Musings of Me

"Winter Storm 2005"

What goes around comes around.

I suppose I am getting my just desserts for making numerous calls to Michigan and laughing hysterically into the reciever after asking how the weather is (I need a new gag, really).

My personal favorite had my twin sullenly whining about being plowed into her apartment complex, leaving her with nothing to survive on save string cheese (this is no different from the norm, but I can sympathize wholeheartedly). Like any caring sister, I laughed until she hung up, then I called her back and did it again.

I think she hates me.

To make a long story short, I spent my weekend holed up in the house, watching exclusive coverage (by 4 TV stations) of what is being marketed by the networks as "Winter Storm 2005." There is even a theme song.

Suffice it to say that when anything resembling ice, sleet, or snow hits Georgia, the natives go crazy. The average speed limit in Atlanta is 80+mph, and no one bothers to slow their humvees for something so insignificant as the forces of nature.

Day one, Saturday, started off great. I sat on the sofa eating ice cream (actually, all I ate Saturday was ice cream and Captain Crunch. Rock on), and watching the neighborhood children haul out sleds and slide down the road (I wanted to join them, but I have no sled, cardboard, or anything. I have an armchair Grandma gave me, but that would be too much work, and may rip out my stitches. More on that, later).

Following the happy children, the crazy unicyclist was out and I watched him bite it several times, as did the kids. Even from a distance, their frozen little faces were of shocked bewliderment that an adult would be out trying to ride a unicycle in this weather (Perhaps he is an Olympic unicycle contender, and needs to practice on two inches of solid ice on a hill.....)

There are interesting people down here. Perhaps I will go into more detail about the unicyclist later.

After about an hour of watching live cams of real-time accidents occuring on GA400, I75, and I85, I thought I would be better served watching the carnage inflicted on drywall by some stainless steel cutlery on a random infomercial. Cabin fever set in about ten minutes later.

So, after completely wasting my Saturday (AND there were brown outs all day because of the ice weighting down the lines) I have decided to dedicate part of Sunday to whining about the cold, the ice, and how I ran out of Captain Crunch so I am being forced to live off Oat Bran. At any time feel free to call and laugh.

Part of the reason I am so grumpy about my cabin lockdown is because I couldn't go play outside even if I did have a sled. My surgeon gave me explicit instructions to not rip my stitches from Thursday's surgery, and quite frankly she scares me. (So, instead I have been sitting on my butt, eating like a pig, and charging my cell battery between brown-outs for the next round of 'calling MI and laughing my ass off.')

Perhaps I should talk about my surgery, as it is rather funny.

Thursday, I was happy. Not only was I finally having the lump in my arm removed, I got half a day of work off in which to do it. I was GLEEFUL skipping out of work (I literally did skip). After several months of uncertainty, and medical trial-and-error, I was having my biopsy.

I arrived at the office, and was ushered into this lovely little room with an exotic chair reminiscent of the pyschotic Dental office of Little Shop of Horrors. My surgeon began the niceties of polite conversation, while the surgical assistant prepped me for surgery. They were both very nice, and not once did I have the urge to run screaming.

Once the surgery began, I really couldn't see. I did manage to peak over, and the view was not what I expected. The doctor, who assumed I would probably freak out, immediately said, "you don't want to see this!" It was at this point I made a comment comparing the sterile field to a food product, which immediately had the surgical assistant exclaiming in horror, "oh god, she's right! I can never eat that again!"

The surgeon started to laugh.

"Well, if you think THAT is bad..." I launched into another story concerning college anatomy lab, and a similar situation which soon had both women in stiches. I am glad I was locally numbed, because the next sound I heard was my surgeon, still laughing, exclaiming "oops!"

At this point, I reflected, perhaps I should not be making these people laugh.

Before the operation was over, we hit many topics. these ranged from: Birth control, George Bush, acne, Carrots as a source of nutrition for women over 25, Sea World, Engineers, Atkins, Idiot boyfriends, medical school, IHOP, and cats.

Speaking of cats, I finally named mine. He is Jonesie von Clawed. He responds to Fluffy. I am a bad mother.

I am now sporting a 7 stitch wound, and have been forbidden to shave or use deoderant. I have been threatened with extreme pain should I not care for it properly or if I rip my stitches, and I am still amused with the care my surgeon took about my scar. Between fits of giggling, she mentioned suturing with the curve of my skin, so my scar would not be so noticeable.

