Things I Have Learned From Courtney Stodden

I have enjoyed Courtney Stodden for quite some time now. It started with an interview where she writhed around on a couch like she was on the verge of a heaving orgasm. That might have been the end of it, but she was a very determined young woman who went to a pumpkin patch to reenact the Kama Sutra with her sugar daddy for all the kids to see. Unfortunately, all the women were too jealous of how much their husbands were liking it, complained that she was too "sexy", and she was tossed out of there. The problem is that ever since she broke up with Doug, she has become a predictable bore. It has gotten so bad and soooo predictable that now she and I are going to have to break up. I am working on my "Dear John" letter, but until I am finished, here are a few things I have learned from Courtney.

No matter how bad things are, I have never been a mustache for a Santa suit wearing Doug Hutchison. Even on my worst days, it is a comfort to know that Doug's beady eyes have never looked out at the world from between my legs. Especially during a photo shoot that I was trying REALLY hard to be sexy at. Nothing ruins sexy like trying to pull away from creepy grasping Santa who wants to wear you as a too tanned mustache. Knowing that I never have been and never will be Santa Doug's mustache, well, that is something to write home about right there, folks.

"Dear Mom and Dad, 

I got poison ivy on my butt from pooping in the woods but the camp counselor says I will be okay if I don't scratch it. It is really scratchy though!!! I got bit by a spider on my eye lid and it swelled so bad I couldn't see a thing and kept tripping over everything, I even fell in the shower and got a bar of soap stuck in my nose, now one nose hole is a LOT bigger than the other. But it's still not as bad as having Doug Hutchison's red beady eyes peering out of my crotch while he's dressed as Santa. HA HA HA!!!!

Love and kisses

BB"

Put words like "expressing yourself" and "not hurting anyone" together -- along with like statements--  and it will sound like you are deep and smart and stuff, regardless of whether you live by such high flown words yourself. For example, Courtney's recent response to whether she considered herself to be a feminist and her response of, and I'm paraphrasing here, "yes!!!!1!! to me it's dressing how you want, expressing yourself, as long as you are not hurting anyone and supporting other women!" And people acted like that should be Feminism 101. 

Alex: "We're going to start this round off with 'Knowledge So Common, Even Your Dog Knows It' for $100. 'Dressing and acting in such a blatantly sexual manner to attract as much male attention as possible regardless of theirs or your relationship status, even to the point of ostracizing other women.' Yes, Blindbeard."

Blindbeard: "What is Feminism." 

Alex: "Good job guessing the obvious."

And finally, for today, it's not for publicity/fame/attention as long as you can keep coming up with excuses to be noticed. Divorce is very painful, no question about that one. Even when it truly is mutual, it can throw you for a serious loop. My divorce was truly mutual; he bought me furniture when I moved out and even now if I needed help he would do it, even though sometimes we really hate each other, we do get along for the most part. Granted, I'm not a known "personality" so nobody was interested in my story, but I still don't think I would have tweeted 3 times about my exclusive-tell-all-what-went-wrong interview. There is something rather... gross? Distasteful? Insincere? Really inconsiderate to Doug? Publicity-seeking-seeming? Attention-whoring-feeling-giving? And to tweet about your new crush when your ex is choking up during his interview done on the same day isn't that a bit... rude? Cold? Selfish? Insensitive? And to release to the public a separation agreement that lays out the sleeping arrangements is so stupid and unnecessary and attention whoring it should make the person who did it writhe in embarrassment. But it is not for publicity! It is an important document that the public really needed to see, because how were you supposed to get any sleep not knowing how Doug and Courtney were handling their sleeping arrangements? I know I'm sleeping better because of it, and I'm going to go tweet that a few times to prove it.

Excuses, Excuses!

Why has my usually overly verbose self been so silent of late? I have a whole plethora of excuses that no one will buy into, yet I offer them for your consumption anyway. Never mind the expired date on them, you won't get food poisoning, or lock jaw (keep your fingers crossed!).

The main reason for my silence is because -- let me check the area to make sure no one is within reading range -- I have become something of a recluse. My family always accuses me of being one, and I always argue that I most certainly am not! Then I beef up the number of times I have left the house to make myself look like a social butterfly. Why have I been so reclusive and hermit-like? I was shopping with Sugarbowl a few weeks ago when I noticed that my right leg was shaking and feeling very weak, like a newborn colt's. My hands were shaking and doing intention tremors, making it very difficult to hold anything, take a drink from my soda, cross off things from our list, etc. etc. I was embarrassed to be out in public shaking like that, which may have fed into what happened next. I started having muscle spasms from about my Hug area up. My upper body would clench then release on a rhythmic cycle. I can't remember the last time I wanted to get home so bad. We were about 30 minutes from home, and I spasmed the whole way there. If you have never had repetitive muscle spasms, let me tell you how painful they are. My body hurt so bad that night and the next day, I lived on NSAIDs. I knew that my face had been spasming, to the point that my mom, who had not seen me for about 6 weeks, asked if I was having facial spasms or a seizure. (We were at Princess's basketball game and she was going to take me to the restroom to seizure in private if it was seizures.) I can feel my face contort, but I didn't know it was so obvious to others. I thought it was just a barely perceivable twitch, but Sugarbowl said I do this thing with my mouth and she can tell how bad of a day I'm having by it (how often it twitches, how deep of a twitch, and so on).

The best medicine for my spasms is not a muscle relaxer, as one would think. Yes, it helps the muscle stop contracting so tightly, but it does not help that creepy crawly feeling I get when the next spasm is building up. It is marijuana. I have been blazing it up so much at the first sign of a spasm, that I thought this hideous sore throat I have right now may have been caused by it. I finally broke down and went to the doctor after suffering with a throat that feels like someone stuck a shotgun down my gullet and pulled the trigger, spraying shot all over my tonsils, for several days. I was afraid that he would look down my throat and tell me that a massive resin buildup was causing my throat to hurt so bad I would rather let my saliva build up to the point of overspill than swallow. I have tonsillitis and Sugarbowl has a great story to tell everyone for the rest of time. I suppose it is only fair because I have the story of her being full of sh*t, and that makes it worth it.

I have done a ton of research into these spasms and was greatly relieved that they are not an attack, and are usually self limiting, so I can become the social butterfly I say I am to my family, yet have never been in real life! YEE HAW! Or maybe just go do stuff without worrying about the spasms starting up. As the day wears on and I start to get tired, they fire up, and I light up (not cigarettes; I am still smoke free). Something great came out of all this. I was getting tired of my usual movies and crap that I watch when in my down time, because keeping my spasms company is very boring, so I wanted to branch out into something new. I decided to try out The Office because I enjoy Steve Carell and had heard so many great things about it. You may now count me as a fan. A twitchy, spastic fan, but a devoted fan nonetheless. We have Netflix through our Wii, so I can watch all the seasons on that until I can buy them, and buy them I will! Along with a Schrute Farms Beets t shirt, because that is just too great to pass up. The only bad thing about it is that Princess likes it too, but she is not as far as I am so I have to keep all this great stuff to myself until she catches up. The strain of keeping my mouth shut hurts almost as bad as my resin coated throat. And that is saying something.

