Saturday, February 28, 2009

Dear Blindbeard

Ready for another round of my Dear Blindbeard column? I sure am! Please send me anything you would like for me to answer/talk about etc. because I would hate to run out of material.

Dear Blindbeard,

my wife turned me onto your blog because I have MS and I am about to "gird my loins" and go into battle with the semi-simians myself. The root of the term legal is the Latin word legare, which means choose. The body of law is merely a pile of choices we have made in order to live with each other. No judge's word is ever to be considered as final. Its merely his latest opinion. Take that fact to heart and know that no law is ever carved in the stone that seems to occupy the place in the chest where a heart should be. You just have to appeal to their sense of the ridiculousness of the situation. I mean its like the old joke about a soviet heart clinic at the top of a long, steep set of stairs. If you could make it up the stairs to see the doctor, you obviously didn't need his services. If the judge had to decide on the fate of a quadriplegic, would the judge find against the quadriplegic because that person couldn't appear before him in his courtroom, because the court can't accommodate the bed into the court. In my own case, I should have a great deal of, uh, fun because if he tells me to go out and get a job, I'll thank him very much for his offer and tell him that I'll be reporting for work in his chambers in the morning. I've had two years of looking and wherever I've had an interview, I lasted until I shuffled in on my cane and then the prospective employer's mind closed as thoroughly as the judge's. In this economy, you have to be able to dance to the employer's tune, regardless of how much dancing the job itself requires. Part if the problem is that America hates its own citizens. America has a system of health-don't-care, set up for the sake of political expediency by Richard M. Nixon, a clinical paranoiac, and Humana Insurance as a very profitable Ponzi scheme, and as such is the last remaining industrialized country not to have universal health care. (Notice I wrote industrialized, not civilized.) Now that profits are drying up, now that the pool of insured is shrinking as companies downsize and the millions of people moved off of the books, and now that that the insurance companies' draconian methods of denying benefits are getting harder to justify, the need of the citizens of this country for some kind of universal health care is becoming undeniable.

Charles-A. Rovira

Dear Beautiful Charles,

Wow! Where do I begin? There are several things I'd like to say about your letter:

First: My name is not Jen, or Jennifer, or Jenny Craig/Jones. I actually have the same name as a certain hurricane that devastated New Orleans and other parts (I had it first!). My mom volunteered with the Red Cross after that hurricane ripped through there, because she in an RN, to give medical care to people who could not get it in those conditions. She didn't want to tell anyone that she had a daughter with the same name because there was a lot of (justified) animosity towards that name, even though I am not a destructive force of nature.

Second: What a great job you did of summing up the whole legal system! I am awed and give my most heartfelt respect to someone so informed and with such a fabulous way with words to nail the whole situation, and I hope anyone else fighting "the man" will read this. Good luck with that endeavor!

Third: I just read an article that made me think of this letter and really got my hackles up. It was talking about fatigue and MS and they said that when Provigil became so popular, the company raised the price of Provigil to 3 times what the price originally was. I am glad that I don't take Provigil because that is so wrong on so many levels I can't even talk about it without dissolving into a mass of obscenities.

Thanks for the great letter and I hope a lot of people read this. It is an eye opening letter and should be required reading for anyone who is preparing to "gird their loins and go into battle."

Love, Blindbeard

Dear Blindbeard,

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Dear Beautiful (?) Colon xR,

So far my colon seems to be pretty happy because I don't have any problems with it, but thanks for the kind offer. Maybe you should try someone who does have the problems you mentioned in your letter. Try hanging out in the fiber/hemorrhoid medicine aisles in Walmart or a drug store and see if you can't find some people with unhappy, unhealthy, unclean colons (isn't it the nature of a colon to be unclean?). Happy phishing!

Love, Blindbeard

Thursday, February 26, 2009


*Author's Note: I agree, Lisa E., I probably shouldn't "nip" at the dogs' noses ("nip" is a nicer term than what is the reality, but I appreciate your toning it down for me). If the dogs were not such raging ass hats, I would probably leave them alone, but if I don't pick on them first, they drive me CRAZY! If they aren't digging to China in the backyard, they are barking incessantly at nothing anyone can see except them, and this usually way too early in the morning. If there is not a constant sharp eye trained on them 100% of the time, they will chew up anything and everything in their path, hence why the furniture and rugs are all frayed and ragged from them. They constantly fight in the middle of the night, usually in the room I'm sleeping in or in the hall right outside our doors. If I'm nice to them they take advantage of me and make me sorry for my kindness because they live by the motto, "no good deed goes unpunished."

