Cranky Fibro Girl

Harnessing the healing power of snark

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Week In Review

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Sunday

If I ever need to get a clog out of my computer, this will be why.

Tuesday

What is it about barfing that then makes my cats want nothing but to physically express their love for me directly on my face?

Wednesday

I just put out a burning ember with my finger. How did I think that would not end badly for me?

Dear predictive typing: why on earth would I be trying to say “Holy shut”?

Me: Is it fixable? My husband: Probably not. Me: (crushed). My husband: But that doesn’t mean there’s not a workaround. ENGINEERS ROCK!

Thursday

Someone at a NY TGI Friday’s found a SEVERED SNAKE HEAD in their dinner, and now I can never go out to eat again FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Husband’s arrival just interrupted strange cats having sex in our garage. Was unaware that I was running a feline brothel. Honest.

Sunday

I’m very sad to report that magical thinking does NOT work, and that I STILL have fibromyalgia. F@#$.

The Latest Cool Thing I’ve Found

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is this website called Bldg98.

It bills itself as “social networking for writers, artists, photographers, graphic artists, readers, critics, basically anyone who appreciates creativity created by people who share that love.”

I like it because it looks like it’s just getting started, with a little under 500 members now, and it seems like a very neat community.

I also like it because a significant portion of your profile page consists of space where you can feature your work. That’s great news for me, because lord knows more people need to be reading about my intense fear of imaginary snakes, my discussions regarding inappropriate cat poo and the unfortunately large role it plays in my life, and my exploration of the multitude of ways I have found to work the word “ass” into everyday conversation.

Dodging A Bullet

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Apparently this past Monday, September 10th, was A Very Special Holiday known as Free Hug Day.

And if ever there was a time that I was grateful to be The Biggest Hermit On The Face Of The Earth, it was then. Because along with my myriad other fears (See: Snakes, Real and Imaginary, Calling People On The Phone, Going Anywhere Near The Bathroom During A Thunderstorm), I get really nervous whenever people try to hug me. And that’s kind of a problem, because I live in the South. And down here, people hug. A Lot.

I really can’t explain why, but I get really anxious whenever anyone invades my personal space, which has apparently expanded over time until it is now approximately the size of a seven figure, luxury home complete with its own gated community.

Back in my church-going days I used to get so anxious every Sunday. Because in addition to all of the religious issues, such as “Why Everything You Like About Life Is The Gateway To Hell”, I also had to endure The Greeting. In theory I can understand that it seems like a really good idea to make friends with all the people sitting next to you in your pew. But to my way of thinking there is really no need for even a handshake, much less an embrace, when clearly a brief meeting of the eyes and an acknowledging head shake will do. If you have never seen me before that day, and will probably never see me again, then why do you feel it necessary to clutch me to your breast as if I were the Prodigal Son finally returning home?

And while we’re on the subject of breasts, can we just talk for a minute about how awkward it is to be, say, a well-endowed, double D-sized babe, and have to endure a full, frontal encounter with some other woman’s “girls” in a moment that can only be described as, The Big Squish?

I imagine that if you are a guy reading this then you might be thinking, “Hey, having to get up close and personal with breasts? I really don’t see what the problem is.” But I think that if you had to regularly participate in some kind of obligatory social ritual which required you to press your family jewels up against some other guy’s cash and prizes, you would quickly be singing another tune.

So needless to say I did not participate in Free Hug Day, which for me would have translated into Free Have A Nervous Breakdown Every Single Time Anyone Even Looked At You Until You Ended Up As A Quivering, Whimpering Mass On The Floor Locked In The Fetal Position Day.

But if anyone ever designs a holiday along the lines of Free Quietly Sending Nice Thoughts To Other People While Safely Locked Away In Your Hermit Cave Day, I’m totally there.

Snips And Snails And Puppy Dog Tails

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Last weekend we went to the Tennessee Aquarium which is, without a doubt, one of my absolute favorite places on earth.

As we were innocently walking through the doorway into the exhibit of seahorses my husband suddenly grabbed my elbow and said, very calmly, “Just keep moving.”

I was instantly alert, because that is his code for informing me that, “HOLY F*&%, THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY!!”

Once he had deposited me at a safe distance he went back to check out the snake, because he is a guy, and guys think snakes are cool, and apparently there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. As a matter of fact, when I was telling this story to a friend of mine this weekend he said, “Cool. Did I ever tell you about the time that I kissed a snake?” (Me: Hm, really? Great. Never touch me again.)

There was quite a crowd of people surrounding the aquarium worker who wanted to touch the snake, despite the fact that every few minutes she would occasionally broadcast such helpful alerts as, “Make sure you stay away from its head.”

My husband, of course, was very excited about the whole experience and wanted to tell me all about it when we met up again.

I had a hard time listening due to the fact that he had let the snake coil its tail around his arm, ON PURPOSE, and not only that, but he had actually enjoyed the entire experience.

