cat urine, centipedes, and other c words

4 10 2010

Life occasionally gives me affirmations that I have never been and never will be a normal person.  Either that, or I’m so hyper-normal that sitcoms draw from my rants to make shows that everyone can relate to.

I don’t lead a boring life… and sometimes I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

Yesterday was a big high school alternative reunion for all us kids that didn’t fall into the “my senior year is the best senior year ever” category and it was going to be kids and all at a park in the sunshine.  We were also supposed to help my Grandma move into her new place and my sister move into G’ma’s old place.  (Musical houses.)

My body heard “sunshine” and decided to shit itself and quiver in fear.

About a week ago I got a bug bite on my hand.  No. Big. Deal.

Saturday, the bite suddenly turned into a giant water balloon and burst into a fountain of blood and white blood cells.  All this happened in an HOUR.  It was a normal little semi-itchy bug bite at noon and at 1 it was a giant blister of pain.   Thank you, Lupus, for over-reacting yet again.  After the detonation of my tiny hand sore, I ended up with a dime size patch of skin that sloughed off in a manner that would make a zombie barf.

(I have a few other bites on my legs that are now getting the side-eye in case they think the action on my hand was a totally awesome display.  Giant pussy sores on my thighs?  Sexy!  At the first sign of an itch, I’ll be at my doctor’s office asking for steroids.  Let the Lupus know I kick back!)

Still, Saturday night I went to bed thinking I’d have Sunday to meet old friends and help out family.

Then the C words started.

Cat Urine.

I was laying in the bed watching TV and trying to kick the last of a migraine before starting the day.  The TV show (Castle) went from one episode to the next and in between I heard the sound of running water.

From the direction of the hackerspace.  Thank God the main computer is on a shelf instead of on the floor!

Spooks, my lovely feline bastard, was squatting and pissing IN BETWEEN the dog beds.  Not on.  No, we could not just put a dog bed in the wash.  He infiltrated two dog beds, the body pillow I use to keep the dogs from under the bed, the carpet, and the carpet padding.

Instant exile.  Migraine Mommy goes to put down towels and put the dog beds in the wash.  Then she saw them.

Centipedes.

Hundreds of them, alive and dead.  Migraine Mommy screams, shits herself, and falls dead on the floor but decides a floor with centipedes is a TERRIBLE place to die and gets back up again.

Carpet.

Otherwise known as the fabric that will never harbor another bacteria or insect in the next 100 years.  The only other way I could have cleaned it was with a flamethrower and I considered it.  It’s hard to rent one on a Sunday, though, and Shaun didn’t want to visit IKEA for replacement furniture.

And yes, I do itch everywhere and I’m on Benadryl.  Bug poisons and I don’t get along very well.

Lawn maintenance.

It’s not a C word, but I did promise my husband that if he did not cut and poison the yard in the next hour I was going to start killing people – namely, him.  It’s not his fault but he is my knight in shining armor sent to save me from hundred legged creatures.

Concerta.

Thank you God for the healing powers of Concerta!  Two thirds of the Children were sane during this entire session of the Crazy.  They did things like play and read books while the grown ups freaked the fuck out.

Contamination zone.

Everything inside the area contaminated was tossed into the bathtub for a scalding anti-yuck session.  Including me and Shaun.

Canceled plans.

Yup.  All of them.

Every single fucking plan died with those centipedes.

The day also included a lot of crying, a metric ton of cussing, and hours of listening to the whine of the vacuum.

I guess the mystery bite on my hand was put there by a centipede which does not help the Crazy AT ALL.  I just keep telling myself that hospitals and hotels would be much less sanitary than my current sleeping platform, so I can’t go certifiable.

Yet.

If another bite goes geyser on me, that determination may change.





morons in the night

3 06 2010

Sometime last night, some fucking idiots broke into our cars!  I figure they were kids looking for a fast score or some cash because they only took the faceplate of one stereo, an iPod tether, and some CDs.

They didn’t take either pair of designer sunglasses that retailed for over $600 together.

I am so damn tired of the fucking spawn of cuntwaffle grown-ups in this neighborhood!  They were cute 10 years ago when we moved in but now they’re in their teenage asshole years where it’s still cool to drink and smoke pot with their fucking asshat friends.

