Gosh, that hurts real, real bad

Two weeks ago I spent the weekend with a friend and her two young daughters. I shared a bed with the nine year old who spent most of the two nights coughing and blowing her deadly germs in my face. Two days later, I came down with a hell of a cold. We're talking sore throat, achy body, temp, sneezing, runny nose, all the good stuff. Summer colds are killers.

I stayed home from work (my third sick day in eight years) and blew my nose, moaned, and slept. Since then I've had a snotty nose, some sneezing and general annoyances that come with the lingering cold. Nothing I can't handle.

This morning I woke up dying from a sore throat. Nothing else but the throat was killing me. I came into work thinking it would fade after taking some ibuprofen. Ha. At 10 am I went to the doctor for a throat culture. I was sure I had strep. I had to have strep. This sore throat was killing me. The rapid came back negative and the doctor is assuming it's a sinus infection. I get my antibiotics made for a horse and go back to work (dang!).

It's now 1:45 in the afternoon and my throat hurts so badly that I want to stuff a paper towel in my mouth to muffle the screams when I swallow. The towel would also allow me to NOT swallow. I'll have to find some Bounty the quicker picker upper.

Hazy, Hot and Humid

The three H's.

I love, love, love Minnesota. I hate, hate, hate hazy, hot and humid.

Humidity has got to be the worst invention ever. Throw in tempuratures in the 90's and you're just asking for crabby all around.

I'll take 20 below windchill, cold stiff jeans, bundling up just to go get the mail, and eyeballs that freeze from the fridged air over sticky, icky, humidity.

How gross to step outside and instantly feel your clothes stick to you, the sweat pooling in places you didn't know sweat could pool, energy zapped because it takes all your lung capacity to take a full breath and within minutes your hair is a frizzy mess.

Yuck.

Let the blogging begin

Attempt number three at a blog.
I deleted my previous blog due to the lack of subject matter. Basically it was all blah, blah, blah.
I can guarantee this will not be updated daily and I can guarantee this will be updated several times a day. Ya know?
So, until then....

It's been a long ass time!

When was my last blog? A million years ago at least. Maybe I've been censoring my thoughts or perhaps I haven't had any. Who cares, I yam what I yam. I'm Popeye the Sailorman.

Lawd, I have been with out my meds for nine days (pharmacy fuck-up). I'm completely outta control. It's a horrible feeling for someone who has complete (or likes to think that way) control of herself.

I can feel every nerve in quick pulses... not enough to fly high and enjoy it though. I'm a terrible, terrible bitch. If I really cared (which I don't because I'm in terrible, terrible bitch mode) I'd have stayed home this week.

My thoughts aren't exactly in the common sense category. I've contacted two people I maybe shouldn't have for emotional reasons. I'll have to clean that mess later... once I'm medicated again. This could be interesting. At least it will bring something to my currently mundane life.

But really, right now I'm just in marvel at the human body. What's going on in there?

It used to be Buddy Holly or the Beach Boys

I've officially become shockingly aware that I am not as young as I used to be. My heart tells me I am still 25... hell, sometimes I'm still 16. I don't feel like I've aged really. Sure there are signs... fine lines around my eyes, stiffness, weight gain that used to not be an issue but they're happening so subtlety that it's hard to see.

So, the slap in the face came just minutes ago. That slap that said "Hey! You're friggin' old! You should be using a walker and be fed pureed pork chops by that nice lady who works where you live. That place where you sit in a diaper and stare down the hallway at all the whack jobs you have to face everyday. Yes, dear, you're officially an old fart".


Madonna's "Borderline" just played on the oldies station.

Bah Humbug rant

I love Christmas, don't get me wrong, but there are some serious dip shits that come out of the wood work this time of year.

Yeah, the malls are busier and it's next to impossible to get anywhere because of all the traffic. But when you add all the people who don't normally leave their houses to the road, it causes more problems. They don't know how to merge, signal or accelerate. They don't know how to park or just move out of the (my) way.

The temporary sales people (or maybe they're permanent and just stupid) aren't helping with anything. C'mon! There is no reason it should take 3 minutes to ring up a pair of slippers for that lady while there is a line of 12 people staring at you!

It's the Christmas season and Bed, Bath and Body doesn't have jack on sale except the Yankee Candle scent of the month.

I want to scream and shriek "MY NOSE! IT'S BURING!!!" every time I go into Michael's and have to pass within 50 feet of those damn cinnamon scented pine cones.

How can there be absolutely no, none, nada, zilch silver switch plates left at Menards? And what is that funky smell when you walk in the door????


Ahhh, Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year!

Free to be me

Be yourself. Who? Me? Who am I? I wear so many hats. I'm sweet yet I am such a bitch. I care so deeply and yet I couldn't care less. I'm funny but hey, this is serious stuff now. What did you say?! You've made me blush… say it again. I'm intelligent but goodness, what a ditz. Did I really just say or do that? I'm 30-something. No, 12 or 15. Wait, I'm four. Maybe I'm 20 again. Oh well, that's life; screw it. I am who I am. I'm all of the above.