Lesson learned. For once.

Last night I took my "regular" dosage of Xanax, as in what I had been taking since my last post regarding it, before my "new" dose of it. I misinterpreted the paperwork on my new prescription, which is time-released, and split the pill, which in a nutshell, resulted in my usual wee miligram (two hours' worth) combined with an entire day and nights' worth at one time.

My throat is still really puffy and splotchy, still migrainey, but I'm totally fine other than being embarrassed and confused about work, which I didn't go to today because I fell asleep in the shower while getting ready, then hallucinated that I was driving. In the shower. Four hours too late.

I don't know why I'm posting this, other than again, being embarrassed. I didn't want to go to the thing tomorrow in the sense that I didn't want to go, but I did want to hang out with my friends who would be there and take pictures, especially.

I shouldn't go if I didn't go to work today, especially if it was due to my own stupidity and inability to read simple directions, but what will happen if I do go after not going today, and blargh?

It isn't the situation itself, because apparently I can get my stupid ass and a guest there any time, but Saturday I was going to a bridal shower before this said event, which I did promise a friend I would take, and have fun with, despite my sourpuss self. And I don't want to call it like a medical emergency or anything because I didn't go to the hospital, just stayed either in bed or thought (dreamt or hallucinated) that I'd been to work, and then didn't, because I thought I had.

Interweb, halp?

I almost killed myself today out of sheer stupidity (and failure to read instructions, all of which, including prescription, now being dictated by the alarm on my cell phone rather than self), and get to choose between being a flake to employers or friends.

Halp me chooose.

Most of you who know me know I'd rather eat my own hat than broadcast this kind of stupidness on my part, but so many of my friends are on this same drug, and there is so much jumblement between the nature of the pills, it would have been easy to have made my mistake and then rather than gone to bed, gone out on the road, or to work, or God forbid out drinking, and self-pwn.

Sooo. Do as I say and not as I do, seriously. I should have looked up on the drugs' website, or called my doctor or pharmacist, or something, because I looked at the tablet and knew something looked different about it, but took it they way I always take my regular ones.

Yeah... don't do that!

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucielle

Just a friendly reminder that I really can't afford to receive or send text messages right now.

The customer service thing didn't go over well, and if I'm forced into it I'm going to do what I always do when I'm forced into things I don't like, and that's get the fuck out of there.

My doctor's appointment did go well, however. I can has Xanax, dig? Groovy.

On another good note, Nathan from Work had his opinion posted in the lolnewspaper. The funny part about that is that his father-in-law wrote about the same event, was featured in the same issue, and neither knew about it until it was published.

It gave me teh funnees. Anyway, check it out here.

Phonophobe

I'm going to miss the horses and the scenery, dizzy and rolling hills, I'm going to miss bluegrass music and county rodeos, and I'm going to miss my friends and family.

I'm not going to miss outlandishly undeserved sense of self-importance, or the sense of oppression that comes from sprawling acres of pool supply outlets, of stretch pants, and constantly wondering if the water you're drinking is infected by e-coli from cow or human waste.

So bai! I'm saving my money now, working hard at getting a scholarship to either the Northwest College of Art, or the Cornish College of the Arts.

If neither work, I'm going to move regardless and pester State until they let me in. This will take a few months obviously, but I'm planning a visit (by plane- gulp!) within two months, if there's any justice at all in the world.

This isn't going to turn out the way New York or Chicago did, because the simple fact that I'm not going to let it. I want to go back to school, dagnabbit!
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At work, I'm going to be working customer service, along with the rest of the writing team. This is bullshit, and I'm hoping that it won't last. I left work after seven hours, directly after the meeting, because the news literally gave me a panic attack.

The phone terrifies me. Anyone who's ever been unlucky enough to travel with me knows my fear of planes, how I turn absolutely retarded and can't concentrate. My heart races and my palms sweat, and if there's anything in my stomach, I'll probably vomit.