We got an APB on one Blindbeard's sleep. That's an APB on Blindbeard's sleep. It was last seen at 3:27 am on February 26 in her bed. If spotted please return it to her; she misses it terribly.

Why can't I sleep? Is it because my trigeminal neuralgia was killing me and made it impossible to find a comfortable place to lay my head? Or the splitting headache that throbbed to a tune all it's own? I NEVER get out of bed before 4 am. Anything before that is unacceptable and considered middle of the night, and who gets up in the middle of the night besides freaks like me?! I can always tell when there is no sleep left in me and the dogs know it too. If Good Blankets Go Bad I know I need to hang it up and just get out of bed. When the blankets decide to pinch the dogs' noses and wrap themselves around them, I know there is not one drop of sleep left in my pathetic body anymore, it has been all slept out. The good thing is the dogs have never figured out that it is me making the blankets attack, and go after the blankets like they are demons come to torment the piss out of them. Hmmm, come to think of it, that may not be my bestest idea yet: a lot of my blankets have holes in them from the dogs' retaliation. (Mental note to self: Self, please find a new way to torment the dogs that does not jeopardize your beautimus blankies.)

My dog has a personal vendetta against gloves of any sort due to all my gloves having an inability to resist giving his nose a good squeeze. Our neighbor here told me that he tried to pet my dog over the fence when working in his backyard one day and my dog bit his glove. He told me this in an accusing way, like I could go back in time and change the whole thing. I apologized profusely and heartfelt-ly, and was truly embarrassed that my years of torment made my usually gentle dog bite someone -- or their glove to be exact. In our old house, from the time my dog was still a puppy and for several years after, we had a wood burning stove. Going out to get wood to feed the thing, my dog would bark and try to play with me in the snow. He would try to take the logs out of my arms and run away with them. In the dead of winter, filling my arms with rough logs, I would always be wearing gloves, and those gloves would grab and pinch his nose when he would try to run off with my wood. Fast forward to the next season and I would be out working in the yard (a personal passion that I still can't get enough of, even though I have to do it early mornings and at sundown now) and I would be wearing my gardening gloves. My dog would try to steal the tools of my trade, so my gardening gloves would attack his nose. Even to this day I have to hide my yard tools and gardening gloves, because if they are left out he will take them and destroy them in minutes, hence why I have spent a ton of money on replacements and have a gardening tools/gardening gloves grave yard in every backyard of every house I have lived in ever since I got my dog.

So when I woke up at 3:27 this morning, and my blankets decided to try and wrap themselves around the little dog like loving swaddling clothes, I let them attack the Midget Poo Poo Platter until 4 am. Then I gave up and left those evil blankets to make a strong pot of coffee -- I'm going to need it today after so little sleep.

Monday, February 23, 2009

I Am Heavy, I Ain't Your Brother!

I hate cell phones. I hate them with a burning passion that is only second to my deep hatred of caterpillars, and that is saying a lot! Caterpillars are the bane of my existence. I hate their nasty little bodies and the way they hump along to get anywhere. I detest their too many legs that have sticky suction cup feet that don't want to let go when they attach to you. When I see them on the road, humping along to find a warm spot, I will swerve to hit them and gladly take the ditch as long as I take out one of those abominations. I can spot a caterpillar from 50 paces even though my vision is not so hot these days. I don't like to mush them personally if I can avoid it, but if my family tries to bring one near me, I will gladly go around with caterpillar guts on my shoes, regardless of how incredibly revolting that is to me or that I will have to scrub my shoes with boiling bleach water before they can touch my feet again.