Why Am I So Slumpy?

I just can't shake the slumps right now. Is it holiday non-cheer? I do tend to get that a lot, especially when thinking of all the things to do to make it a good holiday for others. Is it the nagging feeling that I keep churning out rugs and forcing them onto people and then suspect that they may not really want them are are just being nice? That's silly! When have I ever cared what others think? They will take my rugs and keep being nice because I have no intentions of stopping until we can all play the Princess and the Pea on piles of rugs instead of mattresses. Maybe it's MS related slumps. Just when you think you are coming to terms with this disease, it pulls out something nasty to remind you why it is so hard to accept it. And am I the only one who gets worse in the winter? It seems most of my attacks have been in the winter, and my symptoms get worse in the winter months, too. My TN first kicked up in January a few Januarys back, and now I dread January 'cause I don't want my TN to get any worse. My hug first started in March, and now March is a worrisome month for me. I don't want my hug to get any worse -- even though some days that is hard to imagine, but MS has a very creative mind and can be very devious. It is best not to underestimate its diabolical-ness. Maybe it's because I can't get any sleep yet am still dead tired all the time. Oh, MS, why must you be such a devoted minion to Satan? I've been up for longer than I care to admit. I was falling asleep on the couch last night, so I figured I would get a good night's sleep. I had taken a muscle relaxer because my hug wanted to snuggle, so sleep and I should have skipped hand in hand for 8 hours at least. Har dee har HAR! I turned off my light at 9:30 and woke up at 2:30 am. In those few hours, my bed turned into a slab of concrete that made me ponder getting a pile of rugs to sleep on. Even with a pea hidden in them, they would have been more comfortable. I forced myself to lay there until 3:30 -- my new 4 am, which used to be the earliest I would get out of bed -- then bitterly raised the white flag.

The day is yawning open in front of me with the promise of nothing to do to make time move along, little doggies. Sure, there is plenty I could/should do, but who wants to do any of that? Not me, that's for sure. I'm far too slumpy to find any interest in anything. That's not 100% true. I do have a deep interest in Mystery Science Theater 3000 right now. If anything can help the slumps, it is that show. It is the only thing I have found that gives me any relief, and with so few side effects, too. Sore cheeks and chest muscles from laughing are a small price to pay for the slumps to recede for a bit.

Where Was I?

Oh yeah! I think I left off with something about root beer, right? No. . . maybe it was all about ingrown toe nails, not that I get them, but those around me suffer from them. Who knows? Not me, that much is certain. I need to bring us all up to date on the saga of my very boring life then hopefully I can continue to plod on in the same old ruts as always. Everybody strap yourself in for the wild ride.

*Trying to let my knee heal, which is taking its sweet ass time, I have been trying to stay off of it as much as possible. Taking it easy is very boring. I needed a hobby BAD! I was looking on line for different ideas when I stumbled across making rag rugs. I get a bunch of old sheets from Goodwill and rip them apart, braid them, and sew them back together. I have never been much of a sewing type gal, but have discovered a deep love for making rag rugs. The area around the couch is a heap of material and rugs in different stages of the process. I'm making rugs for everyone in my family and anyone I happen to meet when I do venture off the couch. I have been toying with different names for my rug company and so far have not hit on just the right name. Knotty Gimp? Not very melodious. Better Than Drugs? Closer, but not quite. Rugs Are Better Than Drugs? Too long. Sigh. I will have to sew and think some more. Oh darn.

*After 6 months of glorious supporting someone I cannot afford to support, Acorn had to move back home. She did not get a job after much lackadaisical trying. I love her and hope she gets the lead out and gets a job, but I cannot afford myself, much less someone else too. I kept hoping she would get the anchors out of her pants and get a job -- after dropping many not-even-slightly-subtle hints -- but it didn't happen. I finally had to tell her she had to have a job by the 1st of October or she would have to move out. She put in an application, it didn't pan out, and she had to move. I tried, but you can't make anyone do anything they don't want to do, and obviously she thought I was able and willing to support her. And obviously her family thought nothing of it either because they never offered a dime to help me or her out. I find it all rather irking.

*Sugarbowl, who's engagement fell apart (did I mention that yet?) was all boo hooing about never going to meet anyone, always going to be alone, unloved, a dried up old lady at 32 because we all know that is so old there is no hope of ever finding a significant other, met a guy. On her birthday she went to the casino. Earlier that day she had attacked a bag of dried apricots and ate too many. She was playing Black Jack and had to keep getting up from the table to go to the bathroom and fart because the apricots had given her such bad gas. She was drinking, so she said it didn't look so odd that she kept running to the bathroom to massage her stomach (to move the gas along) and rip huge farts. She says that they were HUGE farts, some she thought went on for 20-30 seconds. In between all her running back and forth, a guy at the Black Jack table asked her for her phone number. It took her by surprise because her guts were so bloated and painful she was thinking more of getting to the bathroom to fart than about the other people at the table. Funny how things like that work out. Here this guy is digging her and she is peeling the paint off the walls in the women's restroom, regretting having eaten so many apricots. They have gone on a few dates now, but she stays away from fiber-y foods before their dates.

That should bring me up to date and ready to pick up from here. Here's hoping!

Calories And Strange Trees

*Update: Are those toads or frogs? I thought they were toads, but I could be wrong and they are some pseudo-toad-frog thing. Either way, I will now be accepting orders for seeds from my toad/frog tree.


I sprained my knee the other day. I was getting into the tub and nearly fell. Luckily (?) I caught myself before I could fall, but I twisted my knee in the process, which Acorn should be happy about because she didn't have to come help my naked arse up off the floor. It hurt, but it wasn't too horrible right away. As the day progressed it got worse and worse. By the time I went to bed it was really hurting but I didn't think too much of it. I woke up throughout the night from the throbbing and the next morning I couldn't put an ounce of weight on it. It was an ordeal just to make it to the bathroom and if it hadn't been 4 am I would have woken Acorn up to help me, but I knew she was going to have a long day of doing everything for me, so I let her sleep. While laid up I ate, in order, 4 donuts, 2 burritos, 2 pieces of pizza and a handful of Skittles. Ugh! I think I consumed my calories for the week with just the 4 donuts, never mind the rest of it. Yesterday I tried to eat a little less junk, but I did treat myself to another round of Skittles, polishing off the bag, so I may have to go to the store to get more because I'm worried that I may waste away just sitting on the couch not eating junk all day and not burning a single calorie. I'm bored stiff just sitting here, but when I was walking around, thanks to all the ibuprofen I ingested, my knee started hurting again, so it was back to the couch and moaning about my knee. I have been calling everyone I can think of to have long meaningful conversations and my little sister said that if I don't stop calling her she is going to press charges for harassment. I foresee another boring day today, because my knee is still sore, and more speed dialing everyone and having restraining orders taken out against me.

