Going to a new doctor….

So, get ready for the rambling…I am going to a new doctor. One of those, how do you say, ‘real doctors’. Yes, yes…I currently have a doctor. I even presume he went to medical school and everything. Let’s just say that he is better at colds and boo-boos than he is at chonic disease management. This hasn’t really been a problem because *I* am pretty good at chronic disease management – but maybe I need some checks and balances rather than the, “wonder what this will do shot-gun approach” currently being used.
Ugh. The stress of going to a new doctor. *blink* I dislike it. It doesn’t help that the last ‘new’ doctor I ended up meeting looked at my medical records and suggested that we stop everything and ‘see what happens’. 
Well, lady….based on my reading–seizures and potential death if we don’t step down that one.  Extremely high blood sugars and organ/extremity damage if we stop those two. Hair loss, exhaustion, temperature intolerance, and weight gain if we stop that one. But sure, let’s give that a whirl since you aren’t ‘familiar’ with that medicine and are afraid of the internet and your medicine book from the 80s doesn’t have it in there. Okay, so yes that crazy lady was a textbook example of a BAD doctor almost on par to the one time I went to a therapist (back in the day trying to figure out what to do about my then marriage) who gave me the following advice, “you should have a baby, that’ll calm you down.”  I replied with much blinking to the woman, fixed her phone, and never went back.
So, you can see why going to this new doctor fills me with a small amount of….trepidation.  I have to print out my glucose/insulin logs, medication logs, bloodwork, medical history and hope this woman and I mesh well. Wish me luck!

sometimes, it ain’t easy being in my head.

actually, the majority of the time is isn’t easy being in my head. anywhoodle, it is sunday and I am currently greatly enjoying a new fancy bluetooth keyboard which switches between my phone and my tablet with a little knob. I got this keyboard as a gift under the theory that the keyboard would allow me to write more…so, this is me, writing.
The boyfriend is at the beach and he just texted me that two people we know just got in a fistfight. I have learned a few things as an adult – one of the most important things I have learned is that fist fights are not impressive. The just aren’t. I grew up learning karate from a young age and my mother was *very* into the whole culture of it. Sparring is awesome; exhausting, educational, and occasionally painful – but awesomely fun.
Those people who just lash out in anger at someone else – it’s just sad because either one person *is* good at fighting and they really hurt someone behaving like a pathetic bully OR, more likely, they are both just pathetic at fighting and just look lame.
It just isn’t worth it.
So, boyfriend sends me a text about this fight and that it is bloody and the cops have been called, etc. So, now my brain goes into….well, fuck, anyone think to give the dude an ice pack? Anyone doing anything close to first aid down there? and okay, who is cleaning up the blood? Cause I know that tiny-ass hotel does not have a bloodborne pathogen training policy. So, you see? See how a lame little bit of drama takes me right into first responder/work?
*deep sigh*
I can tell you that I am rather in love with this keyboard though!
Have a good Sunday folks, and remember – if you are an out of shape older dude wearing a bathing suit–don’t get into a fight, it’s just not a good idea.

Petty crap that annoys me. 😘

Good day campers! In no uncertain terms and in no particular order, the following is a how-to guide to annoying me. (Note: There are many truly important, rage-inducing horrible things in this world; please know these are not those. This post should be entitled: “petty shit that pisses me off but that I should rise above and ignore but probably won’t because I can be a petty dick too.”)
To enrage a H please do one or more of the following:
1. Shush me.  When I’m “shushed” it fills me with a very specific “stabby in your facey” type of rage. Even if I was talking too loud and the shushing was meant to be helpful, still causes me deep-belly burning rage. 
2. Rolling your eyes at me.  Holy Hell, when there are eyes rolled at me, or worse, eyes rolled about me, it takes everything in me not to grab the head of the eye-roller and shake it until their eyes never stop rolling.  It really upsets me, not sure why. 
3. Ignore me while trapping me on the phone.  For the love of all that is precious to you, please,  if your talking to me on the phone, talk. to. me. If you’re done, let’s say bye.  Please don’t have a conversation with the person next to you or only half-pay attention while getting caught up on your texts, games, emails, whatever.
I’m pretty sure I’ve repeatedly whined about how much I loathe speaking on the phone.  Physically speaking to someone on the phone is agonizing to me.  There are hundreds of things I would rather be doing than talk on the phone, so if what has to be said is important enough to have me be on the phone–be on the fucking phone.  Now, I rather loathe my phone and don’t actually like being in contact 24/7;ecause of this  I have pissed off numerous friends and family because I am often too UNavailable. I recognize this is also a problem but this is my blog and I get to talk about shit that annoys me,  not the many ways I piss off others.  😆
That’s all I can think of at the moment, but check back often for new and improved ways of irritating the fuck out of me!
Love,
-H.