The phone does this to me too. The same, mortal fear I have of flying, which is really just a fear of death and survival instinct kicking in, I have towards hearing that voice on the other end of the line going What? or Can you repeat yourself? I can't understand you, stop mumbling. Oh, or my favorite, Well you're stupid!

I left the office, immediately, and just sat in my car for a few minutes. For the life of me I can't remember the drive home.

But hey, Frasier is on! It's that episode where there's a verbal misunderstanding!

The Dutchess of Irritable Bowel

John Wayne was a hero.

He took what he wanted when he wanted, drank, smoked, yelled, lead cattle drives across the rugged desert, usurped stage coaches, slapped women, and sometimes he even starred in movies. Little boys wanted to be him when they grew up. He was the quintessential man who men wanted to be and women wanted to be with.

When the Duke died, doctors found a chunk of shit in his colon that was weighed more than a small child. Apparently it isn't easy being a hero.

Despite how good it feels, every drag of cigarette, every bottle of schnapps, every off the wall tantrum brings us closer to a mortician finding an ecosystem in our bowels. That's just from living well, too.

So I don't know what made me think of this. Talking about the Hepburn book maybe, she always makes me think of him (and vice versa), or something. It got me thinking to how much damage I'm doing to my body by stressing so much, and how much it really doesn't matter because everything worth doing in life is bad for you.

Not eating or sleeping right is giving me ulcers, but doing some of my favorite hobbies has broken about every bone imaginable.

Conclusion? I can't win!





I don't know where I was going with this. I can has cheezburger now.

3 TMI Post

1. While grabbing then shaking my thigh-fat during a fight with my parents tonight (we're a passionate breed, us) my dad gives me this shocked look and goes, "You have a tattoo?!" when he was the very first person I told/showed when I got the dumb thing.
2. Friday or Saturday I was in a verbal argument that resulted in not leaving the bathroom until about five pm last night, not even to call work, because apparently being well enough to call in means being well enough to go.
3. Did you know that after olfactory and maxillary surgery, vomiting usually ends with a downright apocalyptic sneeze that, more often than not, will make the author bang the back of her head against the faucet? -especially if she is forced to utilize every basin in the entire house, including the tub and one misplaced flower pot?

I'm not an entirely happy camper right now, in other words.

I love Missouri. I love Illinois with all my heart, and despite living next to a railyard and stockyard, still have a soft spot for Kansas. But I hate the Midwest.

This one is a relatively new discovery, maybe only a few minutes old, but I've come to realise that a lot of my hassles and griefs are coming from the location, the people, and the circumstances.

Also. Due to unforeseen emotional blackmail, plans with Brandon have been canceled or at least postponed and if he reads this before he gets off work/I call him, feel free to grant me with the Biggest Douche Bag in the Universe Award.

One more gripe, then I'll get back to digging around through spider nests: Why post an ad for an apartment when your building has absolutely no openings, or even temporary vacancy?

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My prescription for the day? Close blinds, curl up in bed with Mudhoney blaring, enjoy a good book in my own home.

The activities for the day? Painting and packing then unpacking.

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Ah. To end this on a good note: Someone I've been writing with for about a year informed me last night that we have about 400 pages down. That made me slap-happy.

Today was chock full of win.

I've finally reached the end of my book, and the end of Kingdom Hearts.

Tomorrow I am going to cash/deposit my check, and Tuesday, Doug and I are going to chillax at his house for a few hours of mindnumbing infotainment.

I chalked my wooziness to regular summer yuck, but apparently everyone in my family who ate at the same BBQ got a really nasty stomach thing from it, and I only had a few hours of puking.

Score.

Unsolicited AIDS Tests

It's the weather, or not sleeping last night, or something, but I can't really seem to wake up today.

My mouth hurts on the one hand, but on the other, my stomach pain has gone away and of course since the two accompany each other, my "oh so awesome" panic attacks have let up too. Sweet!

