Do not gag me with a spoon

I understand that eating disorders are horribly psychologically and physiologically debilitating, and deadly at times. But, for the life of me, kthx, srsly, ohai, I don't understand how anyone could purge on a daily or, help me, multiple times daily basis.

I've been battling whatever weirdass respiratory crud is wandering around lately for a week and a half. It started out just me feeling like a truck had hit me then it progressed to the tickle in the throat, then it blew up into the hand of death grabbing my esophagus, lungs and stomach causing me to intermittently try to launch my internal organs across the street.

I'd be fine for a few hours then that evil shard of cough knife would shove at my chest and throat and just not go away. Until I was leaning on the kitchen sink feeling like I was blowing up the Goodyear Blimp all by myself. I got it down to a science where I didn't actually hurl whatever meager lunch I'd had. No. I refused to relinquish that lunch. Instead my throat would be reaching for the garbage disposal begging for deliverance.

Then it would go away.

Then it would come back. It's slowly fading, but my whole ribcage and back muscles are toned like they've never been toned. My teeth are scare, shellshocked from the constant assault. I'm sick of cough drops and Mucinex.

It fucking wears you out. How could someone possibly do this voluntarily?

I still got several new knobs put on my kitchen cabinets and scratchcovered them, too. Last night I was cranky to Mr. Froth. He slept on the couch with Dot so I could hack into my pillow without beings snoring or jumping on me in those rare moments when I'd actually drift off.

Armadillo tails

To answer those who were aghast at our eating habits...snort...

They're whole jalapenos sliced in half, de-seeded, stuffed with cream cheese, spices and sausage, wrapped in bacon and then grilled. I'm not kidding. They will set you free.

Prince Charles

Anachronism and poor genetics meet tropes.

Bless his heart.

Beautiful day

I took today off since I have hours of PTO that will go to waste at the end of the year even with carryovers.

Therefore, I didn't sleep in, of course, since Dot was ready for us to be awake and it was time to do Dot stuff.

So, we did Dot stuff. Took a walk around the large block, relished the cool air, woke up.

Then, rather that do crap like housework we went fishing. And took Dot with. The main lake where we are has lots of ducks and people and, today, no fish. We watched our lines crinkle in the water, even with chicken gizzards and live worms. Dot chewed through her leash, and, like we did earlier, were able to catch her before she realized she was free. She chewed through the retractable, earlier, on the walk and we semi-calmly called her to come get some water rather than run into the street. That worked. Then, as we left the lake, I stupidly hooked the regular leash to her dogtag ring, which snaps in a minute since it's weak, and we semi-calmly called her to come get some water rather than run into the street.

Who needs training here?

We went home, I took a shower, Mr.Froth cooked armadillo tails and chicken wings and I made possibly the most awesome pasta salad in the history of the universe, not that he would eat it, but I don't give a shit because I love pasta salad.

Then, Mr. Froth discovered a gaping wound in Merv's armpit which I sorta doctored with neosporin since Merv was essentially going to rip our available blood vessels if we persisted. 

Do you know where your kittehs are?!??!

I can't wait

Not that we're travelling over the Thanksgiving holiday, but we are heading to Fort Myers in early December.

To visit the elder Froth who needs to get situated in assisted living, possibly find a home for his Yorkie love, unless he can take him with and just spread general good cheer.

I think it MIGHT be interesting going through the screening process at the airport. I have to check out whether IAH has the scanners/uber patters yet, I'm sure they probably do, thought to what extent is unknown. By me.

All I can say is, it's gonna be a fun few minutes depending on what happens. See, I will be wearing my chicken cutlet plus cloth cutlet that makes the left boob almost the same size as the right boob due to bc back in the day.
And then there will be the surgical clips inside my body from the lymph nodes removed and the biopsies taken.
And then there will be the stainless steel plate in my left wrist from when I broke it falling on my assface in my work parking lot.

I'm building my responses/retorts/stoic expressions that might be needed, along with potential blog entries.