Me: Why did they make you wash your hands before you touched the snake?

My husband: They wanted to make sure I didn’t give it any germs.

Me (dripping with sarcasm): Oh yeah, wouldn’t that be a shame?

Falling Down The Rabbit Hole

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Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Today I went back to the chiropractor to see if she could ungnarl my back any further. She decided to put me on this special machine with a fancy name. But truly it should be called The Rack, because that is what it is. They strap you into a harness and then pull the ends of your body in opposite directions, which results in tremendous pain and The Renewed Inability Of Your Legs To Support Your Own Body Weight.

I managed to stumble into a chair in the hallway, and I was firmly prepared to sit there for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to feel that much pain again. Unfortunately this meant that I overheard the entire conversation taking place between the therapist and the next patient on The Rack.

Patient: (Being Dramatic, with lots of moaning and groaning) “I think they should just take us all outside like they do with old horses and shoot us.”

Therapist: “Oh that reminds me of this piano recital I had when I was ten.”

Me: not really seeing the connection.

Therapist: “My piano teacher lived on a ranch out in the country, so after everyone finished performing they took us all outside, brought up a steer, and shot it right in the forehead while we all watched.”

Me: “EEWW!””

Therapist: (Not really seeming all that concerned.) Then they hoisted it up on a truck (I sort of tuned out right here because this part of the story involved very yucky things such as slicing open and things falling out.) Then we all walked by and touched it. And then we went back inside and had punch and cookies.”

Me: What?!The?!F*&@?!

Patient: “Or maybe they should just wring our necks.”

(Me: Dude! With the death wish!)

Therapist: “You know, that’s a lot harder to do than it looks. I had to wring a chicken’s neck one time so that I could feed it to my snake.”

Me: Why, God, why? Why did THIS have to be the moment when I lost the use of my legs?!

Therapist: “We used to feed it rabbits…”

Me: Dear God in heaven! Save me now!

Therapist: “…but you know, rabbits can fight back. They have really sharp claws, so the snake could get hurt.”

Me: Oh, heaven forbid the snake gets injured!

Therapist: “But the rabbits still have to be warm when you feed them to the snake.”

Me: What happened? Where the hell am I?

Therapist: “So we had to put the rabbits in a burlap bag [and do very bad things to them resulting in their death] before we gave them to the snake.”

Me: Holy Mother of God, that may be the worst thing I’ve ever heard. And I still can’t walk away! This day SUCKS!

Therapist: “So one day we decided to give it a chicken instead. We almost had to take the snake to the vet, because it took him 4 hours to get past the wings, and we were worried that he wouldn’t make it.”

Me: Seriously. Am I on drugs? Because if I’m not, I think I need to get some.

Magical Thinking-2, Reality-0

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(For those of you who’ve been following my saga with the imaginary snakes.)

Last week I tried to explain to one of our friends, who also has his pilot’s license, why I just was not OK with him taking my husband up for a ride in his plane:

“It has nothing to do with you (and it really doesn’t). It’s just that deep down in my heart, I truly don’t believe that planes should be able to fly. It really feels like that violates all the laws of nature. I think that the only reason it’s worked so far is that we’re all under some kind of magical spell. And it’s only a matter of time before the spell ends, and all the planes in the world come crashing down.”

Blog Fodder #5

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“Tell us something about your in-laws (funny, memories, etc.). If you don’t have any in-laws, pick a relative like siblings, parents, etc.”

I have the perfect story for this question, which you can read here in this post from last August. It is called, “Do You Think My In-Laws Are Trying To Tell Me Something?”

Here’s why I ask. My husband just called them because he just remembered that it was his dad’s birthday 2 days ago and we did not call or send a card and now we are totally on their *&%# list.

So he came out into my office after he got off the phone and he was wearing the face you’d expect on someone who has discovered that, even if you’ve been married for 10 years, and are a responsible, hard-working, law-abiding, home-owning grownup, you are never to old to be in big trouble with your parents.

Then he said, “My parents have a new pet.” So I thought that maybe he was looking down because their dog, Riley, had died.

But no. Riley is just fine. It was that he was responsible for breaking to me the news that, “They have adopted a snake.” (Snakes only being, to my mind, The Most Terrifying Things In Existence.)

Apparently they had some people working on their lawn, and these people brought them outside to show them the snake they’d found.

“We need to get rid of this snake,” said the lawn people. What an excellent response.

Other appropriate responses:

“Bring me the flame thrower!”

or, “Why the *%$@ don’t we have a flame thrower?!”

My father-in-law’s response? “Wait. Let me look that snake up on the Internet.”

Long story short, the snake is now living in a special snake spot in their backyard, almost directly touching the outside of the room that my husband and I stay in when we go to visit my in-laws. And I just can’t help wondering, is there a message in that for me?

The A to Z of Me

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It’s exam time again, and while it’s great for me because I have lots of work helping all my students get ready, it’s unfortunate on the whole “entertaining story front”. Because truthfully, the Spanish language as a whole? Not really that amusing.

