soul-sucking tv land

I don't know how it happened. No wait, scratch that...I actually know EXACTLY how it happened. It was on the way back from Hawaii, I was not in the most positive of spaces and ended up watching the in-flight entertainment and one of the shows they played was Heroes. I had heard a lot about the show, anybody with even the slightest trace of fan-boy geekiness in them has heard of this show. For god's sake...it's a show about genetic mutations that lead to superpowers. I know, I know...some people hate it because it's a rip-off of X-men...I've rationalized that whole thing by deciding that it's more of an homage (which is way more forgivable). All it took was one show and the next thing I knew I was sitting in front of the computer watching episode after episode on youtube and wherever else I could find the other thirteen episodes I hadn't seen yet. My personal record for marathon viewing clocked in at five episodes in one night. Now I rush home Monday nights to watch the show on the DVR that came with the satellite tv service. It's hard to not be a television zombie when you have a ridiculous amount of stations at your disposal...but I've tried to be diligent about not watching the boob tube. Except for Heroes...I'm hooked.

icky sicky

I started getting a little sick on Wednesday. I used to have a great immune system but no matter how great, it's practically impossible to stand constant vigil against sickness when you are dating somebody who can catch a cold from a fire. I initially thought it was a cold and that it would pass fairly quickly, I joked about the severity of my sickness with others...maybe that was my ultimate karmic downfall. Because come Friday, as I lay on Devin's couch watching season 3 of The L Word, I started to feel much worse. Then I fell asleep and into one of the most hallucinatory fevers I've ever had. I woke up at the peak of my fever and was fully convinced that I had somehow been transplanted into a jungle. I don't even quite recall how I ended up in the bathroom but I remember trying to find my machete. Eventually I went to the ER, not because I thought I needed to be hospitalized...mostly because I needed to get a doctor's note for missing so much work and them's the breaks when you get sick on a Friday night. As it turned out I had a trifecta of disease: A.a viral upper respiratory infection with bronchitis, B. a sinus infection, and C. the flu. YEAH! If you're going to do it, do it all the way. They gave me some intravenous fluids for dehydration, with a pinch of a steroid, an anti-inflammatory, and an antibiotic. Then they gave me oral antibiotics, motrin, and vicodin. I'm not really sure what they are treating since viral infections can actually worsen with antibiotic use, but at least I got the vicodin so that I don't have to think about it very much.

settling down and disappearing

I'm almost done moving. I turned in my keys to my old place yesterday. I'm almost completely set up here with the exception of needing to get a small desk for my room. The dogs are getting to know one another. And during this time period I feel like I've managed to fall off of the face of the earth. And I don't know whether or not that is a bad or good thing yet. On the one hand I'm glad to be getting a "break," but from who or what I don't really know, I can't explain the strong desire for hermitage I've had lately. On the other hand I worry that people will forget about little-old-me and I don't know if I would have the energy to spark their memories if that were the case. But if you are reading this, then know that I think of all of you often even if I am a craptastic friend who apparently doesn't believe in email or phone conversations.

honesty and rewards

Sometimes I think that honesty and integrity are worthless endeavors. I decided to do the "right" thing regarding some money and my job. I called about some money I will be getting after I noticed that I would be getting paid more than I should. After making the phone calls there is now going to be an inquiry which will probably end up with money being taken out of my paycheck. I guess I should feel good that I am the kind of person who wants fairness and has the integrity to not take advantage...being a "good" person who does the "right" thing SHOULD make me feel some sense of pride of self-respect. But mostly I'm sitting here wishing I hadn't mentioned anything. Particularly considering the fact that my job SCREWED me and is paying me far far far less than I am worth. And consistently messes us my and everybody else's paychecks, rarely if ever in our favor. So the money I would have gotten from them, barely a drop in the bucket compared to the money they have not given me.

So where are the rewards of this thing called honesty?

