*The majority of you would like to punch the name "Isla" square in the nuts and that's cool. I was intrigued by the name at first glance, but your points about pronunciation and such are well taken. I enjoy these types of discussions and will never be the kind of person who is all secretive about name selection.
*I'm not pregnant for the love of god! Do you think I'm going to be all shady about it if and when I am? I can't be trusted with a secret of that magnitude, skimmers! DAMN!
*This is my 199th post. Coming up with post ideas is so much easier than I thought it would be.
*BR has a running shirt that says "My Kenyan Legs Are In The Shop" on the back. He thinks this is HILARIOUS.
*I went on a date with a guy once who BROUGHT A FRIEND along on the date. Without telling me first. I ended up dating the friend for over a year.
*In a fit of...something, I signed up for that Gevalia coffee service this week. Does anybody do this? What came over me? I do not know. That free carafe sure was shiny.
*I can't wait for the Sex and The City movie.
*I made Banana Bread Pudding last night. This is one of BR's favorite foods on the planet.
*I stopped reading Dooce. I realize that as a result I'll no longer have my finger on the pulse of the internets or whatever, but it got to the point where I was totally skimming, and then one day my finger was hovering over "unsubscribe", and...I just DID IT, you guys.
*BR was a professional soccer player. Many of you submitted guesses, and of those my favorite by far was Professional Boxer. Hee! You Fake Hispanic racial profilers, you! In my head his robe says "THE STEAMROLLAH".
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Three Things: Basically The Same Shit as Yesterday Edition
*High-maintenance update! I'm happy with my haircut, of which I have exactly ZERO pictures at the moment. What, do you think I'm followed by fucking PAPARAZZI all the live long day? I think it's basically a variation on the whole Katie Holmes thing (slash that exact thing). Complete with mental hottie husband and world's most beautiful baby, less about two feet of height! Score! Anyway, I know this cut is like, SO YESTERDAY or whatever, and to that I say SUCK IT HIPSTERS. I spent the entirety of the 90s asking myself WWJAD? (What Would Jennifer Aniston Do?) so let me assure you this is an improvement.
*I totally could have done without that flap smoothing thing though. BAH. They had to lift the flap THREE TIMES and use a little IRON on it, and the whole thing took over twice as long as the whole original lasing procedure, AND I wasn't even offered any Valium, not that it would have helped anyway. So, in the interest of full disclosure, fuck that shit. Although I am seeing 20/30 this morning, so there's that. Still, I would avoid wrinkling your flap, if at all possible. Um, we're still talking about eyes, right? Okay. Moving on.
*While I was waiting for my haircut, I happened upon an interview in some magazine featuring Isla Fisher, who is...somebody we are all supposed to care deeply about or something. I don't know. I wasn't really bringing my reading comprehension A game due to eavesdropping on the crazy ass mofos who work in the salon biz (not MY stylist of course, he is a perfectly nice flaming gay man, just as the good lord intended hairstylists to be). Anyway, the point here is: what do you guys think of the name Isla (pronounced EES-lah) as a Fake Hispanic girl's name? Tell the truth now. I'll tell you what I think after the results are in.
*I totally could have done without that flap smoothing thing though. BAH. They had to lift the flap THREE TIMES and use a little IRON on it, and the whole thing took over twice as long as the whole original lasing procedure, AND I wasn't even offered any Valium, not that it would have helped anyway. So, in the interest of full disclosure, fuck that shit. Although I am seeing 20/30 this morning, so there's that. Still, I would avoid wrinkling your flap, if at all possible. Um, we're still talking about eyes, right? Okay. Moving on.
