When it comes to me and my relationship to technology, I would say that I am somewhere in the middle of the pack. I’m definitely not on the level of my husband and his engineering, techie friends, who routinely sit around and discuss how easy it would be for them to wire together every single electronic apparatus in the Universe, which they could then control merely by blinking their eyes and activating the computer chip embedded deep within their brain. Or something like that. I tend to tune out whenever the conversation starts to sound like this:

“…486SQLSAPRAMGB1.oGIG64XP…”

(Or whenever they decide that they simply cannot continue living unless they fire up Google Earth right now.) [Read more…]

“What if the hokey pokey really is what it’s all about?”

This has been one of those days where that feels like the most profound thing that anyone has ever said. Is it tomorrow yet?

Unfortunately I was a little too miserable to notice before, what with the sinus pain and pressure, and the White Hot Nail Of Agony piercing my eardrum, and The Doctor Who Did Not Believe Me, but last Monday, June 12th, was the one year birthday of my blog!

I always knew I could produce an almost unending stream of words pretty much on demand, but who knew I could come up with enough actual funny stories to fill up an entire year?

So I just wanted to take a moment to mark this occasion, and to thank all of you who read this blog. Because without you, I would just be jibber jabbering out into nothingness.

Here’s to another great year!

This weekend I did something really fun. But I wasn’t sure whether or not to write about it, because the context in which the funny stuff happened was a church, and I never want to offend anyone’s religious sensibilities.

But I really like telling funny stories, so I will just say here at the beginning that, as always, the only person I’m making fun of here is myself, due to my Outstanding Inability To Blend In. [Read more…]

Those of you who know me and/or who have read my blog for any length of time are extremely familiar with my super-human love of the word “ass” and my deep desire to work it into conversations whenever it is humanly (and humorously) possible.

So as I was driving this weekend I saw what was quite possibly The Most Awesome Sign Ever because it was offering

“Stained
Ass
Classes”.

Dude-sign me up! I am there!

So I had to go to the doctor today thanks to The Gamers, who have apparently been spending this last month taking turns being the host body for this really icky sinus infection.

As if I weren’t feeling badly enough already, what with the illness, and then the having to step onto a scale and get weighed IMMEDIATELY upon exiting the waiting room, the doctor apparently decided to go ahead and diagnose me without all the pesky bother of actually examining me.

“So you’re 4 weeks into it,” she said as she came into the room. “Are you late often?”

What? WHAT?! Whose chart are you looking at, lady?! I know I’m a little out of it, but those are not the answers I gave the nurse when she was taking down my symptoms.

I’m not here because I think I’m pregnant. I’m here because I think I have a sinus infection. Because, as far as I know, being pregnant does NOT cause you to feel like there is a monkey trying to hack its way through your eardrum with a very dull hatchet which has been heated to the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns.

Fortunately she did condescend to examine the parts of me that were actually affected, and at the end she actually gave me an actual prescription for actual medications for the actual condition that I actually have. And she did not try to force me into the stirrups so that she could take a little rambling stroll around the inside of my pelvis. (An excellent choice on her part.) I guess the bulging volume of infected fluid pounding against my eardrum convinced her that I was not “faking” the symptoms of a sinus infection in order to mask the fact that I was actually there to receive pre-natal care.

So here I am two prescriptions and two injections later, realizing that there is nothing quite like Someone Who Ignores Your Truth to make you feel invisible and 5 years old again. That, and having to take your pants off in order to get your shots.

…was a story involving a whip, leather boots, and the following disclaimer:

“Well, I was drunk. And it was the 4th of July.”

Because we have no human children and a lot of free time on the weekends, my husband and I have recently been allowing Tigger to explore the back deck from the safety of a cat harness and an expandable leash.

Being that it is the summertime, and we do live in the South, and we are caring and responsible (or horribly mean and abusive, it all depends on how you look at it) kitty parents, tonight we forced all the cats to endure The Application Of A Flea Control Substance.

That means that now, wherever I turn, I am faced with the highly indignant, self-righteous, and martyred (not to mention EXTREMELY grumpy) stare of animals that have been denied the privilege of having creepy crawly critters hatching in their fur all summer long. Plus the frustration stemming from the fact that I have now messed up the pristine smoothness of their coat, which they just spent the last 87 hours licking into perfection. Mixed in with the calculating stare that tells me that they are trying to decide whether or not I’m worth the effort of reaching out and whacking as I pass them by.

Life’s hard when you’re a cat.

Yesterday I had to sign into one of my many online accounts so that I could order a refill for one of my prescriptions. Unfortunately I had forgotten my password, but luckily there was a link I could click on that would give me a password “hint”.

I expected it to be a question that I had to answer like, “What year did you graduate from college?”, or “What was the name of your first pet?”

But clearly I had forgotten who I am. Because when I clicked on that link, I saw this:

“The hint for your password is…’ham’.”

HAM.

What?!

Clearly “cleverness”+me=not a good idea At All