Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler

Dear Lord. Longest day EVAR at work. You know The Two Bobs in "Office Space?" Yeah, they've been visiting us this week. I'd be less freaked out if I hadn't TWICE been speaking with someone when they got the word it was time to go. And one of 'em was my boss. Scary.... They say they're done (for now), but I think it'll take a minute for any of us to exhale, especially given the way business isn't going right now. And I'ma shoot someone if the tv doesn't quit mentioning "the economy" while it tries to sell me stuff. Blargh. I'm gonna go eat another cookie.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

It's dreadfully embarrassing, but I've somehow become a way-late-in-the-day "Watchmen" fangurl. It's probably because I've had so many comic book boys for friends and boyfriends- I tend to smile indulgently on their obsessions without actually paying much attention (ME? Not doing research?!? GASP!) until I inadventently join in (Yay, Doctor Who!). I've only recently realized that the Alan Moore interest sparked by "From Hell," "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," "V for Vendetta," the new "Watchmen" movie, adds up to some cool shit I've never bothered to read up on, which is just not like me. I liked every one of those movies except "LXG," which was so wrong on SO MANY LEVELS- I know opinions on Wold Newton stories in general are divided- I'm still not too pleased with my beloved R.A. Heinlein's attempt to bring it all back home, but I love, love, love Kim Newton's "Anno Dracula" for the name dropping and world building and... okay, I'll stop. Point is, fantasy fans are what they are, no matter which genre name/discipline/denomination they're willing to admit to, and I feel like a doofus. I was blown away by "Watchmen," reading it preparatory to seeing the movie. I don't have much to say critically (this is why I wasn't a successful English major. "Gah!" and "Sweet!" don't make particularly incisive commentary). Seriously, though.... DUDE, I liked the book, and I'm not as pleased with the movie as I wanted to be. It's like a slideshow of someone's vacation- it LOOKS right, it LOOKS like what they told you, but... it's got no balls (yes, Ozymandias, I'm lookin' at you...), no oomph. It does NOT help that I've developed a weird thing for Mr. Scary Anti-Hero of 1985, the Comedian (I dreamed he was macking on me at my granny's funeral- weird). I've become consumed by this visual world, and ever more irritated that the moving version is so... wrong in some ways, and boring in others. Ach. I'm a giant weirdo, and es que obvio que I'll have to move past this latest obsession, cause I can't be the Silk Spectre for Halloween (I look dreadful in yellow), and even if I were, people'd think it was about the movie rather than the book, which would be highly irritating. *sigh* Read the book, y'all- there's cool related stuff on the web: an Alan Moore interview here, some really interesting conspiracy-theory type stuff , even theses on this world. It rocks, way more than the damn economy news does- yet it still fits in with what's happening now.

Good stuff.

Well, damn.

My grandma up and died this morning.

It's not something social!

So I've had nine blood tests, an MRI, 2 docs so far, and they still can't tell me what the deal is with my blind spot. Might be a B-12 thing, might be....anything, really. The best part? No matter the cause, they can't fix it. It may get better, worse, go away, or never go away... nobody knows. Modern frickin' medicine. Sheesh.

Put the lime in the coconut, then you'll feel better

Ya know, I can go five years without seeing a doc, and then everything comes down at once. ALL I WANTED was new contacts, and now I find out that a weird blind spot in your vision can mean anything from a viral infection to syphilis to multiple sclerosis to cancer. Yay! I get nine blood tests, a vomitously expensive MRI tomorrow night, and possibly a spinal tap. The neuro yesterday cost 50 bucks, was sooooo snippy, and didn't tell me a damn thing I didn't know from Googling over the weekend. (When will I get a job that pays me just to do research? I'm good at it). I am wigging out, with fear of the results, worry about the money, you name it. No biggie, it's most likely one of the stupid reasons like a B-12 deficiency, but I can't help being scared. I'll let y'all know. Well, unless it's syphilis- it's bad enough having the neuro say, "Well, it's not like you're a virgin, are you?" (Judgey, much?) and my brother faking 18th-century-British-gentlemens' accents and offering to watch "This is Spinal Tap" with me without you goofballs laughing ("Syphilis? What? Nobody's had that since Al Capone! Did she date a geriatric?" etc). Gah. I wish I'd just get squashed by a bus already- it's cheaper.

