Skills of the Samuri

I scare far too easily and I have recently found out I also have the worst survival skills on the planet. Ostriches bury their head in the sand and laugh at me. I wish I were making this up.

I was getting dressed and fresh after my shower on Saturday, because it was time for my bi-annual shower and I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth. I have one of those little $8.00 drugstore battery operated toothbrushes because I think they really do get my teeth cleaner than an ordinary one and also because I can't imagine myself ever spending $200 on the really, super nice ones. So, I'm counting to sixty, three times, in my head and my little brush is just spinning and vibrating away and I'm drifting in and out of Unicorn Meadow and I stroll over to the doorway of the bathroom. Suddenly a wild human appears! It isn't one of my humans and without realizing it is just my son's friend, I freak out. In response to the scare I received I jabbed my toothbrush down my throat. That's right! I got scared, jabbed an electronic toothbrush into my tonsils and nearly fell into the bathtub. What the hell kind of reaction is that? “No, don't bother killing me Mr. Burglar, I've got that under control; you just go take some stuff”.

While I'm trying to unwrap my uvula from around my spinning toothbrush, my son, I assume is trying to convince his friend that I have just returned from a spiritual retreat and that's how we were taught to greet each other in a show of faith. (Uvula is not a dirty word, I looked it up, hoping it would be). I have no idea what his friend thought of me, as he went to my son's room, and I promptly left for Rockband night, bronchitis and her filthy lungs be damned. (After all, what's a 104 degree fever when you get to pretend you're Amy Lee all night!)
As further testament to my coping skills in a frightening situation, here is another true story that happened Friday night. My husband or partner or boyfriend, whatever he is, and I were laying in bed and I had turned my Kindle Fire onto IheartRadio. (I should get paid for these plugs). Anyway, I had put a request for stations like Usher and it played the song I got the ticket for in Sonically Screwed, so yes, the DJ had me falling in love again. It played some people I'd never heard of and one song about “I do it for the bitches and the drinks”, which I thought was poor motivation, so I disliked the song and skipped to the next. Anyway, after a while, my Kindle decided it was tired of that type of music, and I had to agree, so while it was buffering I backed out and pulled up my spot in David Copperfield. I had been reading for quite some time, all snuggled up next to Dan and suddenly my Kindle goes (quote) “AH”. I looked at it and looked at Dan and went “AH?” Then my Kindle went up a few octaves and yelled “AAAHHHH!” I promptly dropped the demon possessed Kindle on the bed and screamed back at it “AAAAHHHHH!”. Then a beat started. It turns out there is a song called – get ready – AH, by some guy. I frantically pushed random images on the screen until I found the Iheart button and lo and behold the stupid thing had quit buffering and was now playing a song that was screaming at me. I just assumed that when you backed out of the radio part, it went away. It never occurred to me that the radio would keep playing while you did other stuff on the tablet. Well, ladies and gentlemen, we all know what assuming does to “u and I”. It makes an ass out of us. I promise you I felt like a total ass yelling at my Kindle and dropping it to fend for itself while I climbed over Dan and tried to escape out of the window, but I hate it when my machines start talking to me when I don't tell them to. I did figure out how to turn the radio off for realsies, while Dan laughed at me over nothing that I could find to be remotely funny. If I'd had a nearby toothbrush, I'm sure I would have shoved it down my throat in response to the terror I felt.

For those of you awaiting the zombie apocalypse, I do not recommend asking me to be your second, or even your janitor. I have stocked up on toothbrushes in case of a true emergency and if you ever find me lying on the ground with a thick toothbrush sticking out of my mouth, vibrating peacefully, you should run like hell. Similarly, if I look at you and dash off for no apparent reason, especially if I escape out of a window, know that I have just left you to fend for yourself against the un-dead. I might shout before I do this, but I can't guarantee that I will. If I shove a toothbrush down my throat and then escape out of a window, you need to evacuate the building with all available guns and ammunition. Don't worry about me, I'll strangle to death and slow the zombies down for you.

Living in the Bronchs

If you are the kind of person who is in the habit of having arch enemies, then may I suggest you find a way to give them bronchitis? Of course, when you do this, you want to be careful to avoid getting it yourself. In fact, if you like, you can bring your arch enemy to me and I will cough on them free of charge if you follow this blog. I can guarantee results as I have been sick since the 5^th of December with the nastiest case of bronchitis on the planet. Seriously, no one has ever been this sick, and no one ever will be.

