snot monster

So, a plague-rat has infected me and now I’m dying. To detail that a little better, my friend’s son gave me his cold and now I’ve turned into a disgusting snot-monster who can’t lay down without coughing. Even worse, beloved manly rough and tough husband appears to be coming down with it as well. While he may be the roughest and toughest manly man ever (shut up, he reads this! :P), when he is sick he devolves. When I’m sick I regress  into cave-dwelling-leave-me-alone-but-now-I’m-lonely level of annoying. The two of us sick at the same time = no bueno. He texted me from work asking if we can cancel the viewing of a potential rental house because he feels crappy too. 

Welp. We’re doomed.  I warned him that if we are both sick at the same time he better use the last of his strength to bring home provisions lest we drown in our own mucus. He agreed, here is the list:

1. soup. it’s what we live on now. I recommend getting plenty of it. chicken noodle and split pea sound great to me (uh. not together). 

2. crackers. because we live on them in soup. 

3. diet coke (we’re low)

4. more juice (because I love you and we will fight over the juice if it gets low). 

5. vanilla coke (cause you like it)

6. popsicles. because they help. obviously bomb pops are the best but any port in a storm. 

7. bread (because toast is nummy too)

8. for the love of my schnoz, tissues with lotion please. 

…and now you know what the next couple of days looks like in my life. 

Love ya!

-H. 

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It will be a good day…

Or should I say, it will be a good day, dammit.
The Tuesday following a Monday off has always been a rough day; conversely, I have found most Friday the 13ths to be lovely. Anywhoodle, yesterday was a rough day for no real reason, just found it tough. So I woke up today determined for it to be good. I put on a new (kinda sexy) pair of underwear and a comfy pair of jeans to wear to the office. Unfortunately, once I arrived and was walking up the stairs to get to my office I learned that this particular new underwear is a bit too slippery for denim and my pants keep trying to fall (the fuck) off. As I unlocked the office door and stomped my way into the office, holding my bag with one hand and my pants with the other this thought ran through my head, “well, if there is ever going to be a zombie apocalypse it will happen on a day where I can’t keep my pants on.” This thought made me laugh out loud to myself and reminded me that I wanted to write an apocalypse story (book?) where during the first few chapters our rather well-endowed-in-the chestular-area-heroine spends a significant amount of time finding a bra. Why? Because at this point in my life attempting anything physical (running, fighting zombies, etc.) without adequate support sounds torturous and finding a decent bra during a zombie apocalypse seems like something a normal gal would have to do. Sure, she may have to save the world, but first things first – find a bra.

Okay, extremely random thought completed. Wish me luck with my escapee pants.

Love,
-H.

 

Okay, where’s my (damn) tricorder?

AAAAAAAAGH! Okay, let me start out by saying I am not a doctor. I have never played a doctor on tv. In this lifetime, I have absolutely no desire to ever become a doctor.

that doesn’t mean I don’t find medical crap fascinating.

When I was about 30ish I went through moderate medical diagnostic hell trying to figure out what was wrong with my head (shut up, not in the crazy way) because I repeatedly felt like I a nasty sinus infection. Over the course of a year it was determined I had been having migraines which was then found to be triggered by a dying tooth. That damn tooth was an asshole. Once the asshole tooth had been vanquished, no more migraines.

(*sigh* until lately. Yes, I believe I currently have a new tooth vying for biggest asshole tooth title. But that isn’t what this is about because Shut Up! My bottom right side of my teeth are fucking FINE and I will deal with it eventually *sigh* Adulting is fucking hard.)

Anyway, all of that lead in was to tell you the following: my work skype account had a weird advertisement on the top of it for the past few days:

migraine what

Finally, today I couldn’t fight the curiosity (what the hell is a security transdermal patch?, zombie security?, aaaaah, I must know) and I clicked.

And, I should have known – I searched for migraine symptoms last week and now I’m a target for migraine med ads. *sigh* But, being a medical crap nerd, I kept reading. Hmmmm, a transdermal system? kinda cool, so I read the instructions…thigh or arm, okay….make sure white thing is stuck to sticker thing before sticking it on….yep, makes sense.  wait a second? why the fuck are there batteries…? a button? a light? what in the star trekkedy hell is this?  at first I thought – oh, okay, you wear this every day and then push the button when you have a migraine? nope, it only goes on for four hours.

So, I have no clue why a transdermal patch needs batteries and a button, but by golly they got me to look at it so it may be just pure marketing genius combined with some form of ionization of the meds? not quite sure, but it’s pretty fancy.

I have no idea if this stuff works, hopefully I will never ever have to use it. But I do like buttons with lights so if we could work on making that happen with some of my regular meds, that would be cool! thanks!

https://zecuity.com/getting-started-with-zecuity.aspx

Judge Me.

