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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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2:11 p.m. - 2005-07-04
Guh. I am a snot faucet. Something is blooming, sporing, and/or dispersing seed and making my life a holy hell. I took my antihistamines. I shut the windows and turned the air on (huge sin, the temp outside is bearable). I even have both fans with the ion filters going. And still it feels like somebody stuck a lit propane torch up my nose, set everything from my optic nerves to my uvula on fire and then tried to douse it with mucus. Wahhhh. I also got my period yesterday and yay for me I managed a whole cycle without going gonzo. Of course I ate like a gavoon and made it an official 20 pounds. I've regained 20 pounds. Depressed? You betcha. If somehow I manage to get my act together and start dieting HARD right now and keep it up until Oct I will be back to just about the same size I was for the last JournalCon. Talk about running in place! Sheesh. One pedicure and I'm a spoiled brat. Yesterday I realized I wouldn't have time/money/health to get to the nail salon and would have to do my toes myself. Would you believe I sulked about it? In defiance of summer mandated corals and pearly sherbets I did both fingers and toes in scarlet. Just cause I felt mean. Mike was talking with the neighbor guy (the owner of Mr Barky) and neighbor guy announced they were going to put an addition on their house! Crapadoodle. Are they extending on the far side of their house where the majority of their lot space is? Of course not. They are cramming the new addition in the slim wedge of property between their house and our driveway. While this means Mr Barky will have to be chained to a different tree, it also means those horrible people and their horrible smelly cooking and the extra-horrible screeching sons whose voices have been cracking since we moved in 2 years ago and show no signs of ever settling in a human register and they will sound like velociraptors forever will be closer than ever to MY office!!!!!!!!!. And I just know the excavation for the $%^&* addition will play hob with my maple tree's roots. These awful dog abusing people with their ear drum curdling children are going to kill my tree and end up sitting in my lap when they come downstairs into their new kitchen for breakfast, the new part of their house will be thisclose to my desk. If there was anyplace else in the house that I could use as my office I would move on the instant. But when your house is basically a double-wide trailer stood on end you make do with the teeny slivers of space you have. I am deliberately not thinking about the construction phase itself because if I think about the noise and the filth and the machinery and the yammering workmen with their crackling two-way radios and cranked to the max ghetto blasters I will burst into noisy tears and subsequently drown in boogers. We are supposed to leave fo Maureen's in an hour. A Fourth of July wing-ding. I have done my contribution to the festivities, I made some tuna-noodle salad and iced a case of Heineken, but am wondering whether dragging my snot clogged, profusely bleeding, bloated sour patch self to a party is really a good idea. Well, Maureen's place isn't the end of the Earth. If I feel too lousy I'll get somebody to drive me home. Mike has to stay there, he's in charge of fireworks. Maureen said the last time she let her husband and brother loose with some fireworks they burnt down the lawnmower shed. I'll make sure that along with the pasta and the beer we bring a couple of fire extinguishers. Heh. There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight. Honk. Wheeze. Grumble. ~LA
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