PSA

To the very sweet lady who posts on a forum I frequent:

Your kid is, in fact, VERY adorable. However, PLEASE cut his hair! I spent several moments thinking how much your adorable daughter had grown, when I remembered you don't have a daughter. I know you think the long hair is cute, but until he is old enough to have pronounced masculine features, he is going to get mocked silly. Watch it or I will turn you over to Mr. Samoa's Grandpa Panda. ("That's my GRANDSON you're talkin' about there, woman!") Panda hauled a 4 y/o Mr. Samoa immediately off to the barber after said incident. Perhaps you need to meet Panda.

Oh, and while you're at it, can you buy your adorable son some overalls that fit? The poor kid looks like a stuffed sausage in the ones he has. You are a very sweet lady, but you're not the most clueful thing going, I suspect.

That is all. Thank you.

Grendel Update 3/31/08

She is back in her native state, living with her parents while planning to move in with her friend Millie. (I think what she wants is to make a move on Millie, but hey, at least it's no longer my problem.) I called it- she *did* dump the cats on Caroline. Supposedly she is going to be back in four weeks to get them, so we shall see. I am given to understand that she had a job interview last Monday. Unfortunately, she feels she nailed it (I say "unfortunately" because when Grendel thinks she nailed something, that generally means she was about two steps off of being removed from the premises by security) but hopefully she'll get it anyway. Grendel is not fundamentally a horrible person, and Mr. Samoa and I don't wish her any ill, but she direly needs to get her shit together.

Shine

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080331/ap_on_hi_te/yahoo_women;_ylt=AqS9aMZEGPVVXOEyIZxM7sus0NUE

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. It's kind of neat that Yahoo is launching something for the same demographic that iVillage covers (yeah, iVillage kind of lost its shine when I discovered other sites where you actually could tell trolls to go to hell) but I wonder if I'll have any more in common with its users than I do with those of other sites. I don't exactly need parenting tips, shall we say.

That reminds me, I don't know if I've ever blogged that Mr. Samoa and I are childfree. For the record, that means that we do not have, never have had, nor do we ever wish to have children. (If you have them, you were not childfree before. You were childless. Childfree means you don't want or have them. Sorry, that drives me nuts when people try to argue that. ) Our reasons for this are multiple:

*We like our lifestyle the way it is.

*I run screaming at the sight of any child between approximately the ages of 5-18. (Actually, that's the big reason.)

* I take about 765875965 maintenance meds, most of which if taken during pregnancy would cause a child to be born with green skin and a four-point rack of antlers. And no, I can't do without them, not unless I want to spend 9 months being carried about on a board. (Well, I suppose I theoretically could do 9 months on a board, but I'd have to think long and hard about that even to get something I LIKED.)

*If any little shit pulls my little Mintimint's tail, they will get knocked into the next county. I have heard that Children's Services frowns on this, so preventative measures are preferable.

So that's my random ramble for the night. Now to prevent myself from buying more shoes. After the bright yellow Crocs, there's no telling what I'm capable of.

I can has Chin spins!

Well, got Mr. Samoa on board and e-mailed the breeder. I still have to confirm this bit with her, but it looks like the Chin-spins will be arriving the week of April 14. Perhaps I will have learned how to attach pictures by then!

In other news, Odd Lots had rose bushes again yesterday. We had a gorgeous pink multiflora that we had gotten from there, but between the weedwhacking the fuckers at our old landlord's gave it and the move here, I don't think it survived. :( We got four bushes, a blue one, a white one and two pink ones. Weather permitting, planting them is on the schedule for today. I think we'll put them at the top of the yard where it is pretty shady and moist. I saw an actual earthworm when we were digging up there yesterday!

Chin spins for all!

Well, we found a Chin puppy! This one is a little boy, and he is red and white. The black-and-white girl they wanted us to look at had the dubious distinction of being the only ugly Chin I've ever seen. :P So, just have to confirm with Mr. Samoa before I e-mail the breeder and off we go!