In my backyard, there is a tree that a bunch of toads are always on. Not just around the bottom, they actually climb up the tree and hang out up there. I don't get it. Why do they climb up that one tree, besides to make me ask questions? I've never seen toads in a tree before and am baffled why they do it. I'm sure one of you brilliant readers know the answer to this and will shed some light on this most perplexing situation for me. Until I know why, I am going to assume that I have a toad tree growing in my backyard and am going to start selling seeds from it, for others who want their own toad tree. Having a toad tree reminds me of the donut tree my neighbors had when I was growing up. The lady worked at a donut shop and brought home donuts and dumped them under the tree in her front yard. I'm not talking just a few donuts, I'm talking a pile that reached almost to my waist, and I'm a tall girl. That donut tree tortured us to no end. My mother is a health freak and we didn't have junk food in the house. Ever. We didn't even have sugar in the house for a long time, we used honey for sweetener, so to have a donut tree across the street was cruel and unusual punishment for us. Our dog would bring home donuts all the time and my little sister, who didn't get the nickname Sugarbowl for nothing, said she wanted to wrestle the donuts away from the dog, they looked so good. One of my friends said that we should hang pot roasts from one of our trees and ask our neighbors if they wanted to trade pot roast tree seeds for some of their donut tree seeds. I would love to have my own donut tree, but the calories! I think a toad tree might be a better tree for me, especially as I'm getting no exercise right now, but to have a donut tree. . . that is the stuff dreams are made of.

Just Not Feeling It

And what is that "it," you ask? Well, let me shed some light on "it". I am just not feeling a blog post that is one subject of any interest to anyone, even myself. All I have is a bunch of little nothings that have nothing to do with anything, of interest or otherwise. I am going to post those nothings so maybe, just maybe, I can clear up the air and move on to something interesting. (No need to point out that I rarely have anything interesting to say, but thanks anyway, Alfred Vaginastein.)

*At the library yesterday, I was reminded of how many people do not know to BE QUIET there. I have always made the kids that accompany me be quiet, but too many adults didn't get that memo. There was a woman loudly talking about people who have abortions. I'm not going to give my opinion on the whole abortion issue, but I am going to say that no matter what my opinion is, I wouldn't yell it out in the library, a place where most of us are taught to be quiet out of respect for others trying to read. I am also going to say that others' opinions are not likely to be changed by you yelling about it in a place where others would appreciate you shutting your dirty pie hole.

*Why do people feel the need to consummate their love at the lake? Do they not have a bed at home? Or even a back seat in their car? Heck, they can use my back seat if they are that friggin' horny that they cannot wait until they get out of public. It's gross and ridiculous. Maybe it is a rite of passage that I never felt the need to do? I must have missed that memo. I don't feel like I have missed out on anything by not humping someone in a lake while there are people -- and KIDS -- all around me. How romantical can it to be to bump uglies while keeping an eye out for dead fish? I'm so tired of seeing people humping that I no longer give them a wide berth. I will swim near them if they are in an area that I usually like to swim in. I have found that it is a great way to make them move along and ruin the obviously overwhelmingly romantical mood that attacked them against their will.

*This morning, while having my smoke and watching the dogs pinch off some loaves, I was trying to keep the mosquitoes from draining me dry when I had a thought. If smoking while pregnant can cause health problems in the baby, would my blood make the mosquito babies have similar problems? Are there a bunch of mosquitoes out there that were hatched with low birth weight or other developmental problems? And if so, wouldn't that be a boon for the creatures that mosquitoes like to feast on? I'm not sure if this subject has been studied, but it would be interesting to know.

Now you can see why I haven't been blogging too much recently. None of those topics are something I can really expand upon and are not things I think anyone wants me to expand upon. The moral of this story is to shut the mother truckers up when at the library, keep it in your swimsuit bottoms at the lake, and if smoking will negatively affect mosquito babies, then smoking does have some positives to it. I know, I know, I'm a regular Alfred Vaginastein myself.

Tired Of My Own B.S., Gimme Some Of Yours

I am so sick of the same worries rolling around in my head. I am thoroughly bored stiff with them. I have had the same thoughts tumbling over each other for too long now: Money... need to get packing... little dog not house trained yet... so poor... this stuff ain't going to pack itself... how did I miss that huge pile in my room?... will I ever have more than $4 to my name?... what if this house doesn't go through?... why does he have to hold it until he gets back inside?... maybe I should look into prostitution, I wonder if they have night classes for that?... ugh! I hate moving and if I don't have a perfectly neat move, my mom will bitch the whole time!... is he afraid the grass will chap his poor delicate behind?

And around and around. So I would now like to switch worries with you. You worry about my crap, and I'll worry about yours. Please do not hesitate to tell me what's worrying you right now. I am ready to worry about your finances, living situation, and even the poop and pee stains on your carpets. I'm so sick of worrying about my crap and I bet yours are more interesting.

Good To Know

Now that I have Acorn with me, I have been trying to fill her in on all things MS. She hasn't lived with me since my diagnosis and hasn't spent large quantities of time with me since I became such a broken down old gimp. I've been giving her a crash course in all the things she will need to know if she lives with me -- good thing she is such a good listener to my good talker. Among the important tidbits that she needs to know are these gems:

*I'm tired. No, really, I am tired! As the day progresses, I get more tired and need to hold down the couch more and more. By afternoon I will have to balance my activities by rest, get something done, rest, try and do something else, rest, eat as much junk out of the kitchen until I need to rest, rest, I think there is still some peanut butter and cake mixes left... better get on those.

*I can walk short distances without too noticeable of a limp, but anything more than that and I will be dragging my right leg along. And that gets very tiring. I showed her how to do an arm for me the best way. My little sister has it just right; my mom grabs my arm (instead of letting me take hers) and walks so fast I get drug along behind her, great for energy conservation, bad for the knees of my jeans.

*I forget everything. I will forget what I was just talking about. I will forget what you were just talking about. I will ask the same questions over and over again and never remember what the answer was or that I have even asked that question already. I will forget what I was planning for dinner and what is in the pot that is burning on the stove. When I need to remember something, I tell whomever is with me so they won't forget and it will get done. I carry about 5 million little notebooks to write down things so I don't forget and it is VERY important that I carry them all in my purse, which resembles a suitcase more than a purse, and, yes, I must carry everything I own with me at all times. Why do you think I need to drag around my suitcase/purse? I couldn't possibly only take what I need, I must take everything.

*When I push myself too far, which I have gotten very good at listening to my body and slowing down when I feel my strength ebbing but it does still happen sometimes, I need to rest NOW! And it would be nice if you would drop grapes into my mouth while I repose like the goddess I am.

*I am showing her how to do my shots and explaining that even though she has to feel me up to make sure she is not injecting into an area that is still swollen from a previous shot, it does not mean that we have to take our relationship any further. I don't usually allow anyone to feel me up on the first date, but she and I have known each other for a few years, and even though I want to just be friends -- it's not her, it's me -- we can cuddle sometimes. She can do better than me and I only want her to be happy.