I am glad she took such care, but I doubt anyone will look at my underarm in a social environment. Or at all. But, thanks to her, my underarm will not look absolutely Frankenstein-like if I choose to roll up my sleeve and demand that everyone look at my cool scar.

What am I, eight? (It is kinda cool, though)

There is still some of Sunday that is salvageable. I think I shall go recondition Fluffy.

posted by Jill @ 1:49 PM 0 comments

Soap Operas, Wet Willies, Scented Lotion, and Cat

Did you know that while the rest of the world is out working, going to class, or playing Hookie, others are watching or recording Days of Our Lives and Passions? In salute to this segment of society, I have decided that today’s little rant will be in Soap Opera form. (Okay, so I watched one or two episodes while avoiding relatives over Christmas and have sort of been sucked into the warped lives of these people. I will never watch again, I swear!)

In the defense of Passions, I did get to see a woman stabbed in the back with a scalpel by another woman in the hospital while fighting over a baby, all occurring during her doctor’s being poisoned by her fiance’s wife, who, as it happens, messed up and poisoned the Doctor’s sister? The sister is engaged to the Doctor’s ex-husband, with whom she separated after finding that the son she and her current fiancé gave up for adoption years ago was engaged to her other daughter, making their grandchild inbred.

Who knew Daytime TV was grittier than prime time?

May it be noted that my little Soap Spoof is extremely corny and written in the smutty style of Daytime TV. I figure if Daytime TV shows can air for over 20 years, there is something to be said for complete trash. That and I want to try something new.

~TEASER~
Ten days ago our heroine met a guy online.
Six days ago she met him in person.
He is now sleeping in her bed, eating her food, and in short, being a mooch.

Has it been mentioned that he whines when the heroine goes out with friends, yet he feels completely justified in abandoning her and snuggling up to other women?

She told him how she was feeling hurt by his betrayal. He purred that he loved only her. Will she forgive him?...
~END TEASER~

The Chronicles of Cat, Episode One “The Whirlwind Romance”

{It was a chilly, 45 degree Atlanta night as the extremely beautiful, wise, and witty heroine surfed the internet in search of love. As she browsed pages and pages of photographs and profiles, one gentleman finally caught her eye. “Oh, bless my heart! Are you not the SWEETEST little southern gentleman I have ever set my eyes upon!” She cooed as she put her hand to her face ere she faint.

The profile on the screen was short, yet pointed. It read: “Top Cat. Only male in litter of four. Loves to climb, play, and is extremely personable. Even if you hate cats, he is simply nice to look at. Loves to purr.” The photograph next to the ad was of an orange tabby, looking rather grumpy while squeezed in the loving grasp of a shelter employee.

Passion in her heart, and on her high-horse of do-goodness, the heroine went the very next day to the shelter with her supporting cast of ‘I want to play with the puppies’ sister and annoyed ‘I cannot believe I was roped into driving’ brother-in-law.

There, across the loud and bustling room, over the distinct smell of Frontline flea and tick shampoo, did the happy couple meet. In fact, such was Top Cat’s joy at the prospect of being outside his cage, that he gallantly batted at his sisters through the grill before plotting how to open the Iams bag. Yes, it was love.

Their first day together, the pair began to discuss the line of demarcation between proper and improper behavior. To Cat’s distinct displeasure, this meant to not eat Heroine’s hair. It also means not sleeping on her head, nor giving her the mother of all wet willies when she finally fell asleep. In fact, it was with extreme displeasure that Cat found himself flying towards the armchair amid shrieks after (what was in his mind) a little friendly bathing of Heroine’s smelly ear.

In return for letting Heroine sleep unfettered, Cat earned the pleasure of not being tossed around like a feline comet. A further compromise was reached concerning sleeping arrangements, once Heroine realized Cat did indeed have a keen sense of smell. As long as Cat is respectful, Heroine will not wear the smelliest lotion she can find to bed.

This realization came to pass when Cat landed on an Avon catalog after a particularly satisfying gnaw of hair. Watching the slightly dazed Cat (who, it appears, finds the launchings quite fun) Heroine had a flashback to a shady character only known as ‘DHL Guy.’ Harnessing the power of smell in her favor, Heroine immediately grabbed the most potent Bath & Body Works products she could find.}

Next episode…. Will Cat and Heroine live happily for another week? Or will scented lotion spell doom for the couple? Stay tuned!! (In reality, this would be over 3 episodes, and soon the introduction of a jealous Chihuahua would spice everything up quite nicely).

Perhaps I should stick with standard prose.

posted by Jill @ 1:59 PM 0 comments