Signs of the apocalypse

So I was sitting around today, reading the Largeville News online. The Largeville News is out of the capital city of our state, and covers news statewide. A headline out of Samoaville, Mr. Samoa's hometown, caught my eye. Now, normally the most newsworthy thing that happens in Samoaville is when Tagalong and I get into it at the Memorial Day barbecue, so I investigated further.

The name "Sandra Smith" in the article caught my eye. I couldn't remember how but I knew the Samoa family knew her. Which was exceedingly unfortunate, considering she had been murdered! She was apparently murdered in her bed. I immediately rushed to the phone to call Mother Samoa, Mr. Samoa's mom, and figure out how the Samoas knew her. As it turned out, she had been the principal of Mr. Samoa and Tagalong's elementary school, and was well known in the community. Ms. Smith was apparently also well known for her Springeresque marital strife. I said to Mother Samoa, "You don't suppose the husband did it, did you?" She said oh, goodness, no, he never would have done such a thing. I made agreeable noises, but I was thinking to myself, "Upstanding guy, huh? Call the sheriff- we found our suspect!" :P In any case, the family of the victim can certainly use your prayers and thoughts.

In the Chin saga, photos and video have been procured. Should Mr. Samoa ever get home and get his butt onto Messenger, I will show them to him.

Wrong Ade update

The RN for our agency called Wrong Ade and knocked them around. She actually called them twice. The first time she got hung up on (!!) but the second time she explained to them as how they WERE going to bill Medicaid. We will be going to Wrong Ade's competitors from now on. :P

A pain in the Chin

The Chin saga continues. I finally got ahold of the breeder. Among other details, they want $1200 (!) for the pup. Mr. Samoa was understandably leery about paying that much for something sight unseen unless it poops platinum bars, so I have asked for pics and video. Will keep both of you loyal readers posted as events warrant. This sort of fiasco is what keeps puppy mills in business! :P

The world's shortest year

I have the weirdest life. EVER.

I have long wanted a Japanese Chin puppy. It would also be a good sibling for DD1. So I go to this breeder's website, that I have long drooled over, and filled out the waiting list form. Waiting list is supposed to be about a year, which is fine by me. It will give us time to save up, etc. So I fill it out, sent it off. This was about 11 AM. The time is important.

So, moving on to 3 PM. I'm in the doctor's office with Gina the Client. Phone rings. I answer, thinking it might be work related. It's the breeder. Actually, they have a puppy in Texas. Am interested? This, a big ol' three hours later. This was supposed to be a year wait! I told her I'd have to call her back. I hang up, look at Gina and go "Just how long were we in that waiting room?!" She laughed at me, because she knows that all neurotypicals are doofuses.

This all had the most anticlimactic finish possible. I prepared questions, called... and got this labyrinthine business voicemail that I couldn't even figure out how to leave a message. I wound up going to the website, getting the e-mail, and e-mailing the questions. So, we shall see. The moral of this story is, I have the weirdest life known to mankind. Or puppykind.

Dear body

I know you have been out to get me for about the past ten years, and I have learned to work around most of your evil tricks. But, was the abrupt, sharp stabbing pain in my left hip REALLY necessary? Sneak attacks aren't cricket, you know. Gotta observe the rules of war here. For that, I'm gonna have to nail you with an extra Ultram!

The evil that is Wrong Ade

Good ol' Wrong Ade. I am pretty sure you can figure out to which pharmacy chain I refer.

I work in Podunkville, a small town a few miles north of Bugpit. Podunkville has one lone pharmacy, a branch of Wrong Ade. The following is cut and pasted from the chat I am having with Mr. Samoa, in which I was recounting what they did.

Me: They kept insisting they needed Resident's "Medicare card." I kept telling them they needed to bill MedicAID. They didn't want to hear it. I even brought them the only card he had that said "Medicare" and they said that wasn't it. So I wound up having to pay cash out of the petty cash so he could get the damn script

Me: And they were really rude about the whole thing. That's to say nothing of what they did to another poor customer and a doctor they dealt with

Mr. Samoa: oh boy.