I think this actually started a few years ago. As a way to celebrate the Christmas holidays, every year, my body gets bronchitis. Last year was particularly bad. So bad in fact, that it didn't clear up until the beginning of summer; and to this day if I walk in the cold or walk up my terribly long, steep driveway, I still get the taste of blood in my mouth. I noticed this a few times throughout this last year, but paid no attention to it beyond, “huh”. On the other hand, if I break a nail, I am distraught and worry that I might not have taken my vitamins lately. Seriously.

December 5^th rolled around, like it does, and I woke up feeling a little ill. By the end of the night I was burning up with a fever and when I would cough I'd get a bloody taste in my mouth. If I had sat down on December 4^th and planned out how I wanted the next day to go, none of what happened would have been on that list. I spent the next few days alternating between having a fever and chills to sweating through every pore in my body and defining my space in the bed; the dry part being Dan's and the soggy part being mine. I had no idea eyelids could sweat, but mine did.

The coughing is particularly harsh. If you snorted gas fumes and then swallowed a lit match, that would still not hurt as bad as this cough – mostly because the fuel would be in your lungs and the match, which would have gone out, would be in your stomach, but I digress. I started seeing tiny flecks of blood and while I am aware that they are simply caused by throat irritation, I began having this dramatic fantasy a' la Moulin Rouge, where I am slowly wasting away from a vague disease and an intense, melancholy man with good hair falls desperately in love with me, but realizes it only too late as I am already near death's doorstep and nothing more can be done for me. I even have him pictured at the funeral, alone, behind a distant oak tree, tears pouring from his red eyes. He says a private goodbye to me and drives away foreswearing love and forever changed by my gentle ways. Ha! How's that for a death scene?

As it is, I am not going to have a death scene fit for daytime TV, nor am I getting much better. Right now I am simply sitting in a stagnant state of coughing so hard that I occasionally lose control of my bladder, mid-cough and have to go clean up, and running out of breath walking down the hall to the bathroom to clean up. When I showered a day ago, it hurt so bad and I couldn't breathe for so long that when I got out I stood in the bathroom, shivering in a towel and cried for a minute until I realized that crying was not going to get me any warmer, so I decided to get dressed instead. I may just forgo showering all together until summer when this clears up. My family should love that! Dan has brought home nourishment in the form of pizza, take out Chinese food, burgers, fries and almost anything that can be handed to a person in a car from a window. This is good, at least I know they are all eating something, and I haven't got the strength to really care what it is. I may buy them a package of gummy bears so they will have some fruits and vegetables, but that's as much as I can do at this point.

So, in conclusion, bronchitis is a dirty whore, and if you would like to infect someone special in your life, feel free to follow my blog and then drive them to my house. I would make house calls, but I'm almost certain I am not allowed to drive with this much medicine in my system.

The SQUEE award!

Today, my blog is going to be a little different from the norm because, guess what? I got nominated for the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award! 

I have the honor of being nominated by Laurel Regan @ Alphabet Salad, http://www.alphabetsalad.com/ and I'm excited about this! Thank you Laurel, I've never been nominated for anything before, unless you count being the person nominated to clean up after the party and to go get more beer. This is definitely better! So without further ado, I am going to fill out my questions. I will probably ado later on in the post.

The Rules

• Provide a link to and thank the blogger who nominated you for this award.
• Answer ten questions.
• Nominate 10-12 blogs that you find a joy to read.
• Provide links to these nominated blogs and kindly let the recipients know they have been nominated.
• Include the award logo within your blog post.
  

Q&A

1. Your favourite colour: Spring green
2. Your favourite animal: kittens to cuddle with, owls to decorate with!
3. Your favourite non-alcoholic drink: Diet Coke (It probably makes up 2/3 of my bloodstream)
4. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook (I don't even know how to get on my Twitter account)
5. Your favourite pattern: The swirls in fudge ripple ice-cream
6. Do you prefer getting or giving presents? Giving! (I shop all year long, I always find stuff for people and say “ooh *insert name* would love this. I have a lot of friends that I call Insert Name.)
7. Your favourite number: 42
8. Your favourite day of the week: Saturday (the kids are here, or I can go play with my friends, and we still have a day to recover!)
9. Your favourite flower: Iris (I have some light purple ones surrounding my house that I swear SMELL purple. They are lovely.)
10. What is your passion? Travel! (I don't want to stay somewhere, I want to see it all!)
    