Woof.

I am in a happyland of cum stupid at this exact moment and while I lay here in a happy tingly daze the love of my life just left to pick up pizza (no delivery on the island). (Yes, I *am* bragging.) I apologize that I haven’t written steamy sex fantasies for the past year or so, but get this, when I get to have really good sex whenever I want, I just don’t think about it so much.
Okay, that’s all I got–kisses y’all. 

words.

I have so many words just a swirling around in my bean these days. None of them are particularly funny or clever, so please don’t get excited. Although, to be fair, I really only nail funny and clever 3% of the time at the best of times. The amount of silence happening in my office these days is incredibly loud but for once the echoing nothing has helped me get quite a bit of work done. Completing work is so much better than the spinning cyclone of non-accomplishment I occasionally get sucked into.

Let’s see, where to start….

so, I went to training in Illinois last week – I’m pretty sure I had some thoughts about things there, but the cold of walking a Herbert-dog in the icy tundra of death at 5AM every morning forced those thoughts right out of my head. You pretty much devolve right into the thoughts of, “too cold; am dying. go inside”. It looked like the poor wee doggie felt the same way and at one point mid-week I could tell he decided, ‘fuck it–I’m holding it.’ and only wanted out when he absolutely had to go, or saw a woodchuck, or a squirrel, or a bunny, which–bless his tropical puppy heart, he thinks bunnies are squirrels and runs to look up trees to see where they went. Never fails to crack me up.

Besides buying a pair of desperately needed pants, I had me some fancy “social butterfly” time.  I could lie to y’all and tell you I don’t know what happened….but I know what happened. See, it all starts out with, “my doctor is not a very good one” and expands into, “even a broken clock is right twice a day”. I’m on medications–quite frankly, I am on a butt-ton of medications, most of which are to treat diabetes. Some of them there medications help to cut down on, how should I say this…an overabundance of emotivity. Of course, that overabundance of emotivity (shut up, I know I made that word up) is where 98% of my creativity, people-fu (like kung-fu, but more about being charming to get my way (sociopathy?)), and general likability comes from. My doctor (bless. his. heart.) always forgets to look at my chart and he ended up giving me the extended release version instead of the instant release kind. In a roundabout way I ended up on a ‘half-dose’ of what I normally take. I just couldn’t be bothered to drag my ass to the doctors (again) to fix the prescription (again). So even though at this 1/2 dose I occasionally have (*shudder*) emotions, I think I like this version of me better. I am less ‘hide from everyone’ and more like the chatty version of me but without the constant over thinking and talking too fast and then freaking out later. Sort of a Me, light? Not sure. I have been able to think in blog posts…so, ya know, more writing for y’all. So, in the midst of me being all ERMAHGERD! we will be best friends forever; how have we never chatted before! to the people in my class that I swear to you I don’t know that I am doing it until someone who actually knows me points it out to me (thanks, V!) I had organized a dinner (shut up, I see your point!) where I ended up driving myself, three people, and a Herbert to a delicious steak-house where we met up with a few more people from class. Fast forward through some boring polite conversation and insert one of the BEST conversation starters I have ever heard emerge from one mouth of one of the coolest people I have ever met, she is all deadly sarcastic truth covered by a sweet southern charm.

Best Conversation Starter of All Time: “So, my friend is going to marry a jackass”.