*While I was waiting for my haircut, I happened upon an interview in some magazine featuring Isla Fisher, who is...somebody we are all supposed to care deeply about or something. I don't know. I wasn't really bringing my reading comprehension A game due to eavesdropping on the crazy ass mofos who work in the salon biz (not MY stylist of course, he is a perfectly nice flaming gay man, just as the good lord intended hairstylists to be). Anyway, the point here is: what do you guys think of the name Isla (pronounced EES-lah) as a Fake Hispanic girl's name? Tell the truth now. I'll tell you what I think after the results are in.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Three Things: High Maintenance Edition
*I have a haircut appointment in, oh, 4 HOURS, and I have...no plan whatsoever. Seriously. No. Plan. It's been over a year since my last haircut. Am I the only one who goes in and tells the stylist to just "do whatever you think! I don't know, just give me whatever the kids are into these days"? I've been doing this for YEARS, and I've never had a horrifying cut. Then again, I'm not fussy about hair (REALLY Tessie? YOU?), and my hair grows quickly, but still. I'm getting the sense that this is a Unique and possibly Insane tactic based on the reaction of my coworkers (all accountants, so control for that factor, obv). The last time I told my stylist to do "whatever" I got this, which I liked a lot (although in a shocking turn of events I can't be trusted with upkeep of highlights):
So, do you guys go in with an artist's rendering and step-by-step directions, or WHAT? And if so, there's still time to email me the document!
*I also happen to be sitting on a $200 spa gift card that I've had for about 6 months now. Unless you are a total skimmer, you may have deduced that I am not really the target demographic for $200 spa gift cards. A $200 gift card to the local liquor store with attached Chicken and Waffle House is more my speed. Nonetheless, I feel I must come up with something here. I'm thinking pedicure(s)? I've never had a massage either, but I was thinking that I could get a whole SUMMER's worth of pedicures for $200, whereas as at this particular spa $200 is only worth about two massages. Anyway, I'm talking out of my ass here, so the point is: what do you recommend? Besides a tall glass of STFU, SPOILED BITCH? (Also: the first person to use the word "pamper" is BANNED. I cannot STAND that word. It makes me think of BUTTS)
*AND, I'm getting my wrinkly flap smoothed this afternoon! JESUS! This is the most high-maintenance day OF MY LIFE! First lasik, then spa services administered by professionals, and a haircut too! What is next, permanent eyeliner? FACE LIFT? It's like goddamned Dr. 90210 over here! Apologies to all of the REGULAR FOLKS reading. We'll be back to ignoring our appearance and general well-being shortly.
Bonus cameo of HUGE hunk of meat! Sorry meat-avoiders! Although I'll have you know that's a $75 Chateaubriand, right there. Talk about Good Eats.
So, do you guys go in with an artist's rendering and step-by-step directions, or WHAT? And if so, there's still time to email me the document!
*I also happen to be sitting on a $200 spa gift card that I've had for about 6 months now. Unless you are a total skimmer, you may have deduced that I am not really the target demographic for $200 spa gift cards. A $200 gift card to the local liquor store with attached Chicken and Waffle House is more my speed. Nonetheless, I feel I must come up with something here. I'm thinking pedicure(s)? I've never had a massage either, but I was thinking that I could get a whole SUMMER's worth of pedicures for $200, whereas as at this particular spa $200 is only worth about two massages. Anyway, I'm talking out of my ass here, so the point is: what do you recommend? Besides a tall glass of STFU, SPOILED BITCH? (Also: the first person to use the word "pamper" is BANNED. I cannot STAND that word. It makes me think of BUTTS)
*AND, I'm getting my wrinkly flap smoothed this afternoon! JESUS! This is the most high-maintenance day OF MY LIFE! First lasik, then spa services administered by professionals, and a haircut too! What is next, permanent eyeliner? FACE LIFT? It's like goddamned Dr. 90210 over here! Apologies to all of the REGULAR FOLKS reading. We'll be back to ignoring our appearance and general well-being shortly.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Was Blind But Now I See
Well, it looks like BR will have to return the various braille reading material he's been squirreling away, because we are not blind, internets! We were both successfully lased! Well, so far so good anyway. If you ask BR, we could still totally take a turn for the worse and end up blind/crippled/dead as a doornail. In fact, when we both finally die in our sleep of old age, it's likely he'll find some way to blame the lasah (BR, circa 2072: "I knew it!"). But I digress! I was supposed to be meticulously documenting and shit for you guys! (bonus digression: could there be anyone less suited for meticulous documentation? If you are using this blog for...informational purposes, I deeply apologize)(suggested uses: schadenfreude, feeling superior re: parenting, marriage, grooming, and geographic location)
Anyway! Back to the action! Our surgery was at 11:00 am on Friday. We arrived with my MIL in tow, and BR immediately began sending mass texts to everyone in his address book in order to "say his goodbyes". I was ignoring so hard that I failed to recognize the upgrade in potential complications from "blindness" to "death". Jesus. The text recipients probably thought he was lying in a ditch somewhere instead of kicking back in a cushy armchair leafing through Sports Illustrated.
