California Kay

Time Flies

2011-12-19T23:46:00.001-08:00

Wow. I sit here, one week from my last Chemoversary and I cannot believe how time has flown by. So very many things have happened in the last year, I don't even know where to begin. Honestly, about the only way I mark the passing of time anymore is how many years out I am from that last Chemo. 7 more days and we'll have hit 4 years with "no evidence of disease." And I still have nightmares where I wake up in a cold sweat, having been told that the cancer is back. Fuck cancer.

I stayed in Washington for just over two years before admitting that I couldn't handle the rain. I'm back in NorCal and I'm happy with the move. There have been good things in my world and there have been bad things. Mostly I am left with a huge amount of gratitude and love. You people are amazing and I should have kept in touch. I apologize. I've let a lot of relationships slide.

Christmas is just days away; that blows my mind. I'm not going home this year. I haven't decorated. I haven't even shopped. It's just another month in just another year. I'm not feeling it. And honestly, I'm not really feeling my family either.

Lolo and I are just sitting on the couch chilling, I'm waiting for drugs to kick in and it's hitting me: the more time goes on, the more that things change, the more they really stay the same. I love you all and am so very thankful to have had you in my world. I wish you and yours a happy holiday season, no matter what you do or do not celebrate. Be well and Fuck Cancer.

3 years: Still Fucking Cancer

2010-12-26T19:39:00.000-08:00

Today marks three years since my last chemo. This anniversary snuck up on me, even though I just had an MRI a week ago to make sure I don't have any Kanser going on up in this business. I will be getting scans every 6 months, and checking in with my Oncologist just as often, for at least the next few years.

I am so very glad to still be Cancer Free, though my new Kanser Doc seems to be focused on breast cancer as my highest risk from here out. Chemo is an effective treatment, but it certainly jacks up your body, and I hope to never have need of it again.

Fuck Cancer! Or, if you prefer, Fuck Kanser! And thank you to all my amazing doctors and friends.

Veteran's Day

2010-11-11T11:11:00.000-08:00

On this Veteran’s Day, I am finding myself overwhelmed with emotions. Gratitude to all those who have ever served, sorrow for those who gave their life while serving, and finally, jealousy toward all of my friends still serving. After my fight with cancer, there was nothing my coworkers wouldn’t have done to fight to keep me in the Air Force. But because I have so much pride, there was not one person who ever knew just how hard it was for me to get up every morning and put that uniform on. That it took me two hours every morning to go thru the simple process of waking up, showering, dressing and driving the short 15 minute drive to work. I was so proud to wear that uniform, both on and off base. Proud to be among such an amazing group of people. Proud to be serving my country.

But I knew, even after such a short struggle with Fibromyalgia, that there was no way I could fully fulfill my duties as an Airman. There was no way I could ever again pass my yearly physical fitness test. No way I could do my job as a Videographer-Broadcaster-a job I had convinced myself I could not stand because I was no longer able to do it. No way I could even complete the 6 week Airman Leadership School that was the next step in my career.

And so I let go. I fought for my Medical Discharge, and gave up a lifestyle that I valued and loved above anything else I had known up to that point. 5 years, 1 month, and 28 days I wore that uniform. And I would gladly have done so for as many more days as they would have let me. No one I worked with, served with, knew just how deeply I loved what I did, because it hurt too much to admit that I could no longer do it. There is not one day that has gone by that I don't miss it.

So this Veteran’s Day, thank everyone you know who is still able to serve, but more than that, thank all of those who are no longer able to do so.

We keep it interesting

2010-06-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

Here at Casa de Kay, there is never a dull moment.

I woke up backwards in my bed with my cordless phone and my laptop.

The clues I am finding around the house as I attempt to piece together last night:

A few inches missing from the Belvedere bottle
No contacts in my eyes
An interesting wound on my right knee
Web browsers open to the major and minor listing at the Uni of West Florida, Calculator.com, and the Wikipedia page for Girl Next Door.

Never a dull moment...

Missing In Action

2010-05-14T10:40:00.000-07:00

I adore Drunk Kay. Really I do. But sometimes I think she has too much confidence in my ability to remember the things she does.

Somewhere between 3 and 10 days ago, she decided upon a new place for my ring. Logical Kaycee, lounging on her couch in the back of my brain, had the sense to interject "Drunk Kay, that's not one of the places we put the ring. Morning Kaycee will never find it."

"No, this is the best place ever. It's totally safe. Morning Kaycee will love it. She'll put all her important things here."

This ring is only sterling silver, but I love it. It's the only piece of metal I've been able to wear without a nasty reaction from my mysterious metal allergy. And that's only when I remember to take it off every night.

And since I cannot remember when I noticed it was missing, I don't even know whose house was the "safe, new place."

I really don't want to order it again, because I know that as soon as I do I'll find it. And then I probably will think Drunk Kay's new place is the best place ever. But until I can find that place, I am without my precious.

Friends, meet DrunkKay

2010-05-13T11:30:00.000-07:00

Edward Norton had Tyler Durden (or Brad Pitt, if you must be specific). I have DrunkKay.

She has grand adventures that I have no recollection of, except when she wants me to. The other morning, I was walking up the steps to my bathroom, absentmindedly scratching at my right underarm, when I saw a note scrawled onto my bathroom mirror in Dry Erase Marker:

"Dear Kaycee,
Enjoy that Razor Burn. Be glad I didn't get the brows.
-DrunkKay"

I raised my arm to peer at my armpit in the mirror, and sure enough, razor burn.

Then the previous night started coming back to me. I was washing the makeup off my face, when DrunkKay spied my electric razor charging on the counter. Hmmm. Idea.

"DrunkKay, what are you doing?" asked the normally logical Kaycee, lounging on the couch in the back of my mind.

"Hush. MorningKaycee will love it. She'll think it's hysterical. You'll see."

Then, because DrunkKay knows that MorningKaycee's late-night memory isn't so great (with or without a boost from alcohol), she decides maybe we should leave a note. MorningKaycee is always writing reminders on her mirror, so DrunkKay wipes off the half-remembered dream and writes her note.

Kaycee reads the bit about the brows from her position on the couch, and says, "DrunkKay, you wouldn't..."

"Nah, that'd just be mean. Funny, but mean. But MorningKaycee doesn't need to know that we're not serious about that."

Kaycee and DrunkKay wander off to bed, giggling about their latest prank.

I love DrunkKay. She's like that prankster roommate, except she knows exactly what I'll think is funny, and I know she means me no harm. When she remembers to leave me reminders, I can recall the previous night's adventures. When it's happening, it's like I'm lounging on the couch, watching it all go down and laughing. I love that bitch.

Not getting off of my soapbox yet

2010-05-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

It would appear that Kay is quite opinionated today. But hey, when you're on a roll, why stop?

WebMD sends me Fibromyalgia related emails once a week or so, when they have something new to share, and I read the articles because, in theory, "They iz educated and I iz not."

Today I read the article "Obesity May Raise Risk of Fibromyalgia," and since they give their readership no forum to comment on their articles, I choose to whip out my soapbox here.

But before we get to that, let's verify my credentials: I am not a freelance health writer. I am not a doctor. I am a pre-nursing dropout turned English major at a community college, who happens to have Fibromyalgia.

The article cites a recent study to be published in the May issue of Arthritis Care & Research. It also cites a couple of Rheumatologists. In case you've been living under a rock, let me refresh your memory. I do not like Rheumatologists, as a rule. It has been my experience that they have no grasp of Fibromyalgia besides what their textbooks tell them, and that they should stick to treating old people with Arthritis, which is the only thing they seem to be good for.

The study and the article report that "Being overweight or obese was associated with an increased risk of fibromyalgia." It goes on to suggest "Community-based measures aimed at reducing the incident of fibromyalgia should emphasize the importance of regular physical exercise and maintenance of normal body weight." It states that "Women with a body mass index (BMI) greater than or equal to 25 had a 60% to 70% greater risk of developing fibromyalgia, when compared with their thinner counterparts."

This sounds like a lot of correlation, not causation. Who's to say these women didn't gain the weight due to slowly developing symptoms of Firbromyalgia, and the decreased ability to exercise? It takes most people a year or longer to get an official diagnosis of Fibromyalgia, and that's only after they put two and two together to realize that there is something wrong with them.

These fine doctors conclude "People who are obese or overweight develop fibromyalgia more frequently, and those people who are overweight or obese and exercise are a little better off than those who don't exercise at all."

This is nothing more than a PSA telling people to exercise and eat healthy. It does nothing to advance understanding of Fibromyalgia or its possible cause(s). If this study was funded by the National Fibromyalgia Association, who is cited as a source in the article, I want my membership fees back. You are obviously not investing wisely in research, and deserve to be junk-punched.

Fibromyalgia ≠ Arthritis

This Chely Wright thing got me thinking

2010-05-04T01:30:00.000-07:00

The media is full of reports of the First Gay Country Star. Gasp!

Dig a little deeper and you see that Chely Wright's career has been struggling since her glory days in the 90s, as she bounced from record label to record label. Country music is fully of one-disk-wonders lately, and the older, established musicians seem to get buried under the over-produced Country-Pop crap the labels are pushing out as fast as the public can take it.

Yes, I did listen to Country in the 90s and early 2000s. And I crossed over to Pop music when a lot of Country musicians did *coughShaniaTwainFanGirlcough*. And my music taste continued to evolve from there. I do still like some country music, but there are so many new people constantly breaking into the genre, I quit trying to keep up with it, and rarely remember to tune in until something happens to bring County to the mainstream media's attention.

Like yesterday's announcement. An announcement that conveniently was made the day before Chely's new CD and book were both released. Yes, it took guts to come out as a Country Singer, since it could well be a career-ender in such a statistically conservative genre. But look at all of the non-country music fans who just learned her name. They may all be saying "Should I know who she is?" right now, as Chelsea Handler did on her show last night, but come tomorrow they'll recognize Chely's name when they see her book on the shelf or CD on iTunes. Someone has a genius marketing team behind her.

Chely's timing was a wee bit off. The After Ellen Hot 100 voting closes on the 7th. Had her people managed to get her on that list, it would have added a nice sizzle to her newly claimed Lesbian status. Better luck next year Chely.

I may be calling it out, but I can't deny that this announcement got me curious. I'll admit I went on iTunes and bought her newest CD, as well as a couple of the oldies. And I'll probably flip through her book when I see it at Barnes and Noble.

Curious? I recommend you listen to "Single White Female," "Never Love You Enough," and "Emma Jean's Guitar."

One thing that has me scratching my head though: Chely claims she "felt pressured to keep her sexuality a secret after launching her career in 1994." Where are the ex-girlfriends? I want proof, name-dropping, something to show that she's not just the latest Celeb trying to cash in on the recent "popularity" and media buzz that comes from coming out *coughLindsayLohancough* in an attempt to revive careers that are circling the drain *coughRickyMartincough*.

Regurgitated Writing Promp

2010-04-16T16:29:00.000-07:00

All of my creativity has been going into my creepy dreams, thinking of ways to kill frogs, and my awesome writing class. So instead of something fresh and pretty and new, you get a regurgitated writing prompt from class, but mostly because I want to play with it a bit more.

Prompt: Write a single scene from two different viewpoints. Stick with third person, but look at the scene from the vantage of two different characters. Our prompt is "Of course I love you." Who says it? What happens next?