Me: The customer was in the drive thru and apparently had called in some of her refills too soon. Well, they told her this and she asked them to double check just to be sure. Politely, I heard her. Well, they get off the intercom, proceed to generally slander this poor woman's parentage and character (loudly, in fromt of the whole store)

Me: And then the teller heads back toward the window and they're like "Yeah! Go get her, Mabel!" I don't think they ever did actually check

Mr. Samoa: I would write a letter to corp. HQ. that may get their attention.

Me: As for the doctor, they were just basically making nasty remarks about the doctor's ancestry, potential sexual orientation, personal habits, and clothing preferences. Loudly, naming the doctor by name

Me: Oh, I am. I am on Wrong Ade's website right now to see if I can find a form.

Mr. Samoa: "yeah! got get her, Zen!" ... oops, sorry.

Me: Oh, and let's not forget the other drivethru customer, who had birth control and herpes prescriptions. How do I know this? Because they were shouting this across the pharmacy that's how

Mr. Samoa: uh, mention HIPAA violations in your email.

Me: Oh, I plan on it

So there you have it. Letters are typed up and ready to send to Wrong Ade's customer service department and home office. Oh, and I'll be taking my scripts to Wal-Mart.

Grendel report

She has, according to her blog, moved back to her home state and is living with her parents again, being happily enabled. She couldn't take the cats with her because her mom is deathly allergic, so I have no idea where they are until she gets an apartment. I *hope* they're with her friend Flora instead of just dumped in the apartment for Caroline to take care of, but I have a bad feeling. :P

Oog

I ate wayyyy too much. :P

Easter dinner is over and eaten/packed away, thank heavens. We had: ham, sweet potato casserole, green beans with portobellos and sesame seeds, stuffing, baked Brie, deviled eggs, rolls, cherry pie, and sugar pie. Tea, coffee and water as beverages. It was sooo good but I ate way too much of it. I may never eat again. :P

Mr. Samoa is off to a training in Largecity for the week. This will be my first time in the house alone for an extended period of time, since the last time he had to go on a business trip Grendel was still here. DD's 1 and 2 assure me they are up to the challenge. :) I'll probably still be eating ham when he gets back, as there were a lot of leftovers also.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter to all two of my loyal readers out there. :D

Mom and Dad are coming down tomorrow, and we are going to have Easter dinner. And, I got the best Easter present ever. THEY FOUND COVERAGE AT WORK!!!! They got both this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon covered, without anyone having to pull a double. (Well, it would have been nice had the afternoon relief showed up on time, but we'll take what we can get.) So no funny phone calls tomorrow. And ham for all. :D Everyone have a great day!

Testing

This post is a test to see if the period key on my laptop works any better. It would appear that it does. I am guessing that the ginormo hunk of cat hair we pried out of there had something to do with it. :P

Nice puppy

I guess I have to let DD1 live. He came and greeted me joyfully at the door today, after reminding Mr. Samoa that he should unlock the door and let me in. :) DD1 is a very nice puppy. He would like you all to know this.

There's some in every woodpile

I wanted to blog today about Mr. Samoa's relatives who are good. I thought it only fair to do so, since there's always a few good ones in every woodpile.

First is (or was, alas) his Grandma Winnie, his mom's mother. Grandma passed away in 2006, which sucked royally. Because a) she was just a nice lady in general b) she made the crazy members of the family get their shit together and treat me at least like a human being, she preferred a family member. And she was one of the few people they'd listen to. When she died, she left me her turquoise ring that she wore all the time. I still think it was her way of leaving a "Don't be assholes, people" message for her daughter and granddaughter. (Now if they'd just listen more...)

Second, and still living, is Mr. Samoa's Uncle S. Uncle S lives in a very neat cabin in the Minnesota woods. We like to stay with Uncle S when we go up there because he is very laid back, never makes snotty remarks, and I get to cook for him. Also there is wildlife and a very nice bike trail. He used to have a very neat kitty, Spring, who died a few years ago. She wasn't a cuddle kitty, but she kept everyone in line. :D

Just wanted to let the world know that there are a few inlaws amid the outlaws. :D

Eggy good

I have dyed a great many Easter eggs today. First with the residents at work, then at home, for a total of about 4 dozen eggs. I am going to make deviled eggs on Saturday and I have decided to dye all the eggs first. Eggy good! :D

Another shoutout

To the outlaws.

