I hurt my butt.

I did. I hurt my ass. Specifically, I hurt my left assular area and, sadly depressingly to my dismay, I did NOT do it in any sort of fun kinky way.
I slipped and fell pretty hard a couple of weeks ago which apparently enraged a teeny tiny (I know!? A teeny tiny anything in my butt?! I was also excited.) muscle known as the pyriformis. Lil’ Pyri (as I call it) became lonely in his (don’t know why, but Lil’ Pyri feels like a dude) outrage of me slipping in water and landing on him, that he roped my sciatic nerve in to rock out at an ongoing pain party. I attempted to follow the “ignore it and it will go away” plan for the first week which was incredibly successful at being unsuccessful. I’m now actively trying to make it better and it seems to be helping.

Or it was helping until tonight when I was lying here feeling a knot of sharp pain and thinking about how much worse it had gotten.
I complained. I whined. I bitched. Nothing about me bitching, whining, or complaining was helping to relieve the stabbing agony. At the pinnacle of deep pointy pain, I rolled over hoping to find relief and to my wonder, the pain moved.
My first super smart thought was, “huh, that’s odd”. Then I dug around where the pain had moved to and I found this:

No, this is not a kinky sex toy; this is the magnetic vent clip that I leave attached to my phone as a stand. I left the diet coke can in the frame for size reference.

That’s right people, was lying on the point of a phone stand.

Sometimes, my aptitude for ineptitude surprises and impresses even me.

Love,

H.

random update

Sweet baby cheesus I feel like I have been ridiculously busy lately. Regardless, I love writing so I am trying to give myself the time to do it. 

Okay, so….me. I’m doing okay. I’m flirting with this idea of being happy and let me tell ya, letting myself be happy is super scary (what? y’all know I’m broken) but I’m working on it. 

Got married, and for the record that was super scary too, but by golly it’s been kinda great. 

The only speedbumps in my idyllic highway of life (ha! at the moment. as y’all know there are ALWAYS going to be speedbumps) are my landlords and my boss.  Since I have only so much time to kvetch on here, I’ll save my boss stories for another day. 

 the landlords

okay, so I’m sure they are good people somewhere down deep. Like really really deep. (Or maybe not, who knows?) Their daughter is one of the best people I know, so they can’t be all bad (theoretically). 

About a year ago they offered to sell us the house. We excitedly agreed and decided it made more sense for us to buy the house as a married couple. They encouraged us to have the wedding at their house. We agreed. We arranged everything, paid for everything, and did our best to be conscientious guests. Two days before the wedding I fell down the concrete & tile stairs at their house during a rainstorm and hurt myself rather badly. Toughed it out, kept moving, got married and it was lovely (theoretically, can’t know for sure as the photographer (WHO APPARENTLY DOESN’T UNDERSTAND CLOUD STORAGE OPTIONS) broke his hard drive and lost all of our pictures. Yes, we have had great people look at it, and yes…it’s toast.) We wanted to spend our wedding night at home and we were also responsible for shuttling three of our beloved friends who flew down for the wedding. The morning after the wedding I was hurting badly, but as soon as the Advil kicked in we got up, picked up friends, and took the bows & ribbons down on our way to the house. When we arrived most of the cleanup was done (per their daughter, she and her boyfriend stacked up all the chairs before they left the night before), so we began packing all the stuff away. The next day my mother and I shared a plate of fish and chips and ended up with food poisoning. I felt horrible, she felt horrible and I was freaking exhausted. I did not take my mother to see the adult parade because [see above] food poisoning, exhaustion, and severe back pain. 

Well that was apparently the “last straw” for the landlord who decided to approach me to calmly discuss her feelings in a private chat….no wait, that would have been appropriate, what she decided to do was screech at me about how selfish and ungrateful of a person I am (note: only me, not my new husband) in front of a beach bar of people (including my mother) and how dare I not show up earlier to set up and tear down for my wedding and how dare I not take my mother to the adult parade and then she stomped off. I just sat there and cried. I haven’t heard from her since – except recently to tell us (via email) that we can no longer buy the house and to increase the rent by an additional $200 per month. Then, to add just a little more joy to it, another email came through changing it so we are now responsible to pay for grass cutting (which means our rent just increased by at least $300 per month) – she even was thoughtful enough to suggest it would be great exercise. And the latest bit of joy is that we need to lock in on this great deal for a year lease. 

The shittiest part of it all, is that due to these five beloved idiot rescue dogs (fingers crossed – may have a home for one of them) we are pretty much stuck accepting whatever fucked up “punishment” amendments they decide to force our way. 

Anywhoodle, other than that crap – life is good. If anyone knows of a dog-friendly small house with fenced in yard for rent here on STX, please let me know! ❤❤❤

-H. 

what fresh hell?

​My brain is a special place, I recommend it as a fun vacation location, but ya probably don’t wanna live there: ouchie chemical burn due to unfortunate Nair attempt? – meh, no big deal. WAPA surge or bad wiring causes a very important electrical outlet to melt (the fuck) out of the wall? meh, we’ll figure it out. no need to freak out about not having water….it’s fine.  Wait, I lost one of the silicone earbud cover for my headphones? – *breaks down sobbing* this is NOT how I want to live! The end is nigh, etc. etc.


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.