I started out wanting my character to be talking to himself in the mirror, but realized that leaves me missing a character for my second viewpoint, so I had to scrap that. I'm only posting the first viewpoint, as my second one is sitting a bit oddly with me. Tweaking is called for.

Have you got 10 minutes? You should do the prompt too. There are a million ways you can go with it. You know you want to do it...

"Of course I love you," he says, leaning over the sink to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. He rinses the brush under the running water and continues scrubbing. Up, down, up, down. He moves slowly from left to right, eyes locked with hers in the mirror. He spits again.

"I've been very busy at work lately, it's like everyone in the city needs a checkup at the same time." He reaches for the mouthwash. She stays silent, just looks at his reflection. "How about I get off early tonight and we go to the park? We can have a picnic."

Her eyes light up and she does a silent happy dance.

Finished in the bathroom, he gives her a pat on the head as he brushes past her. He slips his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys off the table by the door. "Come on Molly," he calls as he reaches for the leash. "Are you ready to go to daycare while Daddy's at work?" He clips the leash to her collar, grabs his keys, and Molly happily prances out the front door ahead of him.

Buzzed Baking presents: Red Velvet Cupcakes

2010-04-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

In honor of a dear friend's failure, I decided to bake her FailCakes. But then I realized my back and knees were killing me, so I self-medicated with my equally dear friend Mr. Patron.

Here is the diary of Buzzed FailCakes:

Did the dishes
Got out Martha Stewart's Cupcakes cookbook
2 shots of tequila
Made a shopping list
Looked at my glorious hair
Got out a bowl
Put on black Adidas with cute little stars
Got out 2 eggs
Put on a hat (for hairnet/sanitation reasons)
Got out the milk
Put 88 songs on a new playlist
Another shot of tequila
Mixing of ingredients as directed by Ms. Stewart
Apple cider vinegar is the same as white vinegar right? RIGHT!
Ooh look, foamies.
Hmmm, the batter's not red... Maybe it's in the baking
Begins to suspect that the FailCakes will become actual Failcakes.
Puts first batch into oven
Putting more batter in more paper cups
*opens oven halfway thru bake time* That's not red!!!
*Timer sounds* Yep, those are definitely brown
We can call them Brown Velvet right? Same thing?
Mmmmmm, tastes like Failure. You know what Failure needs? More Tequila!
Wait, what does Red Velvet taste like anyway?
Let's make the frosting, maybe that'll fix it.
Another shot of tequila

Final Analysis: Good, but these cupcakes are in no way red.

Shower Randomness

2010-04-08T13:28:00.001-07:00

I was listening to one of my Pandora Radio channels while in the shower today, as is my habit most days since the passing of my beloved external hard drive (G:), and up popped what sounded like Jack Johnson. He was singing in that mellow, acoustic way of his, over and over that "You better hope you're not alone." I could not help but be creeped out by this.

I propose a new genera of music, labeled either Acoustic Stalker, or Indie Creeper, and demand that Mr Johnson be put into it immediately. John Mayer is also nominated to this category. Any others?

Its 1:30

2010-03-24T01:45:00.000-07:00

I have no idea what day it is.

I have had 5 or 6 shots of tequila since last night.

My back still hurts...It might be time to call the VA...

I am currently making pasta.

I am supposed to be updating you with lovely stories of something or other, but anyone who has followed me for any length of time knows that I lie about updates.

I have wasted a few hours on Texts From Last Night today. It makes me laugh till I cry and I hurt. And then I laugh some more.

I have planned out the menu for Friday's sleepover. (Blush pasta, creme brulee for dessert, with homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast.) All diets will die a horrible, twisted death on Friday.

I made lemon curd for some reason I have not yet deduced.

I came up with an epic story about epicness that I spent 4 hours researching info for this morning (yesterday morning?), only to not know how to end it, and leave it barely started but lingering in the back of my brain.

I was introduced to a horrifying blog that made me realize that my hair is much, much gayer than I had ever thought.

I am totally listening to Selena Gomez's Kiss & Tell CD right now.

This girl just learned that wall sits make her knees feel like they're going to explode. Oops.

And now my pasta's done.

Love love,
Kay

Teaser

2010-03-19T11:22:00.000-07:00

Stay Tuned for a drunken St Patrick's Day story and lounge bag updates (with pictures!)

San Antonio in Pieces

2010-03-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

Edit: Now all condensed into one post

There are parts of this I'm still not liking, we'll see what remains.

New Series: *All names have been changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent.

April of 2009 found me traveling to San Antonio for 5 days to make a petition to the Air Force's Formal Medical Board at Lackland Air Force Base. I had already been awarded twenty percent disability for my Fibromyalgia by the informal board, but I was fighting to get at least thirty percent, which would give me retirement instead of a medical separation. This trip marked my first solo vacation, the climax of my Air Force career, and impacted me in countless small ways that set forth a ripple effect of events in my life. Looking back it seems that every little piece of that week had a profound effect, and that seemed the best way to tell the story, by adding up every little piece:

A-Adidas:

I have been called a “Shoe Whore” a time or two. While some might take offense at such a crude title, I believe that if the shoe fits... For my trip to San Antonio, I thought long and hard about which shoes to take with me, since I was dealing with limited luggage space and unknown social settings. I decided the logical decision was to take a pair of all-white Adidas Superstars, and my black Doc Martins. Together they seemed a sensible, comfortable choice for one week, since I was unsure how much I would even be in civilian clothes.

While Doc Martins make an appealing, professional impression, nothing looks classier than a spotless pair of all-white Adidas. They project an image of clean-cut All-American wholesomeness. There's no mistaking the iconic shell-toe or three stripes down the side. Instantly recognizable, often imitated, the Adidas Superstar is the sneaker all other sneakers aspire to be, and my shoe of choice for most occasions. My Doc Martins did not see sunlight the entire week I was in San Antonio, and the Adidas only left my feet when I had to trade them for my combat boots. The comfort and style they provided me in San Antonio led to the purchase of several more Adidas once I returned home.

B-BBQ:

Every time I walk off the plane into San Antonio International Airport, the first thing to assault my senses, ahead of even the soul-crushing heat, is the smell of barbeque. Think of the most flavorful, slow-roasted, savory barbeque you've ever had; that's the smell. This scent permeates the air of the entire airport, from the arrivals wing, through the terminals, down to the baggage claim. It smells amazing, yet luckily never makes me hungry for barbeque, since there is not actually any restaurant within the airport that serves it. There's the usual assortment of McDonald's, Starbucks, and Cinnabons fighting to assuage the fast food needs of weary travelers. There are countless tex-mex restaurants, sports bars, and pizzerias, but not one single place that serves barbeque.

C-Cops:

My second night at Lackland, I was on my way to the convenience store in the billeting lobby when a group of guys drinking in the courtyard called out to me. “Hey, come have a drink with us,” yelled a short, wiry man.

“Maybe later,” I yelled down to them from my third floor balcony, with no real intention of following through. I didn't know them, and I was out of ice cream.

Ten minutes later I was walking back to my room with a six pack of Corona and the recently acquired knowledge that the on-base liquor store was closed on Tuesdays, when I thought “Why not go chat with those guys for a minute?”

That minute turned into hours. I ended up sharing a bottle of Captain Morgan Private Stock, two liters of Coke, and a whole lot of stories with three Air Force cops that I will probably never see again. Short wiry guy, who originally hailed from Georgia, insisted that we toast each round. No one else had any memorized, so he taught us his favorite, which I found hilarious and texted to myself so I would remember it beyond that night. When I awoke late Wednesday afternoon, I found this in my phone's inbox: “Here's to wars and revolution, Bud Light and prostitution. Big 'ole bulls that don't stop buckin' and sweet Georgia girls that don't stop fuckin'.”

D-Doctor

Start to finish, I saw over twenty different doctors and specialists in the last three years of my Air Force medical experience. Of them all, my favorite by far was Dr. W. She was my Oncologist, the doctor who oversaw all my cancer care, answered all my questions, and helped me as much as she could to prepare for my Medical Board. I only wish all doctors were as compassionate and friendly as Dr. W.

E-Elevator

Lackland Air Force Base is the only Basic Training installation for the Air Force. It is known as the “Gateway to the Air Force,” and as such, everything is tailored to setting a good example for the young trainees. Most of the buildings currently standing were constructed in the 1960s, and there is not one single elevator to be found on the base. Since the majority of people residing at Lackland are in peak physical condition, this is not a huge issue. For myself however, stairs are not my friend. I normally avoid going up them at all costs, since they exhaust me, strain my chemo-shot lungs, and once I've overdone it, cause my knees to give out. But with no alternative method of reaching my third-floor room, I was forced to deal with my nemesis many times during my week long stay.

I've recently come to realize that I talk to myself more than is probably socially acceptable. My week in San Antonio was no different, as I found myself muttering under my breath constant complaints about the heat, number of stairs, and lack of elevators. The night of my arrival alone I traversed up and down the three flights of stairs a record 10 times. By some weird fluke, the south Texas heat seemed to alleviate my Fibromyalgia enough that I could handle the stairs. Still, an elevator would have been nice.

F-Fauxhawk

It has been roughly two years now that I've had my hair back since being chemo-bald. Having never had hair so short before, I like to have fun with it. The Air Force's rules on dress and appearance ban hairstyles that can be considered “extreme or faddish,” so the fauxhawk is not authorized in uniform. As a result, I find my hair being combed into a point running down the middle of my head any time I'm not in uniform. Because of post 9-11 airport restrictions, the only hair product I've brought with me is my two ounce container of “Texture Dirt,” which coincidentally happens to be best for sculpting the fauxhawk.

The entire week I'm in San Antonio finds me wearing my hair in a fauxhawk. In Sacramento this does not attract much attention, but in Texas I find many people glance at me for extended periods of time. After being bald, I'm used to impolitely long stares, so I just brush it off as curiosity. Until someone asks me for a picture. The military has taught me to be wary of my surroundings and be alert to abnormal behavior. This request definitely strikes me as odd, and I respectfully decline, then carefully comb my hair into a more conservative style for the remainder of my trip.

G-GPS

I have a rather rough time remembering things, especially directions, and as such I have found my Garmin GPS to be a godsend. I use it every time I drive, whether I know the route or not. I find that it helps keep me on track, since sometimes I not only forget where I'm going, but what I'm doing. It's also convenient to find food or mark my parking spot when I'm in an unfamiliar place. My GPS can be put into walking, bicycling, or driving mode, and I utilized the walking mode after parking in downtown San Antonio on my way to sushi.

Easily following my GPS's directions back to the parking garage I had saved in the memory, I snapped the GPS into its window-mount and selected the address for my on-base hotel. I trust my GPS's directions over my own memory, so I did not question it when instead of directing me back to highway 410 it kept me on the main street running through downtown. After a few minutes had passed and I noticed we seemed to be detouring through the hood, I got suspicious. At the next red light I went into the Tools option in the menu, only to find that I had left the GPS in walking mode. Back in driving mode, I was immediately directed onto the 410, and able to escape the never-ending series of lights of downtown. Lesson learned.

H-Harry

The military is a rather tight-knit community of people who support each other. Once you've worked with someone, no matter if it's for a weekend or 4 years, you have a connection. TSgt Harry had worked in my building, though in a different office section, for at least three of the years I had been there. We saw each other only in passing and exchanged greetings maybe a couple times a week. Harry transferred to Lackland Air Force Base to become a MTI (Military Training Instructor) three months before I was sent for my Medical Board, and I still had his cell number in my phone. In the civilian world, such a tenuous connection would not be worth meeting up for a drink, but in the military, my phone call was greeted like that of a long-lost family member. I was enthusiastically invited to Harry's small temporary-housing apartment to have dinner with him and his family, and my arrival was met with hugs and beers. We spent several hours catching up and talking, both promising to keep in touch as I left to return to my room and pack for my flight the next morning.