We’ve had the same problem with these kids driving dirt bikes and 4wheelers up and down the streets of the subdivision then off through the yards and the field at the back of the house.  We’ll call the cops and they’ll stop for about a week then be right back at it. So they aren’t just fuckers and assholes – they’re rednecks too.  I feel crotchety when I say it, but don’t they have any respect?

A couple years ago, neighborhood brats egged the house and my truck.  Having more schools in the immediate area has been a mixed blessing.  It’s nice to have a school across the street, but if you cut through the woods, there’s a high school full of little fuckers.

Where are these little fuckers’ parents?  This shit isn’t “just a prank” – these are CRIMES.

And DAMMIT, I want that faceplate to the stereo BACK!  The unit doesn’t work without it and a replacement costs as much as another head unit.  They can keep the rest of the bullshit they stole – it’s worth just about nothing.





if I had a uterus, it would be bleeding right now

18 03 2010

Dear all my friends and readers,

The doctor did not take my ovaries when I had the magical surgery of life.  Therefore, I still have all the girly hormones that God gave me and BECAUSE the doctor did free the right one from a shit-load of endometrial fibers I actually have more than I did before.

That means that on a normal day I would ignore your trollish behavior (because I love trolls) and I’d even laugh instead of calling you a punk ass fuck nugget.  On a normal day, you wouldn’t even land on my radar for leaving me negative feedback on BookMooch.  BookMooch, if you didn’t notice is  a site where I give away my books FOR FREE and pay for shipping TO YOU so that later I can get the good karma to have another lovely BMer send a book to me at no cost to me.

The main reason I send books to other countries is because here in the Bible Belt of the USA we have a literal shit-load of self-help books based on the Bible.  (insert normal disclaimer about how if you call me a bad Christian, I’ll roll my eyes.)  In countries and states that are not here, they don’t have such a surplus.  If you want the 30 lb copy of Billy Graham’s biography and you’re in Zimbabwe, I’ll consider sending it to you.  Not that I have to explain my motives to you.  If I did, I’m sure they’d have a blank for me to fill in on my profile.

That’s why my page says “ask if not in my country.”  That’s all it says.  If I decide that it’s a good idea for me, the person who lives in my body, I’ll respond “yes, please do!”  If I decide to ignore you, go look for another copy of the mass market paperback.  You could even go onto Amazon and BUY one.  OMG, the possibilities of the internet are astounding!

But if you get pissed off that you were IGNORED ON THE INTERNET!!!!! ZOMG!!!! and you pick the time of month where I’m having a hormone overload, then all bets are off honey.

We’re not on eBay and I don’t owe you shit.

AND THEN do not in the same negative review (which you had to fraudulently mooch a book from me to cancel and leave the review) mention that you like my blog.  You raggedy mother fucker.  Are you serious?  Have you met any human beings during your time on earth?  Do you think anyone would say “hey thanks!” if you stumbled into them while drunk, pissed on them, then said “nice shirt”?

I’m very much glad you read my blog.  I really needed something to rant about today while I’m busy not bleeding.  This way I can smile at the random idiot in line to pick up the kids from school.  I can be pleasant to the UPS man.

Normally, I wouldn’t even think about supporting your arrogant view of your e-penis but today I really needed someone to cuss at.  So thank you, troll.  Please, stop by and get morally outraged.  I’ll be hormonal all week and I need you, you self-deluded camwhore!  You’re saving humanity one asshat comment at a time!





Best Buy guy

19 01 2010

I probably need to just start a series on idiocy.

My last few posts have been about people assuming other people are idiots for various reasons and I totally forgot to blog about the guy that started my whole rant & rave episode.

I hate going to Best Buy.  There’s a problem with that though – they have good shit for good prices and sometimes you need good shit without waiting for New Egg to ship it to you.  I hate GOING to Best Buy.  Let me say that again.

There are plenty of reasons to hate going there, including:

1. It’s always too hot in there due to them running 500 TVs at once.

2.  You have to walk through aisles of movies, video games, and CDs to get to the computer stuff.

3.  The young, male “support staff” need some more fucking training.

They think that because they play Halo and once helped their mama hook up her cable modem that they are THE SHIT and the electronics world should BOW DOWN.  The only place worse for a female to go is Radio Shack.