I sincerely hope it will all be moot. Because if it isn't, and between now and then another cargo entry (which doesn't get patted down) or non-profiled Muslim sort, rather than the basic holiday traveler, creates a security problem I might be cleaning my 'sploded head from my monitor.

The combination of stupid and venal is what is going to get us all. Or even stupid running an errand on its own.

Ding

I have a lovely verdigris, well, green actually, bell that I bought in Seattle during my reunion sojourn. The lovely Dr. and Mrs. Fooms and I had poked around a mini art gallery on Whidbey Island and then had entered a shop that sold Japanese shit. Not really shit, that's just how I talk here, and usually, for that matter, so what I mean is that it was all Japanese stuff. Many of the items were seriously nice Japanese shit. Art work, textiles, sculptures and all that.

And bells. There was a fine assortment of varying sized bells from big to little, decorated or not. We picked up several of the bells and tried them out. One was a lovely mezzo soprano bell that I almost considered buying but it was a bit pricey. And overwhelming and the last thing I would EVER WANT TO BE is overwhelming.  Then I saw MY BELL. It was small and green and had a string. To ring it with and such.   And it had a prism-like sound to it. If prisms had sounds. It's clean and sweet and simple and peaceful like. It called to me to buy it.

So, I did.

My bell now hangs on my makeup mirror where it gets rung each morning after I've applied my non-helpful makeup, which I like to think makes me look natural but is still a pain in the ass to do, just like drying my hair and brushing my teeth are and I wish I could go to work looking like a pig but I can't.

But, I ring my bell once, noticing that it does not wake the Dot up if she's asleep on Mr. Froth, nor does it wake Mr.Froth up if he's asleep on the days he doesn't work. It is a peaceful mini clarion swirling the hopes and prayers of me and my makeup face into the ether and it sounds really really cool.

And, one day I'm going to take it to work and ring the total crap out of it in the very ear canals of about seven people for whom I don't wish prismatic pain on a permanent basis, just an alert that the bell will toll for their happy asses if they don't stop pissing me off.

Bogus Dot

A couple of weeks ago Dot discovered the foam, which encased the wood, which supported the infrastructure of the leather couch, underneath the flop over arm cushion which still, amazingly, is intact. We had congratulated ourselves on her non-furniture-eating proclivities.

Mistakenly, obviously. So, we now gate her out of the living room during the day, in hopes of retaining a minimal semblance of looking like actual human beings live in this here house.

A minute ago, whilst we were eating spaghetti and Texas Toast, watching Two and a Half Men reruns, Dot hopped onto the couch and noooosed her way to the flop over arm cushion, hopefully nipping her way to heaven. We sternly said, "Dot! Do not fucking do this in front of us. Don't try. Seriously. We're tired and old."

So, she slumped down, wedged her head against the cushion, grazed her leg over the cushion, inhaling the not to be enjoyed taste of couch stuffing, and sighed. And continued to slump closer and sigh more.

Then Merv moved and distracted her and she tried to eat him.

Just wheel me away

Seriously. When I get to the point where I'm obnoxiously pushbacky on my living situation, unable to control what medicines I take because I can't find them, and am generally not a totally functioning member of the community, grant me the wisdom to give it up to someone else. Because if I ain't granted the wisdom I would like to be wheeled out into the preserve and have someone say, "Oops. I lost her. She was just right here a minute ago!" and then let the feral hogs, rutting stags and looming alligators have their way. At least I'd be sustenance to someone.

Oh. And put a nice pair of Christian Louboutins on top of my lap and a bottle of Pouilly Fusee to ward off the predators for a few minutes before I let it all go.

Jumping fucking cheap jewelry. Just sayin'.

There's this substance

It appears to be a fluid and not a gel. It's silvery and iridescent in parts and is seeping from the skies. Once upon a time and long ago we told stories about "rain," complaining bitterly when it overstayed its welcome and washed away our houses, cars and chew toys in the back yard. Perhaps our complaining drove rain away and it's just now getting over its happyself and is deigning to bless us with an appearance.

Possibly rain may be accompanied by its posse "severe weather" later today.