I-Ice Cream

The lobby of the billeting office houses a small convenience store that sells everything from essential items one might have forgotten to pack (razors, toothbrushes, deodorant), to unhealthy snacks and novelties. Because I was unaccustomed to the high level of heat that San Antonio exists in, I found myself returning to this convenience store once and even twice a day to replenish my supply of water and ice cream. I love ice cream. Drumsticks, ice cream bars, plain vanilla in a pint, I love it all. I used to be severely lactose intolerant, which limited my ice cream intake considerably. Luckily chemotherapy managed to leave me with the happy side effect of being able to once again digest dairy products, and I have been abusing that new-found ability ever since. Rationalizing that I was on vacation, therefore the calories did not count, I felt free to eat as much ice cream as I pleased.

J-Julio

I had never met Julio until he rolled to a stop in front of me in his black Chevy Silverado my first night in San Antonio. Juilo was my roommate Anthony's friend, whom Anthony had lived with while stationed in England. Anthony was talking to Julio on Skype one night, taking his new MacBook from room to room to show Julio the house we lived in, when Anthony casually mentioned that I was going to Lackland in a few weeks for my Medical Board. Anthony “introduced” the two of us via video chat, and Julio offered to show me around San Antonio. Phone numbers were exchanged, and when I landed in San Antonio, I was greeted by a text message from Julio asking what my plans were.

The military grants one access to an exclusive club. Membership in this club affords one an instant connection to anyone else in the club, and friendships can be forged in an instant. Julio had no legitimate reason to offer me his friendship and companionship, but we both belonged to this exclusive club, and since we were both friends with Anthony, we were instant comrades. I learned upon stepping into his truck that his name was actually Mike, and that he was originally from the “Great State of Texas,” which was why he had volunteered to move to San Antonio upon leaving England. Mike was stationed at one of the (five) other military bases in San Antonio, but he drove me around to help me locate the building I needed to report to the next morning, and took me to find some food, as well as met up with me two other times while I was in Texas. The thing I miss most about the Air Force is that connection. It is the secret handshake, the password, the combination to the locked door housing instant friendship and a bond deeper than can be forged in school.

Stay tuned for more updates as I revise.

Every hero needs a nemesis

2010-03-13T10:24:00.000-08:00

Dearest Body of mine,

We have not always been on the best of terms, you and I, but lately I have come to see that we are not working together towards a common goal. In fact, I think you try your damnedest to keep me from reaching my goals. You, Sir, must be my nemesis.

You are quite devious my dear Body, but you will not prevail. If Pain is your side-kick, then the Pain Killer is mine. Well done on your overnight campaign to attack my ear. I must admit, I did not see that one coming. But you are destined to lose, for I am stubborn.

I concede this morning's battle to you. You are the victor. But take heed Sir, I will win this war of wills, and you will be the one left broken on the floor, crying out for mercy.

Cheers,
CaliforniaKay

Lord help me

2010-03-11T18:13:00.000-08:00

Dear X,

I am completely, inappropriately in love with you. It started as a crush, but now it's full-blown. I am waiting for it to go away, as it normally does in these situations.

Usually when this happens, I get all nervous and run away, dogging the person out for a while, until the feeling has passed. For some reason, I am unable or unwilling to do this with you.

It has been forever since I have felt this first feeling of falling, and I had forgotten just how sweet it is. So until it goes away, I shall revel in it.

Yours for now,
CaliforniaKay

Yeeee-haw!

2010-03-09T20:12:00.000-08:00

5-10 business days, and this baby is MINE!
(Minus the bowl of popcorn and the two people. Human trafficing=baaaaaad.)
Just in time for break, yay me!

Pain pain, go away, come again another day

2010-03-02T19:43:00.000-08:00

So much pain
It will go away, stay strong.
Pain
Block it out, shift your focus.
Pain
Slide into a tub of scalding water, control the pain.
Pain?
Burn the top layer of skin from your body, soak away the pain.
Pain
Sleep, where are you?
Pain
I need you sleep, hold me, wrap me in your cold embrace.
Pain
I want to drift into my dreamless sleep, escape the pain.
Pain.

Book Club?

2010-02-26T12:07:00.000-08:00

As I sit here on my couch in my sweats (Hey, it's my weekend. At least I'm showered), watching the DVRd "The Jane Austen Book Club" from Lifetime ("No Kay, not another Lifetime Movie." Shut it), I am struck by a thought. I want a book club dammit. A group of friends reading and discussing the same books, how much better could it get?

Seriously, I love the power of movies, and am down to read Austen's books (or anything anyone can come up with really) and discuss. Most of you people are spread out all over the great wherever, so even if we just have our discussions via email, who's in? One book a month, no restrictions.

Eruption of an Angry Bitch

2010-02-20T16:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Mother,

I know that you've had two surgeries in six short weeks now, but we need to talk. You're a perfectly functional 49 year old woman. You managed to raise five children, and you normally work every day with special needs high-schoolers, an admirable task that I do not envy you.

Your recent surgeries have not affected any of your limbs, and were not life-threatening. You are very lucky to have not had any infections, and that you've healed rather well. And I know that a hysterectomy is a very stressful thing for a woman to go through, both physically and mentally.

That said, you need to grow the fuck up, man the fuck up, and back the fuck off. I have had five surgeries and countless minor procedures of my own, none of which you were there for. I went through eight rounds of chemo, of which you were there for one. When I finally broke down and swallowed enough of my pride to beg you to come help me, you gave me half-assed excuses for why you couldn't. My last back procedure I drove myself home from, and believe me-I felt it. I do not want or need people to care for me when I have surgeries or procedures, because I plan ahead and make sure I have everything I need to take care of myself. I've got me.

So if I have to hear you whine one more time about the pain you're in, or that you're nauseated, or bored, and you choose not to listen to me when I tell you to take your meds or call your doctor, I will not be held responsible for my actions. I understand and can empathize with pain and boredom, but do not whine at me just to whine, not when you're going to ignore everything I tell you.

I'm not your fucking lackey, I'm not going to ask if you need something, then spend the next 10 minutes drawing it out of you, insisting that I really do want to go to whatever fucking store you want me to go to, even though it's out of my way. I will offer once, because once is how often I truly mean what I say. I am not your babysitter, and I do not appreciate being used as such. I respect your husband enough to not have any plans for this weekend, because he asked me as a personal favor to be here for you while he had to work, but don't fucking push it.

I'll help you out and get what you ask, but you'd better realize that I'm doing it as a favor. So why don't you do us all a favor and grow the fuck up, man the fuck up, and back the fuck off.

Lazy Sunday Morning

2010-02-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

Stolen moments
Seconds, minutes
Lazy mornings
You scoot closer
We share the pillow

Noses touching
Eyes lock
No kisses, please
Your morning breath
I cannot stand

Idle stretching
Dreams remembered
Ticking clock
Too soon
Reality beckons

2010-02-05T09:53:00.000-08:00

Revisions.
Edits.
Always revising.
Always splicing.
Is anything ever really finished?

Diary of a Shoe Whore: Nike Shox

2009-12-11T23:15:00.001-08:00

I may have been called a "Shoe Whore" once or twice. There are currently a good twenty pairs of sneakers by my front door, all clamoring to be worn. Some of these shoes may be more loved than others, but they are all loved, and they have all had grand adventures. Each of these shoes has at least one such adventure that I cannot help but recall when I first pull them on. Tonight I bring you the tale of my Nike Shox.

I’ve had my blue and silver Nike Shox for 5 years this Christmas. I know, obviously they haven’t gotten much use, right? I used them exclusively for running when I first got them, and they’ve held up rather well. I remember telling my mother I wanted Nikes and they needed to be blue, so I could wear them in my Air Force fitness uniform. They’ve traveled all over with me, up and down the east coast, all over California.

I think the most memorable adventure I had with my blue Nikes was one June evening in California. I was planning on going to the gym, but it started to rain. It was warm, gentle rain, a refreshing change after my winter and spring in Maryland. It was the first real rain since I had moved to Northern California, and I couldn’t resist.

I put on my reflective belt and drove to the flight line, over five miles from my dorm, and parked in my work lot. I strapped my Ipod Nano into its arm band, and scrolled to my then-current workout playlist. Earphones in place, I stretched quickly and took off in a light jog. There were no cars to worry about on the road, no one to be seen on the entire flight line actually. Just a well-lit two mile stretch of pavement, the rain, and me. The run down the flight line was routine; building from a light jog into a slow, steady run.

Once I reached the end of the road and turned around, however, I decided to have a little fun. I was almost completely wet by this point, so there was no need to avoid the puddles anymore. Instead I started aiming for the puddles, making a game out of how big of a splash I could create. When Pink’s “Feel Good Time” came up on my playlist I didn’t even hesitate. I started dancing as I ran. Just as the song was winding down I happened to notice some light behind me that didn’t belong to an overhead lamp. It was coming from the headlights of a maintenance truck, two guys in maybe their early twenties inside. How long they had been following me, watching me make a fool of myself, I don’t want to know. Both guys waved as they passed, and I continued the last half mile or so of my run with a smirk plastered on my face, thankful that they didn’t work in my building and my silly clandestine run would remain my little secret.

Seriously body? Seriously?

2009-12-08T23:45:00.000-08:00

This is the fourth time since school began in late September that I have been sick.

And I'm not talking the "I have a bit of a cough/the sniffles" sick. I'm talking about full-on, don't leave the house sick.

This time I have some sort of flu. It manifested late this afternoon in a rather sneaky manner. I had plans to catch dinner with my only Bestie that owns a husband and children, Kate. Around 5 this evening I realized that my throat pain might be from more than just my idiotic half-sprint up The Hill on campus on the coldest morning of the quarter, since my ear had started to twinge at me. I called Kate and canceled, on the grounds that if I was contagious, I didn't want to pass it on to the little ones. Logical yes?

Then I get a headache. Excedrin Migraine is a close personal friend, and took care of that situation for me.

Then between 8 and 9 it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Being very familiar with food poisoning, I was immediately suspicious of the food I had eaten tonight. I would really like to believe that the sacred Brownie Cupcakes had no part in this (plus I have been suspiciously hot and cold this evening), but just to be on the safe side, they will have to be thrown away. Poor little cupcakes...

Now I am camped out on the surprisingly comfy rugs that cover my bathroom floor.

Seriously body, what the hell is going on? Four sicknesses in less than three months strikes me as a bit odd, even coming from you. Enough is enough already. There is only so long that a girl is allowed to lounge around in sweatpants before people begin to talk, and I think we both know that we've reached the threshold. It's time for you to knock off this bullshit, and let someone else have their turn to be sick. It's really quite selfish of you to deprive some other poor sap of the joy of buying all the cold meds I've had to accumulate.

Disappointed in you,
Kay

Final Project

2009-12-05T18:59:00.000-08:00

RedBull cans of all sizes litter the apartment. Papers of detailed instructions and examples encompass the desk and surrounding furniture, looking like shrapnel from an explosion of informaion. Checklists and grading charts are taped to the wall for reminder. A dictionary, pocket manual for grammar, and class textbook are close at hand for reference.

