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.

Seriously?! We need to talk.

Dear body, we need to talk: feet & calves? please stop cramping – it’s just rude. Stomach & esophagus? Maybe stop with the boiling acid – it’s not helpful. Lower right jaw? Dude, you can be all weird and throbby but I have had you x-ray’d and you are like the 3rd dental priority following replacement of the teeth & crowns I have crushed via clenching, so maybe calm your tits. Tits? Carry on being awesome.  Hands? Calm down the shooting pains and knuckle arthritis aching, I’m not even using you all that much, so why all the rage? Cervical spine – carry-on with your low to medium creepy nerve pain; hey, it’s better than average. Lastly, brain? Dude–calm. it. the. fuck. down. The constant zooming thoughts of crap I need to remember but never will is not all that helpful for sleeping.
In conclusion body, I’m hurting pretty badly this night and it’s making sleep impossible because I’ve been significantly shorting myself on pain management meds because I stupidly ordered refills too late and my doctor has moved away and the thought of explaining my vast quantity of medical crap to a new doctor sounds equally as horrifying as going back to the band-aid-give-me-whatever-I-ask-for doctor that I used to have. I just can’t, but yet I have to….regardless, body? for my part in this debacle – I’m sorry, but holy crap-could you please turn down the cacophony of ouchie?  

Not Namaste

So, I went on a date night during the full moon last week. It was pretty spiffy, paid $20 each, got a t-shirt and a bouncy off-road jeep ride to a tall plateau with an amazing view of the island. Being an industrious sort, I brought Cards Against Humanity and a first aid kit. Yay, didn’t need the first aid kit and yay! did play CAH and met some lovely (horrible) people. I socialized and chatted and acted somewhat like a normal person; whatever that may mean.
While up on that hill I ran into someone I used to do. Actually, he was Internet installer guy from many moons ago. We shared a big ole’ hug and cheek smooches and confirmed we are both doing okay. [people, take note, that is, imho, the only acceptable way to great anyone who has seen you orgasm. If you act all awkward and weird, you’re acting weird and everyone can tell how awkward you are acting so knock it off]. I introduced him to the boyfriend and indicated using that tricksy human body language that although it was great to see him, I’m still super happy with boyfriend and am doing good and he should TOTALLY keep flirting with the chick in the hat cause she is adorable. Now, Internet Installer Guy (IIG), he and I were never meant to be in a relationship together and we both knew it and were great at being friends, but we always had a connection that I could never quite put into words until now, “the pain in me recognizes the pain in you”. I’m sure you’ve heard, either in Yoga or from random hippies the term “Namaste” which is said to mean, “the light/good in me recognizes the light/good in you”. Well, I googled my version and couldn’t find a single word that met my definition–but dang it, that’s what our “connection” is based on. At various painful times in our respective lives, we comforted each other and a friendship grew from that and I think that is pretty damn cool.
I don’t have anything else exciting to share about my date night, it was fun to get out and do something different, the atmosphere was great and the view was damn magical. Oh yeah, I totally got some nooky the next day (Wooh!).

Today’s Adventure

Today’s Random Adventure: So, following my morning doctor’s appointment (hey, insulin refills are a thing!) and getting no horrible news about Herbert (sick doggie) I decided to grab subway before heading into work (no, this is not about my sandwich). On my way out I spied a little older lady sitting in her car with the hood up.  Seeing her grumpy/flummoxed expression I couldn’t just leave her there so I asked, “is everything okay, ma’am?”.  Unsurprisingly, her vehicle wouldn’t start. I listened to the whirr-click as she tried to start it and went into the back for the jumper cables. Then after realizing the cars were about 6 inches too far apart for them to reach (dammit) I moved the jimmy closer. I hooked up the jumper cables, gave it a couple minutes, then she tried to start it again….whrrr-click.

“hrmph” I said, ever so eloquently – then tested cables to see if they sparked…nope, no sparky, “hrrrrrrrrmph”.

Called boyfriend to confirm he hadn’t done something weird to the battery and/or cables and he said, “yup, I tried the cables last week and they didn’t work.” Continuing my streak of eloquence I replied, “hrmph”.