Eventually, they brought us back and gave us each a series of numbing drops in both eyes. After those had taken effect, they MARKED our eyes with some kind of EYE PEN, you guys! Like, they WROTE ON OUR EYES. Awesome. At that point, predictably, BR was starting to get squirrelly, and so it was time for a Valium! Score! They gave us each one, and I have to say I was sorely disappointed with the whole Valium Experience. I don't know if it's my fine genetic heritage of substance abuse, or what, but even after about 30 minutes, I felt...not much. When I got up, I felt the slightest bit weird in the legs, and that was IT. BAH. Damn you, off-the-charts drug and alcohol tolerance! Foiled again! BR was, uh, slightly more affected, but that's a story for another paragraph.
BR went under the lasah first, so as soon as his Valium kicked in, they brought him back to the lasah room and I sat outside to watch. They put his eye under the lasah and a picture of it came up on a huge flat-screen TV in the viewing room, so I had an awesome view of the whole procedure. I wish they would have allowed pictures because it was really pretty cool. Anyway, I could tell the Valium was really working on BR because they didn't have to strap him in or hold him down or shoot him once in each leg or ANYTHING, which was a goddamned miracle of pharaceutical science. You could tell the nurses were even surprised. Heh.
The first thing they did was to clamp his eyelids wide open with a metal speculum-looking deal, which looked like it would hurt, but didn't. Then, they put a metal ring down onto the eyeball and sort of suctioned it up a little bit, to pull the eye taut and keep it still while they did the lasing. In my opinion, this was the only uncomfortable part of the whole surgery. There was pressure, and it just felt WEIRD. Um, since they're suctioning your eyeball and all.
Once the eye was in place, they cut around the metal ring to make the "flap". During the cutting, neither of us felt anything or saw anything (you just look at a little red light the whole time). After the flap was made, they flipped it up, and that's when we lost our sight briefly (everything went fuzzy and then black). Then it was time for the lasah! The actual lasing only took about 20 or 30 seconds. We both definitely heard it, and we could smell it a little, although I wouldn't describe the smell as BURNING FLESH THE HORROR OMG or anything. It was more like singed hair, or a bad firewood smell or something.
After the lasing, they flipped the flap back down (we could both see again right away), and then they sort of flattened it out with a little paintbrush-type thing, and that was it! On to the next eye! Watching it onscreen, everything looked like plastic. I mean, there's no blood or anything so it's not really GROSS to watch. I wouldn't have wanted BR to watch first, but if you're not a fussy fretter slash overthinker slash TOTAL SPAZ, it's pretty cool.
Anyway, next it was my turn, and blah blah blah lather lase repeat. Since BR miraculously held his shit together and didn't pee himself or anything, I didn't even get any bonus Most Favored Patient treatment. *POUT*. After we were both through, they took a quick look at our eyes to make sure the surgery took or whatever, put in some antibiotic drops, and then we were on our way.
