Cysta-Bitch

So last Friday I was all hoo-ray about the sweet deal I got on those cysts being removed. I am STILL happy about the price, but let's recap the past week's developments on the issue . . .

Using the cream prescribed by the Physican Assistant (which, again, Praise Gawd, came with thee cheapest co-pay possible), my face has been peeling like I forgot to apply sunscreen while away on a tropical island somewhere. Okay, it's not THAT bad (am I dramatic? NEVER!!!) But the first week or so using the cream had me flaking and peeling. I was warned this would happen, but still it was annoying.

But after the scabbing from the cyst removal was finished I noticed that ONE of the cysts was still there, argh!!! Bitch, bitch, bitch! So I called the doctor's office and then said to come back in this morning for another go-see.

Luckily (for them and me and Dr. J, who had to listen to me whine) most of the peeling is now concluded. But they still needed to ZAP some of that one lingering-not-quite-yet-gone-bitch-cyst.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

That was 9 times - did you count as you read along?! Yes, NINE ZAPS of the electric needle. Just under my eye.

I deserve . . . I dunno, SOMETHING for being so tough. For not crying. For not hitting or kicking anybody.

Maybe a cupcake. Or ice cream. Or a massage. Or all three.

Bitch, be gone!

Micro Meow (meee-yow!)

I have found somebody new. Somebody who warms my legs and loins like no other ever has.

Here's a picture of my new love.

I purposely keep my house quite cool because (A) gas heat is expensive, and (B) I start to have all sorts of allergy/stuffy nose issues if it's kept too warm. But I must admit that I can't keep it quite as cool as I did last year because I think the social worker would give me a hard time if my Lil' Pumpkin turned into Lil' Popsicle. In past years I had a heated mattress pad on my bed, but I am too paranoid about Lil' Pumpkin reaching for the cord that would have to be connected between it and the wall socket, so I was leery of bringing it out of storage, and certainly you can NOT put a heated mattress pad in a toddler's room, LOL!

Lil' Pumpkin SUCKS at keeping a blanket on her (what toddler does?!), and it has already taken me some coaxing to get her to wear footed pajamas (she was a big fan of having me rub her tummy as she fell asleep, skin on skin. I give an excellent tummy rub, so who can blame her!)

But I still worried that she was too cold at night, so I began investigating the possibility of (gasp!) flannel sheets on her mattress. I was raised by an anti-flannel sheet mother ("the pilling, egads!"), and live with an anti-flannel man (no metrosexual likes flannel, unless it's a sleep shirt resting precariously on the shoulder of a Vict.oria's Secre.t calatog model with a peek of pushup bra underneath).

But then I discovered micro-fleece sheets! I bought some for Lil' Pumpkin's bed, and the first night I laid her down to sleep on them . . . ooooooooh, baby! I DIDN'T WANT TO GET OUT OF HER BED, THEY FELT SO COZY AND WARM!!! The next day I ordered Dr. J to pick up a set for our big bed. Ahhhhhh, what a divine night that was!

And now, my by-chance discovery of these micro-fleece lounge pants?! HOLY PHUCK I AM IN NIRVANA, PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Micro-fleece pants, micro-fleece sheets, and my big, fluffy white robe?! Oh girl, I am toasty!!!

I Should Play the Lottery

I just returned from having a medical/cosmetic procedure done on my face that I was extremely nervous about. Basically, it was to have a couple of teeny cysts removed that, while benign, have been bugging me and making me inscure about my non-makeup face. Part of my reluctance to have this taken care of was due to it being benign, which means "not covered by insurance."

The dermatologist told me it would probably run anywhere from $350 - $500 for the removal, and referred me to a cosmetic dermatologist.

I won't lie . . . it was, um, painful. Repeatedly. But the pain was lessened by the cost: $25. Yes, just $25. Three different office staff (including the one doing the removal) said "$25." I paid cash, have a receipt that says paid in full, and went on my still-hurting-but-otherwise-merry-way. They also gave me an Rx to help even out my complexion which I was CERTAIN would not be covered by insurance, but I figured, what the heck, I should just get it filled.