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take...

You know that feeling like when you've had a toothache for so long you don't remember what it feels like not to have it, and then it stops and you're like, "Oh my God, it's so... quiet." That's basically where I am. Weird, shocking... but such a relief.

Thank goodness that's over!

The holiday drive, that is. Went up to mom's Tuesday, got in one set of grandparents, did Christmas stuff yesterday morning and caught the other set of grandparents on my way back to Orlando. Got home about four and ate every single thing from my stocking plus leftovers in one fell, bloat-inducing swoop, then spent twelve hours in a cheese-and-chocolate-and-cashew-and-shrimp stupor. Gah, you can tell when I'm worried about money- I'll eat anything that isn't furry. At least I got really good presents this year, that's nice. I slacked re: work today, figure it's ok since crazy season is about to start and I'll be living in the friggin' place for two months- if I don't end up in the loony bin.

No soup for you!

More adventures in everything-but-the-sink cooking: I've been grouchy and sickish with a fever/tummyache/headache thing for two days, and decided to make a quickie chicken soup. So I took water, bouillon, celery, carrots, and frozen chicken tenders... and then added Publix mojo chicken, tomato paste, milk, frozen french fries, bell pepper, jalapeno, onion, black olives, cloves, sea salt, garlic, spinach, cheese, and a lot of cayenne pepper. It turned into a sorta chicken-vegetable bisque. And it was sooooooo good. I still feel ucky in my head, but my tummy is warm and happy.

Christmas at the Gein's

I have revolting leper hands. And, apparently, chip crumbs in my keyboard.

So here's what happened with Project Dummy 2: Electric Boogaloo. I was feeling better by late yesterday, so got Dan to duct tape me. That mess gets HOT, and it's not easy to cut off your bod. We taped up the side seam, started on the foam filling. Got the thing half full ('Hello, Clarice...'), ran out of foam. Had to hang it up to start drying during the walmart run. Now, we're talking about a life sized, very endowed, headless, limbless model of a lady with dowel rods stuck through the legs like a pig on a spit, hanging upside down from the ceiling. Outside. My neighbors have Christmas trees and pretty lights, and I've got... a torso. Oh, dear.

So we got more foam, finished the filling. Here's where the problem came in: the second batch of foam was the 'Large Gap Filler' (stop snickering!). Apparently it expands to about 4 times its original size, and in an enclosed container the heat from gas expansion as it dries warms duct tape up enough to pop seams. I was traumatized by how much Girl the first dummy was, but lemme tell ya, this new one is not a lady you wanna piss off. She is one solid broad. Mae Westian. Anyway, I was trying to trim the loaf-of-bread extrusions that were exploding from the leg holes (I said stop snickering!), and went in there barehanded with a cheap steak knife after ruining my plastic gloves. Holy Lord Jesus, I have never made a worse mess in my life. You know the worst sunburn you ever had? The one where your skin went nuclear and then peeled in cornflakey wads for a month? That's my hands. And my nails... it's like bionic bread dough. I'm not gonna list everything I've tried to clean it off, but it's not working.

Oh, and btw, you do NOT want to blink out a contact while this is happening. It's also Not a Good Idea to somehow get the stuff on your butt. Or to try to smoke, Dr. Strangelove style, with all your fingers glued together. And no, there's no video. (It'd be highly NSFW given the number of hysterical cussing fits involved).

The cable guy comes back today, so I'm'a have to sacrifice a shirt to cover her up while he's here- the damn thing looks really porny standing in my living room, (hey, sailor!) and some of those Brighthouse guys are weird. I figure if I make things to fit her, they'll be loose enough I can take in the seams as needed to fit my actual figure. So that's sort of a plus, except maybe for the 70's bikini I've been working on. Her booty resembles the stuff rap videos are made of, and mine... doesn't. *sigh* C'est la vie... or something like that.