Ladies and gentlemen, “So, my friend is going to marry a jackass” is the absolute best type of conversation to have in a “out with friendly colleagues” type situation. I say this because, in truth, no-one at the table knows this specific person but we all know a friend who is (unfortunately) with a jackass. (Hell, for a decade I *was* that friend with a jackass.) I will save you the many juicy and riveting details but the jackass was basically a leach who is with the friend so that the friend can support jackass. We, as a table, HATED leachy jackass. This led the table to a rousing discussion as to what makes a good relationship and whoo boy! it was a hell of a conversation. At one point the conversation got to infidelity. I sat quietly for a few moments and then said, “yep, that was me. I completely and utterly cheated on my ex-husband. Mostly because I felt unwanted because we rarely had sex. It was horrible and I am thankful every day that I am not still stuck in that place, but I was the “bad person” in that relationship”. That’s right, I can still stop a conversation dead in its tracks, if my life had a soundtrack, right then you would heard the record scratch to a halt. After a (blessedly short) awkward pause, the stunningly beautiful woman across from me shared that she is in a disturbingly similar relationship and it was the first time, besides herself, that she had heard another woman complain about feeling loved but unwanted. She is in therapy with him and the (horrible) therapist has basically concluded that it is her problem. The (horrible) therapist is wrong. I wanted to grab this smart and beautiful young woman by the shoulders and say GET OUT OF IT NOW. At the same time I also realize that every relationship is different and that maybe hers is salvageable. Because I am much better at the written word than the spoken, I shared my story with her by giving her the link to something I wrote in the past about how it felt to be loved but unwanted in my marriage. It is an insidious type of horror that is hard to explain, but isn’t anything I would wish on anyone. The conversation carried on and more details about leachy jackass surfaced. It as a really good night. The next day the beautiful young woman hugged me and thanked me for sharing what I had written and that she was so sorry I had to go through all of that but that it helped her a lot to read that she wasn’t alone. My need to own my mistakes and be true to who I want to be over-share may have helped someone else and that made me feel all sorts of warm and squishy inside (see???? *shudder* more feelings!!!).

Love y’all!

Fucking Exercise…..or Big Fuzzy Balls.

This post isn’t going to be long because it is hard to hold the stylus and the tablet due to me being all sore and ouchy. A little backstory–I tend to be sedentary. If there isn’t something to do then I don’t do anything.  It’s not healthy and through no actual planning other than having fun,  the boyfriend and I have been playing “the tennis”. I have dabbled in “the tennis” beginning in England as a teenager and became incredibly not in anyway good. As a college student my favoriteist friend & I used to play against a guy-friend and adding the two of us together made one not-great tennis player. If I only knew then what I know now–giant fuzzy kid tennis balls make actually hitting the ball so much easier! They bounce slower,  so you can hit them. So, because you CAN hit them, you do. Then you run around more to hit said hittable balls. Then, after running around for an hour a night every day for a week (like 4 days-shut. up.) it hurts to be alive.
ow.
ow.
love ya,
H.

Are you fucking kidding me? (episode 1)

So, due to a google search gone awry, I now know of another product in the world that annoys me.  It all started out simply enough–I have been obsessively searching online for an answer about silicone scar sheeting.  I have a wicked-huge keloid scar on the ball of my right foot. I am not an overly vain person and in general I celebrate my physical scars (emotional scarring is just embarrassing and shall remain hidden at all times, a’thank you very much) usually proclaiming something along the lines of “Chicks Dig Scars!”, but this sumbitch hurts. It’s that slow-ache-pain that I can usually ignore but lately it keeps popping into my consciousness and that usually means I have to “deal with it like an adult” before my body attempts something dramatic to really get my attention….stupid body. Anywhoodle,  I cannot determine if silicone sheeting you buy for a cost of all-the-monies is chemically different than silicone sheeting made out of aquarium silicone that you let dry. I’ll let you know if I ever get that answered–currently I am using some unused silicone earplugs mushed onto the scar for 8 hours or so at a time as well as some silicone scar spray….I think the earplugs are working better at this point.
Sorry, got of track there–I buy my diabetic test strips on Amazon because they are less than half of my copay at the pharmacy, so I checked there for scar strips. Nope,  still all-of-the-monies. For grins I spun over to ebay just to see pricing…. better, but medical equipment on ebay? hrmmmm. I noticed some “if you liked that,  you’ll lurve these!” links below and thus began my descent into thinkery. I was intrigued by the at-home instant answer HIV-1 and HIV-2 mouth swabs and part of me was all, “awesome! everyone should have some and use them before every new partner!” and part of me was horrified, “what if these are duds?!?” and “can you imagine having the responsibility of telling someone they tested positive?!”
So,  yeah…. and then, because if you spend longer than 10 seconds looking at the vast array of testing kits on ebay the algorithm apparently decides you are in need of this wee gem:
The Semen Detection Kit.
http://pages.ebay.com/link/?nav=item.view&id=121191251563&alt=web
smdh.
Here’s the thing, if you are in a relationship with someone and you feel the need to search on ebay for a kit that will tell you if there is cum on your partner’s clothing? Yeah,  that relationship ship has sailed–break up.  You are either correct and they are cheating on you (do you really need to find cum?) or you are paranoid and an asshole and you could both be happier not with each other.
love y’all,
-H.