Of course I have been running her through all the ins and outs of what MS is and what it does and how it effects one, which is all that boring crap that, if you are like me, you are bored stiff with. She is a good student and interested in what it all is and is not, and she has the arm thing down just right so my jeans may last a little longer.

Pity, Party Of One, Your Table Is Ready

Yesterday I held a pity party for myself, against my own will. I tried to fight it but it wouldn't go away. Coming off of Tysabri and doing the oral steroids, I was hurting, irritable, edgy and unable to get any sleep. I did the steroids for 3 days and decided that the side effects are not worth it. My mouth tasted like I was sucking on an old penny that had been soaked in Robitussin and no matter how many times I brushed my teeth or ate mints, it wouldn't go away. I called my neurologist and told her this, my history of suicidal inclinations was in my favor, I am not going to finish my 5 days of steroids and the plan of having me do steroids for the next 6 months until Copaxone reaches its therapeutic levels has been scrapped. While trying to find a way to get my body comfortable, I spent too much time on Facebook and read all about every one's hot plans for the weekend, which sent my pity party into full swing.

For games I decided against Monopoly and went for Pin The Self Loathing On The Gimp. I fell into the old Why Can't I Be Normal trap and went round and round with that. I didn't want to admit it, but I was jealous of those who can go and do things, especially at night when I am counting down the minutes until I can go to bed. I want to jog again, walk my dog, read half the night, be able to keep up with Princess, shop all day with Sugarbowl. I want to be normal and feel like a 35 year old woman, not a 95 year old woman. I want to join in all the reindeer games and be able to stay up too late and rock it with a lampshade on my head. I do not want to be ME anymore. I hate the fact that MS has all the say over me and if I try to fight it I only hurt myself worse. If I try to push myself too far, I get too tired and my muscles start shaking, that overwhelming fatigue where if you don't rest you run a HUGE risk of hurting yourself.

Ugh! I have to stop this pity party NOW because I am only irritating myself more. Every once in awhile I have to vent this stuff and be with it so it can pass and I can get back to life. I hate feeling this way and I HATE feeling sorry for myself. It makes me even more of a bitchy jackass then usual, and nobody wants that. Luckily, my roomies were not interested in coming to my party and decided to tease and harass me to keep me from taking myself too seriously, so I do feel a little better and even started to laugh at the way they were walking like me and stumbling over everything while forgetting what they was doing 5 minutes ago. When holding a pity party, it is best to invite those who will not join in on the pity. I still wish I could party all night with a lampshade on my head, but at least I can admit that my dancing would look like the tin man in a rain storm and that image amuses me and makes me feel a little better.

I Have Absolutely Nothing To Say

And I want to say it to you. I haven't been on here because I have nothing of interest to say about anything. We are all jogging along in our same old ruts that have been worn smooth by now. I have been suffering with the flu the last few days and between moaning, "H1N1, take me away!" and stoking the flames of my addiction to The Price Is Right game, I have not been even slightly busy. I am not even sure that I do have H1N1, but I like to tell Sugarbowl that she gave me the pig flu because she is such a pig. To which she threatens to punch me in the butt for saying because she hates being told the obvious -- has she seen her room?! I don't care to be punched in the butt anymore because, besides the bruises, IT HURTS! So I only tell her what a pig she is on the phone.

I hate being sick. I lay here and think about all the things I want/need to get done. I need to burn the leaves (for heresy and witchcraft), do the laundry, do the dishes, make sure the trash gets taken out, make sure the dogs get let out in time, etc etc. I also hate how being sick kicks up all those annoying MS symptoms that I thought were in the past and I had forgotten about. My MS Hug is girdling me tighter than ever, my itchy spots are itchier than ever, my right leg is even more dead and dragging than ever, my TN is even more painful than ever and not fully quieted by the meds that usually lull it for a few hours. Luckily, being a "sick" person, I have a fully stocked medicine cabinet and dug out my Amantadine and have started taking it and I am impatiently waiting to feel better. Those leaves ain't gonna burn themselves!

So there you have it. Aren't ya glad I (didn't say orange) didn't blog about all this boring crap? I'm even boring myself right now, but I have got in some great reading time, when I can step away from The Price Is Right. I AM going to win that showcase showdown before this flu runs its course!

So Busy

I decided that I HAVE to clean and organize my computer area. I have been avoiding it for too long and it is past due. My pictures of the old buildings I photograph are on my desk top and I want to be able to get to them, so it has to be accessible, which it most certainly is not. I wanted to post some more of those pictures on here and a lady in my exercise class is a photography buff and wanted to see some of my pictures. I took myself firmly in hand and put that chore at the top of my list. I started out great. I went through a bunch of old papers and crap that I haven't seen in a llllooooonnnnnnggggg time, and filed away a ton of stuff that needed to be kept. It is no small chore due to my long neglect, but I was determined that it must be done before any other not-essential chore came up. Funny how those essential chores just kept popping up.

Taking a bathroom break, I noticed that the dishes really should be done. Granted they were not a full load, but it is better to get to these things before they get to be too big of a problem. After I got the sink emptied, I had to scrub the sinks because if there is a scrap of food left in them it gets gross.

I had to go to the store and get milk so Princess could have a proper breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day after all, and I want her to get the proper nutrition for a growing girl.

How can I possibly worry about my computer area when the lawn needs to be mowed? If I don't get on it, I will be making hay instead of just cutting the grass. I tried a new direction of mowing, I went up and down instead of side to side, because doing things differently opens new pathways in the brain, and I need new pathways desperately.

Coming in all dirty and grass covered, I was scandalized that I hadn't mopped in... too long. That is just gross and I have to at least be somewhat respectable. I felt so much better knowing my floors were clean again.

Heading back to the computer area, I noticed that my peace lily really needs to be repotted. How can I go on knowing my poor baby is root bound? What kind of a plant mommy would I be if I knowingly let my babies suffer? Princess and I dragged it outside and separated the many new plants that had sprung up and repotted them all. (I have a ton of peace lilies now if any one wants some.)

Whew, glad all that is done! Now it is back to my computer area -- just as soon as I power wash all that dirt off the deck. Princess and I got into a fight over the hose and we both ended up power washed. She powered off a chunk of my hair and my left eyeball is a memory now. But I don't need 2 eyes to see how bad my computer area is.

After changing out of my wet clothes and hanging those clothes on the line to dry, I go back to work on my mess of a computer area. While diligently working, all the animals are harassing me and I have to flea comb them to get any stragglers that are left over after all that flea bathing, because we all know that crap DOES NOT last up to 10 days (FALSE ADVERTISING!). I get what I can and get back to work.

Look at the time! I have to make a nutritious dinner for Princess, who has been helping me off and on all day. It just won't do to have her eat some frozen junk out of the freezer, even though that is usually how we do it.

Of course evenings are my down time, so Princess and I settle in for a little TV watching to end a day of hard work.

Can you believe that after a whole day of working on my computer area, it is still not done?! Today I am going to finish it up. I sure hope it doesn't take all day today like it did yesterday. I think I saw some weeds in the garden...