Stress is low. Life is good. Does it make me a sick individual to admit that I love this? This moment in time is Epic!

I am a vast array of contradictions

2009-11-30T19:32:00.000-08:00

I am easily amused. It doesn't take much to entertain me. I get excited by new shopping purchases. My most recent purchases (and thus my newest joy inducing toys):

Beefy new tires for my truck.

Cute little reindeer antlers for Lolo to wear when she sits on Santa's lap for her Christmas photo. (Shut it Barbie. Right now, before you even start)

Two new pairs of Adidas I got while Black Friday shopping with Lil Bro.

The awesome new recumbent exercise bike that is waiting to be assembled in my living room.

And the new makeup I ordered from Avon, upon finding the catalog on my mother's kitchen counter.

Which brings me to the real point of this post. I ordered two mascaras, one eye liner, and some mixed thing of eye shadow. I may not know much about makeup, but I do like to play. And part of that playing is my late night dressup/hairstyling/makeup experimentation. I believe Diablo Cody said it best (via Juno McGuff), "There's nothin' like experimentin,'" right kids?

This Avon order was delivered to me a few days ago, but because I was deathly ill all weekend, I have just now remembered it and decided to bring it out to play. I'll admit that Avon has a bit of a tough sell headed its way in convincing me to be a fan, since I'm completely in love with Urban Decay's mascara and eye liner, but I am completely willing to try new things. Once or twice.

I'll admit to having an oddly curious fascination with Avon, my grandmother sold it all of my life. The siblings and I were always so excited to go to Grandma B's and see what new things she had. So when I saw that Avon catalog sitting on my Mother's counter, I couldn't help but open it up to see what was inside. Being new to the world of makeup, I figured it would be almost irresponsible of me to pass up a sale and with it the cheapened opportunity to explore a new brand.

First on the play list was AVON's Daring Definition Mousse Mascara. Old school style brush/wand. Black color. Nothing remarkable. It didn't cause any clumping, but that may be because it's a new bottle. It reminded me a bit of Maybelline's Stiletto Mascara, if Stiletto didn't cause wicked clumping. Downside, it does absolutely nothing for curl. At least Stiletto gave my lashes a bit of a curl. I'm beginning to see the point of lash curlers.

Let's take a little detour for a moment here. Do you remember back in '03, when AVON started that marketing campaign where they tried to rename their makeup line Mark? In an effort to attract the under 60 crowd, they went on and on about how you needed to "Meet Mark," with all of their glamorous models walking around asking each other "Have you met Mark?" Cheesy as hell, but apparently it worked, since the Mark line is still around.

Next in the rotation was Feeling Fine Ultra Thin Eye Liner. I was pretty excited about this because I love eye liner. The right eye liner can work miracles. An ultra thin eye liner has potential. Off comes the cap, and I see that there is some sort of inner cap still stuck on. I put the cap back on and pull it off a few times, trying to dislodge it. No love. Since my grip is weaker than a limp fish's (Thank you Fibro), I bite the inner lid and try to pull it off. Then I realize that perhaps it's not meant to come off. Instead it twist it left and right until I see that it works like lipstick, except there seems to be no going back once you've gotten it out of the tube. Odd, but I'll go with it. Looking at the eye liner in disbelief I catch myself off guard when I say aloud, "You were in my mouth." And then I giggle, because Lolo has just looked at me as if I'm slightly dense. Undeterred, I start on my top right lid, and the tip breaks off. Now that I know how this little beast works, I twist it and return to my top right lid. Again the tip breaks off. Hmmmm. Apparently it's a bit of a science to get enough out to use without breaking off the tip. I twist just a tiny bit and decide to attempt the lower right lid instead. After stabbing myself in the eye twice, I manage manage to get the job done. I twist out a little more of the (stick/pencil/stuff) and go back to the upper lid. And the tip breaks off. Three Strikes and you're a failure.

Dear "Mark,"

What the hell man? How about some effing instructions?

You're done,
California Kay

Curious about this blogger?

2009-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

Kaylena Mitchell (your very own California Kay) now resides in Western Washington, in what her friends have lovingly labeled "East Jesus Nowhere." Kaylena (or Kay) is a mid-twenties "boomerang kid," meaning that she left home, lived on her own, and is now back living with her parents. This works out very well for Kaylena, since she abhors cooking, and now has a built-in babysitter for her overly spoiled Mini-Dachshund, Lolo. When she's not writing, Kaylena enjoys an intense game of fetch, baking cupcakes, playing Guitar Hero, and perusing personal ads on CraigsList (They are hilarious and you really should try it one of these days).

I don't do sick very well

2009-11-28T22:11:00.000-08:00

I get bored easily, and when I'm sick I'm usually too tired to invent new ways to amuse myself. And yes, the internet is a fun, entertaining thing, but even that gets old after a few hours. At this point I usually turn to movies. But you can only rewatch a movie so many times. So I turn to my fellow humans for entertainment. But since I've got this lovely mouth-breathing raspy thing going on, the phone is not ideal. And apparently the family feels "We love you honey, but if you're sick you need to stay in your own house." Because whoever gave me these germs so kindly stuck to that little rule...

I'm bored and frustrated with my sickness. It has left me bouncing between hot and cold like a ping pong ball bounces between Beer Pong teams in a Frat House. I'm super exhausted. I'm torn between hunger and nausea. I feel like I'm wasting a perfectly good weekend, not to mention a rare opportunity to see Little Bro. And I'm very, very bored.

< /end pity party>

I can has Benadryl?

2009-11-27T19:51:00.000-08:00

I went to see Kelly Clarkson Tuesday night with Barbie. It was epic, I'm working on that post.

Woke up Wednesday with a mysteriously sore throat, and no recollection of screaming like a 12 year old girl all night.

Kicked it with lil bro Wednesday night, throat still behaving oddly.

Slept nice and late Thursday, and awoke to a slight twinge in my left ear.

Spent an odd Thanksgiving with the family. Remembered why I've had other plans for Thanksgiving for the last 5 years.

Got conned into going Midnight Black Friday shopping with lil bro, instead of at a nice normal hour, like 4 or 5 AM.

Bought two more pairs of Adidas!!! Have no idea where I shall put them when they are not on my feet.

Had to park way out in BFE and walk 8000 miles to the stores, while whining about my lungs and the cold and how the two do not get along.

Went on a donut seeking adventure with lil bro, only to strike out repeatedly.

Was home and back to bed by 4AM.

Woke up again. Immediate thought upon waking "What the hell is wrong with my ears?" And then I realized the rest of my head hurt too.

I have pressure and pain. I think it's just a nasty cold, but we've also got some wicked awesome nausea going on. Yay me! I have located my stash of "I'm sick" meds, and am playing doctor to myself, while sleeping and drinking enormous amounts of liquid. Lolo is unsympathetic to my plight, but that's nothing new.

Hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving. Please send meds, but for the love of Jeebus, no soup!

Best potential reasons to dump someone--in progress

2009-11-24T16:28:00.000-08:00

Because you would have to buy chains for your car to visit their family for Thanksgiving, and it's just not worth the hassle/cash.

I love cupcakes

2009-11-19T19:09:00.001-08:00

After a two week hiatus caused by migraines and busy schedules, tonight it's time to bake. Tonight is devoted entirely to experiments, so stay tuned for pictures. That's right, we're updating all night.

First experiment: the tried-and-true brownie cupcakes with several as yet undecided variations. Check back soon!
Brownie cupcakes are just coming out of the oven. Half have an oreo inside, the other half have a chewy chips ahoy. These will either be awesome or epic failures.

More pics when they cool and I cut them open.

Now on to gingerbread cupcakes!

Just as the Gingerbread were going into the oven, it was time to bust open those brownie-cookie cupcakes and see how they turned out.
Oreos inside of brownies=not a delicious delight. I actually threw it away after 2 bites (one has to double check).
Chewy Chips Ahoy inside of brownie=EPIC! My tastebuds cried with joy over the sweet, sugary victory they were tasting.

Oddly there is no picture of the Gingerbread Cupcakes. They were very yummy though, and received good reviews at the sleepover I may or may not have had Friday night.

Pain

2009-11-17T02:48:00.000-08:00

"Pain is weakness leaving the body."

Trite, yes, but is it valid?

I have fibromyalgia. I'm sure you've seen the commercials advertising all the latest miracle drugs. Maybe they work for some people, but I've never found a pill that worked for me for longer than a month. And because these "miracle pills" come with side effects that are sometimes nastier than the original symptoms, I have become anti-pill, out of principle.

Fibromyalgia is defined as a condition characterized by chronic, widespread pain of the muscles, joints, tendons, and other soft tissues. No one has any idea what causes it, nor how to cure it. Some call it an autoimmune disorder. Some call it a neurological disorder. Others say it is a rheumatological disorder.

I call it one of those things that helps you see what's really important to you. You don't know pain until you've spent a weekend lying in bed, calling everyone you know just to listen to someone talk, hoping it will take your mind off the pain. You don't know pain unless you've spent hours in a bath as hot as you can bear, trying to get the heat to soak away the pain, only to have it return as soon as the water turns cold. I have been in more pain that I thought I could bear, but bear it I did. I know that no matter how bad it is, eventually the pain will ebb. No matter what I may feel currently, everything is temporary. So I try to enjoy the good, and ride out the bad.

So many people tell me I have "such a great attitude." But what other option is there? Despite the things life has thrown at me, I do enjoy my life. I have spent much time alone with myself through all of my trials. Why would I want to be around a sad, depressed person? I try to always look for the positive, for the little things that make me happy. At the end of the day, it's all about what makes you happy. I make me laugh and I genuinely enjoy my own company. I feel the following sums up my outlook rather well (which is probably why I chose to get it commemorated forever down my side):

"I don't ever want to forget my past. Anything I have ever done was because it made me happy, and you can't regret anything that once made you happy."

What the future may bring, I don't know. I know I can get through anything. I refuse to let the insignificant weigh me down. I choose to surround myself with positive people who I respect and admire, and have little tolerance for people who don't bring positive things to the table.

I feel I am stronger for all of my pain. My pain reminds me that I am human. I do not fear it, I see it as a reminder of the good times that I will have again, because nothing is permanent.

Why do we bother with sleeping anyway?

2009-11-09T02:14:00.000-08:00

It's 0200 and I am filled with an aura of awesome. I can't sleep but that's not bugging me right now. Instead I am wondering why we ever try to sleep at all. If we could just not sleep, imagine how much more productive we'd be. Sleeping consumes one-fourth to one-third of everyone's day, and for what?

Besides, I find that I am at my height of creativity late at night. I make the best CD mixes, I have the most ease in converting my thoughts to words, I create most of my random artistic crafts; all of it late-night. I think I should just become a night person, sleep during the day and do all my living under the cloak of darkness.
Think of the benefits:
-I could gain quite the reputation as the neighborhood creeper, a living legend among the local children.
-I wouldn't have to fight those horrendous grocery store crowds anymore; no one grocery shops at 3 am (except the crack heads, but they're mostly harmless).
-The sun will no longer be my enemy. The amount of money I'll save in sunscreen alone almost makes up for the possible hermitie side effects.
-Never again will the dog park be too crowded. (Of course, since Lolo is a bigger pansy about the cold than her owner is, this might not be a very big win).
-My sleep schedule would be ideal for weekend partying plans; no more fear of being the first to fall victim to sleep.
-As everyone else is waking up and fighting through the morning rush hour traffic, I could be crawling into my bed, ready to sleep the day away. And I do love my bed. It's pretty much the most awesome bed in the history of beds. The perfect mixture of firm and squishy. One can sleep on their stomach, back, side, any way they please, and it's all good sleep.