I'm facing sort of a dilemma right now- Cardin is showing me a $300 apartment soon, and I'm considering a studio since it will be just me and the animal(s), so hopefully there will be a bit more cash flow.

$300 a month for rent
$90 a month for car insurance (bleh)
$50 a month for food for self, animal(s), and possible cleaning supplies
$50 a month for gas + recreation
$9 - 20 a month for the telephone
$40 a month for interweb
Utilities

This means getting a freelance or night job. While I have no doubt I can do that, especially if it's only part-time (four or so hours a night isn't bad for $100 - 120 a week), I really want and need to attend school again.

Am I putting too much on my plate? I know people who attend full-time, play sports, work full-time, and manage a family. I will just be doing the work, school, lackadaisical sports, and herding cats thing.

You know, there's a lot to be said for feminism, but I have to wonder if we've given up too much. Right now I could be taken care of and married, comfortable, and surrounded by a man and children who love me. A lot.

. . . Pff.

I'm going to try my hand at online classes, but it's the classroom experience that I miss. We'll see.

Oh!

Snaps to a friend of mine, who's recently had his first AIDS test. I can't tell you how many times the gentlemen I know of only get tested after nagging and nagging and not putting out and nagging and so on.

Good for him.

Well hey there, chilluns!

So we actually have my brother's kids this week, that is pretty groovy. They don't really care about me right now because I'm currently not setting off fireworks, threatening life and limb on the four-wheeler, or showing them violent video games, but they'll come crawlin' back... you'll see!

Actually, I have a box of Zebra Cakes in my room, so once they catch whiff of modified sugars and icing, they'll remember how cool Aunt 'Nnie is. Pwn!

EDIT: HAHA! About two minutes after writing that, they came in for hugs. I love those sprogs.

My temperature is down and after the grossest night evar, I am ready to do things tomorrow. Will get a note explaining the being absent from work thing, and take another Endothing for sleep, then be back up to par again.

Still taking a break from writing, but obviously not blogging or work- just a quick hiatus to get caught up on work again. S'all groovy.

My nose blowed up

My temperature got to aboot 103-5 today, and mi madre was nice enough to call the clinic for me to see what was happening. In all the paperwork I got, none of it said "stop taking penicilin", "don't lift over five pounds", or "don't got to work for ten days". Hell, I wasn't even supposed to blow my nose and have been doing that for days, because that is what one does.

I had no idea at all, and I know I am a dumbfuck on occasion when it comes to listening to my body, but if the doctor had said to stay at home then I'd have done so. Right now I'm on penicilin again for the infection, back on a liquid diet (oh yay), and on some new tranquilizer. I don't remember the name of it right now but it has "Endo" written on the tabs, and they are magic.

So that is what is going on. Still going to ArtWalk/work/otherthings if all goes well at the clinic today, because I need a doctor's note (had no idea I'd be missing work!) and will be in town anyway.

In a nutshell: I basically made myself seriously ill by having an extremely half-assed day at a desk job, and then blowing my nose.

It may just be this "Endo" stuff... but yes, it is darn hyelarious. See you all soon, and keep me updated on your things!

Weeerk.

My body told me not to go to work today, and when I fell asleep telling mi madre something about cats running on the roof, she told me not to too.

I've always been able to handle pain really well, in a mental sense, but physically it just doesn't go well. If there's something wrong with a bone or joint, or menstrual cramps especially, I'll walk in my sleep.

There isn't anything deeply... deep, or anything about it- my dad does the same thing, especially after his last stroke, so it isn't anything dangerous or too out there. Actually, aside from pissing off family to the point of wanting to whack me over the head with a frying pan, the most dangerous thing I'd ever done from this was crawl into a stranger's car and fall asleep.

We keep the doors locked now. Haw. Anyway, I forgot where I was going with this. Going to sleep now, so later taters.

There aren't a lot of things to write about-

- but not a lot of them are very interesting, is all.