The reasons to go to Best Buy include:

1.  Good shit

2.  Good prices

3.  You get your good shit right away

I always, always, ALWAYS do my shopping online before I go to the store to minimize the “have you ever seen a falcon punch in real life?” effect that the store has on me.

Now I am unmistakeably female.  I has boobies and a cute haircut and big blue eyes and teeny, tiny little hands and feet.  I am well aware that I’m a girl.

Having a vagina has absolutely nothing to do with my knowledge of computers or electronic related thingamabobs.

Right?  OK, let’s go to Best Buy.

I walk back to the computer section needing a hard drive. There is a young man, probably early 20s back there helping customers who need to know things like “do I have to subscribe to the internet?”

BBG: Hi, can I help you find something?  (He takes in the fact that I am unmistakeably female and cute at that.)

Me:  I’m just looking for the hard drive section.

BBG:  Let me show you where they are.  What kind of computer do you have? (I can’t tell if he means laptop or desktop or if he’s looking for a brand name.  I figure he means desktop or laptop because that’s the major distinction if you aren’t looking for an external drive.)

Me:  It’s a desktop. I need an internal drive.  I assume they’re on the same aisle as the external drives, right?

BBG:  What kind of computer is it though?

Me:  A custom built gamer.

BBG:  ….  but who made it?  You know like Dell or Gateway or…

Me:  My dad and I did.  It’s about 6 years old but the ASUS motherboard was top of the line when we built it.  I just need two 500G hard drives because I’m converting it into a server for my home network.  Both will run as slaves to the current drive, so I only need the drives themselves.

BBG:  (stares at me like I have suddenly burst into show tunes while simultaneously showing porno mags to random strangers.  The military calls this the “shock and awe effect”)  … so you know what kind of drive you need?

Me:  Yes.  I need to know where they are.  Like what aisle.

BBG:  Are you sure?  There are complicated differences.

Me:  Yes, I’m sure.  I think that other customer needs some help.

At this point, I realize that I have forgotten if I need IDE or SATA and that totally makes me a dumb fuck.  He wouldn’t have known either, but still, it really pissed me off.

Turned out, I left without buying jack shit.  I used the money I would have spent there to buy liquor to bribe my dad with.  Later that night I showed up with the machine, my stack of software, and some liquor and we drank and built a machine.  (Let me tell you – finding drivers for a 6 year old ASUS board is hard as fuck.)  I managed to acquire the two 320G hard drives that I had sold him a little while back so now it’s got 960G of space instead of the intended 1TB of storage like I’d intended.

I’m pretty sure I’ve got 40G worth of flash sticks around here anyways, so it all worked out.  And really, how much storage does a girl really need?





Catching up on Friday

17 01 2010

I feel exactly like a huge pile of shit, glued together with shit and frosted with powdered shit so I’m going to just post one of my bitchy posts from another forum to detail my Friday.  That should catch everyone up on why I have neither posted nor washed my hair since then.  I’ve been trying to recover without the use of Grey Goose. 😉

****

Today has been one of those “three and four word prayer” days. You know what I mean – “holy mother of God” or “sweet baby J.” It’s not blasphemy, it’s just an unspoken plea for assistance. ;) :pray

Last night I dreamed that me, my dad, and my uncle who is a policeman were in a car chasing a semi-truck with contraband in it for some strange reason. The semi ended up hitting our car and I woke up in the worst possible pain. So, at 5 am, dh gets up and tells me that he can’t help me today and hands me a pain pill. 6 am, I finally fall back asleep. 6:30, my alarm goes off and apparently wakes up one of the little monsters that live in my house. 6:45, I finally make it out of bed and yell at the little sh*t to remember other people have to use the bathroom too. (Apparently he was mixing soap and hand sanitizer into a yucky looking goo.) I woke up chickpea and got her school uniform out. My oldest comes out looking like a homeless person and finally at 7:30, they all sit down for breakfast. School starts at 7:45 for my oldest, 8:10 for chickpea, and I have a meeting with the oldest’s teachers at 8.

7:40 – we go to get in the car and it’s iced over. The kids think it’s hilarious. I think I’m about to visit the inside of a jail for the first time in my life. :rant At least they’d let me sleep and it would probably be more quiet than in my house. This is my fantasy while I scrape the ice off of an SUV.