I have to say I was surprised with how well we could see right away. I guess I was thinking it would be totally foggy, or we wouldn't be able to see AT ALL, but we could both see pretty well immediately after the surgery. We probably could have driven ourselves home, if we HAD to. Well, except for the whole Valium thing. Speaking of which, BR + Valium = TRULUV4EVAH! GOD. We went through the Wendy's drive-thru on the way home, and he was all loopy and mental, whispering from the passenger seat asking if they had M&Ms for the frosties and how many were they going to put in there and fucking GAH. Since by this point I was feeling exactly NOTHING, it was like trying to drag home your drunk and obnoxious buddy from the bar. Good times. What was the DEAL with that? Was it psychosomatic or what? Because last time I checked, BR weighs TWICE what I do, and we had the same dose! What a fucking lightweight! I think it's high time I challenged him to a game of Valium Pong for all the marbles!
As long as this post is fucking LONG AS HELL anyway, I might as well tell you that this reminds me of the time in college when our accounting class went on a field trip to a company that made those "drunk goggles" that they use for education and training and such (the ones that distort your vision and simulate intoxication). Anyway, we were all trying them on and getting a laugh as people fell over and crashed into chairs and such, and then I put them on and PERFECTLY WALKED A STRAIGHT LINE. Man, if "impervious to intoxicants" turns out to be my One True Talent, I am going to be SO PISSED.
In conclusion to the LONGEST POST KNOWN TO MAN, we went home and slept for a few hours (BR fell asleep in the car holding the coveted frosty), and when we woke up later Friday night we could both see pretty well. On Saturday morning we went in for a check-up and BR was already seeing 20/20, that fretting bastard. I was seeing 20/40 (my vision was much worse to begin with), and they expect me to be seeing 20/20 within the next couple of weeks. The only minor complication in my case was that I have a small wrinkle in my "flap", which they are going to smooth out tomorrow (just involves numbing drops and lifting the flap, no lasing).
Overall, I think we were both pretty happy with the procedure, although I'm still not seeing quite as well yet as I would be with my glasses so I'll withhold judgement until I get to that point. There really was no pain, or even really any eye irritation, which I was totally expecting. Of course, we did sleep for the first several hours after the procedure so that's probably the window when you would feel it, if at all. We're both still seeing "halos" or fuzziness around lights at night, but that is expected to get better with time, and honestly even if it doesn't, I don't think it's that big of a deal.
Executive Summary Skimmers!
Lasing: Recommended! If BR can do it, anyone can, people.
Valium: Eh.
Valium if you tend towards Giant Pussy: Two thumbs and an M&M frosty way up!
Incessant Fretting and Worst-Case-Scenarioing: Still makes me want to lase BR's head clean off.
Chances of Cease and Desist on Fretting: ZERO
Anyway! Back to the action! Our surgery was at 11:00 am on Friday. We arrived with my MIL in tow, and BR immediately began sending mass texts to everyone in his address book in order to "say his goodbyes". I was ignoring so hard that I failed to recognize the upgrade in potential complications from "blindness" to "death". Jesus. The text recipients probably thought he was lying in a ditch somewhere instead of kicking back in a cushy armchair leafing through Sports Illustrated.
Eventually, they brought us back and gave us each a series of numbing drops in both eyes. After those had taken effect, they MARKED our eyes with some kind of EYE PEN, you guys! Like, they WROTE ON OUR EYES. Awesome. At that point, predictably, BR was starting to get squirrelly, and so it was time for a Valium! Score! They gave us each one, and I have to say I was sorely disappointed with the whole Valium Experience. I don't know if it's my fine genetic heritage of substance abuse, or what, but even after about 30 minutes, I felt...not much. When I got up, I felt the slightest bit weird in the legs, and that was IT. BAH. Damn you, off-the-charts drug and alcohol tolerance! Foiled again! BR was, uh, slightly more affected, but that's a story for another paragraph.