When you look at all of that, who wouldn't want to switch to nighttime living immediately? Who is with me?

Lolo Tales EDIT: Now with pictures

2009-11-04T20:05:00.000-08:00

As I lie here in my peaceful bath of bubbles and Epsom salts, the sound of whatever my DVR is set to record Wednesday nights playing in the background, I am struck with a profound, even life-altering thought. Is it the cure for cancer? Is it the meaning of life? Is it a way to spit out the billion stories of epic adventures floating around in my head? Nay. It is the realization that I have created a monster. Lolo has been sitting outside the bathroom door (that I had to trick her into going through mind you) whining for 15 solid minutes. While I have made much progress and am now able to take my showers dog-free roughly 95% of the time, Lolo believes that any time a bath is drawn, it is for her. As soon as the water starts running she mysteriously appears from whatever adventure had previously been holding her ADHD brain captive and will jump into the tub. It doesn't matter if she is dead asleep or outside running around like a mini wilder beast. As soon as the shower is turned on in fill-the-tub mode, Lolo is there.

I now realize I cannot live in a house that does not have a bath tub. I cannot live with anyone who intends to take baths frequently (because how do you explain an 8 pound monster who does not care who is in the tub when she decides it's bath time?) I'm not even sure I can have roomies again, because we would have to take Lolo's bathtub needs into consideration when scheduling shower shifts. (Side note: do people really do that? Schedule shower shifts? I've only ever had one roomie, but I assume that if there were several people who needed to get up and out the door around the same time that it would be problematic...)

She's a monster, plain and simple. She will spend as much time in the tub as I let her. She has these two little penguin swimmer toys, they zoom around the sides of the tub and she chases them. It's the most entertaining thing ever. As soon as I find the chord for my camera I'll upload the videos. In the mean time, we're mysteriously running low on bubble bath, and my allotted bath time is up. The upside: once Lolo's done with bath time she's usually ready to crash. Score!

Halloween story and Dating Chronicles are still on their way.

Update

2009-11-02T05:09:00.000-08:00

I've got a couple of meetings coming up this week with advisors to discuss switching my major. Just discuss at this point, no need to get alarmed. I'm just really torn at this point between continuing to pursue my nursing degree, and going with an English major. I have rediscovered my love for writing and editing, so I am looking into the possibility of following that.

That said, stay tuned for some updates coming at you. We've got a Halloween adventure in the works and the Dating Chronicles are still on their way to a computer screen near you.

Much love to you all
Kay

It's 2AM and of course I can't sleep

2009-10-18T02:23:00.001-07:00

I've missed this place. I've missed you people. I've missed writing. I'm finding my English 101 class and professor to be very inspiring; they are presenting a challenge that I'm quite enjoying.

I have decided to post my essays here. The first was a photo narrative essay. The assignment was to write about a picture that held some significance to us. Enjoy:

Thank You For Your Eighties

30 minutes to show time, there are at least 100 people in the sectioned off side entrance of the San Francisco Borders. Not a bad turnout for a Wednesday night. The crowd is mostly women, a few husbands or boyfriends have been drug along for the event. Their ages span a wide range, 20 somethings impatiently browsing the nearby racks of books in their boredom. The 30 somethings are jockeying for the best position to see the stage while staying clear of the aisles as instructed. The 40 and up crowd obviously showed up early and have control of the metal folding chairs situated in front of the stage. Everyone receives a wristband as they arrive, a pecking order is established by the color we are assigned. Those in the folding chair crowd are showing off their yellow bands that let everyone know they got here first. My purple wristband doesn’t let me get anywhere near the seating, but I’m closer to the stage than the red or green crowd.

This night really began weeks ago, when I saw that brief announcement on Twitter. Jen Lancaster was about to embark on an eighties themed book signing, and one of the first stops was San Francisco. Jen Lancaster. The woman who taught us to never dress to impress with pearls and your Prada bag when going to the unemployment office. The woman who selflessly shared the valuable lesson that Ambien plus wine equals a truckload of new furniture from PotteryBarn.com. The woman who writes nasty letters to her trashy neighbors from a made-up homeowners association. There was no way I was going to miss this.

I had to find the perfect outfit. It became a mission. I tore through my closet looking for any possible leads. I had some super faded button-fly Levis I stole from my brother that had probably seen the eighties, and a pair of Converse All-Stars, but that was about it. I hit the malls like a washed up one hit wonder hits VH1. Luckily the Sacramento malls were going through some horrible eighties flashback. I found an obnoxiously bright DC shirt that I didn’t mind being seen in public in at PacSun. Anchor Blue had a dazzling array of tank tops where I found one that matched my new shirt. Some random mall kiosk offered up the perfect accessory-large pink stunner shades that were so bad I almost liked them.

The only foreseeable problem was my hair. It’s just not long enough to turn into big eighties hair. I could always try a wig, but those things have freaked me out since I watched Hocus Pocus with my aunt when I was young. I spent countless hours in the bathroom playing with different hairstyles in the mirror. The day of the meet-and-greet my hair was most uncooperative, and I ended up throwing on a hat as I ran out the door.

Because I am a huge tool, I pre-ordered Jen’s new book via Amazon weeks earlier. By the time of the book signing I had already read it. Twice. But waiting in that room with all those other fans, I was still eager to hear Jen read an excerpt from the book to us. Jen’s tour assistant (who was pretty impressive dressed in a leotard, tights, leg warmers, and a side-pony) was reading a Would You Rather book to the audience to warm up the crowd.

Seven o’clock rolls around and the crowd grows quieter. There has been no indication that Jen’s even here yet, but it’s the magical time. Everyone’s looking around, scanning the room, wondering which door she’ll come in. Ten minutes past seven one of the Borders employees announces that she’s on her way up and the excitement grows in the room. Jen walks into the room and you’d think Hannah Montana had just walked into an elementary school. Everyone is on their feet cheering and crowding the aisle and I can see nothing. I move behind a short lady, and now I can kind of see the stage. Jen tells us a story about getting a pedicure in Portland where the woman was so rough she ended up with bruises on her legs. She reads a hilarious excerpt about her first encounter with lobster as a 9 year old. The audience is eating out of her hand. She opens up the floor for some Q&A and someone asks what she’s working on next. She tells us there are a couple of new books in the works. Someone asks if there’s a possibility of a movie or a TV show. She says “No, why, have you heard something?” Everyone laughs. There are a couple more questions then we’re it’s time for the autograph session.

The Borders employee in charge of wristbands instructs us to line up in order of color, yellow first, then purple, red, and green. Because there was no further direction, chaos erupts as people rush to try to line up before everyone else. The line quickly extends around the store. I end up by a couple of ladies decked out in some awesome eighties attire. Lisa is sporting some big eighties hair (courtesy of AquaNet), an off the shoulder sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and has pegged the legs of her jeans. Michelle is dressed more conservatively in two polo shirts with popped collars and a pair of Jordache jeans. We talk about how slowly the line is moving, about the lack of participation in the dress-up theme of the event, about the random order of the books. One aisle of books contains the categories marriage, divorce, and substance abuse, which amuses us for several minutes.

The whole time we’re standing in line I’m mulling over what to say when it’s finally my turn to meet Jen Lancaster. It needs to be something witty that stands out from what everyone else is saying. The line slowly creeps forward. Time crawls by. I’m next in line and I start to panic slightly. I hand my cell phone to the awesomely dressed assistant to take my picture, and as I walk up to Jen all thoughts leave my head. What witty comment comes out of my mouth?

“OMG you rock!” I almost cringe as the words come out of my mouth. “Thank you, that means so much,” comes Jen’s graceful reply. We pose perfectly and hold our smiles for an eternity as the assistant tries to take the picture with my phone. I walk around the table and show her what to click. Michelle and Lisa make fun of me for taking so much time. The four of us start talking about all the awesome eighties outfits we’ve seen as I awkwardly resume my crouching pose again. Jen then looks at me and asks if I was even born yet in the eighties. I say yes, then sheepishly admit that it was eighty-five. Jen, Michelle and Lisa all groan. Jen signs my book and my time is up. I thank her again and she shakes my hand and says, “Thank you for your eighties.”

2 posts in the same week? OMG

2009-10-16T01:31:00.000-07:00

Hey kids,

I'm writing a paper for my English class, and decided to do it on a part of my kanser adventure, so I was back here to read through my blogs from Chemo. What a hellish period of time. It made me so emotional just reading back through it, I was right back there. I could feel the nausea, the needle going into my port, taste the chemicals in the back of my throat. Someone told me a while back that I have PTSD from my cancer. I told them they were fucking crazy, but it's possible I suppose.

Reflecting on all of this, (and reading the comments), I am so thankful for my amazing friends. Thank you all for being there for me, I don't deserve any of you.

Love to all of you (but not on you).
Fuck Cancer,
California-less Kay

Hello my pretties

2009-10-14T22:51:00.000-07:00

I've neglected you for far too long, and for that I apologize. I think about you all the time. I scribble little notes to you on the edges of my papers while I'm in class, so that I can come back and talk to you later, and then I forget. I'm sure my Psych professor loves the little memo's though. He cut his shaggy hair, so I'm assuming he read that one. The gotee's still with us though, so perhaps he doesn't read everything...

Anywho, I'm back in Washington. I'm in school. And I miss you. Lolo turned 1 last month! She's still my wee little bastard. I <3 Twitter. I got a Facebook (But I blame Crossbow for that one. It was a deal/dare, and I had to pay up by getting a FB.) I believe I've mentioned before that I <3 this chick, but if you're unclear, you should probably go check her out again. She makes me laugh, therefor you shall love her.

I have an English paper I'm semi writing right now, but it's being a frustrating little thing and won't come out right, so I'm "taking a break." I was actually Googling Strawberry Cupcakes and decided to pop in and tell you all that I <3 you. And cupcakes. And lamp.

Lolo's growling at me in the way that translates to "Bitch, if you don't come play with me, your shoes are going to pay," so I'm going to be a good little human-slave and listen (I have new shoes people. They don't deserve to die.) Plus I have cupcakes to bake. Let's do this again soon shall we?

New Blog Crack

2009-06-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

OMG, fucking hysterical, View now: The UnderDog Diaries

What've you been up to?

2009-06-12T11:02:00.000-07:00

So I'm now Twitter's bitch. I text updates ALL the damn time. I love it. Me and Twitter are gettin maaaaaarried...

Had another (and hopefully my last) back procedure done on Tuesday. Didn't swear at my doc nearly as much. I actually tried really hard not to swear at all. They got my IV in on the first stick, totally awesome! The Drugs actually knocked me out, but not before the unholy pain of "checking the nerve endings..." My doc gives me like 6 shots of lidocane, while I'm muttering curses under my breathe the whole time. But they weren't loud ones, so it's ok right? Then they put the grounding pad on my calve and the tech's talking some shit, so I tell the Dr he should smack him. The Dr does not hear me correctly, and says "What? Did you say just smack it?!?!" as he stands at the ass end of me. I quickly correct him, but the tech escapes the pimp slap... Then the needles are inserted at the 4 nerves of shittiness, and the machine is fired up. First nerve I'm muttering under my breathe and Dr hysterical is saying "What's my name?" I say no. Nerve number 2 is up and he says "Come on, say my name..." This guy is a fool but I find him hilarious thru the pain and drugs that will come soon. Nerve number 2 hurts like a little bitch so I say "OMFG!!!" Which the Dr of course hears and gloats to all the nurses and techs that I called him God. As I swear thru the "testing" of nerves 3 and 4 he keeps talking (He must think he distracts from the pain. Not so much Mr Dr guy...) about "God huh? No... I'm not a God... I'm just a Dr..." Fool. Then the nurse pumps the drugs into my sweet one-stick-IV and I think, "Hmmmm, my head's getting fuzzy..." And then I wake up in recovery. Nice.