The pharmacy called me 10 minutes ago with the cost . . . COVERED BY MY INSURANCE (due to the diagnosis code the Physican's Asst put on the Rx), and thus IT'S ONLY A $10 CO-PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so friggin' happy!!!

And my face is reasonably presentable, too! (I had envisioned a week of Nico.le R.itchie behavior, wearing giant sunglasses to avoid being viewed as hideous by the public, LOL).

Off to get my hair cut now - yes, a full day of beauty (if you count yesterday's manicure, too).

Office Spouse

While watching "Fox & Friends" this morning the gang was discussing the "office spouse" concept, and stating who at the station was who else's office spouse, and so on.

This made me a bit wistful for my old job. Oh, I do NOT miss my a-hole boss, nor much of the B.S. we had to endure as employees, but I sometimes miss it when I watch the tv show "The Of.fice," because we had some of those same bizarre idiots and management behaviors at my prior employer.

All of which made having an Office Spouse a necessity, LOL. You needed somebody to hang with, gossip with, confide in, conspire with. Not to sound like a bigamist [sp?], but I think I actually had 2 office spouses at one point, until the one left for another job. Then the other one did, too, but we at least still get together occasionally to have lunch or catch up.

My current job is waaaaaaay better, in so many ways, but sometimes I miss the wackiness of a large office. But I mainly I miss the friendships, the commraderie, and of course my Office Spouse, Larry.

Soup

I have been fighting the flu (or what I suspect may be the flu) for the past 24 hours. Achy, sore throat, energy non-existent, and so on. Thankfully, this coincided with Ve.terans Day (thanks Vets, I "heart" each and every one of you!), so my mom and stepfather were off work, and thus able to take my Lil Pumpkin off my hands so I could cut down her exposure to her germy Mommy, and give me a wee bit of peace.

Around lunchtime, as I was propped up on the couch in my fluffy robe, banging away at some emails while 902.10 reruns blared on the tv, Dr. J surprised me with my favorite soup from a local restaurant. I was stunned. And touched. And it was delicious.

It was so simple, but it meant so much. It had been so long since I last had it that I had forgotten I even liked it.

Me Time

I got to do something last night and this morning I haven't had the opportunity to experience in a long time.

It's called "Me Time."

I got to take a bath, alone, and in peace. And truly enjoy the experience. Breathing deeply, sighing as the hot water enveloped my achy and neglected body. It was heavenly. No distractions, no unwanted or outside noises. Just me, hot water, and my own swirly thoughts.

And then this morning I treated myself to a hot shower. Alone, and again in peace.

It felt like Christmas.

Power Outages & A-Holes

Is is power outages that bring out the as*holes of the world, or is it the lure of free W.iFi?

I am too pissed to write out what some a-hole just said to me. But PHUCK am I ever pissed!

Yep, Still Feel the Same

And they say time softens the blow. Hah.


I am watching the Hist.ory Chan.nel footage people recorded that day. Ya know, THAT DAY. And I still feel the same. I want to make sure every piece of scum is eradicated from God's green earth. I want them to meet Satan, after a prolonged amount of torture that begins by Marines, the NYPD, and the NYFD shooting them in the gawddamn kneecaps, then delivered the world's biggest ass-kicking, where they slowly die the most torturous of deaths possible, followed by eternal damnation, courtesy of The Big Guy, God.

Never Forget. Never.

Semper Fi.

I'm Back!

And I have a few observations to share (what a stunner).