BR went under the lasah first, so as soon as his Valium kicked in, they brought him back to the lasah room and I sat outside to watch. They put his eye under the lasah and a picture of it came up on a huge flat-screen TV in the viewing room, so I had an awesome view of the whole procedure. I wish they would have allowed pictures because it was really pretty cool. Anyway, I could tell the Valium was really working on BR because they didn't have to strap him in or hold him down or shoot him once in each leg or ANYTHING, which was a goddamned miracle of pharaceutical science. You could tell the nurses were even surprised. Heh.
The first thing they did was to clamp his eyelids wide open with a metal speculum-looking deal, which looked like it would hurt, but didn't. Then, they put a metal ring down onto the eyeball and sort of suctioned it up a little bit, to pull the eye taut and keep it still while they did the lasing. In my opinion, this was the only uncomfortable part of the whole surgery. There was pressure, and it just felt WEIRD. Um, since they're suctioning your eyeball and all.
Once the eye was in place, they cut around the metal ring to make the "flap". During the cutting, neither of us felt anything or saw anything (you just look at a little red light the whole time). After the flap was made, they flipped it up, and that's when we lost our sight briefly (everything went fuzzy and then black). Then it was time for the lasah! The actual lasing only took about 20 or 30 seconds. We both definitely heard it, and we could smell it a little, although I wouldn't describe the smell as BURNING FLESH THE HORROR OMG or anything. It was more like singed hair, or a bad firewood smell or something.
After the lasing, they flipped the flap back down (we could both see again right away), and then they sort of flattened it out with a little paintbrush-type thing, and that was it! On to the next eye! Watching it onscreen, everything looked like plastic. I mean, there's no blood or anything so it's not really GROSS to watch. I wouldn't have wanted BR to watch first, but if you're not a fussy fretter slash overthinker slash TOTAL SPAZ, it's pretty cool.
Anyway, next it was my turn, and blah blah blah lather lase repeat. Since BR miraculously held his shit together and didn't pee himself or anything, I didn't even get any bonus Most Favored Patient treatment. *POUT*. After we were both through, they took a quick look at our eyes to make sure the surgery took or whatever, put in some antibiotic drops, and then we were on our way.
I have to say I was surprised with how well we could see right away. I guess I was thinking it would be totally foggy, or we wouldn't be able to see AT ALL, but we could both see pretty well immediately after the surgery. We probably could have driven ourselves home, if we HAD to. Well, except for the whole Valium thing. Speaking of which, BR + Valium = TRULUV4EVAH! GOD. We went through the Wendy's drive-thru on the way home, and he was all loopy and mental, whispering from the passenger seat asking if they had M&Ms for the frosties and how many were they going to put in there and fucking GAH. Since by this point I was feeling exactly NOTHING, it was like trying to drag home your drunk and obnoxious buddy from the bar. Good times. What was the DEAL with that? Was it psychosomatic or what? Because last time I checked, BR weighs TWICE what I do, and we had the same dose! What a fucking lightweight! I think it's high time I challenged him to a game of Valium Pong for all the marbles!
As long as this post is fucking LONG AS HELL anyway, I might as well tell you that this reminds me of the time in college when our accounting class went on a field trip to a company that made those "drunk goggles" that they use for education and training and such (the ones that distort your vision and simulate intoxication). Anyway, we were all trying them on and getting a laugh as people fell over and crashed into chairs and such, and then I put them on and PERFECTLY WALKED A STRAIGHT LINE. Man, if "impervious to intoxicants" turns out to be my One True Talent, I am going to be SO PISSED.
In conclusion to the LONGEST POST KNOWN TO MAN, we went home and slept for a few hours (BR fell asleep in the car holding the coveted frosty), and when we woke up later Friday night we could both see pretty well. On Saturday morning we went in for a check-up and BR was already seeing 20/20, that fretting bastard. I was seeing 20/40 (my vision was much worse to begin with), and they expect me to be seeing 20/20 within the next couple of weeks. The only minor complication in my case was that I have a small wrinkle in my "flap", which they are going to smooth out tomorrow (just involves numbing drops and lifting the flap, no lasing).