UPDATE: I get a phone call this morning...apparently, every once in a while David REALLY does beat Goliath. NICE!

movin' on up

I hate moving! I'm at that beginning stage where no matter how much of my seemingly endless piles of shit I put into boxes, I don't seem to be getting anywhere.

aloha

Tomorrow, I am heading to Kauai. It should be fun. I hope it's fun. There will be a lot of people and I imagine a little bit of drama that goes along with a lot of people. But, it'll be okay. I figured out that I need to have one hundred and seventy dollars worth of fun every day that I'm there to break even.

dog day afternoon

Never one to listen to the advice of a doctor, I opted to not listen to the advice of my vet either. "Don't feed your dog table scraps." These are fine words to live by, particularly considering the horror of the last few days. The pooch ate a bunch of people food on Christmas Eve. And then Christmas day I made him a steak...he deserved something special, particularly since I had to work and left him home all alone. But the present he gave me in return for all of the people food, dear lord... He spent the entire morning vomitting and then just for a little extra sumptin' sumptin', he got a bad case of the runs all over the carpet. And when that happened, I was pulling on my shirt to take him out. So I had to leave him in the bathroom while I was at work and when I came back, it was like Fratboy Fest 2006 had convened. How does a dog puke up his body weight? Luckily today he seems to be doing a lot better so I don't think I'll take him to the vet. But live and learn, no two days binges of table scraps anymore.

for the love of gee-ohh-dee

Current mood:FAT!
Somebody please keep me away from the fucking Christmas cookies! I thought I couldn't possibly shove any more pumpkin pie down my gullet after Thanksgiving, but alas...I have managed to prove myself oh so wrong. Thank god I heard that cellulite was the new black.

girls gone wild

This past weekend, a bunch of friends of the boy came out for a party. It ended up getting quite debaucherous. I did a few things that would shock some of my older friends. I did exceed some of my own limits. As did the boy. I kissed another boy and the boy kissed and groped another girl...all in good fun. But it's more than I would have thought I would do while in a relationship. Sure, during pillow talk, the boy and I might talk about what it would be like to "spice things up a bit." But that's just sexy talk, neither of us would really do that...at least I believe that to be the case. Or I believed that to be the case. I think I've started the sexual equivalent of the slippery slope argument with myself. Because I let myself kiss another male and my boy was okay with that...does that mean next time I'll let myself do a little more. And because I let him kiss another girl without complaint...does that mean I'll be okay with whatever happens next time. I don't want to end up a creepy predatory polyamourous couple. But, to be perfectly frank, I kind of like the idea that exploration isn't just for astronauts.

carion

I feel like I'm being consumed by frustration and tension lately. Maybe it's something as mundane as some seasonal disorder, feeling blue because the skies never seem to be. But that would seem trite, and I refuse to believe that I've allowed my emotional state to become that.
It's been a frustrating week. I tried fasting and only made it 48 of the recommended 240 hours, not that I'm all that upset about my lack of commitment to something that goes against most of what I know. But the effects the fast had on my body were unexpected, I had a week long headache and a almost total lack of clarity. I vow to NEVER give up coffee again.
So, while already feeling like shit I ended up getting incredibly angry with the boy about his decision making. My emotional volatity created a chasm between him and I, one of my own design and therefore only felt by me. The chasm of course beget a lashing out which beget his own anger which beget the ability he has of saying incredibly pointed and hurtful things.
And then there's the work/money situation. I guess I should have known better than to expect a corporate soulless shark to do the right thing, the fair thing. I guess I shouldn't have had any expectations. Then I wouldn't be so fucking upset that my doing the right thing would turn out to not bring the good tidings I had hoped for.
All these things, on an individual level, aren't anything too grand, certainly nothing that a person can't handle. But together, all at once, it feels like too much. It feels like the black nothingness that usually swirls in the periphery of my life is slithering forward and tapping me on the shoulder.

rebirth

I couldn't stay away. I've been doing this blogging thing for a while and thought I was through with it, but alas it seems that I was wrong. Less than one week after watching The Temple collapse in ruins, I'm back to gather and sort through the piles of rubble and ash in the hopes of recreating something resembling the Temple of Divine Disenchantment.

the fast and the furious

So a few weeks ago, I decided to try a fast/detox that my coworker was doing, the Master Cleanse, made popular by hippies and Beyonce. I can't remember exactly why I wanted to do it; mostly because after my birthday, Thanksgiving, and various debauched and deboozed nights...I was feeling a little ookie on the inside. Detoxing sounded right up my alley.