Okay, here is what I miss about China:

• Housekeeping - not just the fact that your bathroom gets cleaned and the bed made, but that if you kid throws up on the bed in the middle of the night, all it takes is one phone call and a kind Chinese employee scurries your room and quickly changes the sheets, and with a smile! (This happened to us twice).
• The breakfast buffet each morning . . . Lord, I will always miss that scrumptious and bountiful spread. Pout!
• Co.ke Lite - their version of D.iet Cok.e
• How cheap the food is (and dee-lish!)
• The service we received EVERYWHERE - smiles, doors held for us, eagerness to please, attempts to speak English for OUR convenience, encouragement as we struggled with our new baby
• No job to attend to, no emails to check - just focusing solely on the baby
• How cheap and easy it was to have our clothes laundered, pressed, and meticulously folded whenever we needed it done
  

And here is what I love about being back home:

• I am no longer BAKING in the Chinese heat and humidity
• More than one english-speaking t.v. station (we were stuck with B.BC, too, ick!)
• Toddler-proofed house
• Better pizza
• Having our strollers available (the ones we spent endless hours researching)
• Finally having a baby in the room that has stood empty for far too long

My Friends Are Insane

How do I even explain THIS?! Okay, here goes . . .

The aforementioned "Man Hands" (Adrian from CA) has two hobbies which I consider bizarre. One is bird-watching, the other is collecting the state quarters the U.S. Mint has put out over the past few years.

Well, last year about this time I joked something like "hey, I have the new Montana one!" and ManHands immediately replied that she did NOT have it, wanted it, and if I sent it to her in CA she would give me a dollar in return. I did send it, and really didn't expect anything in return. After all, this woman has let us camp out at her lovely beachfront home for free TWICE.

Fast forward to Monday of this week, when instigator "2.0" pipes up with an inquiry as to whether ManHands ever sent me that dollar for the quarter? I say no, 2.0 chides her for not mailing it since I am "with child" and thus need money. I then teased ManHands that she should send it via F.edEx since I was flying away to China this Friday.

I guess ManHans decided to be a smart ass (gawd, I love smart asses!), 'cause look at what I received at work this morning . . .



A freakin' $1.oo bill, and one individually-wrapped Twi.zzler, courtesy of ManHands and her company's Fe.dEx account (gotta love those internet companies that don't watch their bottom line that carefully, LMAO!)

I am so anxious right now, that this insane delivery made me whoop it up pretty damn loud! I think I frightened my company's receptionist, hee hee.

It's the little things that put a smile on my face, and this most certainly did.

I wuv you ManHands!!!! (Can we all now change into our jammies, braid each others hair, and bake brownies?!)

Time is Relative

"As the days grow shorter, your hours grow longer."

-- wisdom from "Mr. Bill," my little brother

Is That a Can of Pringles or are You Just Happy to See Me?

This morning I woke up from a dead state of sleep just shy of 5 a.m. The reason? I had a bad dream in which I had been arrested. For shoplifting a can of Prin.gles. Yes, a can of Pri.ngles.

WTF is wrong with me?! (I know, do I want that list alphabetically?!)

In the dream I manage to get out of what had to be the dirtiest grocery store I have seen in a long time, am 3/4's of the way to my car, when security steers me back to the store. I hadn't much concealed the can -- it was kind of in the crook of my arm, along with my purse.

Now WHAT is this all about?! Much as I love the salty, crisp yumminess that are Pr.ingles, I am thinking it that this bizarre scenario has something to do with denying myself something I want or desire. (I do love chips, gawd do I ever, but rarely buy them, since I am determined to keep my weight under control and I know that letting chippies into my home are like a "gateway drug" that could spiral into me falling of the wagon).

Nah, dreams are rarely literal like that. Objects and people always represent something or someone else. What am I denying? What am I wanting? What am I reaching for? Is it as yummy as a can of P.ringles?!?!?!

Now Somebody Else is Trying to Kill Me

As if my own attempts to physically injure myself weren't enough, apparently the County Health Department is also trying to "off me."

In preparation for our trip to China, we decided to get the recommended (though not required) Tetnu.s booster, and He.p A and H.ep B shots. The A & B shots are three-parters . . . you get parts one and two prior to your trip (must be a month apart), and the third part after your return.