My Nominations

1. Yum Eating
2. Alphabet Salad
3. A Pleasant House - Elegant Decay in New Orleans
4. Albania or Bust
5. ::My Closet Catalogue::
6. Ngwenwi Claudette Creative Outlet
7. Red Pen Mama
8. Splat-ospheric
9. Breezes at Dawn
10. Homemaking With Style

Please take a few minutes and visit each of these bloggers. Who knows – you might make a new friend!
And once again, thank you.

This is so cool! I didn't even know some of this stuff about me! I love everybody! Have a great day!

I'm on in 3,2,1...

So, the satellite internet guy was supposed to come out today. His truck is broken and I am stuck in my little mountain corner with no way to contact the cyber world. This is my teeny tiny post made on my absurdly small phone keypad, typed out one button at a time, so this will be fairly short and won't be proofread until 3 seconds after I hit send. Until Friday I am alone with my thoughts. If you could helicopter in some Chinese food, that would be great! In the meantime, check out my bestie's blog at kandicoatedthoughts.blogspot.com and read the hilarious Upworthy story of a woman fighting back the media with a song. Watch the video, trust me! This woman made my day!

Sonically Screwed

I got a ticket. A big fat speeding ticket, and I blame it all on the sonic screwdriver. Last night was the magical night of Dr. Who in 3D on the big screen. (The doctor informed us all that he thought we should all have been watching it in 12D by this point, but sadly, we have not advanced that far.) I opted not to see it – in select theaters – on the 23^rd as getting to one of those few theaters would have required boarding a plane, or possibly a TARDIS, neither of which was handy. I did drive two hours last night though, to Bristol, VA with my son and his girlfriend to a giant movie complex where we paid fifteen dollars for popcorn and almost four dollars for Twizzlers.

We drove Robin's car, which appropriately has a WHOVIAN license plate. We got in and turned up the radio to just under window-breaking level so that Robin and his friend could sit in the backseat and feel the giant speaker that lives in the trunk vibrate and BOOM BABABOOM BA BOOM BOOM against their bodies. I can assure you, they didn't need to restrict themselves to the backseat to feel the vibrations of that speaker, I think they could have been anywhere within fifty feet of that car and had the same experience. But we plugged in his downloads of rap, dub-step, club music, and Tenacious D and headed out to see the great Doctor. Just a note: if you ever have the chance to listen to Tenacious D, Jack Black's parody heavy metal band, my recommendation is you set yourself on fire instead.

Somewhere along interstate 81 we ascended a steep hill causing me to really have to push the gas pedal as this car has no cruise control. Also, I would like to add, I was wearing new boots (which are really, fabulously cute!) and I wasn't aware how heavy my foot would be in these new, cute boots. Then we began to go downhill and I had Usher in the speakers forcing me to seat-dance because “the DJ was making us fall in love again” and all these forces combined so that when I got to the bottom of the hill, I basically blew the doors off of the state trooper's car that was parked in the middle of the interstate waiting on some moron like me to come sailing through there at a gillion miles an hour. He immediately flipped on those dreaded blue flashy lights and I slowed down enough to be able to see the shoulder of the road and pulled over. Several minutes later, he caught up with me and pulled in behind me. He walked up and I only slightly rolled down the window because, to my satisfaction, it was freezing cold outside in preparation for the upcoming ice storm. He asked for my license and whatever those papers are they ask for (I can't remember, I've only ever had two other tickets in my life). I had to ask Robin where they were and dug around for a while until I found them. I didn't bother to hurry as I was hoping to freeze Super Trooper into a fish-stick so I could make a clean getaway. I finally found what he needed and slipped them through the slit in the window. He then informed me the reason he pulled me over was that I was doing 86 in a 70 mile per hour speed zone and anything over 80 was considered reckless driving. Did I have any reason for going so fast? I scrunched up my face and pooched out my cheeks, which I have noticed is a face I make when I'm thinking really hard, and I tried desperately to think of some reason that I could have legitimately been driving nearly 90 miles per hour. Dead grandmother? No, she's already dead, I wouldn't need to get to her in any particular hurry. I quickly realized I had lost too much weight to fake being in labor and both of the kids looked entriely too healthy to say I was taking them to the hospital. I thought about the truth for just a split second “I was bonding with my son over Dr. Who and we are just really happy about it?” No. Then I remembered while we were at Burger King earlier I had taken Robin's sonic screwdriver, pointed it at the steering wheel and buzzed it for a good five seconds. I told Robin if his screwdriver had been any good whatsoever, it would enhance the car and we would be there already. That damn sonic screwdriver did it! I blew all the air out of my cheeks, looked up at the officer and said “No, I didn't really have a reason for speeding at all”. After all, I wasn't about to let him confiscate my sonic screwdriver.

