If I had to go somewhere in the US where I hadn’t been before, assuming I won an all-expenses-paid trip and got the time off of work as well, I originally thought I’d go to Alaska and see where The Grey was filmed; however, I changed my mind for two reasons:

  1. The Grey was actually filmed in Canada.
  2. I think Sarah Palin is still lurking around.

I’ve never been to Hawaii, but I think there’s a law that says I have to wear a bathing suit, which, again, yeah, no.

Oh, I know. I’ve never been to Austin. I’ve been to other parts of Texas, but it’s big enough that a separate city ought to count, especially if it’s an island of blue in the middle of a predominantly red state. Good beer, good music, proper barbecue …

… I’ll see you in a month.

I have more than three guilty pleasures, but the three that most truly shame me are: Spaghetti-o’s, Investigation: Discovery, and Grease 2.

Shut up, shut up, and shut up. Thank you.

The best kind of Girl Scout Cookie is a low-carb, low-fat, low-calorie one.

Since that doesn’t actually exist, I’m going to go with Samoas (known as Caramel Dee-Lites in some parts of the country) even though they stick horribly in my teeth.

Their deliciousness outweighs the number of times I have to brush afterwards.

I have become a horrible cynic. At this point, all I value in others is that they at least care enough to say “‘Scuse me” if they ram into you with their shopping carts.

You have no idea how valuable that becomes after you’ve been rammed fifteen hundred times with no acknowledgement save a dirty look for having the nerve to be standing still, on the side, out of the way, when they want to be pushing their carts right there.

I will be absolutely honest. When I am baking cookies, I never sneak raw cookie dough.


I leave about two cookies’ worth of dough in the bottom of the mixing bowl and scrape it clean, quite openly and happily, while the pans are in the oven.

If I were ashamed of it, I’d have listed it as a guilty pleasure.

As to whether or not it is safe, my conglomerate of doctors got on my shit for a whole lot of things being wrong with me, but never once did they say, “Oh, and by the way, all of this could have been avoided if you’d laid off the raw eggs.”

Just sayin’.

I have this ridiculous pain in my legs. Right now, it’s worse than it’s been in a long time, because I won’t be having another epidural until they’re sure I won’t get meningitis from it.

My pain specialist wants to put one of those pain pacemakers in me, and I’m seriously considering it, even though getting time off of work for medical leave has become incredibly difficult for people who are actually sick (whilst the hypochondriacs are taking all sorts of long weekends and extra vacations on the company dime; yay, them).

Whereas I always thought of this pain as being annoying, then inconvenient, then excruciating, then unbearable … if I hadn’t finally broken down and gotten That Man of Mine to take me to the hospital to see if they could make it go away, I probably would have died from the pericardial effusion I wasn’t noticing on account of my legs hurting so much.

Whether or not that’s a blessing in disguise more or less remains to be seen.

I think that the most beautiful place I have ever visited was St. Thomas. Where it was beachy, it was white and expansive; where it was green, it was the most luscious green I have ever seen up close; the water was that shade of blue you picture in your mind when you picture the ocean, and it was as clear as glass when we scuba-dived in it.

St. Thomas was kind of like David Beckham, actually — I wouldn’t want to be around something that beautiful all the time, because it would reflect badly on someone as ordinary as I … but it sure is lovely to look at.

I believe I’m more of a thinker than a feeler. I feel incredibly deeply, which just lets you know how much more extreme of a thinker I am. Every feeling I have, I think about it a lot. I don’t have to put a lot of feeling behind my thoughts. (I do, a lot of the time, but I don’t have to.)

Three things for which I am thankful right now:

  1. My Android.
  2. Gainful employment.
  3. Percocet.

I have never participated in a three-legged race. I was never fast enough by myself to be chosen.

Also, at the time of my life when three-legged races were considered important, no self-respecting boy wanted to put his arm around me, even for a race.

By the time I outgrew that bit of nonsense, we had better things to do than tie our legs together and try to run.

When I am at an event where they are playing the National Anthem, not only do I place my hand on my heart, I sing.

It’s not that I’m all that patriotic. I’m just showing off the fact that I can hit those ridiculous notes.

And that’s all I’ve got, for now, which is a relief to all of us, I’m sure.


drinking: ice water
listening to: The Rolling Stones, Memory Motel
why i’m looking forward to election day: no matter who wins, gas prices will drop for a while

8 thoughts on “randomosity

  1. I’m so glad you can still sing. If you ever get a chance to go to Hawaii, I will buy you a tankini like mine, which is surprisingly better than the swimsuit I used to love.

    • It’s not so much that I can still sing, it’s that I can’t NOT sing. The other day, I did the whole thing of Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights in the shower and I hit every note. If you’ve ever heard it, you probably can’t believe that SHE could hit every note.

  2. I love your entry. I always had to have some of my cookie dough. St. Thomas does sound lovely. I, myself, would like to go back to San Antonio to visit all the things I didn’t see the first time. I hope your pain improves. Life is no fun when you hurt.

  3. I had to pick a place in the US where I had never been, or I might have selected San Anton, where I only spent a few hours and felt that I had missed a lot.

    I think I will have the tests to see if I can be helped by the pacemaker. I’m so tired of all these drugs that only help somewhat.

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