Please note, that EACH time we get the H.ep A & B shots it costs us $188. That pisses me off to no end. I will wind up spending $564 in preventative vaccines. Insurance cuts you NO break, and these can not be administered by your regular PCP, because they are considered infectious diseases and thus can only be handled by the County Health Department. So add into this the cost of parking, and traveling a good 25 miles each way to the friggin' County Health Department, each time. Grrrrr. It further pisses me off that insurance cuts us NO BREAKS on these costs . . . but IF we come down with H.ep? Oh sure, THEN it will pay half a million bucks in hospitalization costs!

If you have not previously read my rant on the County Health Department, and all of it's nastiness, now is an appropriate time to do so. In mid-June we went for our second round of the shots.

With time growing short and our schedules likewise crazy in the closing days before we blast off to China, imagine my horror when last Friday I received a call from the County Health Department telling me that our second set of shots "Was No Good." Well, at least that's what it sounded like "Ana" was saying, because SHE DID NOT SPEAK PASSABLE ENGLISH!!! Now listen, before I get unfairly labeled a racist or any bullshit like that, please know that my pediatrician, my favorite dentist, and my current PCP, RE, and OB/GYN are ALL foreign-born, with English as their second language. Great, no problem. I love accents (hell, I married one), and admire greatly people who are bi-lingual. But when you are being called with such critical information as "gee, the vaccine isn't valid!" I don't think it's too much to EXPECT that the messenger speak passable English!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously, a call center overseas has better English speakers.

I was told some bullshit that the 'fridge which stored our second round of vaccines "had a temperature failure," and thus we need to repeat it. But that they're would be "no charge" for doing so. WERE THEY PHUCKING KIDDING ME?! Hullo?!?!? I asked "And who will be paying for my parking, my gas costs, and our time off of work? And will the clinic be open for extended hours to accomodate us?"

Any guesses on the answer to THOSE questions?! Of course, all "No's". I guess "Ana" knew I wasn't a Happy Camper, because she said she would have a supervisor call be back. Damn right, "Ana"!!!

So "Sharon" called me back about 10 minutes later, and gives me the same B.S. about a 'fridge failing, and thus we didn't have the proper immunity. WTF?! I asked, WHY, if we got the second round of shots on June 17th, I was being informed of a "temperature failure"on July 11th? Oh, um, because the County Health Dept. consulted with the CDC, and the CDC recommended they call people and have the vaccine repeated. Again, I ask, "why am I being told this NOW? We leave for China in 2 weeks -- what if we had already left?!" Well "Sharon" then said "Well you need to have 28 days in between Parts One and Two, so you couldnt' have come in before next Monday anyway." Which prompted me to ask incredulously, "YOU SAID IT'S NOT VALID - SO WHY WOULD I NEED TO WAIT UNTIL MONDAY ANYWAY?!" Then Sharon said "Well, we're not sure how much of it was good."

WHAT PHUCKING CLOWNS ARE WORKING ON MY PHUCKING TAX DOLLARS?!?!

I gave "Sharon" an earful as to HOW they need somebody with a better command of the English language to make these calls than Ana, and how I had lived in California, so I am not some anti-immgrant b*tch who is complaining, but when it comes to important medical stuff like this it DOES make a difference -- cause for a few scary moments while on the phone with "Ana" I thought she was telling me that I had somehow contracted He.p A and/or B!!! Sharon surprisingly agreed with me when it came to Ana.

I think me throwing around "My husband is a doctor" also got her attention, because suddenly she was willing to stay as late as 10 p.m. to accomodate his schedule. In retrospect, and after speaking with a colleague about this, I think "Sharon the Supervisor" is more worried that between myself and My Doctor Husband we will raise a public stink about this, and the County Health Dept (and its employees) will be in even Deeper Shit.

What's kinda comical is that I am connected enough politically (thanks to my job) to the County elected officials who sit on the committees that fund the County Health Department, as well as have oversight on it. I could cause some serious-ass trouble if I wanted to. Plus, what low-levcel reporter isn't looking for a possible investigative story to help them get a leg up in the newsroom?!