I forgot to mention this. Mr. Samoa just had his performance review at his new job, right? Guess what. He got the highest possible rating in all three categories. They noted that they were extremely impressed with his quickness to learn and his ability to jump in and get up to speed quickly. This info will be used to get him a raise, after 6 big ol' months on the job. Your precious Tagalong is lucky just to hold a job.

You all can bite me. (But I'm not bitter! Oh wait, yes I am. I am, however, also SUPER DUPER proud of Mr. Samoa. Good job, hon.)

Outlaws

This one is going out to my dear sweet inlaws, or I should rather say outlaws.

How very nice of you, my dear sweet outlaws, to decide that your side of the family was going to have its Easter celebration on Palm Sunday. This in and of itself was not the problem, the idea being so that Daisy could celebrate before going off to her dad's for the holiday. The problem, oh outlaws, is that not a single one of you said Word. One. to Mr. Samoa. Didn't invite him, didn't advise him that it was going on, nothing. Just did it.

Oh, I'm not going to bother to call you on it to your faces. It's not worth my time, as you'll all adopt these hurt/innocent looks and go "Well, we thought you were going to the Cakes (my parents) for Easter!" And so we are. On Easter. Don't you think Mr. Samoa might have liked to see you on Palm Sunday? If you were worried about having the horror that is my presence inflicted upon you, believe me, I wouldn't have dreamed of subjecting you to it.

I know you all hate me, and I have no great love for y'all either, so I'm not the one bothered here. So, you can quit trying to stick it to Mr. Samoa for marrying me and not "making me get in line", because the only one you're hurting here is HIM. Your own relative. Who drops everything at the drop of a hat to go help your ungrateful asses. If it was me, I'd let you all stew, but he's too good of a person for that. Way to show you care.

Go commit indecent acts upon yourselves, with your rusty garden implement of choice.

DOG STEW!!!

Anyone up for some for lunch?

We have two dogs, Damn Dog 1 (DD1) and Damn Dog 2 (DD2). DD1 is indoor and DD2 is outdoor. (Anyone with problems with the concept of an outdoor dog is more than welcome to have a Jack Russell/Treeing Walker Coonhound mix in their house for a week, and they should let me know what if anything is left of their home after that. But I digress.) DD1 is rather a leash puller, and like an idiot I sometimes forget to put on the choke collar when we go for walks. I did this once in the snow, and DD1 pulled me flat onto my back, my head narrowly missing the corner of the garage. This resulted in a flare lasting the better part of a week.

So, armed with the memory of this event, what do I do today in the rain and mud? Why, take DD1 out without the choke collar again, of course! This resulted in me being pulled to my knees and smacking the side of my knee on the driveway concrete. And of COURSE whenever I fall he cowers down like he's going to be beaten. Yeah, dog, I fling myself to the ground right before I beat you. It's an obscure Lithuanian ritual. Oh, wait... :P

At any rate, I am off to apply Band-Aids and boil the water for a nice round of Dog Stew. Should be plenty for all.

Clog update

We seem to have lost the battle but gained intelligence necessary to winning the war. Mr. Samoa dismantled the plumbing under the sink and determined that it was not in the house, but rather in the plumbing under it. Now, we don't have a basement, we have a crawl space. So, it was necessary for Mr. Samoa to don his coveralls, wedge himself under the house and go in search of the cleanout port for the sink.

Which he found. But, alas, he also discovered that the misbegotten thing is made out of cast iron and has rusted shut. So, it will be necessary to procure another LCC, one that melts rust, dump it on there, and THEN we can go in and, at long, long last, get the clog out of there. The good news is that Mr. Samoa did manage to stuff himself through the access hole, twice, without getting stuck. There was concern that he'd have to telecommute from under there, but he is out and fine, albeit a trifle muddy. Now, to procure the LCC. We will not be defeated!!!

You'll see me in the papers

Today's drama involved the bathroom sink.

