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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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8:55 a.m. - 2003-08-10
So, what'd I miss? Amazing the huge ball of nothing-to-say that can expand to fit a week gone. Basically it went like this. Had a HORRIBLE headache. Looked for distraction. Bought "The Sims". Played for 3 days straight. Family was disgusted with me and you can guess the wavy stink lines rising off my unwashed, overly ripe carcass were pretty disgusting too. But my little simulated people were just the distraction I needed from the reality of a headache so bad it made my left nostril bleed. I mean I couldn't eat, move well or even sleep, why not indulge in a marathon game of being THE God and No Other of Simtown? So I smelled bad. Like that's a first in this clan of ape-men I live with. Cleaned up my act, ha, and my headache and I rejoined real life only to find real life had gone surreal. Last week Wolf presented me with an itchy rashy butt. It did not respond to traditional diaper rash/little heinie woe remedies. He doesn't wear diapers, of course, but he's gotten very private about using the john and I assumed he just wasn't wiping well enough. So extra butt washing and applications of healing goo for a while and it wasn't making any difference, except by now Wolf's butt hurt so much he didn't want to go and he became constipated beyond belief. The kid's pants actually wouldn't button. He exploded before the doc could see him, but I took him in anyhow to prevent any repeat performances. I would like to announce that my child has Strep Butt. Like Strep Throat, only on the other end. Yeah, I'd never heard of such a thing either. Alex decided the best use of his time this summer was to have a last fling growth spurt and is suddenly 2 inches taller and he's cranky as hell. He also pulled a tendon in his knee and is limping like Long John Silver. I asked if HE wanted to see the doc too, but he declined in favor of lying on the couch whining and moaning. His face also broke out in humongus pustules which throw off the subtle glow of Christmas lights. It's really eerie. Every single stinking one of our vehicles died. I kid you not. 4 chunks of rolling Detroit steel and every one of them developed an expensive and debilitating problem within the same 48 hours. Mike was reduced to having his helper, Ganja Boy, drive him around in the Stoner Mobile for a couple days until the necessary and wildly pricey parts we needed could be brought in from Bora-Bora via mule train and tramp steamer. Along with the car woes, Mike was none too pleased anyhow because a client defaulted to the tune of $12,000. Yes, you read that correctly. I don't wanna go into it. Let's just say the menu for the next few months is going to include a lot of ramen noodles and beans. Especially if the damn cars decide to roll over and play dead again. In other, lesser oddities, you may call me the punk haired Samson. Wolf knocked his toothbrush behind the bathroom vanity (it gapes a bit from the wall, and no, Mike didn't install it), and Wolf was shrieking that it was his FAVORITE toothbrush EVER and I HAD to get it back for him. Well to be able to fit my arm behind it I was going to have to move it further away from the wall. I gave the vanity such a yank that the pipes let go and the stupid thing shot halfway out into the hall. Water and muck everywhere. Wolf was delighted with jets of water AND that there was a cache of filthy cobwebby toothbrushes back there, all of which he tried to jam into his mouth while I tried to clamber over the vanity wedged in the doorframe so I could get to the shut-off valves and stop the flood. I'd also like to announce that we are all brushing our teeth in the kitchen because Mike the Plumber Extraordinaire cannot be bothered to hook the water back up in the bathroom sink. Should I desire to use my bathroom sink some time before we move to the Hobbit House (when we are moving is STILL up in the air, could be months yet) I will have to HIRE A PLUMBER. And lo, so shall the plumber's wife be sink-less. Jan will be here tomorrow and Mike is pissing and moaning that he KNOWS the damn Bronco will die on the way to Newark. Never mind that earlier this week he spent an entire day replacing everything but the glove box on the darn thing, the Bronco is allergic to NJ, especially airport runs to Newark. Please refer to an entry titled in my archive "And how was YOUR day?" dated 07-15-2002 for the backstory. So while I am not very much recovered, my head still hurts quite badly and I'm on hour 63 without sleep, I have resigned as the Deity of Simtown for a while and am doing my best to get caught up with "real life" in all its gritty glory. 2 domestic kids (one with Strep Butt) and one foreign kid. A wildly pissed off and frustrated husband. A filthy sink-less house on one end of town and a half assembled (and also filthy) one on the other. Trying to get 5 months' worth of living out of 1 month's worth of money. I got my period 2 days ago and (TMI, for certain) I've gone through 57 super-plus OBs and a box of mega-maxi pads already and no slowdown in sight. Frankly, I prefer the Sims. I am your humble correspondent, ~LA
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