But honestly, I am too rushed right now with other stuff, too preoccupied with trying to sew up things before we leave, too tired from lack of sleep, too frazzled with worries and fears, too agitated by little stuff . . . to go through all of that.

So instead, we took "Sharon" up on her offer to meet us after hours and get our second round of shots. And we even got a free parking spot closeby. Even funnier, since she knew we needed these shots in conjunction with our adoption, she gave us a free bib and onesie with the emblem of the County Health Department on it as a baby gift. She was VERY pleasant in person.

Don't ya just LOVE that?! LMAO (cause otherwise I will cry).

Just praying I can get through these remaining days without any more mishaps (self-inlflicted or otherwise). But I am waiting for some ninja to jump out at me, I swear. Next?!

Getting Closer . . .

:o)

More Self-Inflicted Punishment

Sheesh, when it rains it pours. And clearly, this has been MY WEEK to injure or otherwise cause harm to myself.

Last night, I decided to remove the cutesy pink toenail polish that has been on my tootsies since early-May, when I treated myself to a pedicure prior to a business trip. For some reason, polish stays on my toes pretty well (maybe because I don't walk around barefoot, I don't know). So I grab the non-acetone polish remover (you must use non-acetone lest you cause serious damage to the silk wraps that are on your manicured nails -- I know, it's complicated being a girly girl, and I have had a lot of catching up to do in the last decade). It took some SERIOUS rubbing to get this shit off. My hands were actually cramping from the effort (and I do a lot of texting, so my hands are in shape, LOL).

Once it was done I made sure to scrub my hands with hot soap and water. That's when I did something stoopid. I decided this would be a marvelous time to take out my contacts. As I brought my hands to my left eye, I could still smell the vapors on my scrubbed-clean hands. I plunged ahead anyway. The vapors from my hands had my eye buring like friggin' hell! But what was I gonna do?! One was now out, and my vision is too poor to walk around with just one in so I endured the burning and yanked out the other one. Fearing that somehow a trace amount of chemicals were now on my contacts, I pitched this 2-day-old pair straight into the garbage. PHUCK -- I hate wasting money like that!

I flushed my eyes with a ton of cold water, which seemed to soothe my peepers. But this morning I was in for a lovely surprise . . . my eyelids had some peeling skin on them, and were super-puffy! They haven't been this bad since we lived in the Silicon Valley/Bay Area (which I then atributed to pollution and allergies). When we lived out there I used to fix this the ol' Miss A.merica way -- which means whipping out a tube of hemor.roid cream and applying some on my eyelids. Go ahead, laugh your asses off - pageant queens swear by it and guess what, IT WORKS! Whatever is in that cream to shrink a hemorroid, and in a non-inflammatory manner (cause really, if you need it for THAT that last thing you need is more burning), ALSO works the same way on your eyelids! It works miracles.

But alas, I had none in the medicine closet, so I skipped my eye makeup and went about my day. And my day was going fine. I was hustling to get done at work early because I had bumped up my bi-weekly manicure to earlier in the day so I could ultimately go to the airport that evening to welcome home some friends who had just returned from China with their new daughter.

I prepared my spaghetti lunch for the microwave, and was walking through the hallway at work when I looked at my one hand thought "Aw shit, my fingernail broke. Dammit!" Eh, no wonder with all of the typing, texting, and crap I have been doing around the house, I reasoned.

But then came the 4th time in a few days in which I inadvertantly caused bodily harm to myself. I was enjoying my spaghetti at my desk, multi-tasking as usual, when suddenly I felt something crunchy in my mouth. Wanna guess when that fingernail broke and wear it landed?

Disgusting. I am a mess, I swear. I should have "crime scene" tape wrapped around me. I am a CSI delight of an episode. Grrrrrr.

Bloody Nose & Busted Lip

Yeppers, I managed to have both of these in 2 days time.