7:45, we leave the house and I somehow have on both clothing and makeup and I decide that LJ (my oldest) can just be late so I took chickpea to school first. The line to her school is wrapped around the building and out into the neighboring streets so we wait and wait and wait and finally as we pull up she says “I forgot my bookbag!” Oh well. (Why do Kindergartners need bookbags anyways?)

8:11 – we get to LJ’s school and I sign him in tardy as he acts like a jerk in the hallway outside the office. I wish I had taken another pill even though it would have made me even dumber than normal while I smear lotion on the little sh*t’s – I mean, my youngest’s – face and wait for the meeting. I notice he still has spaghetti on his face from the night before. :roll:

8:15 – meeting time. Everything is good because when LJ tries, he’s a really smart kid. He just seems to think that it’s perfectly logical that a lion could break into your house while you’re at school. He’s exceeded all his goals from last year’s IEP and is not considered “disabled” at this time. Yay! (some history – our kids were adopted from foster care after the meth lab they had been living in exploded. LJ is the oldest but he wasn’t walking, talking, or potty trained when he came into care and spent some time in a group home.) So, he still will get social counseling, independent therapy, and 30 mins a week of communication and logic skill training.

I’m out by 9 (thank you Jesus) and E wants to simultaneously watch a movie, eat at McDonald’s, play in the sandbox, and take a bath. I tell him he either gets to watch Sesame Street or go to his room. He chooses Sesame Street. I finish my now cold cup of coffee and go in search for a pop tart and another pain pill. E follows me and tells me that he wishes that I had a head like a car (what????) and that Elmo can’t spell his own name. I remind him that he can’t spell his own name either which shut him up for about 15 seconds.

This continues until 11 when I realize today is early release so it’s time to go sit in the car in line again. Apparently, my old job was to sit in a computer chair while not in meetings herding cats. Now I sit in a car while not at home herding cats. I tell E to get his shoes on and he comes out of the bedroom wearing shoes but no pants. I very nearly let him get in the car that way but it turns out its a good thing I didn’t. So… he comes out in pants AND shoes finally and we get in the car. Guess what? School doesn’t let out until 12:30 – that’s why I’m the 2nd person in line. By this time my hands are shaking so bad from the lack of food, sleep, and overall sanity that I can’t fill in my crossword puzzles.

12:45, I have another passenger and dh tells me that chickpea doesn’t get out until 1:10 so I drove us to McD’s to pee and get lunch – but LJs already eaten at school so he wants a milkshake. OK. Let’s get one for chickpea too.

1:05 – the line is backed up all the way around the school and out into the street again. I end up at the end of the turning lane right before the ditch starts so I figure sucks to be the person behind me. 1:30, chickpea gets in the car and HAS A MINI PURPLE HANDPRINT ON HER FACE. How did she walk by all those teachers – who know her by name and just said “have a great weekend, chickpea!” and no one realize that the child had been slapped? I parked the car and asked her “what happened?”

“You spanked me in the face for getting a bad report card.” *6* *6* *6*

I said just about every three and four word prayer I could think of while I put my eyeballs back in my head. To clarify – she got smacked on the bottom because her report card said “often disrespects teachers and students verbally and physically.” When I said something to her about it she spat in my face and that’s when she got a spanking. On her bottom. This was DAYS ago.

She’s back there smiling, sucking on her milkshake like the world is a perfect place and absolutely everything is happy.

I got us all out of the car (thanking God that E was wearing pants) and went in to talk to the principal. I just sat chickpea down in front of her and didn’t say a word – after she told the spanking story and that her friend was playing she finally told us that a boy in her class accused her of breaking a computer cord and when she went to get the teacher he grabbed her by the wrist and smacked her.

This is the point LJ holds up his wrist and says “mommy I don’t know how I got this bruise either” (a tiny round spot on his arm that’s doorknob height) and E goes “and the ows on my hand haven’t gotten better yet.” (he scraped his hand while running through the house and skidding across the floor – this morning.) When it gets to this point, normally people shoo us out of where ever we are and look at me like “why don’t you drink more?”

10 minutes after we get home, the doorbell rings and I’m sure it’s the cops coming to check on my poor abused children who can walk by 50 teachers with a purple handprint on their face and no one says a word. It turns out to be a little girl out by herself asking for donations for some charity. She stood her ground against Abbie, my personal coward of a German Shepherd, and said “You can look at this pamphlet of stories if you want – I haven’t read it but I’m sure it’s really sad.” I gave her all the money in my wallet just for honesty. LOL I turn back around and E is standing there wearing nothing but his hockey jersey.