You Take The Good, You Take The Bad

You take them both and then you have the facts of life, the facts of life! Too bad there is no way for me to put music notes around all that, but I'm going to take a gamble and say that you all know that song as well as I do. After my recent visit at a pain management clinic, I received several ideas of ways to help my pain and several more prescriptions to add to my impressive collection of meds. I have tried both of those nuggets of wisdom and couldn't help thinking to myself, "who knew doctors knew so much?" Certainly not me.

The pain doctor told me to try wearing a satin camisole thingy under my clothes and to bed at night so nothing could rub against my skin where the MS Hug has now taken up residence. He said some people even wore it under their bra to help cut down on the discomfort of wearing a bra over that prickly hug. (Hmmm, prickly is a pretty gentle way of summing up that feeling, but the closest word I could come up with.) I was able, after dumping out all my dresser drawers, to find a pair of satin pajamas. I never wear anything remotely sexy to bed for 2 very good reasons: I don't want my little sister's ex bf/f to see me in them and I did not want to tempt my ex husband to sink his meat hooks into me any more than he already did. (After more than 9 years together one would think he would slow down a bit.) I have to say that the satin really helped me last night; it did cut down on the friction from the sheets and make me a little more comfortable. So today I am going to go tear up the town looking for a true camisole -- can't wear these pajamas in public -- to wear under my clothes.

He gave me a prescription for Flexeril to take before bedtime so that I would not wake up feeling like Gumby in a full body cast. I didn't know that there were options to my incredible stiffness in the mornings. I thought it just was. He was also concerned about me not getting enough sleep and thought this would kill 2 ugly MS birds with one stone. I find it very odd that I can't wake up during the day and yet still not get 8 hours of sleep at night. I took the Flexeril last night and woke up feeling so refreshed and flexible I had to move my body around to enjoy my range of motion. The only down side to it was that when I woke up in the middle of the night to drain my bulging bladder, I couldn't figure out which of the 3 floating toilet paper rolls were the right one. I pawed the air for a bit before landing on the real toilet paper roll. He gave me a bunch of instructions about how to take the new meds so that I wouldn't mess myself up by taking some too close together, but I can't remember what he said now. The day I saw him it was 101 degrees outside and I had sweated my body down to about 10% water, add all that to my non-existent short term memory and we're on a collision course to wackiness. He also said that he thought I should be using a cane so I wouldn't fall. I told him I would rather fall.

I have now put the finishing touches on my will because I am positive that this whole exercise thing is going to kill me. Oh, sure, I may get some benefits from it before I keel over, but I will keel over just the same. I have been avoiding a structured exercise program for so long I feel like I gave in to the dark side by agreeing to do it. To Sugarbowl I leave all my dirty smelly socks. To Princess I leave all my shoes to be worn by her mother to kick her butt with...

Pictures

Because I talk about it too much, here are some pictures from my recent wanderings. If you are not as much of a history geek as me, I understand and will not be offended if this post puts you to sleep. But for those of you who love to trespass as much as I do, feast your eyes! For the record, I never take anything, especially from a ghost town due to the old wives' tale that it will bring bad luck. And we all know that we MSers do not need any more bad luck. They are an old school house, gas station and an old store. Now I need to shower and get ready to wander some more! Tootles, BB.

Boooooring

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...

Chasms

I don't know about any of you, but sometimes my days gape open in front of me with too much time and not enough of anything interesting to do. Most of you probably don't have this problem because you have lives and jobs and hobbies. I have hobbies, but sometimes there is so much time I can't get myself to sit down and work on any of them. The sheer amount of time in front of me zaps any creativeness I may have and makes me dull and void of any creative ideas. I get out of bed and survey the chasm of time in front of me, rolling out with no end in sight, and I wonder if this life will ever have anything interesting in it again. I clean, I run errands, I cook and keep Princess going in the right direction, then I go to bed and think about the lack of stimuli in my life. When the most interesting thing in my life is watching my hamster, Gorgeous George, make a new nest after I've cleaned his cage and stuff his gorgeous cheeks full of food to stockpile in the corners of his new nest, I can't help but feel I need something, anything, of interest to happen to distinguish this boring day from the one before and the one coming up. I think my inability to get more than 6 hours of sleep, when I've never had this problem before, is due to an overwhelming boredom with this life and my pathetic jogging along in the same old ruts all the time.

Yesterday the highlight of my day was a fruit fly flying up my nose. I snorted so hard, to get him out, I popped my eardrum and it still hurts. Why we still have these damn fruit flies is an annoying mystery. I make sure no food is ever left out, I keep all cages and cat boxes clean, and I always rinse the sink very well if food is ever put down the garbage disposal. Yet these little boogers won't die. Every morning I pick out at least 2 from my coffee before I can drink it. Everyone else is horrified that I would still drink the coffee after that, but I only make the amount that I will drink and it is hot enough to kill any germs, besides, I don't really care. Goodness knows we eat/drink a lot of grosser things without knowing it, so what is a little fruit fly going to do to me? But I still don't want them taking up lodgings in my nostrils. I have to draw the line somewhere.

When everyone else is gone and I am left in a house that I can't possibly clean one more time, it being clean (for the most part) already, and I have no where to go and nothing to do, I start to feel like the last kernel in the canister, rattling around by myself. I don't have any money to do anything, still fighting the ^&@ SSA, and even if I had money, I don't need anything more. Princess doesn't need anything else, she has too many clothes as it is from all my shopping to try and fill the endless chasm of time. I can't possibly buy one more article of clothing when I have too many clothes with tags on them still, just sitting there waiting to be worn. I tear up the library and read so much I have to keep changing topics to read about. The list of things I read about is embarrassing and very diverse. I will read anything when I am out of books or have exhausted a subject (either from my own saturation with it or the library's not having any more books on that subject). I have a head full of useless information that helps me not one whit. The ladies at the library like to ask me what got me started on a new subject, and I get embarrassed trying to explain why I suddenly took an interest in the burial customs of the plains Indians, which is really interesting stuff, by the way.

All in all, I have something most people claim to want: too much time on my hands, which makes me think of that Rolling Stones song, "tiiiiiiiime is on my hands, yes it is!" Some time is good, too much time is a cancerous poison that destroys all interest in my usual diversions. Is it wrong to want something interesting to happen? Something different and unexpected to break up the monotony of my days? If that is wrong I have no desire to be right.

One Small Step For Gimpkind...

Sunday Princess had basketball games all day. They had a tournament with 2 games back to back, only 8 minutes to rest before the next game, then we had to drive to a small town 30 minutes from here to get them to the next game. I felt sorry for the girls, they were so tired and not up to their usual standards -- except Princess. She is not as aggressive as she could be and to help get her into the game we started offering her $5 for every foul and $10 for every basket. If she plays really good we decide on an amount afterwards. Princess, with visions of moola dancing in her head, went out there and gave 'em hell. It cost us $10 apiece -- my little sister and I both pay her -- but it is worth it to see her get into the game.