He spent what seemed like the next hundred years, writing my ticket and checking out who knows what about me in his little car. Robin's friend was slightly upset in the backseat and whispered that she could see his gun right there in her face (it's a short car). She said she started to panic when she saw the blue lights and I asked – just to make sure – if she was hiding any cocaine I needed to know about or anything. She assured me she wasn't and I was able to calm her down. At one point Robin asked if he could get out of the car and go knock on the guy's window and ask him to hurry up because we had stuff to do. I advised him against this and told him he'd probably get shot. This seemed to quench his desire to jump out of the car and confront a man with a loaded gun, which I thought was a testament to my stellar parenting skills.

Finally, Mr. Policeman came back to the car carrying a flashlight which he shined directly into my eyeballs ensuring I wouldn't be able to see clearly enough to drive over thirty miles per hour for the next several days and had me sign that nasty little paper that says I got caught and he sent us on our way. He told me how to accelerate in the shoulder and pull onto the interstate, but I didn't hear him and he had to repeat himself, which he did with robot-like accuracy, including his goodbye salutation. I had never been pulled over on an interstate before, so I legitimately didn't know how I was supposed to go from zero to seventy in a matter of seconds before being plowed over by a semi. We still got to the theater in plenty of time to find the perfect seats for the 50^th anniversary of Dr. Who and all in all, it was a wonderful night! Also, I have until February 5^th to ignore the ticket and save up the money to pay what I am sure will be a terrific fine. And please feel free to send donations!

Family Values

I really was not going to write about this topic. I wanted to avoid it, but that doesn't seem possible. I am talking about the 25 year old ding-bat who is going to marry Charles Manson. After reading about this I made a decision not to write about it because I didn't want to give this couple any more attention than what they were already getting. Then two things happened. First, I realized I am not famous and in no way is my silly little blog going to make a dent in the world of crazy psychotic people; and second, I cannot get away from this article. It is everywhere. I can't even really site a source because it's been on everything I've looked at today from Google news to the Huffington Post to random posts on Facebook.

This strange relationship began in prison, where Manson was incarcerated for jay walking. He's been there for about 40 years and according to this woman, who goes by the name Star, he is a political prisoner. Poor guy must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could have happened to anyone. (Yes, I realize the significance of that quote). This “fan” of Manson's started writing to him when she was 19 years old, according to The Huffington Post, and then in 2007, moved to California to be closer to his prison. Already she shows a willingness to put her life on hold and follow him; to go that extra mile for another person. I mean she has left all of her family and friends behind and followed her man to California so that he can continue his career. It's a great example of a giving heart. She also gives most of her time to running a website called Release Charles Manson Now – which is a title and a mission statement all in one – in which she protests his imprisonment and demands his release... now. This lady works for her man. “Stand by your man” could be her motto, and she means it. Really, she is standing next to him in a few pictures, arms draped over him in a loving embrace. Well, by all means, take photos. The memories will last a life time.

It turns out however, that this poor woman may be somewhat misguided or even possibly delusional, though I can't imagine her being delusional. She seems like such a level headed, sane individual. Anyway, Charles denies the whole thing. Uh oh! Looks like trouble in paradise. In fact, he stated to Rolling Stone “That's a bunch of garbage... That's trash. We're just playing that for public consumption.” I think they may want to consider couples counseling until they can figure out exactly where their relationship is headed. After all, if there is a communication problem between couples regarding their ultimate goal, it can stress the relationship and doom it. I think she needs to consider that Manson is now 79 years old and has a swastika in the middle of his forehead and she may be at a different place, emotionally, than he is. It would be a May / December romance anyway, and those can be challenging. You have society and inmates judging your age gap and sometimes people are not as supportive as they could be.

I don't know though; I think these two crazy kids could make it work. After all, she knows where he is every night, so she doesn't have to worry about him roaming the streets, you know, jay walking, or even possibly, planning anyone's death were he inclined to escalate to that. He knows she's a faithful wife who is willing to stay next to him and will move to follow him. She is able to write letters, so that is probably a useful wife skill that he could appreciate in her, and he would be secure in the knowledge that she has seen his worst side and loves him anyway. I hope for her sake this all works out. I'd hate to think I had put my whole life's happiness, given my heart away to one man, to Charles Manson and later found out he had no intentions at all in marrying me. After all, if you can't trust Charles Manson, who are you going to trust? Also, it would be a shame to see him lie in prison, old and alone. Despite the fact that he snuffed out the lives of several people – by jaywalking – he should be happy, right?