So now it’s 5 pm and dh is home saying he doesn’t feel like cooking dinner and when was the last time I took my medicine? It took me an hour to tell him all the crap that happened today (liberally worded with three and four word prayers) and then he laughs for about 10 minutes, and springs it on me that LJ has been hiding dirty underwear again and what do I want to do for dinner?

Well, honestly, I want to go to the package store and buy a bottle of DiSaranno, lock myself in the bathroom with my laptop and a set of Project Runway DVDs and quietly get drunk while I soak in the tub. Who wants to bet on whether that will happen?

*******

So, yeah, it didn’t happen that way.  Friday I ended up sleeping for about 2 hours total and when Target opened up on Saturday I went out for retail therapy hoping to wear my body to the point of exhaustion.  It worked!  I slept last night!





Drive

8 12 2009

Yes, this is another post about my damn external hard drives.

One in particular – the one that has only 26G of info on it but is going to take me a lifetime to clean up the file structure.  This is what happens when you use a portable hard drive to bail you out in situations of inevitable computer fuckwaddery.  In business terms this is called a “clusterfuck.”  It’s not a good place because someone always ends up with a big toe up their butt.

When you know a computer is about to die – say it sounds like a Toyota with a bad belt (which sounds a lot like a sewing machine) – you should absolutely get all your valuable info onto a backup drive as quickly as possible.

You should however, not name it “shit to file” and then forget about it.  Because… then… years down the road you will have something that looks like:

shit to file 1

shit to file 2

mobile uploads

photos off the old computer 1

photos off the old computer 2

image backup from 2006

Q3 2007 Projects

aa – wallpapers

aa – anime

aa – anime 2

(Yes, I know it’s not alphabetical.  I don’t organize by file name in my head unless you tell me to.)

Here is the part where I whine about naming conventions and how if you don’t use them you end up with duplicate files and lost files.  This new keyboard squeaks though, so every time I hit the space bar it chirps.  So you just fill in the whining.  Deal?

This is the part where I say “if you follow my Flickr page, you’re going to see a ton of old and/or odd shit pop up while I work this drive out.”  Because, yes, it is my photo drive.  If it were my music drive you so totally wouldn’t get to benefit from that.

Music drives are EASY to form a file structure.  It goes BAND -> ALBUM -> TRACKS where ALBUM = Title of the CD [year].  I even have a music drive bibliography in Circa format that references where the CD is stored and which albums I don’t have yet.  (Shaun and I have an extensive collection of underground/independent Christian rock and metal.)  I also have notations of which ones still need to be converted to MP3s and backed up.

So, photo drive, why aren’t you cool like that?  Why do you have no obvious file structure?





the math

3 12 2009

Me and my calculator are getting along right now.  We’re figuring out distances, money, per capitas…

Here’s the numbers as they look right now:

Type of gift I’m making as a “family” meme present:  1 in 8 different colors, 3 different sizes, and 18 different “styles”

Number to make: 18

Total money it would cost to buy products online for: $175

Per capita cost per gift: around $9

Number of gifts I need to make for the other side of the family: 3

Number of family members I’m NOT making gifts for: 3

Number of gifts I’ve completed: 0.5

How much it will cost: Hopefully, nothing.  I think I have all the supplies I need.

How much I spent on Christmas presents for the kids yesterday: $113

Number of presents I’m planning on for each kid: 10 + stocking stuffers

Number of presents bought: 2 for 2 of the kids, 3 for the other one

Yards of fabric I need: 21

Yards of fabric in my stash: No clue

Length of my yardstick: 4 ft.  (Really, is that weird?)

Days since I cleaned the house:  4

Days it took to get just as dirty as it was before: 2

Days it took to get my overnight shipping package from AT&T: 4

Boxes from AT&T that aren’t opened: 1

Number of MyBooks that still aren’t syncing with my computer: 2

Amount of storage on those MyBooks: 1TB

Cost of the 2 MyBooks 2 years ago: $250

Cost of a 1TB MyBook at Target right now: $89

Days I’ve had this headache… you do the math.