Sorry. I got sidetracked by the mere idea of caterpillars and forgot where I was going with all this. Lets try this again: I hate cell phones. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have one at all. I went for 34 years without one and never felt like anything was missing in my life. My family does not like the idea of my tooling around without a cell phone in case something should happen to me (I like to drive around on back country roads and photograph old abandoned houses as a hobby). My older sister was finally worn down by her oldest daughter and got her a newer phone because the old one was hopelessly outdated and uncool for a 14 year old to carry around, so I got that old phone, which I immediately covered with Hello Kitty stickers and stick on jewels. Princess does not like to use it because she says she is embarrassed to talk on a Hello Kitty phone. I say that I would be embarrassed to talk on a non-Hello Kitty phone. I hate people being able to get ahold of me wherever I am and it irritates me to talk on a cell phone in a store or in public at all, but if I turn it off or leave it behind, Sugarbowl says she will plant it in my rear end. So I take it with me.

This phone has been in the family for a long time (hence why it was too outdated for my image conscience niece) and has been the same number for all that time, yet I keep inexplicably getting these texts from an older black gentleman in Chicago. The first time I got a text from him, I texted him back to ask who this was. He responded that the number was his brother's old number and apologized for sending a text to the wrong number. I keep getting texts from him even though I thought we had cleared up that I am a white woman and not his brother. I don't even have any relatives in Chicago, or a brother either for that matter. No matter how many times I tell him this, he keeps sending me texts and forwards that mean nothing to me. I'm sure his brother is out there somewhere, confused by the lapse in the text conversations, not knowing that they are going to someone else who doesn't care or want them. Ugh, I give up! Keep sending me your texts, old man, even though I have told you a bajillion times that I ain't your brother! Years ago, my little sister and I had a similar problem with our home phone. Every morning at about 5 am, an old man would call and ask for "Monte." The phone was in Sugarbowl's room so she had to deal with it. One morning, after about a week of phone calls every morning, she lost her patience and yelled into the phone after he asked for Monte again, "No, Old Man!" and hung up. We never heard from him again. Time to time I wonder if he ever found Monte and I wonder if my texting friend in Chicago will ever find his brother.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Good Morning World And All Who Inhabit It!

Thank the patron saint of Internet service that we finally got our Internet going again! It wasn't easy thanks to several representatives that had no idea what was going on or were even sure of where they were, and 2 reps who knew exactly what was going on and knew where they were. In the hideous time of not having Internet I had to resort to some old school entertainments and am somewhat pleased to announce that I solved Super Mario Brothers 2 several times. It has been a long time since I last played that game and it took me a really long time to remember how to do some of it. But I was able to vanquish the evil being (its not Bowser in that game but some... thing that doesn't like vegetables) and restore peace and tranquility to the land again.

I had my annual MRI yesterday, I have Tysabri tomorrow, and I have to go see my neurologist on Thursday. That would be less irritating to me if I didn't have to drive downtown to do all of those things -- okay, I'm lying, its still irritating. I am so sick to death of all these doctors, I want to lead a picket line of other angries like myself to protest having to see the doctors so much. And God forbid I might "forget" and not go, they send me reminders in the mail and even call me to make sure I remember -- GRRRR! Besides them trying to get my family on their side, which they are doing a great job of, I would still hate them because I have to look into their beady eyes way too much and admit that I'm not doing what they want me to do and I have no intentions of doing any of it anyway, so please save your breath and lecture for someone more receptive to all that junk then myself. Whew! Glad we finally understand each other, now lets move on to more interesting stuff, like how fast I can get out of your office.

Princess' birthday was yesterday, she turned 11 and has been counting down the days for so long I started to count down the days to my birthday, even though I don't give a hoot about my birthday. Yea 35! Whoo hoo! I want some more Webkins, a Club Penguin membership, maybe some more stuffed animals and, of course, some Hannah Montana stuff! Can't get enough Hannah Montana in my life! She is the songbird of this age and her voice makes the angels cry in jealousy. And don't nobody take the name "Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana" in vain! There will most definitely be swift and terrible retribution if you do. Oh, and I want to go to The Amazing Pizza Machine, too. I want to spend too much money on games to earn tickets that will let me get "prizes" that are no prize and will only clutter up the house and eventually be used to fill up the trash can. That would be a dream come true! Gosh, I don't know how I will be able to wait for my birthday to roll around. It will be so nice to be 35, that is soooo much better than 34! Everyone knows that.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