First up, the bloody nose. What's amazing about this is that, well . . . I gave myself the bloody nose. I wish I had some cool story to accompany it, but I don't. Nope, it's just another in a series of utterly ungraceful moves on my part. I was laying bed early Tuesday morning, after unsuccessfully being able to sleep (it was going on 2 hours at this point). I had JUST started to nod off, when my body had one of those sudden spasms that you sometimes get when falling asleep -- ya know, when your whole body jerks suddenly?!

Well, I had been laying on my right side, with my fist sorta loosely curled up near my face, with my right thumb extended. Somehow, somehow, when my body convulsed my right thumb inserted itself up into my right nostril, creating a gash in the process. My nose felt moist all of a sudden, so I reached for my ever present stash of tissues, and wiped my nose. Then I turned on the light. THERE WAS BLOOD ALL OVER THE TISSUE. Huh? WTF?!

I am not exaggerating when I report that it took 7 double-ply tissues before the bleeding subsided. This included me applying pressure, rolling up tissue & shoving inside the nostril like a boxer who had been punched, yadda, yadda. Each tissue was thoroughly soaked. Gross, but true. Eh, it's me, par for the course!

Then we roll to today. I am eating lunch when I suddenly bite down on the inside of my lip. HARD. This happens, right?! I wince, but resume eating. In the next 3 minutes, I manage to repeat this motion FIVE GAWDDAMN TIMES! It was like friggin' Gr.oundhog Day -- over and over I kept biting down in the exact same spot. Yowza!

I was so mad at myself. My lip was growing puffier and puffier by the minute. I have blood on the inside of my lip (under the surface) now. It's like I had dental work done, and I still have the swelling effects. Grrrr. Who knew my chompers were so powerful?!

Clearly, I am a hazard to myself.

And counting . . .

:o)

Happy Birthday America!!!

It's the most important day of the year!

A deeply sincere thank you to our wonderful military, past, present, and those who have been "promoted to Heaven."

I was so inspired by local talk radio yesterday, as they discussed the topic of the 2nd Amendment, that I am feeling moved enough to make a contribution to the N.R.A.

:o)

Peeker

So Dr. J finally "remembered" our wedding song. Only, he peeked at the web site for our pending China trip to figure it out. He says he felt ridiculous when he saw it, for not being able to remember it.

Yeeeeaaaaaah. We'll see. I think I will pretend to be all girly & hurt by this for a while, and see where it gets me.

[Cue sniffling, and commence lower lip pout].

Don't worry, honey, while YOU enjoyed YOUR last pre-parental hurrah last night -- a.k.a. your "BroMance Nite" with "Brother Jay" under the stars, listening to R.ush -- I stayed at home, eating leftovers warmed in the microwave, all by my lonesome.

;o)

Worst Husband Moment

I usually pride myself on the fact that I don't have one of "those husbands" when it comes to remembering the important things. He knows the date of our anniversary (made it easy for him, getting married 11 years to the day of our first date), he never forgets birthdays or holidays, yadda. He does f'in forget every other gawddamn thing, but important dates and dating/marriage details he rocks at!

Which is why it was so shocking this evening, when he completely flubbed on a big one . . . he can not remember what our wedding song is. Oh wait, he remembers something, it's just the incorrect name of the singer, and he is drawing a blank on the song itself.

This was revealed when I casually mentioned some additions I made to the web site we have created for our pending China trip. I told him I put some of the lyrics from our wedding song on it, and teased "You DO know what that song is, right, hee-hee?!"

Dr. J replies, "Oh yeah, it's that one by Marc Cohn."

WRONG!

So now I am NOT telling him the name of the song, nor the singer who crooned it.

NOTE TO DR. J -- it is NOT Marc Cohn. You are thinking of "True Companion," which is a song we both love and considered as our first dance song, but hon, it ain't it!

Lemme know when you figure it out, dumbshit. (Saying that with lots of luv and you know it).