I think I'll send them a fondue set. I know most people give out blenders anymore, but I don't know that he's allowed to have sharp objects, and I don't think I'd want her to have any either. I do think though if they had some of the more important inmates over for game night and cocktails and they had a cheese fountain running so everyone could dip their prison bread into it, that might be nice. So, you go for it guys. I am sure this union will last... at least until one of you is left unsupervised and you get hold of a sharp object. Mazel tov.

The Blogs Must Be Crazy

I have totally lost my mind. This month I signed up for both National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) and National Novel Writing Month (NaNo). Essentially this means I am an idiot. During NaBloPoMo I am supposed to write a blog post every day during the month except weekends. There is a huge possibility that I made up the rule excepting weekends, but I can do that because I'm a grown up now. During NaNo, I am supposed to get 50,000 words written in a single month (November) of a novel. Ideally this would have finished the novel I have been randomly working on for a year or so. The result of combining these two activities is that I have managed to not accomplish either one. I am a study in How to Not Get Things Done. I have only managed a little over 37,000 words on my novel and I have written maybe half of the blog posts that I should have by now.

My nightstand is covered in empty Diet Coke cans – the ones that haven't fallen on the floor – and I think I have mainly been living on bananas when I remember to eat at all. I will get really sick at night after taking my medicine and then it will occur to me that I can't recall eating at all that day. I'll get up and eat a banana and grab another Diet Coke and run back to stare at the computer screen. I think I've cooked for my family about three times... I'm not sure they live here anymore, come to think of it. I'm only vaguely aware of the dog when he has to go out and then I forget he's out there until night when he sends me an angry text message saying he's cold and is planning on biting me if I don't let him in soon. This morning I was hugging my children goodbye before school and called them the wrong names.

I haven't walked or exercised all month, and at this point it would probably be too much of a shock to my system to attempt it. The last time I was outside it was decently warm and walking was nice. Now then it is colder than a witch's titty in a brass bra (thank you Grandma) and I'm certain my body would get so cold that every pore and orifice I have would seal itself shut against the cold and I'd never be able to pee again. Not only that, I'm almost positive that I am part vampire at this point and were I to saunter off into the sunlight I would spontaneously combust and disintegrate into a pile of ashes. Either that or I would start to madly sparkle and I would be heartily disappointed. Neither seems worth the risk. I have managed to brush my teeth most days and I have showered at least twice this month, so I know hygiene is covered.

I have been social two times this month. I went to a friend's house and saw The Hobbit and went to a different friend's house so she could have a thyroid biopsy done. The procedure, which I chronicled in A Pain in the Neck, no doubt scarred me for life as I ended up watching the whole thing, but watching The Hobbit was a lot of fun. I seriously had to make myself leave my laptop at home though when I went out for fun. I kept thinking, “Oh, I can write for just a little while. No one will mind”. I firmly told myself I was being a workaholic pain in the butt and left the laptop at home, but I did take it with me when I went with my friend for her “surgery” and instead found myself hugging my poor computer tightly to my body as I watched helplessly from a chair while a person dressed like a doctor poked around inside my friend's neck. There was no writing to be done that day. I mostly watched TV shows from the 80's and tried to un-see what had been seen.

I haven't called my mother or my best friends. I just wished my brother a happy birthday one day too late because I have lost a day somewhere. I am madly trying to schedule some time to catch up on the Dr. Who seasons because I am only part of the way through season six and my son will actually kill me if I haven't caught up on it before I take him and his girlfriend to see it in the theater on the 25^th (This gives me 4 days to watch one and a half seasons of an hour long TV show). I had entirely forgotten about Thanksgiving because – true story – many of the bloggers that I follow live in Canada. They have already had Thanksgiving there and I somehow managed to make myself think that since they had celebrated it, that was one less thing I had to do (or something like that). I think I just saw everyone's posts and pictures and somewhere in the back of my head was thinking “Wow, Thanksgiving this year was great! It seemed kind of short, but I had such a good time. I wonder why I don't have any leftovers?” Also, I went to put on deodorant the other day and stuck a water bottle in my armpit.

So, if you have any sense at all you should never ever sign up for both NaBloPoMo and NaNo at the same time. It is the most bang-your-head-against-the-wall, nerve wracking, what-was-I-thinking thing you can ever do to yourself. Other people can inflict pain and frustration on you and you can hate them and blame them until you die, but when you do do it to yourself, you can only blame yourself – unless you can blame your mother. It is absolutely maddening and I promise you, swear on a stack of bibles, that I will do it again next year! Blogher November NaBloPoMo