So,  we have a kitten.  His name is Gerald and he is adorable (and pointy). He loves the dogs and is, by all accounts, good to be a great cat. Cute little bastard,  isn’t he?

image

Having a kitten means you have to put their needs ahead of yours and forgive them when they do those adorable little things like draw blood whilst climbing your bare legs or attack your eyebrows because they hadn’t noticed that there were FURRY CATERPILLERS ON YOUR FACE WHICH MUST BE KILLED! But I realized after cleaning up the third destroyed roll of toilet paper that I can live without skin or eyebrows but I will be damned if I’m going to have to live without toilet paper.  So,  with a little help from my teeny tiny screwdriver I have turned my unused towel rod into Über Toilet Roll Holder.
Now,  I know it isn’t conventionally pretty…. but I love it. Unfortunately, it gave me another idea involving a a label maker and six different brands of toilet paper to determine if there is a superior brand of wiping paper. That project is still in the planning stages.

image

Kisses,
-H.

Today

Today has had a little too much monday in my monday. My pants are too tight due to, well, eating too damn much (damn, hold on…let me check my blood glucose….116. nope, that’s a pretty one. Sometimes when I am overly bloated it is due to too much sugar swimming around….sorry, back to inane ramblings of myself.) Where was I? Oh yes, bitching about tight pants. Not only that but the too tight pants are sending these thong underroos so far north I can feel them in my spleen. A thong? you ask…I can almost hear you all thinking, “da fuq?” while you read that, well the thong was lovingly picked out by the boyfriend….I was attempting to snag the most incredibly comfortable granny panties (Hanes Xtemp) but he was being all sexy-cute and (insert attention deficit disorder now).

O.M.G. – I have a story! Sorry to interrupt my woe is me whine but a while ago I was wearing some seriously old granny panties…at one time they were white with blue and pink hearts on them but had apparently survived a rough decade (hangs head in shame: okay, two decades) and along the way met bleach and possibly a garbage disposal…whatever, they were clean and it was too hot to be sexy or wear pants. So, while laying there sweating quietly next to the boyfriend he mentioned, “those be some ‘thexy panties sweetheart” and then lost. his. shit. laughing. I was almost offended and proceeded to jump on top of him (heat be damned! the non-appreciator must be tickle-murdered!) and that’s when I saw my profile in the mirror absolutely ROCKING that ‘thexy bleached out gaping loincloth look and realized that holy shit were my panties hilariously bad and much laughter was had by all. I also decided maybe it was time to cull some of the more historic examples of my undies. 

Okay, back to my whining! Where was I…ah yes, pants too tight. underwear meeting spleen.. Oh, and I don’t often talk about work on this thing but whoo doggie, this building of doom also known to myself and a select few as “The Albatross” because it can never just be, the fuck, okay. Usually it is something small like floor tiles no longer remaining stuck to the floor or the internet going out (a lot) or the phones not working correctly (all the time) or….well, you get the idea. Sometimes? Sometimes it is something more impressive like the stairs attempting to fall the fuck off of the building. Today was slightly more impressive…today was the installation of a new water feature in the hallway! No wait, it was the pouring of the water from some faulty cooling equipment through the ceiling creating a giant dripping ceiling zip (which I so wanted to pop) but it popped itself and it was like Flashdance all up in the hallway. 

It was like this but with less of the sexy and no chairs were molested.

It was like this but with less of the sexy and no chairs were molested.

Well, kind of like Flashdance….but probably better acted and with less sexy and more office garbage cans being used to collect water. (Aside: I have a friend who did not see Flashdance until she was an adult and she seemed shocked at how horrible of a movie it was; I tried to explain to her that it was freaking magical as a 9-year-old but then I realized–holy shit. That movie is rated R. My parents totally didn’t regulate my viewing habits very well. Anyway, that shit was magical at age 9….that’s all I’m saying.) So, after the Flashdance ceiling zit explosion the mailman dropped off my new shoes! and it is the best day ever! They are orange and fabulous. 

New Shoes!

So, although there is every so much to be done work-wise it is remarkably challenging when there is a contingent of cooling workers spending the day in the hallway. So, while completely distracting it can be a little entertaining; the initial two dudes who showed up are not small – the one guy looks at the other guy and states, “we gonna have to call some of those little guys from the shop to fit up in ‘der.” the one dude decides to give it a go anyway and shimmies and wiggles his way above the ceiling to get to the unit only to find there was an access port to the unit in the ceiling of the first office. Although I feel like an ass about this one I’m still REALLY impressed that he managed to fit. 

So, that’s about it. Enjoy the ramble! 

-H. 

Dear A.D.D., please stop. kthanksbye!

Today is a wee bit a tough one on me. Nothing bad is happening, actually just the opposite I am in a rather stellar mood today. I was just sort of cleaning up around my office and my brain, which was going about 300,000 miles per hour, kicked out a thought that stopped me in my tracks and caused me to laugh uproariously all by myself. If I was typing this the way I was thinking at the time it would have no spaces and be in all caps–but WRITINGLIKETHISISBULLSHIT and horrid to read so I won’t do that to y’all. But keep in mind as you read this completely inane story that it would probably be funnier if you read it really loudly and obnoxiously fast.