At this point, Little Older Lady decided to walk to gas station next door to see if they had jumper cables to buy or to use….fyi – no. they don’t. that would be silly.

Thankfully, by the time she had gotten back, I had thought it through and while mumbling very important electrical words along the lines of, “mmm  hrmph mumble complete circuit mmmm hrmph insulation hrmph” I used my handy pocket knife that I keep in my (often handier) insulin/med pouch to strip the insulation on the bad negative sides of the cables, reconnect them to the other side of the clamp, and use Bashkins (the teeny tiny sledgehammer that has lived in the car since the fuel pump started going out (now replaced) and we had to bang on the fuel tank to get the fuel pump to get started – shut up. I love the jimmy – it runs!) to bend the connectors to fit. Then I reconnected and got the tiny little old lady’s car started. After it was all over we exchanged names (hers: Barbara) and she was very thankful. It felt nice to do something good for someone as well as to use some basic electrical knowledge to MacGyver some jumper cables.

Aside: Her car, I would like to point out, *is* rarely driven but she starts it once per day and only drives it when she has to go put fuel in it. I checked her oil and he other fluids were all at correct levels. The engine looked amazing. I am only saying this because I thought that the little old lady car that is perfectly well maintained was just a used car unicorn myth! today, today I saw that unicorn!


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!


Dear Schmoopypants, you’ve gone too far.

Dearest Lovemuffin,
I’m sorry to inform you that you have defiled our love, broken my trust, and made me question if I ever really knew you at all!
How could you!?!
Was it tastier and more exciting because you *knew* it was so wrong?
Did you at least heat them up on a plate like they deserved? Or did you eat my chinese food leftovers cold right out of the container?
Delicious leftover orange beef and crab rangoon…I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. 
Maybe with time and counseling we can rebuild the trust between us.


Bandelettes! aka chub-rub defeaters of wonderousness!

Actually, these things are named BANDELETTES and they are marketed as “Inner Thigh Guards” and after reading about their existence I immediately bought three pairs because, well, holy shit! These might be awesome.

I specifically purchased the following:

Bandelettes: Red Romance or as I like to think of them – my slutty red thigh thingies

Bandelettes: Chocolate or, as I like to think of them – my subtle thigh thingies

Bandelettes: Black Unisex or, as I like to think of them – my sporty spice thigh thingies

If  you don’t feel like clicking on the links I can describe these to you pretty well – for the lacey ones: you know those thigh highs we have all owned that are supposed to stay up with no garter belt but never do? Yeah, cut off the hosiery portion and keep the bit of lace at the top and that is what they look like. now the sporty spice ones? yeah, they are more like you cut the legs off of some bike shorts and put them on.

They arrived in the mail today and I had to try them – sure, I’m wearing jeans but I figured it couldn’t hurt to field test the darn things a bit. I put on my sporty spice thigh thingies and then put my jeans back on. They are quite comfortable and hilariously easy to forget that you have them on. So far they have stayed put except for when I went to the bathroom and I pulled off my underwear and in the process ended up taking off my left sporty spice thigh thingy because I treated the bathroom+sporty spice thigh thingies as if they were bike shorts.

Again, this is about 2 hours into wearing the sporty spice ones. I will continue to update but so far, these are kind of awesome. I will be skirting it up all weekend and will let you know what I learn!

…..and I’m back.

I can say the following about bandelettes – they. are. awesome.

They are amazing for many reasons; allow me to detail:

  • they do what they say – there is nary a bit of chub-rub even if I am not wearing bike shorts under a skirt. Yes, for the first time in my entire life I can wear a skirt with no underwear (aka bike shorts)! When I wore a skirt with the bandelettes and nothing else I noticed breezes in places I had never felt breezes before which made me sort of stop randomly and cock my head in a confused manner while shopping at home depot (shut up, my life *is* exciting, I swear!)
  • they are unexpectedly sexy – okay, so the sporty-spice ones are pretty much just functional, but the lacy ones seem to trip the “thigh high” visual trigger in men. I live in the tropics and although I love dressing up for play time there is just never a good time for nylons here. These bandelettes give me a happy thigh high option while not having to wear the nylon part!
  • they do not move. seriously, even though it seems like they should, they don’t.
  • the sporty-spice ones fill a gap I was unaware I had (shut up, I know there is a vagina joke in there somewhere! *grin*); you know how casual shorts are getting shorter? The exercise shorts I have bought recently end well above the rub danger zone and although comfortable are not really great to wear while actually exercising. Those sporty-spice bandelettes do not look too weird under sport shorts and by golly, they work really well. 