I celebrated my birthday 6 June and it was fucking insane. Remind me to post on that another day, and I have pictures. Oh it will be awesome.

I got all drugged up Wednesday and ordered a Bamboo Fun Pen Tablet. With overnight shipping of course. My new toy arrived yesterday and it's fucking BOMB! I installed the software that came with it (COREL PAINTER 4 is fucking sweet action), but was able to use the software for like 2 seconds and haven't been able to get back into it since. BUT while I was in it, I made a couple of sweet works of art that I will now share with you fine people. Prepare to be blown away:

First Picture. My buddy Crossbow was riding my ass to send her a picture, and my drugged out brain came up with this.

Second Picture I was hella hungry. It did result in Crossbow bringing me some food though, so I'm good with that.

I could no longer get into my sweet Corel Painter, and turned to MS Paint. Don't hate on my mad skillz yo.

P.S. Fuck Kanser kiddies!

I crossed over to the dark side

2009-05-09T12:17:00.000-07:00

I realized I read several people's Tweets, and it's a pain for my drug addled brain to try to remember their addresses and all, so why not just join up and make it easier on myself? I'm all for anything that lets me be lazier, so if you love me, you'll go join up now, just for me. I believe in you.

http://twitter.com/kayfro

Plus, I can post from my phone, so you can get all the juicy details of my wonderfully amazing life instantly!

You know you want to...

Wicked Bored

2009-05-02T22:18:00.001-07:00

Got my back done again Thursday. Off work for a bit. Wicked bored. So tired of laying on my back (ha! That sounds way more dirty and fun that it really has been), so tired of Vicodin.

Bruises all over my hands and back. I told them and told them that I'm a hard stick... Tied my old record of 7 sticks to get the IV in. Swore at my Dr a LOT. ("Mother fucking mother fucker that hurts. Why would you want this for a job?? What the hell's wrong with you man?") Flirted with the cute nurse a lot... Swore more at the Dr. ("You're not cool anymore man, I don't like you." Dr starts singing "Why can't we be friends..." I say "Because you're fucking hurting me dude." He tells me the nurse will be my friend in a minute when she hooks me up with the good drugs. I reply that the nurse and I will go out for a beer after this, but he's not invited.) That office causes me the most pain of any in that hospital, but they are totally the most fun. Thus I have been back 4 times. I just can't stay away.

Drove the last 40 minutes to my house after my procedure cuz my friend sucks that much/cuz I'm that hardcore.

Lolo is driving me batshit crazy cuz she thinks "Mommy's home specifically to play with me!!!!" Her sitting on my shoulder squeaking an annoying as hell toy in my ear is not what I'm assuming my Dr had in mind when he ordered me to bedrest.

I'm fucking going out of my mind with boredom. You've probably been the recipient of many random texts or phone calls. Yeah... Those aren't stopping anytime soon. Sorry bout that.

My roomie hasn't come home yet... I think he's starting to avoid me...

Went to Texas a week or two ago for the medical thing. No love. Got drunk in Texas with some cops who were cool as fuck. Realized Texas is NOT the place to be when a sushi craving strikes. (PS, anyone else miss Sushi the Mermaid??) Had an encounter with a freakishly aggressive cougar. Like seriously aggressive. Like, dedicating overly suggestive Karaoke songs to me aggressive.

I'll be moving home to Washington in a couple months prolly, I'll let you know when I have a date for sure.

Oh what a day

2009-03-24T21:10:00.000-07:00

My poor Lolo got her girlie-part-altering surgery today. Happy half birthday baby...

I went to my Dr two hours away today. I was supposed to see cancer doc, then get some lunch, and have a chiropractor appt in the afternoon. Cancer doc then proceeds to be over an hour late (sadly, she's always at least an hour late), but as I was the first patient of the day, I foolishly thought this wouldn't happen. Wrong! Then she reviews my latest cancer scans and says "well, this one did not come back negative." And I say "Oh isn't that dandy..." Dandy. I used that word. So she says there's some "activity" going on in the right arm pit again (wtf is up with arm pits? Are they good for anything other than sweating and cancer? Thought not.) and the left groin area. I kinda giggled when she said groin. She said first we need to get some blood work done to check my tumor markers and other random blood levels. Then she also wants an ultrasound of the arm pit and a possible biopsy afterward. And you KNOW I'm looking forward to that.... Biopsy's are so fun! So what with all the tests and whatnot, I missed both my lunch and my chiropractic appt. Shaft.

The blood work usually comes back in an hour, I'm still waiting to hear back from my doc... It's 9 pm. I got my blood taken at noon. Yeah... Great doc eh? The ultrasound isn't scheduled till Tuesday next week. I'll keep you updated. It's very likely that it was all just a fluke, which is why all these backup tests are being taken. I already got my 3 bad things, so it's not possible that the Kanser is back. I'm not letting it. Plus, I just got my hair to an appropriate level of sexiness. I know I'm the hotness when I'm bald and all, but being bald during the summer? Sunburn? Really? No thanks.

My doc did me a solid today though. I was telling her about my upcoming back procedure, and she asked if I'd ever tried acupuncture. I said I'd thought about it but didn't know of a good person to try. The cancer doc who is one door down the hall just so happens to be certified... We walk out the door of her office, she introduces me to him, he says he's got some free time right now, and I say, "why not?" So Dr TinyNeedles says he's going to try sticking pins in my ears to get rid of my back pain. Still a bit sceptical and nervous at this point, I say ok. He uses these tiny gold pins, and some weird applicator, and just shoots them into your ear, one at a time. How he pics the spots I don't know. Voodoo magic probably. Then I have to walk up and down the hall, sit back down, and decide if it still hurts. 5 pins in my left ear, 3 in my right, and my back feels amazing. I'm to keep them in 4 to 5 days, but if they fall out on their own it's no big deal. When my back starts to hurt, I just rub some of the pins and it stops. The ears throb and hurt like crazy, but the back feels amazing. I highly recommend acupuncture to any of you who've been contemplating it. Do it now.

I'll keep you in the loop. Mostly I'm worried about my poor Lolo... She's making these sad little crying sounds. She's completely taken oven my heating pad, and I'm pretty sure she has no intention of giving it back. She ate dinner, she's sleeping a lot. Keep your fingers crossed for my baby. Mommy spent enough money on her surgery... At least that damn vet tax didn't pass...

Much love kids. I've got to figure out how to sleep with these little pins in my ears.

P.S. Jerk is back!!! Go love on him.

I've come to realize

2009-03-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

That I'm not such a great blogger when I'm happily paired up with someone. I'm a much better blogger when I'm doing miserable things like getting dumped (because someone not me got pregnant---remember that one? Oh snap!), or having cancer, having knee surgery, getting food poisoning (remind me to fill you in on that one), having ports put in or taken out (thus causing all sorts of bad port jokes to ensue), or other depressing, not so much living a normal life things.

And I'm ok with that.

So in efforts to become a better source of entertainment to all of you, I shall recap my week:

-Monday: normal monotony at work, Teriyaki from the best place ever for dinner

-Tuesday: Dr's appt 2 hours away, more love from my special Janitor Stalker, went do dog park where some undesirable dog tried to make sweet love to Lolo, Teriyaki from second-best place ever for dinner.

-Wednesday: Work goes crazy as everyone pretends we have a normal job while some VIP tours the building, Teriyaki from best place ever for dinner.

-Thursday: Work more monotonous, Teriyaki from best place ever for dinner (it is the best place ever because it is the best Teriyaki on earth. And because everyone who works there is cute). As soon as I finished eating the Teriyaki of Awesomeness (always eaten at home, always shared with Lolo), I felt immediate pain in my Tummy of Not-Quite-Steel. Lolo appeared to be ok. Pain didn't go away. I found my chlorox disinfectant wipes and cleaned the Porcelain Throne, because I knew what was coming. I worshipped that throne. The Tummy of Not-Quite-Steel didn't feel better. There was nothing left in it, but it still was not ok. All night it felt like a sucker punch had been sneaked in when I wasn't looking, mixed with nausea and odd hurty-hurtness.

Friday: I called my Dr first thing in the morning, got in at 9 (hello, 9??? I'm having a tummy emergency damnit!), and he was kinda a douche and said it was textbook Food Poisoning, and it'd go away. No magic pills of wonder, no excuse from work, nothing. Said call back if it didn't go away, never mind that it was Friday, and they're not open weekends. Dr Douche... I go to work, where my supervisor's supervisor sends me home (yea, he's not as big of a douche as we tell everyone he is).

I slept a lot.

I craved more teriyaki. I got uber hungry, and went to the so-not-in-the-same-league-as-to-practically-be-a-different-type-of-food-altogether Teriyaki House. It did not hit the spot, but I did not get violently ill...

On my way home to eat my unpleasant Teriyaki, some douche rear-ended me. I throw up my hands in the universal symbol of What-The-Fuck? and pull into the nearest parking lot when the light turns green. Dumb-shit-rear-ender-man pulls his Volvo in behind me. I make sure my Lolo love is ok (it was a little tap, more annoying than anything), and climb out to check my beastly lil truck.

A dirty looking hippie climbs out of the Volvo to check the damage he inflicted upon his own "car." My lil truck, I am pleased to report, has barely a scratch upon the plastic of it's step-up part of the bumper. Dirty hippie's Volvo has a busted headlight and some unpretty scratches on it's stupid bumper. Score one for Ford!

Dirty hippie claims he "dozed off for a second." I suspect he's more than a little bit high, and just want to get away before I get some sort of dirty contact high from his clothes.

Saturday: I decide that Lolo needs some Dog Park time, since she is driving me crazy with her energy, and she already had a bath Friday, AND joined in my shower that morning... (I swear she's half lab or something. I can't keep this monster out of water). I load everything up in the truck of awesomeness from the passenger side, then cross around the front to jump in, and we're off. ...For 10 feet. ...When I realize something is very wrong. The left rear tire is flatter than your mom's pancake booty.

I put the truck back and proceeded to freak out. I do not have AAA. I do not know how to change a tire, though I do have a spare tire. This is of no help to me, because I do not even have the strength required to open my own bottle of orange juice. At work I alternate who I have open it so the same person does not laugh at me every day.In the midst of my freak-out it was brought up that my insurance might call a tow truck for me. And they did. Apparently a tire change is covered under my towing package. Nice. For future safety, I got myself some AAA as well.

The dudes came and changed my tire, then I took the tire of holeyness and the Lolo of squirmyness to the tire patching place. 2 hours later!!!!! Lolo was actually a very good girl, sat in my lap the whole time. I decided to reward her by going to the Dog Park an hour away. We're there maybe 20 minutes when the Animal Control douche shows up and kicks out every dog who's not wearing their tags. 3 dogs remained... Lolo hates her collar, hates her tags, hates her harness too, but I make her wear that one.

So we went to the second-best Teriyaki house ever and got some din din to go. She's still my good lil angel, and my 3 things of shittiness are done, so my week's now lookin up.

