I am perplexed

On the way to work today, I had to stop in CVS. There was only one cashier working and three people ahead of me in line, so I had plenty of time to peruse the magazine headlines on the rack. And there on the latest issue of Glamour, in big white letters, it is urging me to read about "Men's New Sexual Needs."

Seriously? You guys are developing new ones? Not to speak for all womankind or anything, but are you quite sure we're capable of dealing with all your old needs, never mind some added bonus ones? We might just crack under the pressure.

With no objective evidence whatsoever, I'm going to blame porn for this. Or over-imaginative copywriters.

One of the two.

xoxo

and one more thing

Then I'm really over n' out.

On my aol welcome screen, there's a headline "Miley Cyrus caught stuffing her face." Click on it and you will find a picture of Miss Cyrus eating, omg, an order of McDonalds fries. Not twelve orders. Not fries, a BigMac, three shakes, and an EggMcMuffin. An order of fries.

Now, apparently, a fifteen year old girl eating an order of fries is something to be commented on disapprovingly. Way to instill and enforce food issues, eating disorders, and body hatred in all her twelve year old fans who are searching for pictures of her, you fucking immoral media vultures. May you rot in hell where you are forced to eat Mediterranean brownies for all eternity.

xoxo

learn from my experience

Oh, I am full of the advice and helpful tips this weekend.

Today's bit of wisdom? Should you be baking and realize that, goddammit, you are out of regular vegetable oil, do not, repeat, do not, just say fuck it and substitute the olive oil, which you have plenty of. Mediterranean brownies for everybody!

Sigh. In the words of Morgan Earp (and you know I've been waiting to use this): "I ain't shown myself to advantage, I am fully fuckin' aware."

xoxo

important health warning

I know, I know, this being my blog, you read that title and immediately expected some kind of snark, sarcasm, or ranting to follow. But, no. I am totally serious.

You'll remember my best friend L, who has made many guest starring appearances in the marvelous adventures (though she hardly ever reads here and never comments, being strangely not addicted to the internet, go figure)? L's boyfriend S was driving the other night when he suddenly felt dizzy. He managed to pull over and call his sister, who was closest in proximity to where he was. She met him and convinced him to let her take him to the hospital.

Well, it's good that she did, because they found an A/V block--his heart is not beating correctly. The doctors were immediately suspicious, because this is not the kind of problem that suddenly shows up in a middle-aged adult without cause. Either you are born with it, or you develop it as an elderly person. When it happens to a healthy adult, they immediately question Lyme disease. So S is in the hospital receiving IV antibiotics while they decide whether or not he needs a temporary (or permanent!) pacemaker. Scary, scary, scary for someone who felt perfectly fine four days ago--and actually feels fine now, even though his monitor shows he's still skipping beats. Also scary for someone who had a rash he totally blew off, other than showing it to L, who also blew it off.

I was talking about this with my boss this afternoon and he said his wife actually got bitten by a Lyme tick recently and that you never used to have to worry about it in cold weather, but now you do. And he told me that besides the cardiac and arthritic consequences people get from Lyme disease--which I knew about--they're also seeing dementia from Lyme in some people in a syphilis-like presentation--which I didn't know about. It's bad, bad stuff.

So! Please check yourself for ticks if you're working or playing outside, even in this weather. Please don't ignore any weird rashes. Bite the bullet, pay the co-pay, and endure the wait at the doctor's office, but have somebody take a look at it. You really don't want arthritis, a pacemaker, or dementia, do you?

/public service announcement/

xoxo

mary sunshine in th' house

The other day I read (elsewhere on the internet) a comment along the lines of "it's not all rainbows and kitten orgasms" which cracked me the hell up, though I really don't want to stop and think about it all that hard. So, anyway, I thought I'd take a break in here from complaining about people who suck, the exploitation of dead rock stars, and being thwarted in my attempt to buy the perfect platform sandals and, instead, give you a Friday taste of rainbows and kitten orgasms and other happy things.

1.) Dried cranberries. I've been eating dried cranberries in my industrial oatmeal and they are genius. A far superior fruit to the pedestrian raisin.

2.) Yoga progress. Despite the fact that, yes, my back was spasming yesterday, I did my yoga last night, and actually got all the way down into "saddle" and held it for the full five minutes. I think that was my first time. Here's a picture of saddle, taken from yinyoga.com.

3.) My mad uploading skillz. Aren't you all so glad the marvelous adventures are illustrated now?

Kitten orgasms for everybody!

xoxo

can I just say?

More incompetence. More people not doing their jobs. More frustration on my part.

My back and neck are spasming and my jaw hurts from grinding my teeth last night. Plus, I'm eating chicken fingers at 11:30 in the morning because, apparently, food makes everything better.

I don't see how any of this is any good for my physical or mental health.

Can we just enact a national Just Do Your Fucking Job Day or something? Just one day a year when we can count on people not to be incompetent, blase, and full of suckage? That's a holiday I could get behind.

xoxo

Addendum! All is now (supposedly) resolved. Maybe it's Do Your Fucking Job After People Harrass Your Boss Day.

just showing off my mad uploading skillz

Having finally figured out how to put pictures on here, I'm going to subject yous people to looking at every single thing I think about buying.


In looking for a picture of these online for your viewing pleasure, I came across a lot of really disgusted commentary. Apparently one of the pairs Converse is doing (not the above) is a very close approximation to the ones he was wearing when he killed himself. Even I, with my broad and deep and open-minded definition of "okay to do," have to say that's probably, um, Not Right.

So, yeah, I guess I'll say a big fuck you to Courtney and not be buying any.

xoxo