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! 


Why My Phone Should Be A Glucose Meter!

So, ever have a nasty disease like diabetes and are pretty sure you are generally just fine and even when you aren’t fine you are pretty sure that you are still firing on all cylinders but then something happens and you realize holy crap–you were not just fine?

…just me then?


See, I have never successfully gotten blackout drunk (that I know of). I have never gotten so far gone that I have forgotten important things like “did I sleep with that person?” That said, I have woken up and asked “where am I?”, so, ya know, I’m not a saint here.

But yesterday, my blood glucose level was low. It was high, and then I took some medicine and it dropped beautifully and I felt wonderful. Then it kept dropping and I kept thinking, shitshitshitshitshit. I drank a sugary glass of tang and we got back up to the 80s and I said–YAY! but then an hour later I started dropping again. Herbert (diabetic alert service dog in training) was spazzed out; first she is all HIGH, then she is all LOW, then low again, and again, and again–it was a long freakin’ night.

For the majority of people who have no idea what blood sugar numbers mean, here is a quick guide (please note–these are my numbers. I am not a doctor nor am I suggesting this is what they will mean for anyone else–okay? okay.)

from 0 – 10 – probably (seriously) dead.

from 11 – 30 – not good at all; probably either seizing or passed out – potential long-term health/brain damage.

from 31 – 70 – eat bitch eat! feel nauseated, sleepy, spacey, sweaty and gross. The idea of food is disgusting.

from 85 – 140 – I am a happy healthy princess of wonder and joy.

from 141 – 200 – I feel shitty, tired, and a little bitchy. Everything hurts more and I am really hungry all of the time. 

greater than 200 – doing some really good damage to myself. Extremely tired and achy and bitchy.  Everything hurts and I could eat anything and everything and then sleep for many hours. 

So today when I received an email from a reader saying the password I sent him for the locked posts didn’t work I said, huh? wait? what? And that is when I realized that yesterday when I was low I was checking emails and replying with the wrong password AND I DON’T REMEMBER DOING THAT!