After the tournament and before we had to mosey to the next game, the rest of the parents decided to take the girls out to eat and they invited us to come along. We had a little less than 2 hours to burn and wanted them to get a chance to fill their bellies and relax a bit. In the car we went back and forth about whether or not we were going to go. Princess wanted to. She wanted to hang out with her team and the restaurant they were going to had games for the girls to play. Sugarbowl and I were a little more reluctant. Neither of us had put on any makeup and were wearing ratty old sweatshirts. (Of course I had to be wearing my stocking cap with the eyes and ears on it; I couldn't possibly leave the house looking somewhat mature.) Sugarbowl is really shy, both my sisters are, so she was a little nervous about hanging out with people we don't really know. I'm not shy, but I am uncomfortable in crowded places where I have to walk in front of people, especially wearing a stupid hat. Sugarbowl decided that we both needed to leave our comfort zone and just do it, that and she was driving so I had no other choice besides sit in the car like a dog -- I chose to walk in front of people. I have to admit that it wasn't as bad as I was worried it would be. I did have to go to the bathroom and use my little sister's arm for support to walk across the whole sports bar to the W.C. But I chose to not look at people and see if they were trying to figure out what I did to my leg; its just better to "not notice." The only downside was the service. I waited tables for years, so I am always ready to understand and forgive any problems in service, but this was ridiculous. Our food came out at widely separate times: the first people served were the last to arrive, and the last of the food was a good 30 minutes behind that. We were really short on time and the last meal to arrive was one mother's chimichanga. Her husband, in between busily knocking back as many drinks as he could, told her to just eat the whole thing in one bite. He said to stick the whole thing in her mouth and show everyone how she can do that. She was so embarrassed I didn't want to laugh, but in the car we hooted over that one for awhile.

All in all it wasn't that bad. It made us feel like a part of the group of parents there. I was ready for the questions about what is wrong with me, but no one asked. I can't help wondering if maybe because my older sister has lived here for 17 years and everyone knows her husband, they already know what is wrong with D's sister-in-law. It was refreshing to not have to explain all the ins and outs of my disease. I just wish I had dressed better and picked a better hat.

Bringing Myself Up To Speed

Where have I been, you may be asking? I feel like I have been in a coma for the last week or so. Getting acclimated to a higher dose of Neurotin, trying to keep up with all the itchy spots that need scratching, and a life of absolutely nothing interesting in it have all combined to put me into a deep sleep Rip Van Winkle style. When I awoke from my sleep I discovered a house that nobody had done anything in while I was asleep. The trash stacked up in an embarrassingly high pile, laundry up to their eyeballs (yet still unnoticed), and dishes that blocked the sink and made it impossible to use. So with all that, let me do one of my favorite things and break it all down with fun bold titles and get myself back on track so I can commence my usual blather.



Shrunk

I saw the shrink about a week ago and she was wonderful! I was really dragging my feet about going, not being a person who likes to talk about my problems whether they are professionals or not. I told myself I was going to be 100% honest with her so that I can get on the right meds to help me get back to myself again. I drove down to the ghetto to her office, right in the middle of a bunch of boarded up houses and with men wearing shower caps and pushing filched shopping carts with all their worldly belongings in them walking around. I wasn't even remotely worried about them, most of them waved to me anyway, obviously knowing a kindred soul when they see one. The only difference is that I don't know where my shower cap is and I would need quite a few filched shopping carts to push around all my crap. I told her I wasn't impressed with the location of her office or the parking situation -- it was a block away and not a great idea for us gimps who can't walk very far without some kind of support. Sugarbowl asked, in shocked horror, did I really say that?! I asked her how long has she known me and she had to concede that, yes, I really would say that. The shrink tweaked my meds and I am still trying to get acclimated to those. I'm getting a little tired of all this acclimation in my life and look forward to being used to all the crap I have to swallow throughout the day.


This house!

After almost 10 loads of laundry, I think I may be able to see the laundry room floor in places. I have been on almost constant laundry detail and cursing my lazy roomies under my breath. I love living here, with my little sister and my big sister 2 blocks away. But, gods help me, I wish they were not so lazy (not my big sister, Mellow Yellow)! I have been under the weather with all this attack-y stuff going on and trying to get used to new/higher dosages of meds and nobody noticed that they were tripping over the messes everywhere. Now that I have woken up I have been cracking the whip over them and assigning chores to my fellow inmates of this house, much to their delight. They run away from me when they see "that look" on my face, knowing I can't possibly run after them, and even hide from me sometimes. They have to emerge sometime and when they do I am there waiting, with a chores list in hand to beat them with. I had to threaten Sugarbowl that if I have to pick one more of her hairballs out of the shower drain, I am going to put them on her side of the bed. I haven't had to pick any out since then, her knowing that I mean business. (*Side Note: Princess said that now that so much laundry is done, her closet looks like mine: stuffed full of clothes I never wear. I wanted to argue that statement, but I couldn't, knowing that I resemble that remark.)

Has Anyone Seen My Sleep?

I think having been comatose for too long I am too well rested to get any good sleep anymore. I have been setting the alarm so that I only get an hour of nappy time so that maybe I can get some sleep at night. Alas, it is not so. I'm lucky to get 5 hours of sleep at night no matter how little I nap during the day and it is getting old. I toss and turn and it takes me forever to get to sleep at night. I am not used to this. I usually fall asleep so fast I have to hurry up and get myself in a good position -- make sure the covers and pillows are just right so I don't wake up stiff or frozen from them being wrong. I don't know where my sleep has gone and I have checked every inch of my bed: under the pillows, in between the blankets, even under the sheets all to no avail. It is no where to be found. So if you find my sleep, please send it back to me. I really miss it and am sick to death of getting up at 4am. Princess says that anyone who gets up that early is not normal. I say, "Duh! Have you met me?"


Does Anyone Else Lose Their Appetite From A Higher Dose Of Neurotin?

Talk about a catch 22! If I don't take the higher dose of Neurotin I am hungry but in too much pain to eat. If I take the Neurotin, which I have to, knowing that you have to keep a certain level in the body and not to suddenly lower the dose, I lose the desire to eat and if I do eat it makes me sick. Pants that used to hug the life out of me (what I lovingly call my denim girdles) are getting loose. Sugarbowl says that all the weight I have lost she has found. I wouldn't mind some weight loss, but am concerned about my body going into starvation mode and saving every bite of food as fat for the next medicine-induced famine. I nibble at food throughout the day, making sure to only eat enough to take the edge off any hunger, otherwise the nausea will kick my shrinking buttocks. I'm curious if anyone else has this problem.

There you go, pigeons, that is where I am at. I have barely been on the computer at all and need to get back to your blogs and see how you are doing. I miss you guys and am really missing what you have to say. It is so refreshing to read blogs that say what I am feeling, usually in much better wording than I could come up with.

Defining Moments

There are moments in life where it all comes together and you realize this is what I'm here for. Lately, while keeping my TN and couch company, I have been reflecting on some of those fabulous moments and not one to keep anything to myself, I have to share them. These are a few moments where I almost burst with pride and joy that my life has meaning even at times when I can't see it.