Overall, I think we were both pretty happy with the procedure, although I'm still not seeing quite as well yet as I would be with my glasses so I'll withhold judgement until I get to that point. There really was no pain, or even really any eye irritation, which I was totally expecting. Of course, we did sleep for the first several hours after the procedure so that's probably the window when you would feel it, if at all. We're both still seeing "halos" or fuzziness around lights at night, but that is expected to get better with time, and honestly even if it doesn't, I don't think it's that big of a deal.
Executive Summary Skimmers!
Lasing: Recommended! If BR can do it, anyone can, people.
Valium: Eh.
Valium if you tend towards Giant Pussy: Two thumbs and an M&M frosty way up!
Incessant Fretting and Worst-Case-Scenarioing: Still makes me want to lase BR's head clean off.
Chances of Cease and Desist on Fretting: ZERO
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Lasah Eve!
So, tomorrow we go under the lasah! Aren't you all so glad that I meticulously document my impulse-purchased and largely unresearched medical decisions on the internet? Man, the defense attorney is going to SALIVATE over this blog when preparing for our blindness lawsuit.
On Monday we had our pre-op appointments, which consisted of measuring our eyes and also putting in numbing drops so that someone could TOUCH OUR EYEBALLS with a little pen thingee, like right there in the CENTER you guys! It was AWESOME. Then they dilated our pupils (how does a DROP do this? Total mystery, mostly because I didn't ask) which is important to check the whatsiwhat and so on and so forth (also: to see into our SOULS). Anyway, the main take-away here is that BR IS A GIANT PUSSY.
During the whole numbing drops/touching the eyeballs debacle, they actually had to have two people HOLD HIS HEAD while a third sucker pried his eyelids open and did the pen thing (fun fact: this measures the thickness of the cornea, I guess? No word on whether our corneas are Skinny or Fat).
They actually MARKED HIS FILE with some kind of "patient from hell" code or similar (Notes: patient appears to be requesting eye surgery not involving any "icky eye-touching". Diagnosis: Giant Pussy. Prognosis: Good Luck With That).
GOD. So embarrassing. The good news is that he's going first tomorrow, so I will totally be a Model Patient in comparison. They'll probably lase some off my nose or my ass or something, free of charge, just as a thanks for being so awesome.
On Monday we had our pre-op appointments, which consisted of measuring our eyes and also putting in numbing drops so that someone could TOUCH OUR EYEBALLS with a little pen thingee, like right there in the CENTER you guys! It was AWESOME. Then they dilated our pupils (how does a DROP do this? Total mystery, mostly because I didn't ask) which is important to check the whatsiwhat and so on and so forth (also: to see into our SOULS). Anyway, the main take-away here is that BR IS A GIANT PUSSY.
During the whole numbing drops/touching the eyeballs debacle, they actually had to have two people HOLD HIS HEAD while a third sucker pried his eyelids open and did the pen thing (fun fact: this measures the thickness of the cornea, I guess? No word on whether our corneas are Skinny or Fat).
They actually MARKED HIS FILE with some kind of "patient from hell" code or similar (Notes: patient appears to be requesting eye surgery not involving any "icky eye-touching". Diagnosis: Giant Pussy. Prognosis: Good Luck With That).
GOD. So embarrassing. The good news is that he's going first tomorrow, so I will totally be a Model Patient in comparison. They'll probably lase some off my nose or my ass or something, free of charge, just as a thanks for being so awesome.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
How Sad Is It That I Have to Assure You This Is NOT an April Fool's Joke?
One of my favorite bloggers and commenters is Emily of Captain Hambone. Her blog is hilarious and smart and I was lurking there long before I had a blog of my own and you should all commence adding it to your RSS Feed Readers immediately. Is that clear?