Much love kids.

Questionnaire for potential CaliforniaKay courtship

2009-03-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

Please circle the answer that best fits you for the following questions (and remember, there are no wrong answers, but some answers may guarantee that CaliforniaKay isn't the girl for you).

-Do you, or does anyone close to you, consider you to be "crazy"?
Yes-----No-----Define "Crazy"

-Are you currently employed?
Yes-----No-----I'm in school-----On paper?

-Are you single?
Yes-----No-----Ish-----Depends on what your definition of "You" is

-Are you a girl?
Yes-----No-----I like to dress up like one and have people call me Candy

-Are you a boy?
Yes-----No-----I like to dress up like one and have people call me Bud

-Which best describes your hairstyle:
Clean-cut-----Long-----Greasy-----Mullet-----Permed-----"Natural"

-How often do you believe a shower is necessary:
Daily-----More than once daily-----Bi-Weekly-----Weekly-----Bi-Monthly

-A dog's place is
Outside-----Inside, not on furniture-----Depends on the size-----It's my baby!!!

-Do you do any of the following in your sleep:
Talk-----Sleepwalk-----Snore-----Punch-----Kick-----Stab-----Eat-----Drive Cars

-What food would you risk food poisoning for?
___________________________

-Do you dance?
Yes-----Not when people can see me-----No

-Which dance move would most embarrass you in public?
The Macarena-----The Sprinkler-----The "White Girl"-----A line dance

-The worst possbile thing that could happen on a first date:
__________________________________________________________

-Which of the following do you consider to be least a sport:
Cheerleading-----WNBA-----LPGA-----Any Golf League-----Professional Poker

If, after completing this list, you think you are a normal human, you should send it to me with a picture and your full name, so that I may mock you online for all to see. Again, send the info to californiakay@gmail.com

Let's put that lil post behind us

2009-03-12T12:27:00.000-07:00

I am now taking applications for my Rebound and for a new group of friends. Please email your reasons of why I should consider you to californiakay@gmail.com. Also, if you could post in the subject line which position you are applying for, that would save much confusion and possible embarrassment.

Moving on, it has now become all about Lolo. This face, the face of cuteness, is helping pull me back into the real world. We went to a doxie meetup last weekend, where the cuteness just sat there, and let people tell her how cute she was, instead of running around letting off some steam like her mommy intended. We're going to another meetup this weekend, and then doing this art-walk thing in downtown Sactown. My plan is to pimp Lolo's cuteness and find some new friends or just let random strangers tell me how cute my dog (and I) is/am/are.

I went to my chiropractor on Tuesday (after a 2.5 month back-procedure-induced-sabbatical), and my favorite stalker was waiting for me. He's this semi-short, nice seeming janitor-dude, and he's always trying to holla. So I made up a boyfriend (who in my mind resembles Michael Clarke Duncan. My Janitor Stalker asks on Tuesday if I'm single yet. I have to think for a few seconds, and say, nope... Sorry. And he's all, "That sucks." Then I reply, "Uh, actually that's good for me, I don't want to be dumped." Then he's all "I'll wait for you." I'm rather stuptified by this comment, so I say "...uh, ok..." Then he's all thinking it's a plan, and repeats "I wait for you, ok." And I was so about to laugh and said I had to go, because I did in fact need to get to my appointment. So now the question is, how do I deal with having to go to my Chiropractor every Tuesday and manage to avoid my stalker until my next back procedure on 30 April? Seriously, open to all suggestions on this one...

I've got to get back to work, lunch break's over. Much love and puppy kisses to you.

2009-03-10T21:59:00.000-07:00

During the daytime I'm mostly ok. You can get through anything by pretending it doens't exsist. Nights are harder though. At night you can't ignore the fact that you're in the wrong bed, and that you're in it alone.

I miss my best friend. Miss my confidant. Miss my companion in all things. Miss my lover. I miss waking up next to someone so gorgeous, someone who just waking up next to is enough to bring a smile to your face. I miss having a hand to hold. I miss our laughter. I miss watching tv and snuggling on the couch under a pile of blankets. I miss deciding what to have for dinner. I miss lazy weekends and grocery shopping. I miss having a reason to leave work, to hurry home from the gym. I miss the texts, the emails, the phone calls on the drive home. I miss you.

Lolo's hit list

2009-01-19T14:08:00.001-08:00

Don't let the cute face fool you, Lolo is a demon. As of today, the following things have died by her hand/mouth:

2 toothbrushes
5 cell phone chargers
2 socks (which of course, didn't match)
countless meals that were not closely watched
multiple drinks and bottles of water that she decided were hers to drink
1 diamond earring (MIA-not recovered)
3 hair ties (obviously not mine)
1 Guitar Hero guitar was poo'd on (and disinfected), though she seems to believe it is hers now, and drags it around the house by the strap.
Anything cardboard will be destroyed upon contact

And a few other things that escape my attention at the moment.

Marley has nothing on this lil demon. Just when I start telling someone how much better she is, she goes and destroys something else. Buuuut, she's pretty cute, and she's very lovey, so it's usually forgivable.

Saw this in an email: Too true

2009-01-19T11:38:00.000-08:00

God doesn't give you the people you want, He gives you the people you NEED.

To help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you and to make you into the person you were meant to be.

Thank you all, just for being there.

One year---Fuck Kanser

2008-12-27T15:22:00.000-08:00

It's been a year and a day since my last chemo kids. Time for celebration.

Instead my dumb ass decided I should go play in the snow, since we don't have snow back home. I soon realized why I don't play in the snow. It's exhausting, pointless, sweaty work. All for nothing. Fuck snow, and fuck kanser.

I get to fly home tomorrow, and see my Lolo. I miss her like crazy. I hear she's been quite the little shit too. She chewed through ChopStyx's cell phone charger, she's been pooing just off of the potty pads, she's terrorizing ChopStyx's dog. My little Demon misses her mommy.

Love you all and wish you all the best for your holiday break.

Merry Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T10:00:00.000-08:00

Edit: Now with pictures!
California Kay and Lolo wish you a very Merry Christmas. I'm currently snowed into the lovely state of Washington, while my Lolo is happily keeping ChopStyx company back home in Cali. Did I metnion there's no cell reception here? The snow won't stop falling, and it's made the power flicker a few times, though thankfully we haven't lost it yet. The parents got the driveway plowed yesterday, but we got 7 new inches of snow overnight, so it's starting to fill it in... Wonderful right? White Christmases are totally overrated, BTW. I have not left this house in 5 days and it's starting to show. If I lose connection to the internet, somebody's going to die.

I just wanted to share some pixelated love with all of you, and tell you I'm thinking of you. Happy Holidays kids.

2008-12-13T21:55:00.000-08:00

Seriously, how fucking hard is it to come up with some good adjectives for a scar???

Oh California Kay, where have you been?

2008-11-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

I'll tell you.

Since approximately June I have been looking for a puppy. 2.5 weeks ago I lucked out. I found my baby. Last Saturday ChopStyx and I drove to Bakersfield to pick up Lolo, my 1.2 pound ball of fluff. She's a chocolate and tan Mini Dachshund and I love her.

So I've been waking up several times a night to make my baby "Go potty," and feed her. The first night mommy and Lolo woke up 5 times (so fun! Not.) Now it's usually only once a night. I am still sleep deprived, and don't think there is a spot on me that hasn't been chewed on, but my lil poop head is worth it.

Picture time, I dare you to say she isn't the cutest puppy in the history of ever.

Coming soon: Puppy Chronicles (and more pictures)

Some people are no fun

2008-10-11T10:19:00.000-07:00

Crossbow came home last night (at like 11pm)! Since she's been gone for a few months, several of us had to meet her at the airport, just to give her some love. TGG and I made welcome home signs last weekend: The generic "We missed you" "We heart you" "Welcome home Grandma" (just a nickname), and then a couple because I'm "creative/easily bored." "Welcome home Hooker" and "You smell like Beef and Cheese." So we get to the airport and see Crossbow's husband, another chick from work, and Crossbow's sister (who totally kicks ass) and a friend. Crossbow's sister's sign totally topped ours. It was a really long one, requiring two people to hold it, reading "Welcome home Bitch!" Our little grouping of signs got so many looks. One couple was coming down the escalator, and upon reading the WH Bitch sign, the man points at the woman and mouths "It's her sign!" She didn't see him for a few seconds, then turns around and gets all offended. It was good, clean family fun.

In other news, I've been housesitting for ChopStyx and co all week. They're in Hawaii. Totally unfair right? Styx's dog (and her daddy's dog) are a weiner dog and a pug, and we've had lots of fun. They insist on sleeping with you, and not just in the bed with you, but all up in your space so you can't move. They really like to each be on opposite sides of you, and wedge you in so you have no hope of sleeping comfortably. The WeinerDog is a sneaky little shit too. You move her to the foot of the bed, or ever just over a foot or so, and before you're laying back down again she'd back in the spot you just moved her from. This Move-The-Dog isn't exactly my favorite bedtime game, so eventually I just gave up and let her sleep where she wanted. That win goes to the dogs. To even up the playing field a bit (and for my own sanity) I gave them both a bath a couple nights ago. I think the smell of dog is one of my least favorite scents. It took two shampooings each pooch, but they no longer smell of dog. They don't smell like roses, but I still count this as a victory.

Work is the bullshit. I try to be there as little as possible. They're still screwing me over on my medical stuff, and dragging it out, so yes, I'm still here in NorCal, and it looks like I will be till at least after the first of the year. They don't even know what to do with me there. I've become the go-to person for all the most retarded, frustrating special projects. If I have to organize one more office social function I'm pretty sure I'm going to go postal.

ThanksGivingGirl has the cutest Chinese Shar Pei ever (ThanksGivingDog), and she's been trying to find a new home for her. TGG is moving in December (to the east coast no less) and can't find a house/apartment that will allow her to bring her dog. She IS able to keep the cats though. Her parents and siblings have other dogs that just don't get along well with other females (I believe TGDog is 3) so that's a no-go. I'd love to take her, but with my future destination so up in the air, I can't. ChopStyx's dogs don't get along well with bigger dogs, and my parents can't take her because their Precious Princess doesn't realize she is in fact a dog, and therefor does NOT like other dogs. So if any of you know someone looking for a Shar Pei, she's good with kids (TGG as a 3 year old boy who grew up with the dog) and cats. She's already had her eyes "done" (Shar Pei's have a nasty breed habit of their eyelids kind of flipping in which irritates the eye like nothing else, so many need surgery to fix it).

Getting back to the title of the post, there's a new girl at work. As you may have gathered from the welcome home signs, we're a pretty fun-loving, name calling group. Mostly we insult everyone's mom, and call each other hooker, cripple (that'd be me), grandma, and ho-bag. So I was passing the new girl in the hall, and said "What up hooker?" She turns back and says "I don't play like that." I'm all, "Ok, my bad." And she has to emphasize (in all her I-have-no-personality glory) "No, but seriously, I don't play like that ok?" And I'm all, "Yeah man, I get it." Fuckin get a personalty bi-otch. Otherwise we're all going to join TGG in stealing your animal crackers. She'll probably file a report on us for taking them too, that's how lame this robot toolbag is.

The microwave is declaring that my pizza is reheated, so I'm outta here. Word to your motha.

Why does my OB/GNY have tourettes?