It was something of a carryover from last night, when Mr. Samoa went to brush his teeth and discovered that the sink was draining at a trickle. He broke out the plumber's snake and the lethal corrosive chemicals (LCC), and was able thus to get it to at least not go all over the floor. The hour being late, however, he was forced to leave it at that.

Thus, this morning. I was performing my daily ablutions when I discovered that the sink would not drain at all. "No matter," I thought. " I will simply get out the plunger and use it to remove the obstruction." This was not such an easy matter as I had first believed, as it turned out that the overflow was ALSO plugged. I plunged away, and the first plunge sent brown guck flying out the overflow and all over the bathroom. At this juncture, I removed my shirt so as not to get said guck all over it. Plunging was proving ineffective, so I deployed the next weapon in my arsenal, the LCC. I dumped the remains of the bottle in the sink, and then realized that the empty bottle could not simply be placed in the trash owing to over-curious quixen. So, out to the breezeway I ran, in my bra and jeans, to put the thing in the outdoor trash can. (If I turn up on a Girls Gone Wild video, I want a share of the proceeds. I'll use the money to fix the sink.)

I knew that the situation was deteriorating when even the LCC proved ineffective. At that point, I decided that there was nothing for it but to close up the bathroom to keep the aforementioned cats out of the LCC, and leave Mr. Samoa a note regarding the situation. So, that's where things stand at the moment. If he can't fix the damn thing, that's where you'll see me in the papers. Or GGW, at a bare minimum.

Another one

I saw another of those whiny fibromyalgia-related commercials on TV today. I think this one must've been sponsored by the makers of Lyrica, because it kept talking about "information about a drug that can help". But, it was another one of those bitchandmoan specials. The gist of this particular specimen was "fibromyalgia is horrrible nobody beeeelieeeves meeee I Want them to belieeeeve meee!" They were referring to the thing you run into among some doctors, and many laymen, where they think if you're not oozing a bodily fluid or in possession of one or more tumors the size of grapefruits that the ailment doesn't exist.

Now, don't get me wrong, the attitude is out there. I actually stumbled across one primo-grade asshole on a message board intended for supposed medical professionals, who took pride in letting it know that he regarded FM in the same vein as Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy at every opportunity. (Which begs the question, if it's imaginary, what are the shooting pains in my ass, knee and hands? But I digress...) However, as I have asked before, how is whining and moaning supposed to make it any better? You can whine and moan and your ass will still hurt. You can whine and moan and Message Board Asshole, and the others like him, will still have their God complex. Or, you could shut up, acknowledge that the situation does suck, decide what you're going to do about it and do it, and then- egads!- the situation might improve. I guess there's no drama in that, though. :P

Ghosts

Public service announcement for the day: RUN DO NOT WALK to http://ghosts.nin.com/main/home and get Nine Inch Nails' new release, Ghosts I-IV. It is, as I understand it, their first independent release since telling their record label to get stuffed, and it is the best $5 I ever spent. (That's the other thing-$5 for 36 tracks!!!) It had me dancing around the room, and I Do. Not. Dance. This should tell you something. You need this album!

Babies

Yesterday while we were Lushing, Caroline also informed me that she and her boyfriend are going to try to conceive. I'm normally the pretty conservative type, marriage first and all that, but I'm actually pretty excited for her. I was analyzing the reasons why I'm excited for her and was pissed when Mr. Samoa's sister got pregnant out of wedlock. I came up with the following list:

* Tagalong (Mr. Samoa's sister) was 23. Caroline is 31. I think you'd get more of a clue in that 8-year interval.

* I think Caroline will be a pretty good mom. Tagalong is a nitwit. While I don't think Daisy (Mr. Samoa's niece) will grow up to be the next Aileen Wuornos or anything melodramatic like that, I think she's going to be spending a looooot of money on therapy. Caroline won't screw up a kid.

* Caroline has not spent the past three years telling me she'll kill me if I get pregnant. Tagalong had done so at the time of her inadvertent impregnation.

*I LIKE Caroline. Tagalong- put it this way, the only reason I care if she falls off a bridge is that Mr. Samoa would be sad.

