Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Supposedly putting these words in your weblog will make the gummint really interested in you. See http://www.attrition.org/attrition/keywords.html.

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Just, wow. Gov. Ryan Clears Illinois’ Death Row.

Quasi-ranting follows – press “more” if you’re interested, skip if you’re not.
(more…)

Michael Crichton’s new book, Prey, is singularly awful. I feel like sending Crichton a bill for the time I wasted reading this chunk of crap. Don’t bother. Go read something worthwhile, like House of Leaves.

To the woman who laughed as her sick daughter fed boogers to my well daughter last week:

There is a word that I refuse to say out loud. You probably know the one. It’s an ugly word. It’s the word that comes to mind every time I think of you.

I hope that someday a sick kid will feed infected snot to your well kid over the holiday season. I hope it’s when you get a raging breast infection in a post op area and you’re so sick and exhausted that you can hardly drag your ass out of bed long enough to change your dressing. I hope your kid gives it to another of your kids so you have two of them sick. I hope they have simultaneous screaming fits that last for an hour or more at a time. I hope it’s when you’re PMSing.

Letting your sick kid infect another child isn’t cute, you bitch. Perhaps you could dig your empty, vapid head out of your ass long enough to realize that this world doesn’t revolve around you or your incredibly ugly child.

Sincerely,
Addlepated

We just got back from visiting hub’s parents in Houston. Murphy was a sage. Here’s what happened:

– the center stone came loose in my engagement ring. Again.
– My face broke out into zithood, the likes of which has been unseen since high school.
– My hair conditioner was open in my kit and splooged all over my stuff.
– I used the bleaching trays on my teeth for 8 hours instead of the recommended 2, and my teeth feel like bloody nubs.
– I don’t sleep well there to begin with, mainly because they have radically different ideas about comfortable ambient temperature than I do, but to add insult to injury there was a cat in heat outside that sounded like a person being stabbed repeatedly, as well as kids setting off fireworks at all hours and they sounded like gunshots.
– My laptop’s trying to die on me.
– The game I was going to betatest over the weekend wouldn’t install properly.
– I spent a solid 8 hours trying to get my Treo 300 to function as a modem for my laptop, thinking the whole time that it didn’t work when in actuality it did.
– There’s a part of my scar that’s opening back up and it hurts.
– My Treo had to be hard reset before I could sync it with any local computer, meaning I lost all the books and games I had so specially loaded for my trip.
– I bent a fingernail backwards and broke it off.
– The kids have been totally wild and wooly and out of control.
– When we got home I discovered that a friend had sent us a case of Cornish game hens, packed in dry ice, that sat on our doorstep for at least overnight.

Some days it’s not worth it to gnaw through the leather straps.

And to top it off I have to try to find a damned punchbowl somewhere in town on December 23 because I realized that someone’s maid broke mine last year on Christmas Day while washing it, and nobody’s replaced it for me. Yay! I get to spend another $100!

Yesterday when I went to my Wound Care appointment, I came out to the car to discover that some nimrod had parked crooked in his parking place, leaving about 5 inches between his car and my driver’s side door. My car was full of stuff, front seat, back seat, and cargo area, from having moved a bunch of stuff over from the old house, so it was a real pain in the ass to climb in from the passenger side.

I got mad.

I left a note – it said:

“Other people have to park here too. How do you expect me to open my door when you leave 5 inches of space between us? Have some consideration. Or take parking lessons.”

The thing is, I couldn’t find a proper piece of paper, so I had to write it on the back of a receipt. I tore off all identifying information first.

The receipt was from Academy, for about 10 boxes of .223 full metal jacket ammo.

I bet he starts parking nicer.

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been blogging quite sporadically lately. This has prompted emails, conversations, and harranguing instant messenger conversations. You know who you are. You see, the thing is that I feel like every time I’ve posted lately, I’ve been whining about something. I don’t want to bore anyone with my crap. Like just today, my plantar fasciitis really flared up and then over the course of the day my left hip has gone from mildly uncomfortable to making-me-cry-tears-of-pain-when-trying-to-walk. Who knows why. I’m falling apart! Pretty soon I’m going to be in little pieces scattered all over the room! Stop me before I use another exclamation point!

Ha, too late.

So in the interest of non-whininess and updatingness, I offer up these links for your personal enjoyment:

It’s Paint By Numbers without the mess!
Vinyl, tape, CD… vinyl? I’m getting dizzy.
Babs froths at the mouth again, claims Wellstone was offed. Here, Babs, have a Valium and read this wonderful quote by not-Shakespeare.
If the Jackass movie is making you barf, you’re not alone. And if it makes you lose control in other ways, you’re covered.

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I went out to the car and saw a badly mutilated squirrel, at least I think it was a squirrel, with yellow jackets and flies all over it, lying on the ground right next to the car.

So I went to the doctor who said that I would have to have a wet dressing for the next month. This means that every day I have to go to the Wound Care office at the hospital and have them pack the huge hole my boob with saline-soaked gauze and tape it closed. Isn’t that gross?

The hospital is having some sort of drill today and they have all but the main entrances locked. There is a cop and a guy with a Geiger counter at the main entrance, checking badges. The hospital people claim it’s a drill for a Code White, which is a major catastrophe like a bomb or a plane crash.

All in all, an unnerving day.