If I could go back in time to all of the Pennsics and all the other Society for Creative Anachronism events I attended and give myself the gift of bandelettes I would do so in a heartbeat. If you are a skirt or dress wearing person with thighs that may meet and create unfortunate friction – buy these things. I did, and I plan on buying more.



I, like many of you, have neighbors. In general, I can get along well with other humans mainly because I can talk the hell out of some small talk, “weather. weather. dogs. weather.” (see, small talk!)
I am currently living near what I am going to call unfortunate neighbors. They are unfortunate because they do not embrace the Live & Let Live attitude of our neighborhood. I’m certain that they would fit into a more regimented neighborhood very well and that they would ensure that everyone (every. one.) followed all of the rules.
Anywhoodle, earlier today I noticed that my back (normal, pleasant, sane(enough)) neighbors were burning leaves (safely, away from any extra fuel, with continuous monitoring) and thought to myself, “mmmm, I love the smell of burnin leaves.”
An hour later I noticed (okay, to be fair Herbert started growling so I looked) the shirtless unfortunate male neighbor exiting the bush next to my fence (weird…) and then walking to the front center of my fence and yelling, “Heather!!!!” repeatedly until I passive-aggressively and with deliberate slowness, meandered my way over to him.  He then started with yelling and gesticulation and pointed over to my back neighbors and I finally made out the words, “burning trash”. I said, “but they aren’t burning trash; they are burning leaves….?” with a frustrated, “WHATEVER!” which I interpreted as, “should have known that hippy bitch wouldn’t take our side” he departed and I headed back to the house.  Which is when I heard the shrill screech of the unfortunate female neighbor’s voice coming from the back neighbors….are you freakin kidding me? So, by the time I reached the back fence the unfortunate neighbor had gotten back in her mini-van and departed back to her unfortunate neighbor compound. I waved for my back neighbor to make sure she understood I have no connection nor affiliation with the unfortunate neighbors and that I didn’t mind the burning and if and when I did, I would be sure to yell at the back fence and not call the police & fire department.
So, looks like it is time to put in a fire pit. *evil grin*

Tipping Advice…

I am not a famous person and I sincerely hope it stays that way. If, by some wicked twist of fate I do become famous I sincerely hope it is for doing something really good and not something really stupid. Because of my lack of drive to ever be famous I have no aspirations for this guide to be read by the masses, but for the love of all of the good in the world if you read it – please teach others.


I recently became aware that tipping waitstaff can really trip people up if you had a system such as “double the tax” and then you come to a place, say…the virgin islands for example, and holy crap – there is no tax. I used to work as a waitress and just like everyone else I know who has worked as waitstaff, I always tip 20% for average service. More for better, less for worse – but never less that 15% (if service was truly horrendous I would have already spoken to the manager).  But don’t let the percentages discourage you – my method of tipping is easy enough for the drunkest among us.

Lunch Receipt

big salad            $ 9.95

add chicken       $ 2.00

iced tea              $ 2.50


Total                      $14.45

So what you do is, take a look at the Total which in this case is $14.45. Now, you see that dot (aka decimal point) located between the 4s? yeah, move it one number to the left. That’s right, with every bill total you have you just hop that little sucker over one spot to the left.


Okay, so far so good. you’ve moved the decimal point over one spot to the left and that leaves you with $1.45. Now, multiply it by 2.

$1.45 x 2 = $2.90

And that is it. It will get you 20% every single time.

  1. Hop once to the left
  2. Multiply by 2
  3. You are now tipping like a good person and not a douche and that means that everyone wins.  

The end.



Officially Old

Okay, so I always wondered if there was a moment in your life when you know, like know down deep in your bones, that you are past your prime and I can now answer….yes, yes there is. It is when you reach below the bed and pull out the “sex toy” box, brush the dust off of it, and reach in for the heavy duty massager….to use on my back.