*Author's Note*

After much slitty/stank eyed glares, Sugarbowl raised the white flag and we will be back on the 'net either today or tomorrow -- I'm using my big sister's Internet right now. It has been tough and I feel like I have no idea what is going on in the world, but it is worth it to have her fold first, especially as I have never backed down when I am in the right before and I see no reason to start now, so it could have been a llllooooonnnnnggggg time before one of us finally cracked. Good thing I took one for the team. I have been busily tending my nest of ideas for a blog post, and I think I see some of them about to hatch. I can't wait to be back and catch up on all that has been going on in your worlds again. Here's hoping it was not as bleak and empty as my domestic struggle has been -- Team Blindbeard RULES!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Due to conflicting ideas about how to pay the bills -- I like to pay them monthly while Sugarbowl likes to hold off until the service provider has a finger on the cutoff switch -- we are currently without Internet. Sugarbowl claims she doesn't use the Internet that much, in a ruse to try and make me poop out some money that I do not have. I am holding firm to my position that I AM NOT going to pay the whole bill when she owes me so much money, but nice try, sh*t wrap! So until we get things figured out (read, "one of us breaks first") I will be on another forced holiday. Until then, I have a few things to say then I must go:

Beth: I got your email and have been meaning to get back to you but our Internet issues have seriously cut into my Internet time. Please feel free to bury me under all the mumbo jumbo you want and I will return the favor as soon as possible, right after I kill Sugarbowl/my little sister, who I am sure you remember is a total pain in the arse.

Everyone: I really want to get to your blogs but am short on time when I do get on here, so please don't stop being adorable and amusing until I get back -- I'm going to need it by the time I settle this... minor domestic dispute I am in the middle of.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


I'm bored with my life right now. Nothing interesting ever happens to me. The most exciting thing in my life is my little sister's and my usual banter and fighting. Princess says that we are the only ones who find our humor humorous, but we are funny -- to ourselves at least. We have had 30 years together to perfect our hilarious jokes and we amuse ourselves too much on a regular basis. Like grocery shopping the other day. We saw a bunch of rutabagas that inspired us to sing, "my rutabaga and your rutabaga were sitting by the fire. My rutabaga said to your rutabaga, 'I'm gonna set your roots on fire!' Talk about hey now (hey now)..." It was funny to us, but whether the other shoppers thought so, I'm not sure and I don't care. It was almost the highlight of my day. Checking out, something rang up wrong and I had to ask a maybe 20 year old kid to adjust the price for me (self checkout). He came over and his cologne smelled so good I almost dropped to my knees and started humping his leg right there. I drove home in a daze. The next time I had to go to Walmart I saw him again and decided to steer clear of his checkout lane so I wouldn't have to beg him to let me come home with him so I could dry hump his leg all day. When I got closer I saw that he had hickeys all up and down his neck. I can only assume his cologne had the same effect on someone else and was glad that it wasn't me who sucked the life out of his neck. Damn whippersnappers should not be allowed to wear cologne like that! It only teases us old ladies and gives the whippersnappers an unfair advantage over us. I am no aspiring cougar and would like to keep it that way.

I have an MRI looming here in 2 weeks and then I have to see my neurologist right after that. I am so sick and tired and bored with all these doctors and MRIs and shrinks (oh my!) I want to run screaming from them. I want to take a sledgehammer to the MRI machine so that they can't stuff me into it ever again. I don't want to see my neurologist to talk about what has not changed and what my MRI may show. I DON'T CARE! I don't want to talk about what I need to do that I am not doing and have no intentions of ever doing, ie strength training. I don't wanna go work out and I certainly do not want to engage in any strength training exercises. I have decided that when that subject some up again, as it definitely will, I am going to be honest and tell her "no, thank you." They know what a stubborn ass I am, so they try to lure my family to the dark side by telling them what I need to be doing, which makes me get all the b.s. from every side. My little sister turned traitor and got a membership to the YMCA and is trying to make me do so too. Hmmm, let me see... nope, still not interested. But thanks for asking. Now move along, little loggie. I try to stay active to keep my muscles from atrophying, but lifting weights in a sweaty room with a bunch of gym rats? I can't do it, I shan't do it, I won't do it.

Ugh, so bored! Wake me when the boring is over...