Basically the cleanse involved 10 days of this lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper stuff, all the peppermint tea you could drink, water, laxative tea, and/or a saline flush. I started on Monday...and FINISHED by Tuesday night. It was a horrible two days. I was dizzy, unfocused, had no mental clarity, spent two solid days on the toilet as if I had just gotten back from Mexico and had spent the entire time drinking the water, and dammit I was HUNGRY the entire time. I knew it wasn't working out when I started making mistakes at work. That wouldn't be so bad if I worked somewhere where making a mistake meant forgetting to take pickles off of a sandwich, but patients and doctors are not too stoked on having their labwork get screwed up. And then there's the whole rational thinker in me who kept wondering why I would want to be shitting mucous, why I would want to screw up my electrolytes by starving myself, and why I would want to make my body feel like I just caught malaria.

Oh well, apparently I didn't hold out long enough. After day three it's supposed to be a breeze. And apparently my reaction was worse than my co-worker's because I am WAY more toxic than she is. Which is all probably true. I think I might actually try this again at some point though. However, next time I won't do it when I'm working, I'll wait until I have some time off. And I won't do the whole laxative portion, that was just gross.

wash, rinse, repeat

If I had a dollar for each time I have had this conversation (I had it twice on Thursday, almost verbatim):

Me: (blah blah blah), Korean (blah blah blah).
Them: Why would you being doing (blah blah blah ) Korean?
Me: Oh, I'm Korean.
Them: YOU ARE!!! But you don't LOOK Korean!
Me: Yeah, I know.
Them: I thought you were _________ (Mexican, Hispanic, Portugese, Italian, Mediterranean, etc. etc. etc).
Me: I hear that a lot.
Them: Who's Korean? Your mom, your dad? Are they full Korean? Do you eat kimchee? Say something to me in Korean.
Me: My mom and she's straight one-hundred percent Korean. Of course I eat kimchee, I just told you that I'm Korean. And if I say something to you in Korean, will that all of the sudden transcend your disbelief and make me look more Korean to you than I did a minute ago?
Them: So do you eat dog?
And when I was ruder and slightly less mature, this would be the point that I would insert some incredibly rude and inappropriate question about their cultural habits. But now I'm an adult and just end up saying, "That's kind of a stupid question."

for whom the bell tolls

My computer being down made me finally recognize that this blog is in its final death throes and like many a pet owner, I decided that it was for the best to put it down rather that prolonging its misery. There are a lot of reasons for my deciding to do this... Maybe I've lost interest in maintaining this particular site. There aren't as many changes in my life as there were when I started this thing. The routine of my current life is reflected in my lack of desire to update my page. And I don't have a schtick or a gimmick to keep me going. No weekly radio address or recipe I've tried or movies I've seen. It was just me running off at the mouth/fingertips and I realize I've gotten pretty one-dimensional lately. Maybe I've lost interest in blogging. I still visit all my friends' blogs, but not with the fervor of days yore. I don't participate in any of the blogshare stuff anymore. I don't check my blogrings or hit the next blog button anymore. Maybe I've lost interest when a lot of people lost interest in me. I know everybody says that blogging is about writing for yourself...blah blah blah. But let's face it, if that were true then we would be writing in journals or saving word documents, not posting online. Ahhh well, for whatever reason, I am saying goodbye. I am going to take this page down on December 1st. First, because I think that pages left online that aren't being updated are kind of annoying. Secondly, I'm going to take some time and save the posts to a word processing document. I'm no Sylvia Plath, maybe not even a Danielle Steele, but I'd kinda like to save my stuff. Third, and most importantly, I want to say goodbye to my regular readers, aka friends. Thanks for sticking around, whether regularly or every once in a blue moon to catch up. Thanks for taking the time to comment, everybody loves comments. Just thanks! I'm keeping my account open so I can still comment on your blogs and such. Happy Trails!