I woke up after a nap to a very welcome phone-call from someone I feel like I know, only I don't. This is the part where we quote from A Streetcar Named Desire and go back and forth between strangers being friends you've never met, and sickies who've yet to find a barrel to pickle your dismembered remains in.

In surgical news, because this is vastly fascinating, I've figured out that astoundingly, if one pulls out their stitches, it will unravel like a thread from a sweater until blood is caked onto the bathroom sink and the individual is left wondering why the hell they'd just done that.
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That was kind of gross, so I will end this on a good note.

I did a google image search for "female chest tattoo" and one of the first results was Al Franken. Silver Fox!

Drugs are bad, roight?

I kept going in and out during the surgery. Like I know I was awake, but what I do and don't remember are iffy.

I remember the sound of bone being cut out (they used a punch method with this itty-bitty tool with diamond dust on the tip, just like my scar treatments) so it sounds much worse than it was- for anyone considering having it done, it barely hurt.

I also remember occasionally taking a swing at the surgeon when he tried to put the separator in, and trying to grope the nurse. As in, hand on butt, grope.

They tried to take away my music player, and that resulted in a little freaking out. Doctor grabs it, Annie holds on tighter, doctor lets go, Annie hits self in chin and declares music player suddenly undesirable: Surrenders.

I made them take the divider out because I thought I had to pee, but that was just normal surgical stuff. Also decided that there was an air-bubble in the tube and demanded to be disconnected: Anesthesialogist ups medicine, Annie goes to sleep for the final part of the procedure, consisting of unbundling nerves and re-aligning the shiny, brand new jawline.
Had a dream about a puppy with an upside-down face. Woke up snapping fingers in the face of another woman in the recovering room and declaring, "Ym mead mowikip."

As a closer, I yelled at a lady at McDonalds to "get it right."

On an up note though, aside from a rash and killer nosebleed, as soon as the swelling goes down, my jaw is going to be killer. Can't wait to show it off- when the chin is done (via invisiline braces), it's going to look even better.

I do miss the roundness of my face, but A) totally unavoidable and B) hopefully the lisp will be taken care of.
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A boy hit on me at the Goodwill Store, and I got a discount. When I say boy, I do mean boy, because he either looked young or was about 17-years-old. He was really sweet though, and it made me feel foxy in an only-slightly-illegal-because-this-is-Missouri kinda way.

I will go back in a few days, after the stitches are removed and the hole is graphed, to see about getting a couch. Just call me Mrs. Robinson... only, you know, minus the sex because it will be a cold day in hell before I get with a male virgin- those things are just icky. If he were to go to the state fair with me though, that would be different. Mostly because he strikes me as the kind who I can hook up with a cousin who totally needs a "good influence" and playing matchmaker to teenagers is fun in a LiveJournal Drama kinda way.

Yes, I am rambling. Well fuck you, because I am on Valium and can eat solid foods again in only about four days.

What are you goons up to? I want to hear about how your lives are going.

Chess, among other things

When I was a kid, a cousin and I used to play chess together. Neither of us knew the rules so we made up our own, and even after he learned them from one of those Bobby Fischer books, I demanded that we stick to our "knights do whatever they want but you gotta save the queen" rules.

Today I started picking up chess again because I need to exercise my brain with something besides travel destinations, recipes, and legal smallprint (oh shit, I've become my mother). It's very interesting, the chess. I don't have it all down pat yet, but when he gets back, I'm making my dad play.

There's also Russian. Russian is going very well, but I do need to start saving up for classes or the discs. The alphabet is what's easy, surprisingly enough, because I was thinking that hearing a word and then visualizing it's sounds would be hard. It's not though, the letters are easy.

See? If I'd just cared so much about studies when I was in school, we wouldn't be having this interweb conversation, I'd be sipping appletini's with my homies at Brown.

I keep looking at myself in the mirror and pushing my jaw forward so I'll see what it'll look like after my surgery. My jawline will be hella pronounced, like a DC hero, and I think that is dashing.