Now, anyone care to join me in rooting for Team Pink? :D

I forgot

In our further adventures, Caroline was attacked and overcome by a pair of pajamas with hearts on them. I was nearly waylaid by a display of Dooney and Bourke purses but was saved by my own brokeitude. (Just you wait until the spring sales!)

Oh, and you should look at adopting a retired racing greyhound if you are looking for a pet dog. We met some of them at Petsmart, and they are super sweet. They're not hyper at all, and they very much like hugs. Google in order to find links for such organizations in your area.

Lost in Macy's, or, when Southern belles die and go to heaven

As you might guess from the title, Caroline and I made it safely to the Lush party in NLC. The Lush in our particular area is a Lush Macy's, that is to say, Lush rents a chunk of space from Macy's and has a smaller store in that chunk. So, finding the party entailed wandering through Macy's in order to find the Lush.

This was not without its perils for two shopaholic Southern belles the likes of ourselves. I got waylaid by the display of Crocs and nearly fell victim to the Mary Jane Crocs. Caroline was not much help in talking me down ("I don't suppose Mr. Samoa sent a credit card with you?", she inquired hopefully) but I was able to escape their jaws. Fortunately, we soon found the Lush display. You had to spend $45 to get the free gift. Um, we did and then some, shall we say. I dropped $60 and Caroline dropped $100, and we were some of the lighter spenders present. The free gift was really cool though. High rollers such as ourselves actually got two each. You got a gift bag with a bubble bar and a bath bomb, and then you got your choice of a box that was a leftover prepackaged Christmas gift. We are talking about $50 just in free gifts here! We were super excited.

I got: two Godiva shampoo bars, a big thing of Joy of Jelly shower jelly, a Happy Pill bath bomb, an Amandopondo bubble bar, and a chunk of Lily Savon soap. The last item is new this year and, from what I understand, very popular. Caroline got a couple Wiccy Magic Muscles massage bars, a huge thing of Happy Hippy shower gel, and I think she got a body butter but I'm not sure. Plus, of course, respective free gifts. We're broke, but we smell good, dammit!

Lush

Caroline and I are going to NearbyLarge City tomorrow for the Lush party at the Lush store they have there. I can't wait. Check out Lush products at www.lush.com . It's a bit spendy but it's the best bath you'll ever have. I highly recommend the Godiva solid shampoo and the Tisty Tosty bath bombs.

More on Grendel

I forget if I blogged about how we kicked Grendel out. Long story short, we did. I will save the story for another day when I need something to blog about. Anyways, she's still speaking to our mutual friend Caroline. I am, of course, Teh Ebil, and she's sort of barely speaking to Mr. Samoa, but I digress. Apparently, since she didn't find a job in the two-week time frame Caroline gave her (she's subleasing Caroline's old apartment) she's moving back to her native Pennsylvania. I am guessing that the lack of job had something to do with hanging out at Gamestop trying to act like a hotshot and staying up until 4 AM playing Eve Online, but I could be wrong. Oh wait, no I'm not. :P

I don't know how you can be 34 years old and still doing this stuff. I mean, I certainly don't purport to be the Maturity Poster Girl, but at least I have figured out the part where you, like, have to pay your bills and get a job so that you CAN pay your bills. I am having to measure out how many Grendel stories I tell, because if I told all the Grendel stories at once this blog would be nothing but a Grendel blog. How bout NOT. :P

Playing catchup

I was too tired to post yesterday, and my goal is to post for every single day, so this is Thursday's post. Buster the Dog says hi. :)

Pain, you know you're right...

Today's blog is going to be about pain. For those of you who don't know (which is probably most of you, considering this blog is on Day 4) I have fibromyalgia. (Check out www.fibrohope.org if you're not familiar with the disorder.) Anyways, how I found out about the medicine I'm on, Lyrica, was through this commercial that I have a love-hate relationship with. I love it because it pointed me in the direction of meds that can help; I hate it because the woman in the commercial is so fucking whiny. "Today I really struggled with my fibromyalgia... the pain was terrible... blah blah blah..." I want to smack her.