plumping dangers

Apparently the plump is not meant for everybody. I field tested the fatty lip plumper with a girl at work yesterday. Today she came into work with blisters on her lips. OUCHIE! Lesson learned, no trying out the fish-lip juice when your lips are cracked.

return of the swamp thing

My computer is back in action. My brother fixed it. Apparently I had downloaded a virus that was continually running an application and using 99% of my processor. I wish I were half as motivated as that virus.

my special day

HAPPY 25TH BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

airborne porcine

As a contingency to my getting my job last year, I was supposed to get certified by a national credentialing agency. I had a year to do it. That year ended in July and guess what...I never did it. I applied for it, I paid for it, I scheduled it, I rescheduled it, I just never took it. I just thought I was never going to pass it. It's been twelve years since I did my army training, which is not too different from being shoved down a pseudo-educational assembly line...not the best learning environment for long term memory storage. I hadn't needed a certification up until this point as I had been "grandfathered" in to the field. There were areas in the lab that I hadn't and still have NEVER worked. Basically, all signs pointed to my failing that test. And when you're the kind of person who derives a lot of self-worth from stupid stuff like passing tests, well I wasn't looking forward to taking it. But I finally bit the bullet and took the test yesterday, mostly because I wanted to get the test fee back from my GI Bill monies. And during the taking of it, there was a lot of stuff I just didn't know. Some of the questions were incredibly obscure. They asked things that nobody needs to know to do their job and do it well. I knew I failed that test. I clicked that end test button and waited for a big red screen to pop up, probably with a loud alarm and computer generated voice that would announce that I failed. But another screen came up, one that said I had FUCKING PASSED! With an 82%! Holy Christ! I was so astonished that my eyes welled up and I started crying on the spot. I almost didn't believe what I had seen. I thought I might have misread it. Then they gave me the print-out that said that I had indeed passed. I'm still a little shocked. All my loved ones kept telling me I would pass, they had the faith in me that I didn't have for myself. We went out to a really lovely dinner to celebrate. We even bought dessert and more wine than was probably necessary. And this morning I woke up feeling pretty good nonetheless. It's nice waking up to a surprising accomplishment.

tricked and treated

My computer is still possessed but I thought I would give a peep at our Halloween costume. I'm almost hoping for a feathered hair resurgence because it was crinkly, global warming inducing fun. All in all, other than some unexpected and unnecessary drama, it was a super fun weekend.

coinkydinky

I found this in The Stranger's Last Days section:

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22 The week ends with another Hot Tip involving questionable sexuality on Seattle streets. The setting: A Dumpster near the intersection of Summit Avenue and Olive Way on Seattle's Capitol Hill, where Hot Tipper Mike noticed a cardboard box filled to the brim with home-recorded VHS videotapes. "They were all hand labeled," writes Mikes, who soon discovered the truth of the tapes content. "It was all fat-girl porn. A sample of titles: Delilah (350 lbs) Gets Sexy, Kathy's World (amateur), Strip Poker (starring the Powerbosom Girls). I wish I could've left it at that," says Mike. "But no. I brought Strip Poker home and I'll live forever with the consequences. Imagine three 400-pound ladies sitting around a card table with an ice-cream sundae in the middle. They are all eating hoagies. Then the 'photographer' shows up, the clothes come off, and the images that follow are forever etched into my eyeballs." As for the discarded box of porn: "My theory is some guy's (supersized?) girlfriend found the tapes and got super pissed. What other explanation could there be for a big box of fatty porn in the trash?" Actually, there are numerous alternate explanations, from a garden-variety guilt-ridden porn purge to someone with a fetish for size losing a battle with leukemia. But Mike's furious-girlfriend theory is a good one and only gets better as you imagine the specifics. Was the imaginary girlfriend in question huge and humiliated? Skinny and icked out? Average sized and antiporn? We'll never know. But one fact resonates forever: Confronted by a boyfriend's collection of heavy-girl porn, any woman, of any size, will harbor one question: Are you calling me fat?

What's really funny about this is that the dumpster mentioned in this article is the dumpster for my apartment building. And I walked past this box o' porn several times without ever stopping to see what those videos were. How funny! I knew I should have looked in the box!!!