Oh, yeah:

(Actually, it's tomorrow. Yay, me, anyway.)

Oh, dear.

Just watched "Little Miss Sunshine"- yeah, I know, I'm like three years behind on that- and it was aight. Steve Carell was really good, and I was so relieved it didn't get overly twee, or self-conscious trying to show outsider types (yeah, Napoleon Dynamite, I'm lookin' at you). Not good enough to buy, but not bad.

Anyway, it's a slow day. I'm a bit tranked, so that adds to the draggy feeling. The doc and I have talked about the idea that 100 percent better isn't a quick process, that sometimes 50 or 80 percent can be enough "better" to get by. I just want the energy to put up Xmas lights and wrap presents, maybe stay at work a whole 8 hour day. When's 80 percent gonna hit?

(Later)
Gonna have to call a mulligan on the dressmaking dummy. One problem with being, er... A Whole Lotta Girl is that it's really tough to get the bits and pieces stuffed without structural collapse issues. Cloth squooshes, wet tissue paper won't stay put, and tinfoil... well, if you've seen the nutjobs' hats, you can imagine. Kinda Gaultier. I'm thinking 3 layers of duct tape filled with Great Stuff foam for the next go round.

Hello, Clarice...

If my shrink weren't married, I'd propose to him. Just kidding, but I really do feel a little better about things now. We're doubling the dose on the generic to see if that will equal the brand's effect, and he kicked me samples of Obscenely Expensive Drug A to get me through until the generic upgrade kicks in. Maybe now I can have a nonMorrissey birthday. Yay!

Side note: If you happen to sew, and happen to think making your own dressmakers' dummy is a good idea, you're right- but be prepared. Seeing your own torso modelled in true-to-life size and proportion is... off putting. And stuffing the thing feels extreeeeeeemely Buffalo Bill-ish. I kept thinking, "He's making himself a girl suit out of real girls" the whole time. Yeesh.

Thanksgiving, woo!

Short morning at work, Monty Python on the Beeb, wings-n-beer with my brother, only two more weeks 'til my birthday. Not so bad.

Can I buy you a fish sandwich?

You know what I despise about finding out for sure I'm mentally off? It was bad enough to spend first half of my life "gifted" and the second half "crazy," but now I'm terrified I might not ever get better. I'm horribly upset 'cause the generic meds aren't working at all ($5 copay vs $100 for brand), and the contrast between feeling almost normal a few weeks ago and this terrible now is awful, insulting, like poking the kid in the Special Helmet with a pointy stick. I see the doc Monday, but in the meantime, I can't make it through a full day at work, hate everything and almost everyone, and am constantly... well.... I know what I think and feel minute-to-minute, but I can't tell what's really me and what's the meds. I am sick of feeling like this when I have people who need me to be at least vaguely normal.

On a funnier, even weirder note, I'm getting hit on a lot lately- like, five propositions this week. It's mad flattering, considering I have 30 more lbs to lose to get back to my fighting weight, but kinda infuriating 'cause I feel so bad and apparently look pretty nice. Men are bizarre.

hOpe?

Watching election results, wishing I were in Grant Park, drinking a beer- and believe you me, shaking hands are no fun when it comes to CDB in cans. Of course Florida hasn't been called yet (again?!?), (and I'm dying to know the results on Prop 2) but the big towns are all blue so far.... I'm wishin' and hopin'. And golly, isn't Keith Olbermann a cutie?

she's lost control again

Wow. Complete meltdown this morning. The meds are helpful, but having a level-er head gets you thinking too much sometimes. Halloween was good- talked with my shrink, went to a party- but the rest of the weekend has been eh. Without a project to work on I had too much time to squirrel. So now I'm making a new pair of running pants. Exciting life, huh?