So I hunted around and found a number of different “A to Z” memes. But instead of just filling them out as they are, I combined them all and then picked the prompt I felt like writing about for each letter. Because I’m like that. So here we go.

Accent, Available/Single, Age-Being the shape-shifter that I am, I tend to take on the accent of whoever’s around me. Being the Spanish Maestro that I am, I can also do a mean impression of Mandy Patinkin in the “Princess Bride” when he says, “Hello. My name is Iñigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Booze, Best Friend, Birthday-My birthday is October 8,the very best day of the whole entire year. I am very much a person who likes to push the edge of the envelope, and this I attribute to being a Libra

If you’ve ever seen the visual representation of the Libra’s Zodiac sign, you know that it is a set of scales. And the scales are always perfectly balanced. But in my opinion that picture should always have a giant asterisk underneath it and a note that says, “Warning: the state of balance shown here represents the Libran ideal, not their day-to-day experience.”

Because, while I may occasionally reach the state of perfectly balanced scales in my life, as soon as I do I think, “OK, well this is cool. Now, I wonder what happens if I do this?” and then I purposely unbalance my scales in as dramatic and chaotic a way as I can imagine, and then see if I can get back to my previous state of balance.

At least I’m never boring.

Chore I Hate, Cake Or Pie, Career-I consider my vocation in this world to be that of “Spreader of Joy”.

Dogs Or Cats, Drink Of Choice, Dad’s Name-Coca-Cola, AKA “The Elixir Of Life”. I have practically created my own religion with the rituals and practices I’ve formed around this precious liquid life. Seriously. Just ask my husband.

Essential Electronics, Essential Item You Use Every Day, Essential Item To Bring To A Party-Well clearly the answer to ALL of these is, “My BlackBerry”. [Read more…] about The A to Z of Me

Thursday Thirteen #3: 13 Crazy Things I’m Afraid Of

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Thirteen Things about Jenny Ryan

1. I am afraid to stand behind my car and reach a-l-l the way into the back of the trunk because I know the moment I do, someone will come up behind me, push me in, and lock me in the trunk forever.

2. I am afraid to go to the bathroom during thunderstorms lest the toilet be struck by lightening and render me infertile and unable to ever again enjoy marital relations.

3. I am afraid that if I ever completely finish an entire alcoholic beverage by myself that I will instantly become a raving alcoholic. And so I never ever have.

4. I am terrified of running out of stale bread at the park and being pecked to death by an angry mob of ducks and geese.

5. I am afraid to be outside at night because I am afraid that bats will come and nest in my hair. It doesn’t matter if there are no bats anywhere near me, clearly NIGHTTIME=BATSNESTINGINHAIR TIME

6. I am afraid to call people-any people-on the phone.

7. I used to be afraid to order fast food because I had to talk to people by way of those scary speaker thingies.

8. It occurs to me that I might possibly be afraid of (talking to) people.

9. I am afraid I might somehow read every book in the entire known Universe and one day be left with nothing new to read.

10. I am afraid of imaginary snakes.

11. I am afraid that if I ever resolve all of my issues with my hair and my weight that I will then have nothing to think about all day and thus be r-e-a-l-l-y bored.

12. I am afraid that, when I am walking outside, if I don’t step on exactly the same number of pavement cracks with my right foot as I do with my left foot, that my feet will fall right off and I will have to spend the rest of my life hobbling painfully around on my sad little leg stumps.

13. I am afraid that if I actually reveal these inner workings of my mind on my blog, that I will scare away all of my readers.

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Do You Think My In-Laws Are Trying To Tell Me Something?

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Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Here’s why I ask. My husband just called them because he just remembered that it was his dad’s birthday 2 days ago, and we did not call or send a card, and now we are totally on their *&%# list.

So he came out into my office after he got off the phone and he was wearing the face you’d expect on someone who has discovered that, even if you’ve been married for 10 years, and are a responsible, hard-working, law-abiding, home-owning grownup, you are never to old to be in big trouble with your parents.

Then he said, “My parents have a new pet.” So I thought that maybe he was looking down because their dog, Riley, had died.

But no. Riley is just fine. Instead, it was that he was responsible for breaking to me the news that, “They have adopted a snake.” (Snakes only being, to my mind, The Most Terrifying Things In Existence.)

Apparently they had some people working on their lawn, and these people brought them outside to show them the snake they’d found.

“We need to get rid of this snake,” said the lawn people. What an excellent response.

Other appropriate responses:

“Bring me the flame thrower!”

or, “Why the *%$@ don’t we have a flame thrower?!”

My father-in-law’s response? “Wait. Let me look that snake up on the Internet.”

Long story short, the snake is now living in a special snake spot in their backyard, almost directly touching the outside of the room that my husband and I stay in when we go to visit my in-laws. And I just can’t help wondering, is there a message in that for me?