Anyway, Emily has a post up right now that I knew she was going to write. I saw it in my Google Reader this morning and I immediately felt a nervous feeling in my tummy (you know the one I'm talking about). I avoided the post all day. By early afternoon, it was the only post hanging out in my "daily reads/comment" folder. Updated: 1.
I was avoiding the post because I knew it was about Emily's friends and their 16-month-old baby, who recently went through the removal of a baseball-sized cancerous tumor from her tiny, sweet head. The family has had to relocate across the country, while still paying their bills at home, and has no income to speak of while their baby is being treated. They are struggling just trying to be with their baby for the remainder of her life, whether that be 60 days or (PLEASE GOD) 60 years.
I knew that would be hard to read. But then, I got to the part where Emily wonders if the entire reason for her blog, and the reason she's met and connected with so many people just through doing something she enjoys, was so that she could one day use those connections to help this family. And I felt so uplifted by that comment. I'm so glad I read that post, so I could realize that there are people like Emily out there, trying to help by just doing any small thing they can, and hoping those small things add up to Big Things.
Listen, I can't help but notice that many of us are overwhelmed, or in funks, or just feeling shitty for one reason or another right now. If you're feeling that way today, why not go on over and see what Emily's doing? I know your boss is an ass, and some dickhead cut you off in traffic today, and somebody hit your car and didn't leave a note, but there ARE lots of good people out there, and some of them read this blog. Actually, LOTS of them do, and that's why I know I can count on you guys to help this family.
And as an incentive, I will offer up my most valuable commodity: BITCHING. If you decide to donate to help baby Emily (any amount helps), send me an email and I'll send you an EXCLUSIVE, NEVER-PUBLISHED work-related post. The theme is DIVERSITY DAY people. For the love of god, you don't want to miss that.
Even if you don't decide to donate, I hope you'll help baby Emily out with your positive thoughts and/or prayers if that's how you roll. You guys are awesome.
(Diversity Day!)
Anyway, Emily has a post up right now that I knew she was going to write. I saw it in my Google Reader this morning and I immediately felt a nervous feeling in my tummy (you know the one I'm talking about). I avoided the post all day. By early afternoon, it was the only post hanging out in my "daily reads/comment" folder. Updated: 1.
I was avoiding the post because I knew it was about Emily's friends and their 16-month-old baby, who recently went through the removal of a baseball-sized cancerous tumor from her tiny, sweet head. The family has had to relocate across the country, while still paying their bills at home, and has no income to speak of while their baby is being treated. They are struggling just trying to be with their baby for the remainder of her life, whether that be 60 days or (PLEASE GOD) 60 years.
I knew that would be hard to read. But then, I got to the part where Emily wonders if the entire reason for her blog, and the reason she's met and connected with so many people just through doing something she enjoys, was so that she could one day use those connections to help this family. And I felt so uplifted by that comment. I'm so glad I read that post, so I could realize that there are people like Emily out there, trying to help by just doing any small thing they can, and hoping those small things add up to Big Things.
Listen, I can't help but notice that many of us are overwhelmed, or in funks, or just feeling shitty for one reason or another right now. If you're feeling that way today, why not go on over and see what Emily's doing? I know your boss is an ass, and some dickhead cut you off in traffic today, and somebody hit your car and didn't leave a note, but there ARE lots of good people out there, and some of them read this blog. Actually, LOTS of them do, and that's why I know I can count on you guys to help this family.
And as an incentive, I will offer up my most valuable commodity: BITCHING. If you decide to donate to help baby Emily (any amount helps), send me an email and I'll send you an EXCLUSIVE, NEVER-PUBLISHED work-related post. The theme is DIVERSITY DAY people. For the love of god, you don't want to miss that.
Even if you don't decide to donate, I hope you'll help baby Emily out with your positive thoughts and/or prayers if that's how you roll. You guys are awesome.
(Diversity Day!)
GAH!