The other day at dinner (we always eat at the table as a family even if it is just Princess and I, my being old school like that) Princess was telling a story from school about a girl in her class who is somewhat of a bully. Princess was talking to someone else in her class and this girl told her to stop acting popular because she's not. We all laughed at the story and Princess told her she was just jealous because she's not popular either. Princess went on to say that she doesn't care what anyone thinks and I almost died and went to heaven/hell (not sure where I am heading) right there. Later this same girl pushed her into her locker and Princess pushed her back. At her old school Princess was having some trouble with a boy who was bullying her. I got tired of the teacher never seeing it and her coming home with bruises and marks on her so I told her to fight back. She was worried about getting into trouble but I told her that if I was called into the school because my little girl fought back against a big fat bully boy I would go in with a grin like the Cheshire cat and ask what my little girl did to this much bigger boy and why exactly did they have a problem with it?! Once she started returning his pushes he decided that this little girl has some fire in her and maybe he shouldn't mess with her. What made me push out my chest and walk a little taller was when she took him on for bullying others. He was picking on a boy in her class that always came to school in dirty torn up clothes and smelling bad. I told Princess to be nice to him even though he wasn't always the nicest, or ignore him even, but don't add to his misery because a child that goes to school that way is having some major problems at home. So the bully was picking on him and pushing him around and she got into the fray and pushed the bully back and told him to pick on someone his own size if he could find someone as fat as him. I would be hard pressed to find a moment that has made me more proud than I was of her for that.

My maternal relatives live in Michigan, 20 miles from Jackson in a tiny village packed with nothing to do. It has been a goal of mine for several years to go to Jackson while playing Johnny Cash's Jackson as loudly as possible. Why that was a goal of mine, I can't say. It was just on my list of things to do before I die. I am a HUGE Johnny Cash fan and I have wanted to go to Jackson while singing about going to Jackson for some time. So 2 years ago I had both my sisters and their kids with me when we decided we needed to go to Jackson because the fire has definitely gone out where my grandma lives -- actually I don't think there ever was a fire there, but why split hairs? My older sister has a totally tubular sound system that can be cranked up without distortion so we rolled into Jackson with our windows down and our system up and enjoyed the shocked/disgusted/horrified stares of the locals. Not only did I get to go to Jackson while singing off key about going to Jackson, but I had the people I care about most with me --minus my mom, she was gabbing with her family. It was the icing on the cake to be able to share that moment with them.

My dog is a gay homosexual. There is no way around that. I don't care what his sexual preference is, but I do care when he doesn't stick to his own species. At my old house we had a cat that had been through hell when he adopted me. Some kids had gotten ahold of him, tied a rope around his tail and did things to him that broke his tail and eventually made the greater part of his tail fall off because he was so scared of people I couldn't get the rope off in time to save the rest of his tail. Naturally we named him Stubby. Stubbs was a lover when he knew and trusted you but would hide from people he didn't know. I protected that cat from any harsh words, he being sensitive to loud noises or any kind of angry voice. But I couldn't always protect him from my horny dog. Both of them were fixed so I thought (wrongly) that it wouldn't be an issue. My dog is a yellow lab so he is much bigger than a cat, but he went after that poor cat with a zeal that made me see red -- the only time I ever broke my rule of never hitting my animals. He would be so busy trying to mount and hump Stubbs that I could come up behind him and give him a swift kick in the rear or give his tail a good yank. He knows when I pull his tail that he in in BIG trouble and as much as he hates it, he knows better than to try and bite or fight me about it, as much as he wants to. Stubbs had to be left at my old house, being an outdoor cat who only came in once in awhile I didn't want him to freak out by being moved and have something bad happen to him, plus my ex-husband likes him and wanted to keep him. I thought the sodomy would stop. Me and my rose colored glasses! He decided that Midget would make a good lover and has transferred his lovings to him. Luckily Midget is not one to surrender his virgin behind willingly and fights back. I was thrilled that my dog finally was interested in his own species but it only got better. The other day my older sister's female dog was over playing with our dogs and my dog, for the first time ever, tried to make puppies with a female of his own species! I was so proud! If the nosy neighbors decided to see what the hullabaloo was all about, at least my dog had the decency to do it with the correct animal to continue their species, not 2 males fighting bitterly, one oversexed and the other trying to fight him off like a Catholic school girl. There is no mistaking what he is doing when he pins down Midget and starts pumping away. And there is no mistaking Midget's very obvious displeasure, or my great embarrassment when I see the neighbors looking on in confusion and trying to herd their kids back inside before they figure it our too. I don't care if my dog is gay, I just wish he'd keep it private and not display it for the whole neighborhood. The only bright side is that he is not interested in humans at all, so I don't have to try and stop him from humping people. My older sister has a dog that is a lesbian and is always trying to climb on female visitors so she has to warn females who come over about the dog. I think that is worse than my dogs having a lover's quarrel in the back yard.

Its Hard To Be So Delicious

I wouldn't know, not being delicious in any way. My little sister won't touch hot dogs after I told her what my ex-hubby said about them. He worked in a meat processing plant for 10 years before starting on UPRR and said that if I knew what hot dogs were made of I wouldn't eat them. The joke is on him. I do know what they are made of and I do find them delicious anyway. We had pigs in a blanket the other day and I made the mistake of repeating what my ex said about hot dogs: that they are only anuses and eyelids. My little sister gave the rest of her pigs to the dogs while I enjoyed my eyelids and anuses. Some people are so silly.

Halloween was totally forgettable this year. We have a house full of great candy and my Trigeminal Neuralgia decided that I don't need candy, or food that requires any kind of chewing at all for that matter. I thought my TN was in the past. Sure, I still get jaw pain when I'm tired, usually at night or when I get too run down, but it has come back and I'm wondering why it likes the cooler months to torture me. The right side of my face is killing me and my teeth are singing that old song. The back of the right side of my jaw feels like the day after a dentist visit when you have to get a shot back there and it is really sore the next day. To add to my torture, everyone is enjoying candy and solid food that requires chewing right in front of me -- medieval torture chambers have nothing on my roomies. I can't stand anything touching that side of my face and kept waking up throughout the night whenever I would roll onto my right side, making my left side stiff and my chest feel flattened. (Note to self: contact neuro and see if anything would help the pain; ie better pain meds, shock treatments, frontal lobotomy...)

