of Pez, I am really disappointed that there are no official Harry Potter Pez Dispensers.

Movie Clips on Youtube
UHF is one of my favorite movies from my youth. Weird Al is a comic genius. This clip never fails to amuse me.

By the way, "twinkie wiener sandwiches?" They're terrible. Please believe me.  It is a horrible waste of a twinkie, a hot dog, and easy cheese.

Reading

    

I'm currently reading an actual copy of  "City of Glass- The Mortal Instruments" by Cassandra Clare and "Spiderwork- A Post Apocapunk Fantasy Romance" by LK Rigel on my kindle. I don't usually like to be engaged with two books at the same time because it feels like I am cheating on one with the other, but I was reading "Spiderwork," which is the sequel to "Space Junque," both of which I downloaded for free from Amazon and am enjoying very much, when my friend loaned me the final book of the Mortal Instrument series (I mean, I think it is the final book... I guess I could research that, but I am afraid of spoilers, so I'll just not care instead) and since it is borrowed, I have set aside the other. But reading, of course, has the added benefit of making me sleep which helps with healing so I can write actual posts and not be a grumpy asshole.

Checking my emails a billion times and crying.
(I have no emails, hence the crying)
(except my mom, she writes)
(hi mom)

And that's about it.  Have anything you think might amuse me? Wanna tell me what you do to make yourself feel better when you're having a craptacular day?  I would love the distraction.

Travel Fantasy: Saint Louis, Missouri

I'm absolutely in love with the St. Louis Arch.  Of course, like most of the objects of my affection, it is totally uninterested in me, and pretty much just tolerates me standing near it and sighing, because it enjoys the attention and doesn't mind stringing people along. But as much as I love it, standing under it, looking up, I feeling slightly nauseated and anxious because it is just SO BIG, which I suppose kinda works with the crush metaphor but also sounds pretty wrong in that context.
Fine, fine, I am more like a stalker of the St. Louis Arch, because I drive past it and stare longingly at it every time I have the opportunity, and I am afraid to get up in it, and it makes me anxious, but I love it so. I really do.

The Saint Louis Arch (at my last drive-by with photobombing llama, of course.)


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is my entry into the NileGuide Travel Fantasy Contest... and it is all completely true!

If you thought I was a freak before...

I, now, am both afraid of telling you guys things about me that are "controversial," since I lost at least 6 followers for revealing that I don't want to procreate, and I, alternatively, want to tell you things to weed out the people who just can't read things by people who _______________ (fill in the blank).  That being said, I have a terrible secret to share with you all, and if you have to go, I understand (actually, no I don't.... but, whatever) so here goes:

I... I don't drink coffee OR alcohol.

I know, start throwing crap at me now, but not literally, that is super gross.

For the record, I like coffee, it tastes hella delicious, mostly-- when heavily diluted with cream and sugar, but drinking it makes my stomach and/or intestines wage war on me.
Alcohol, on the other hand, does exactly the same thing to me but also makes me feel like I am completely drunk from the moment it touches my lips and though I have only been actually drunk one time in my life for real, a time when I threatened my friend with a knife while doing dishes because he tried to convince me to be logical when I was having a total emotional freakout, which is what brought on the drinking of Chambord and cream in the first place (see, I can't even make logical decisions of what kinds of alcohol to drink), I decided I probably didn't need to test my ability to act not completely insane while drunk, ever again.

I found out, recently, that both aversions are actually the result of a food intolerance, but that doesn't make up for the fact that not drinking coffee or alcohol really cuts down on your ability to socialize.  Nobody asks people out to go get a glass of bacon (and if they did, I assure you I would be totally up for it) it's always chatting over a cup of joe, or a glass of wine, or a fifth of whiskey.

But really, if  you're still reading this and haven't decided that I am so untrustworthy that you can't bear to ever read my blarg again, ask me to hang out and chat over a hot cup of bacon. I'm totally there.

Offer for social engagements of bacon consumption are subject to terms and conditions. May not be available in your area. Candy can be substituted for bacon in some situations.

