Update on my life and other spiralling-out-of-control things…

Two posts in one day!  Is it the apocalypse??


Still no job.  As of right now, I have applied for 83 jobs.  Recently, one of my friends asked, “So, do you think 100 is the magic number here?”

Perhaps.  Let’s hope it’s not 150.

The State of NH unemployment.  Sucks.  Ass.

I am getting the maximum amount anyone can get on unemployment, and it is (after taxes) $384/week.  After I deduct my mortgage and condo fee, I am left with $233.  That $233 has to pay my phone, internet, electric, gas, food, plus anything else that comes up periodically – like an oil change or a new issue of Fangoria.

To say I have been in panic mode is like saying Sylvia Plath was a little melancholy.  I have been FREAKing.


I am a list maker.  I love lists.  I like making lists of things I need to do and then crossing off those things.  I think of things to do and then add them to the list so I can cross them off 3 minutes later.

Examples of things that have been on my list as of late:

  • Clean litter
  • Balance checkbook
  • Get a life


My cat seems fine.  For now.  He gave me a scare the other day when he started acting all weird and hiding under the bed.  I was relieved/irritated to find he had just vomited under there.


My health continues to be very good.  I did, however, play my MS card recently.  My friend Amanda assures me it is my card to play and I can play it whenever I want – and I am judicious about playing it.  But I did not feel bad about playing it this time.  At.  All.

AT&T tried to charge me a $95 early termination fee for switching over to Verizon two days before my contract officially ended.  I believe my email to customer service went something like: “I am unemployed and have multiple sclerosis and that was the only day I could go get my new phone.  Seriously??”  (This is mostly true, in a roundabout way.  It was freakishly hot that week and the heat bothers my MS.  I had to go when I was able to stand it.)

I got an almost immediate reply stating that “no” they were not going to charge the MS lady for the early termination of 48 hours.

Yeah, I didn’t think you were.



Thoughts I had at the gym today:

1)  I am concerned that Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow are going to start a race of sinewy-bony people who make bad music.


2) While watching a segment on Good Morning America about the screaming trainer on Dance Moms, I wondered why anyone would take instruction about dance from that fat piece of shit.


3) Just watching the Boston Fox News bitch’s mouth move makes me angry enough to punch a kitten.  Seriously, I JUST HATE HER MOUTH.


my dental hygienist is a chatterbox…and scares me a little

Today, I had my teeth cleaned.  Which I enjoy.



My dental hygienist is a nice lady.  Let’s call her K (as in Special…naw, kidding….really it’s her initial).

K can TALK.  Much of the time, she stops what she is doing to talk.  Kind of like the opposite of those people that talk with their hands?  If you held their hands down, you get the feeling they would not be able to talk?  (I mean gesticulation, not sign language – I am not that much of an asshole.)  I feel like K cannot talk and do something with her hands  at the same time.

Unfortunately, this means K can make your appointment that much longer.

The alternative, of course, is that K talks to me when both her hands, five dental instruments, a water pick, and a suction tube are in my mouth.  I always feel like I should try to respond (or grunt) because that’s polite.  So, I do.


Today, K decided to fill the silence (a vastly underappreciated state of being, if you ask me) with her Tales of Terror.


Did you hear about that guy who got beat up?  Four people, two men and two women, beat him so BADLY that his BLADDER BURST.  Can you even believe it?

Did you hear about that old lady who got up and there was a NAKED MAN in her kitchen making himself something to eat?  She picked up a bat and HIT HIM until he left.


K was disturbed by how violent people are today.  The irony is that she said this while driving a metal pick into my gums.  (Ease up, K, you’ve reached the skull.)


Tell me, why can’t doctors who do invasive stuff to you at least try and lull you a little?  It’s like when I get a pap smear and the doctor chats with the nurse about…WHATEVER.  The last time I went, she did my exam while she wrapped up a story about another patient who shit himself at Walmart.  Their cavalier attitude is a little insulting to my vagina, actually.  It’s so different now than it was when I had my first gyno exam – where they spoke in whispers, held my hand, rubbed my back, painted me a picture, read poetry…


But, as for K… it was a valiant effort but I really hope she finds some different stories for next time.



DISCLAIMER: Do not read further if you don’t want to read about my boobs.

I had my first mammogram today.  And it was NOT THAT BAD.  Seriously.  For one thing, my appointment was for 4:45 and I was done by 4:57.  And that included the paperwork.  Although everyone told me it was going to be horrid, it really was not.

What I did not anticipate, however, was finding the experience REALLY FUCKING FUNNY.

I had a nice woman to help, who I am sure has seen 85,742 breasts in her career – give or take.  As I stood there naked from the waist up, modesty took a back seat to “let’s get ‘er done”.  She told me that I just needed to step up to the machine (platform with clear glass plate above), and she’d “do all the work”.  The process basically involved her hoisting a tit onto the plate.  Yes, I said “hoisting a tit”.  My boobs are too big to warrant delicate language like “she gently lifted my breast…”  No, no, no.  She HOISTED A TIT.  Once she did that, she got it into place by kneading it like dough.  Then she squashed it.  (She squashed tit.  hahaha)

And, I don’t know what it was… the hoisting part…the kneading…the looking at my boob impersonating a pancake…the pure absurdity of having someone else handle my breasts like slabs of meat…. but I had the urge to LAUGH HYSTERICALLY.  At one point, she told me to turn my head towards her, and I was afraid to because I was biting my lip to keep from laughing – and I knew…I KNEW… she would see this and think I was some crazy “laughs at mammograms” person.  But… It.  Was.  The.  Funniest.  Thing.  Ever.

After each image was taken, she said, “take a step back”.  What she forgot to say was “peel your boob off the platform and take a step back”.  Each time I had to move away, I experienced that stick of flesh on a flat surface (sort of like in the summer when you sit on a leather chair with shorts on and you need to disengage your thighs from the leather?).  Each time I grunted with the effort of this disengagement (peeling! hoisting! hey! oh!) I just wanted to laugh even more.

Because I had to resist laughing at the tit hoisting et al, I had to let the pressure out by laughing at other things deemed more appropriate for laughing (more appropriate than laughing at a mammogram, that is).  For example, I blurted out the following: “Sorry that my armpits smell!”  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  “I followed the directions like they said and didn’t use deodorant, so I’m sure they stink.”  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

It was overkill.  And I am sure at some point I came across as maniacal about my own jokes and strangely delighted with mammograms.

In any event, the actual procedure was mildly uncomfortable at most (both physically and mentally).  In fact, I wanted to look at the machine and yell, “Is that all you got, BOOB CRUSHER?!!!?”

But, man, if I knew it was going to crack me up as much as it did, I would have had a mammogram ages ago.