Why do I want to smack her? Well, while fibromyalgia is not degenerative and can respond to palliative care, it is incurable. "Incurable" as far as I know, means "it isn't going to go away." To me, "it isn't going to go away" means "whining won't do any good, so STOP FUCKING WHINING ABOUT IT!!!" You see the whining attitude pretty much anywhere you go to look up fibromyalgia on the Internet. "omg u guyz i hurt soo bad... my rhuemy wont do nothin..." "Gentle hugs and surrounding light to you!" [SMACK!] The interesting part to me is that you can spot a correlation between spelling, narc demands, and whining. The greater the amount of whining in the post, the poorer the spelling and grammar and the greater the number of demands for narcotics will be. I never met a narc that did jack for fibro pain, but call me a crabby old bat. But I digress.

The thing of it is, complaining about it, or "venting" as the complainers love to call it, often makes the pain worse. My doctor and I were talking about this the last time I went in. He was warning me about how meds only take the edge off the symptoms and I told him, "That's all right, the pain isn't what bothers me. I don't mind having a bit." (I have had migraines since age 8 and have lost count of my tattoos. Pain is not the issue.) He said that that was the attitude to have, that so many people wallow in it and sit on their duffs and that makes them worse. I don't mean to imply that fibro is just a question of mind over matter- most of us have been told that before our dx, and we all know about how well that works! But, wallowing in misery and making your whole life be about the pain and suffering isn't the answer either. Not only will you make your own suffering worse, but then I'll be forced to come and bitchslap you, and I am guessing that bitchslaps would cause one hell of a flare. :D

Easter

This year, for the first time, I will be hosting Easter for my family. "My family", fortunately for my dining room table, consists of Mr. Samoa, my mom and dad, and myself. Mr. Samoa has a family, but we do not speak of them. (Well, we do, but only when they do something stupid. This year, they won't be given the chance.) So, for the first time, I get to bake a ham. I have made most all of the other things on the menu at one point or another, but never a ham. Ham Updates will be posted as they become available.

Call me Beowulf

This story is actually one that happened a couple weeks ago. It's one of the more amusing things that's happened to me recently, so I feel the need to immortalize it here.

First, you need to know about Grendel. Grendel is our ex-roommate. Mr. Samoa (my husband) and I, upon buying a house, decided it would be a grand idea to allow Grendel, who was an old friend of mine, to rent our spare room. That idea was actually a primo piece of dumbassery, but I digress. Suffice it to say that Grendel is an individual of rather disgusting personal habits. Said disgusting personal habits are part of how the following came to be.

It was a fine Sunday here in our little town of Bugpit when I got the idea to make chicken and noodles. Since I had a package of drumsticks on hand in the freezer, I used these. I boiled them, then stripped the bones of meat and used the meat in the main course. Since we have dogs, and dogs and chicken bones do not mix, I placed them in a bowl and set it in the sink, intending to dispose of it later.

This all took place at 7 PM. After dinner, things happened as they often do, and I forgot about the chicken bones. When 11 PM and bedtime rolled around, I wandered into the kitchen for a bottle of water... and came upon Grendel. Grendel was hunched over the sink, gnawing on the chicken bones. Yup, gnawing on the chicken bones that had been sitting out, in the sink, happily serving as a labor-and-delivery ward for salmonella, for four hours. I work in healthcare, and I have seen some pretty disgusting things. However, this one took the prize.

Once I was able to stop myself from hypergagging, I shrieked "WHAT in the name of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are you DOING??!!" The shriek brought Mr. Samoa running, and his reaction was much the same as mine, i.e. shriek in between cycles of retching. The only explanation Grendel was ever able to give of herself was "There was meat on them!" Mr. Samoa's response was of the finest: "Yeah! The bacteria noticed that too!"

I knew it was disgusting when I was telling the story to my friend, the Hawaiian Hottie, and he gagged. HH is a former reporter and has reported on some fairly gruesome stuff, and this grossed even him out. And so, Grendel's nickname was born, as was an idea for a new weight-loss empire. :P

The First Post

Welcome to Zen of Cake! Cake is very important in my life, which is why I have decided to call this blog Zen of Cake. I will tell you all about myself later, when it is not way late.