The Woodsman

Sorry for my sporadic absences, but I'm fairly certain there is a crazed woodsman with a hatchet in my brain cavity.  He looks a lot like "Texx with two Xs" in my mind.  My nephew warned me about him after watching Scooby-Doo, but I told him I was impervious to woodsmen... which seems to be untrue.

I actually have a long history of migraine headaches, and have tried many things to get rid of them.  The first prophylactic intervention was a blood pressure medicine, but seeing as I have low blood pressure usually, it basically made me sleep 18 hours a day... after which I usually woke up with a dull aching in my head.

And then there was the Topomax, which was one of the worst experiences of my life.  I trogged through days of crying hysterically at insanely stupid things (like not being able to find my keys in my purse and then realizing that my husband had used them and I would have to walk back inside to get them), not being able to drive at all because I was too spaced out, scaring the hell out of my family with aggressive behavior that I don't recall at all, and then the proverbial straw on the back of a overloaded camel, forgetting how to walk.

I guess you would call it forgetting how to walk...  I came out of the bathroom walking just fine, I abruptly stopped and then I was standing there, a few steps from the end of my bed, trying to will myself to walk forward and lay down and my brain's answers was, "Nope, I don't believe we will be doing that."  So I stood there, swaying, while my husband tried to figure out what the hell I was doing, and had a silent conversation in my head trying to convince my brain to let me move, that sounded like this:

Me: Uh, I'd like to lay down now...
Brain: Nope...
Me: No really, let's lay down.
Brain: Yeah... no.
Me: But this is really easy, just go forward, bend at knees, plop onto bed?
Brain: Yeah... not gonna happen.
Me (thinking): I could just flop onto the bed and be done with this foolishness...
Brain: You know I can hear you, right...?

Somehow I indicated to my husband what was happening and he came and helped me lower myself onto the bed.  At that moment, an executive decision was made that being able to move at will was really important to me and I would no longer be taking devil drugs to prevent migraines.

At the most now, I lose several hours a day to sitting in dark rooms and crying that my brain is being hacked apart while I wait for my medications to kick in.  I find though, that it is a far sight better than being completely useless 24 hours a day from drugs that are designed to stop me from having a few hours of pain.



Note: My doctor is convinced it is just migraines though I've had no MRIs or CAT scans w/ contrast (because I have no insurance so they avoid those expensive tests, though I think I'll be forcing the issue next month when I see her)... but it is not vision problems, or blood pressure. And it is not caffeine or lack of caffeine, or diet, or exercise... changing all of those things makes no difference at all... my brain is just an asshole... or there is a crazed woodsman in there.

How I learned to wear green on St. Patrick's day.

My mom convinced me, one year in high school, that orange was just as suitable for St. Patrick's Day as green was.  Something about catholic and protestant Irish...

Not unsurprisingly, it takes more time to explain this than it takes someone to pinch you.

It occurs to me now that I may have just pissed my mom off shortly before this (I was a teenager, par for the course, ya know), and it may have been a revenge plot of some sort.

The Bête Noire

I just started watching all of the episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" recently.  In one of the episodes that I watched within the past few days, it mentioned "Field of Dreams." Since I've never watched the movie (don't dig on Kevin Costner or baseball... or dramas), and since it was on today, and since HIMYM was talking about how awesome it was, I figured I'd watch it... and then, I quickly lost interest and took a nap because on to the screen walked my film foe. It was like, "Four strikes, you're out, movie!" (See, told you I don't like baseball...)
Now, I am sure that Ray Liotta is a lovely man.  I've never heard a single bad thing about him that I can recall. I understand that actors are not the parts they play, but gha, I hate Ray Liotta*.
Really, the problem is, he is apparently too good of an actor... and the first movie I saw him in was Unlawful Entry. I just can't get over it. Especially since he is a character actor and plays the same icky bad guy all the time.  Even when he is not playing the bad guy... he is still the bad guy to me.

 Kinda like Sam Rockwell and Craig T. Nelson (Poltergeist 2 ruined him for me).
*shudder*

* In movies, I hate him in movies. It's not like I would spit on him and shove him into traffic if I ever met him.  It is only on the screen that I never ever ever ever EVER want to see him. Except in Identity, that movie is AWESOME!