Holy SHIT I am behind on stuff, you guys. When I fail to blog and even to READ BLOGS (200 unread posts AND COUNTING!), you know it's bad.
Things that have totally harshed my buzz in the last week:
*AD's plague. She's feeling much better now, but thanks to our friend the Fever-Free-for-24-Hours Rule, I had to stay home with her two days last week when I was ALSO supposed to be out of the office for Dork Conventions. Several of you asked whether AD is the sweet, cuddly kind of sick kid, and I would like to punch you all in the face, skimmers. Okay, fine, not YOU. But SOMEBODY.
*Dork Conventions. I did make it to Friday's Dork Convention (CPA Conference), which featured a speech on the topic of "Economic Outlook for 2008". UHH. That was CHEERY. I hope none of you were planning on selling a home/buying a home/selling investments/buying gas/relying on the US banking system anytime this year. JESUS. The speaker's opinion was that this will be the worst recession since the 80s. So that's awesome. The good news is that Texas, in the words of this economist, "may choose not to participate" in the recession. Heh. That is just like you, Texas. Well, this time I approve. BEST OF LUCK TO THE REST OF YOU.
*Mothah in Law. BR's mom is staying with us for about two weeks before we all travel to Boston together for the marathon (and so we can get lasahed). I know what you THINK I'm going to say here, you crabby fuckers, but this is actually wicked awesome. She's a nice, low maintenance kind of mother-in-law and also AVAILABLE TO WATCH OUR KID. This is a totally new experience for us, since we don't have any family within 1000 miles and therefore typically have to watch our OWN kid, which I think we can all agree is so, so lame. Also, observing the life of my mother-in-law, who is retired from working at the welfare office for 20 years (GAH!), is sort of encouraging. She doesn't do JACK SHIT and it is AWESOME. She drinks coffee, and smokes, and watches bad tv, and reads cooking magazines, and sits around outside. Now, my mother-in-law has raised FOUR loud and insane children, so if she can achieve this kind of life, SO CAN I. It will be mine. OH YES. IT WILL BE MINE.
Things that have totally harshed my buzz in the last week:
*AD's plague. She's feeling much better now, but thanks to our friend the Fever-Free-for-24-Hours Rule, I had to stay home with her two days last week when I was ALSO supposed to be out of the office for Dork Conventions. Several of you asked whether AD is the sweet, cuddly kind of sick kid, and I would like to punch you all in the face, skimmers. Okay, fine, not YOU. But SOMEBODY.
*Dork Conventions. I did make it to Friday's Dork Convention (CPA Conference), which featured a speech on the topic of "Economic Outlook for 2008". UHH. That was CHEERY. I hope none of you were planning on selling a home/buying a home/selling investments/buying gas/relying on the US banking system anytime this year. JESUS. The speaker's opinion was that this will be the worst recession since the 80s. So that's awesome. The good news is that Texas, in the words of this economist, "may choose not to participate" in the recession. Heh. That is just like you, Texas. Well, this time I approve. BEST OF LUCK TO THE REST OF YOU.
*Mothah in Law. BR's mom is staying with us for about two weeks before we all travel to Boston together for the marathon (and so we can get lasahed). I know what you THINK I'm going to say here, you crabby fuckers, but this is actually wicked awesome. She's a nice, low maintenance kind of mother-in-law and also AVAILABLE TO WATCH OUR KID. This is a totally new experience for us, since we don't have any family within 1000 miles and therefore typically have to watch our OWN kid, which I think we can all agree is so, so lame. Also, observing the life of my mother-in-law, who is retired from working at the welfare office for 20 years (GAH!), is sort of encouraging. She doesn't do JACK SHIT and it is AWESOME. She drinks coffee, and smokes, and watches bad tv, and reads cooking magazines, and sits around outside. Now, my mother-in-law has raised FOUR loud and insane children, so if she can achieve this kind of life, SO CAN I. It will be mine. OH YES. IT WILL BE MINE.
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