My little sister has to go to court for the 3 month review to see about child support for Princess. They lowered it 3 months ago (even though he is a veteran and gets over $1000 a month for being a stupid drunk and not working) to $90 while he was in his latest treatment center. Now before you applaud him for going to treatment, let me clear one thing up: he doesn't go to treatment unless something has happened and he is threatened with jail time, like a car accident or another DUI. Then when the danger has passed he goes back to being a drunken !&@*. My father-in-law is the same way, except he would never go to treatment, only stop drinking without a word about why until we heard later that he hit several parked cars and drug one for over a block with several witnesses and in full daylight -- he being a day drunk. A day drunk is the worst. People expect a drunk late at night, not when they are coming home from work or picking up their kids from school, and when I said to my ex that he was going to kill someone someday then how would he feel? My ex said that his father doesn't care and has no remorse for his actions. A fine specimen of humanity at its best. The last time he stopped drinking for over 6 months we found out later that he had hit a truck at a fishing hole while backing up with his fishing boat in tow, lost his license, was dropped by his insurance and looking at possible jail time. Once the danger of jail time didn't materialize he started hitting the bottle again and driving even though he has no license. So when my little sister said she wanted to go shopping for something decent to wear to her court date -- she has to look her best for her ex's to make them sorry (??) -- I was less than thrilled to go along and help her pick out an outfit to wow the drunken pants off her ex and told her I couldn't possibly find any motivation to get off the couch, put down the peanut butter and go with her. I realize you don't want your exes to be glad they aren't with you, but to try and make them regret letting you go when they aren't worth keeping themselves?! That I cannot relate to. My ex is lucky if I throw on a clean sweatshirt and socks without holes in them. I crawl into town to do whatever it is that makes me have to see him with a crappy "laundry day" bra and unflattering clothes. Never any makeup or any semblance of control with my unruly hair. I don't care how he feels about my leaving and if my appearance scares him off, which it hasn't done yet *sigh*, I still can't care.

So what was the point of all this rambling? I don't know. I had to share the picture of Midget Poo Poo Platter exhausted by the weight of his delicious, fluffy buns and I had to share the boring details of my life right now -- I'm nice like that. Hope your Halloween was less forgettable then mine and I am off to do Tysabri today, on what would have been my 7 year wedding anniversary. For the record, I agree with Lisa Emrich's (I think it was Lisa who said it) comment about not needing to worry about boyfriends right now, my divorce being so recent. I only wear makeup when I go oot and aboot with my little sister because she worries about me if I am too antisocial for too long. She thinks I need to get out there again and I think when the time is right it will happen, it doesn't need to be forced. But to appease her I tame my hair and put on my eyes and play the social gimp, so she won't worry about me. The downside to having made a "suicide attempt" is that everyone worries too much when you are down and they want to make you "all better." So to keep them happy and not worried, I pretend to care about the opposite sex when with my little sister, which she will report to the rest of my family about and lessen their worry. Anything I can do to put their minds at ease I will do... except most of the things they want me to do. But I can pretend.

Rut

Ever feel like you just keep jogging along in the same old ruts? I got that right now. I have a hideous case of the ho-hums and they are kicking my butt. My house is about to fall down around us and I'm the only one who has noticed. I had to kick yodelers off the laundry pile to get it downstairs. No matter how many times I tried to tell them that it was not a gnarly ski slope waiting to be conquered, they climbed right back up and started that whole "RIC-OOOOO-la" thing again. Different aspects of my neurologist visit are rattling around my head like a swarm of angry bees, making me reevaluate different things about my life and the things I am/am not doing. I hate introspection and try to avoid it in general. I know that I need to do such-and-such and blah blah blah, but that doesn't mean I want to. The worst part of leaving one's comfort zone is the discomfort, but I'm sure you saw that one coming. So to help purge this stuff from my brain, I am going to get rid of it on here and maybe I can get back to life, or what I call my life. I find writing is a great catharsis for me. I don't like to talk about my problems or what is bothering me to my family too much because it only makes them upset and worry about me, neither of which I am too keen on having to endure. I know they mean well, but I don't want to be coddled and treated like a delicate invalid who needs gentle words and loving support. Sometimes I need to hear the ugly truth no matter how much it angers me. Like my little sister telling me that my bad attitude is my biggest problem and that I am a huge pain in her huge rear end. That is refreshing. So here is what is making me more of a lug than usual:

Undiagnosed Mental Disease?
To be 100% honest, I know I do suffer from something more than just your garden variety depression. I come from a long line of crazy people so it only makes sense that I inherited the crazies too. My father, who I got the MS from (it runs in his family. He has 2 cousins who had it), also has bipolar disorder. Or so he says. I think it is a misdiagnosis and he is really borderline, but what would I know about it? Only that my little sister has borderline personality disorder and there is a strong resemblance between the two. I think (and this is killing me to admit) that I am bipolar. I go through phases where "I am Blindbeard! Hear me roar!" then when that phase is gone I go into the I-am-worthless-and-suck-eggs phase where I don't want to even get out of bed and if I do it is only to mope around the house and avoid all public interaction. When my neurologist was reviewing the medicines I take, which she does often, being shocked (impressed? horrified?) by the amount of antidepressants I take and the problems I still have, she asked who put me on a certain med because it increases appetite. Those dirty words will strike fear into any fat hag who has minimal activity besides pushing buttons on a remote. So I decided that I needed to take matters into my own fat hands and have been weening myself off that med. Sometimes I hate being put on something that I'm not sure I want anyway and I like having some say about what goes down my gullet. Not everyone enjoys that quirk in my personality.

Them: "How is X working for you?"
Me: "I stopped taking it/changed the dose."
Them: "Why?!"
Me: "I don't feel I need that/that much of it."
Them: "I prescribed that for a reason!"
Me: "Are we done yet? I need a nap and want to finish this jar of peanut butter before someone else does."

Psychiatrist
I'm glad I'm finally going to see someone about the psych meds I take. I think they need tweaking. There has to be something out there that will work better for me and make me feel better. And anyone who has been there knows how hard it is to get into see a psychiatrist, so I was pleasantly surprised when the nurse called me the next day to schedule an appointment. While getting all my information (read "billing information" because they are more interested in how they are going to get paid) the nurse asked me why I wanted to see the psychiatrist. Uhh... because I wanted to see what her plans were for this Christmas, why do you think?! I told her the truth: because I'm crazy. She yukked it up and was able to pencil me in. I find it hard to believe that that was a knee slapper; she has to have heard it a million times before, but I appreciate her humoring me.

"You Need To Socialize More"
But what if I don't wanna?! What if I want to build myself a hut out of sticks and twigs and live a hermit's life? I know I need to get over getting MS, but it is so much easier said than done. I have been pondering this whole need-to-get-out-more-and-mingle-with-the-natives thing and I know I need to, but it is hard for me to leave my sticks and twigs hut where I am comfortable tending to my 57 cats. My little sister agrees with this so much I was annoyed by her hearty agreement. She thinks I need to find a boyfriend to help me get out more. She also thinks a "pickle tickle" (her words, not mine) would help my bad attitude. The only pickles I am interested in are the ones in the fridge and I KNOW I do not want them tickling me. So lately I have been accompanying her more when she runs around. I even told her I was willing to shop for boyfriends, but I don't want anything serious. I'm not sure where one can find boyfriends anymore, but I'm on the look out. I thought a home improvement store would have a good selection of boyfriends but I haven't gotten to one yet.

So there it is. The things that keep going around and around my head. Now I am off to try and get something done before the couch starts whispering sweet nothings to me. I can never resist a couch that has sweet nothings to whisper into my ear.