15:17 – V made cucumber lemon orange water which was super good yesterday but today holy crap is it bitter today it tastes pithy hey remember that time in Kentucky when that guy thought you said pissy and then we all laughed and laughed and that fried squash was really good there but so was the iced tea huh there is a Herbert hair in my cucumber lemon orange water oh well I guess I will drink around it nope this stuff is hooooodoggie bitter I shall stop drinking this now I wish I had a diet coke or some of that iced tea from that place in Kentucky with the really good fried squash when we worked on that historic post office that totally had a peeping room attached to the women’s restroom but it was historic and built into the actual building which made it way more interesting than creepy I wonder why that is I’m really glad dogs don’t have pubes…………………………………………………*brain stalls*

*brain attempts reboot*

15:18 – I’m. really. glad. dogs. don’t. have. pubes. Really H!? Seriously?! I mean, I AM quite happy that dogs don’t have obviously distinct curlier areas of pubic hair because that would be extra disturbing and extremely awkward to see…although it probably wouldn’t be because it would always have looked that way GET OUT OF MY HEAD DEMON A.D.D.!!! So, yeah. It’s been that kind of day. I figured it out though…I mean, there was a hair in my water and fitty-eleven thoughts later I was extremely happy that it was a not dog pubic hair in my water….but what if it was? At least I will never know.

And with that ladies and gents….I shall get back to my regularly scheduled thought process. Kisses! -H.

Hyperfocused MacGuyvering Causes Wounds

I now work at a job where I have more time off than I have ever had before at any job in my life.
It is freaking weird.
Everytime I submit for time off I get in trouble because I keep asking for 8 hours a day off per day and, oddly, I am only supposed to be working for 7 hours per day. Did I mention I get to travel to Ohio for 3 weeks because the place I work freaking closes for 3 weeks? And I still get paid. It is pure insanity to me; now you would think I would have noticed this last year but I had dengue fever, so I sort of missed the 2012/13 holiday season. Almost missed out on living due to that nasty virus. I loathe mosquitos. Anywhoodle, now I have all of this time…but I have absolutely no money. Everytime I think I am getting ahead, something stupid happens like my internet getting turned off because the credit card they had on file expired 4 months ago and now I owe them $200.00 which I don’t have. I paid them $100 and they gave me 5 more days to come up with the rest. So, on Monday I shall call them and beg them to wait until my Thursday paycheck before cutting off the interwebs. I swear, there *is* a point to this post; at least as much of a point as any of my random, oft inane, ramblings.
Today my attention deficit disorder allowed me to hyperfocus on preparing for my visit to Ohio. It all started with my most dangerous of all thoughts, “I wonder…”. In this case the thought was, “I wonder if it would make more sense to purchase shampoo/conditioner/random other toiletries to ship to Ohio so I have less to pack.” Turns out this was a great idea and I will be doing it. But along the way I came across something I *wanted*. I didn’t (don’t) *need* it; but I wanted it. They sell fancy little magnetic compacts that allow you to “de-pot” your makeup and streamline what you actually use. I hate having a crap ton of little compacts because one of my favorite colors or something is stuck in there along with 5 or 6 I didn’t love as much. And off I went…disemboweling makeup cases, finding a cd case to use as a container, then finding a better disemboweled compact to use for the stuff I really liked. I didn’t have any fancy magnetic paint or even magnetic sheeting; but I did have half a gluestick in a hot glue gun, a stick to poke the glue stick through, isopropyl alcohol, a hair straightener, and, obviously, tools.
I am less than proud to say that I didn’t do any of these things safely, intelligently, or even logically. Somehow I impaled my foot on an unknown something, sliced my index finger open while depotting (think slow ripping metal papercut), and received a couple few little burns here and there from grabbing hot little metal pots from the unstable surface of a hair straightening iron placed on a pillow.
I mixed and melted 2 foundations together to make the perfect color, melted small amounts of my 2 favorite lipsticks, mixed loose face powder, blush, and eye shadows with alcohol and made a little pots of pressed powder for various parts of my face. I glued all those little pots of my favorites into a previously disemboweled compact and glued all of the other de-compacted pots into a cd case along with a mirror.
All in all, although it was a totally hyperfocused illogical project that took me way too much time and caused me way too many injuries, I think I did pretty well and made myself a great travel compact.
image

Starting from the left we have 6 eye shadows, 2 lipsticks, a blush, face powder, and concealer/foundation. All things considered I can create every look I could ever want with what is in this sucker.
I’m quite pleased.
So, being poor makes me creative n’ shit. That said, it also makes me wounded and completely distracted from all of the stuff that I should probably be doing instead of this.