2008-09-13T09:17:00.001-07:00

So I had to go the the girlie-doctor a couple weeks ago, and while she was very nice, and didn't make me feel uncomfortable, I get the feeling this woman has some mild form of tourettes. She walks into the room and says, "So, how's that vagina?" And then proceeds to use the V-word every other sentence for the duration of the exam. I'm like seriously? All I could do was laugh. Now all you girlies are familiar with this yearly exam (and if you haven't been in over a year, get an appt now. Seriously.), and familiar with the odd groping that always comes with it. This doc is convinced that I have kanser of the boobies, not just one boobie, but both. So now I have to go get my boobies scanned next week to find out if the Vag-doctor is right or just hypochondriac who likes to say Vagina a lot and grope people. Of course, since the big Kanser thing of 07, I suppose you can never be too careful...

Most Random of Randomness: A fellow blogger is texting me tales of her night, and just told me she has foamy poo. Perhaps someone had a few too many brews last night?

Got my wisdom teeth pulled out Thursday. Lovely procedure. They gave me some valium to take an hour before the surgery, and when I rolled up (with my Driver of course), I got taken back to the little room, strapped in, hooked up to the IV, and then woke up an hour or so later and walked to a lil bed where I got to take a nap and was all cold and shakey so they put a couple blankets on me. Then my Driver (that sounds so awesome, "Oh Charles, do be a dear and pull the car around won't you?") drops me off at my near-empty house (because I am moving. But since I did not allow the Driver into the house, he does not know this) where I took a nap on the mattress on the floor until ChopStyx showed up after she got off work, and whisked me away to her fully-furnished house. Since Thursday I have eaten many milkshakes, some mashed potatoes, soup (I abhor soup), rice covered in teriyaki sauce (I have a serious addiction to teriyaki chicken-rice bowls), and some pudding. Not being able to chew (my jaw barely opens) sucks a faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat one. One what? I'll leave that up to your imagination dears.

Time for me to go take some more vicie-vic and my antibiotics. Love love.

Holy Fuck, I haven't posted in HOW many months?

2008-09-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

Here are some random texts currently in my cell phone. (Some are texts of conversations because the conversations were hilarious.) Some were sent by me, some by other people (all of whom have make-believe Blog names.) It's up to you to figure it out.

1) Person A: "Excuse me, that's my ass, get your own." Person B: "I have one, it's bubbliscious."

2) Person A: "How you doin?" Person B: "Ok" Person A:"Well it's on point. Let's see if we can't make it fantastic."

3) "Your hair's getting floofy again. Floofy floofitis."

4) Person A: "How am I the cutest thing ever in life?" Person B: "Cuz... You had kanser..."

5) "What do you know about hiding in your girlfriend's bedroom cuz her dad came home early? I could go out the window, but then I have to walk in front of the sliding glass door to reach the gate... The fence is much too high to scale. And tis wood. Hilarity will ensue..."

6) "I just saw a man in a Catholic School Girl Skirt!"

7) Person A: "Are those different underwear?" Person B: I don't know, I get lost."

8) "My boobies smell like donuts."

9) "She's the voice inside my head that doesn't say anything, just does funny stuff."

10) "Dr Skelewhore butt-plugged my neck today."

And there you have it people. Which ones were (all or partly) mine, and which ones was I just the happy recepient of?

Next post will be Random pictures from my phone. You know you want to get you some of that.

Much love!

I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It

2008-06-18T06:17:00.000-07:00

"It felt so wrong, it felt so right, don't mean I'm in love tonight."

With lyrics like that how could you not love Katy Perry? Her CD (One of the Boys) came out yeserday, and I downloaded it from iTunes first thing in the morning. Bad ass. The whole CD is the shiz. ChopStyx(my bestest bud ever who I do absolutely everything with) heard her on MySpace and we were jocking her song I Kissed a Girl, as well as her Ur So Gay for a week until the CD was available for us to get our greedy little paws onto. I've been listening to this CD for two straight days now and I can't get enough of it. Katy Perry's playing the Vans Warped Tour, which just so happens to be in San Fran on Saturday. Might need to check that out...

Last weekend was the awesomest ever. Why you ask? Let me tell you. Last weekend was a little thing I like to call the NorCal Pirate Festival. Fucking awesome. Only one on the whole west coast kids. I heard about it when I was on hold with my doc's office for 35 minutes; they had that thing where the radio's playing some gay music, but every 2 minutes (on the dot) they break in to tell you to keep holding, and that your call is Very Important... Anyway, I heard an ad for the Pirate Festival, and decided I needed to Google it. 2 full days of Piratey goodness? I'm in. ChopStyx was immediately in as well. Hef said that's not the kind of thing he plans to do in advance, he'd only commit the day before. Like something better could possibly come up? Pshaw. Styx's work is a crazy SweatShop, and she ended up having to work all day Saturday and most of Sunday (so gay), so she couldn't go to the Festivus of Pirates with me, so I called my Hefe and told him he was going with me. Despite his obvious and extreme scepticism that such a thing could be in any way cool or fun, he rode shotgun in the Flying Car O' Death (not much of a fan of my driving is my Hefe...)

We knew it was somewhere around the ferry terminal in Vallejo, and were following the signs keeping an eye out for anything piratey. Then we see this ginormous black flag with a skull and crossbones. Oh we had arrived. I flipped a bitch and parked right across the street from the fest, barely a block to walk to get to it. Nicely done Miss Kay. There might have been a few initial doubts in my head that this place would be full of Ren Fair cast-offs, but as soon as we walked through the gates and grabbed our map pamphlets, all of that slipped away. There were badass people dressed up as badass pirates everywhere. Not exactly of the Pirate type myself, I rocked my badass Doc Martens with a polo and my sweet sweet faux-hawk. I think I got more odd looks than the costumed folk. Everyone was jealous of my awesomeness, don't be afraid to say it out loud. There was a ginormous Great Dane with a huge badass collar and since I happend to love Big Ass Dogs it was pretty fuckin sweet.

Some badass pirate dude had not one, not two, but three parrots he was carrying around and I just knew it was a Kodak moment. I ran up to him and decided to be polite; "Excuse me, Sir? Can I get a picture of you?" ......."Sir?" Then he looks at me, head to toe, and just gives me look of utter discust and I stop trying to backpedal to keep up with him. Douche.

18 July 08---Wow, This post was saved in my drafts for no apparent reason to me other than I wanted to add my pictures... My laptop is uber gay and only likes to accept pics from me when it's feeling generous, so we're not doing that today. I've got to get to work, remember to love thy neighbor, and give some love to your local pirate.

Update

2008-05-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

One of many funny images resulting from a drunken trip to Ihop at 4 am, only to realize they don't open until 5am, and that ChopStyx and I would have to kill some time in the nearby grocery store.

Best pair of Wellies ever, seen in the SeaTac airport:

So since 08 kicked off, I ended a relationship, beat that bitch called Kanser, was officially diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, went back to work part-time, had a horrible horrible flare up that no pain drugs would touch that seemed to stump all my doctors and specialists. I finally took matters into my own hands with alternative methods; lots of stretching, an uber-healthy (uber sucky) raw diet, an alternative chiropractor, and low stress. I've been getting healthier, and worked 10 1/2 hours yesterday, the first time in well over a year. I have to sunscreen up every time I go outside (quite an adjustment for the girl who never wore sunscreen, never burned, even as a wee little kid), and I have to be very careful and watch myself that I don't overdo it, or I'll pay dearly for my fun.

I ventured out to the coast for a fun weekend with my buddy ChopStyx, and met up with the awesomest couple of fools ever. Inner Voices and his girl Special Cheese are two of the downest people I've ever met. I'll admit I was a little scared at the prospect of a meetup after ChopStyx filled my head with stories of Axe Murderers and whatnot, but Inner Voices quickly assured me that he uses a chainsaw, not an axe, which is much more humane. I suppose to some people, meeting up with someone you've only talked to on the phone a handful of times is a bit sketchy, but I full on love Voices and Cheese, I feel like I've known these two kids for-ev-er. And Cheese's lil string cheese's are the cutest things ever. So ChopStyx and I met Voices at this little cafe thing overlooking the coast and had us some alcafasheezie to calm the nerves. Voices doesn't mess around either, this guy just straight-up hugged us, right off the bat. Not being one to hug strangers, but not about to dodge away from an oncoming hug from someone I knowbutdon'tknow, Voices got the "3 pats on the back and we're done" hug. ChopStyx doesn't drink, as she's uber-alergic to alcohol, so she was my DD (pretty sweet eh?) After we all decided none of us were going to kill each other, Styx and I jumped into the sweet Honda Pilot she used to roll, and follow Voices down the road. Let me tell you right now, Voices' driveway is one hell of a commute, and not anything I think I'd ever drive my self. Styx handled it like a champ, but it's all twisty-turny dirtness that one must have a 4X4 to get up and I'm apparently too much of a pansy for such things. Once we made it to the Voices-Cheese casa, it was time for a beer as we got the grand tour. This man's house is astounding. It's beautiful, and it's entirely self-sufficient. I can't even explain just how badass it is. We were a bit of a letdown since we weren't down to move firewood, my bad guy... After the tour Voices offers up a shot, and I sample this beauty of a tequila he had, some big blue bottle of stuff called Corralejo (and you KNOW I went to the store and bought some of that shit, it is the bomb). He has a pretty sweet-ass shot glass collection, so he was showing us that, and then Voices whips out this beer cozie and has us touch it. That thing was made of deer scrotum. That's so not ok I can't even tell you. But... I'll admit it was hilarious. I just hope you don't use it often, that's a bit odd. Then Cheese arrives home with the little string cheeses, and she lived up to all phone convo expectations. Cheese is the bomb. Voices is the bomb. I wish I lived closer cuz I would be down to kick it on the regular. We left soon after, but not before Voices took the opportunity to write on the back windshield of the sweet Pilot, which had gotten quite dirty on the drive to his place. By the time we thought to take a picture, it was too late too see anything.
He wrote something along the lines of "You wish your girlfriend was this dirty." Hilarious. More hilarious: Later that night we're parked along the coastline with a million other fools, watching the sun go down because I haven't seen that shit over the ocean in hella years. So the cars all start to leave, and we're just sitting there talking, listening to music, deciding what to do next, and this white truck drives by real slow, then turns around and comes back, still slow. Then it flips a bitch AGAIN and drives past... We're like, seriously, what is this fool doing??? The next day we're going out to Styx's Pilot and it clicks that they were trying to read the back windshield. Nicely done Voices, nicely done.

I've got to get my sexy hair all done and get on the road, I'll try to post again soon, there are so many awesome stories to tell when you actually leave the house on the daily. Much love kids

OMG OMG I can post pictures!

2008-05-02T11:16:00.000-07:00

So I'm easing back into this "blogging" thing with a lil sampling of some of my phone-pics (cuz I just finally got them to open on this GD laptop.)

How I was, in full out Kanser Victim mode:

Me now with my glorious, glorious new hair:

More to come bitches, check back later

OMG, She's not dead!

2008-04-20T14:45:00.000-07:00

Coming soon: My version of The Big Meeting between my wonderful self and Inner Voices and co.

I was going to post some pictures as a consolation prize, but Blogger's being a little fucker and won't let me.

I know you missed me. Don't act like you didn't.

This one's for Cheese (Hi Cheese!)

2008-02-29T14:35:00.000-08:00

For those of you who are unaware, Inner Voices and his girl Special Cheese (not to be confused with gov'ment cheese) are the shiz. I love them to death. Cheese's questionable taste in beer (Kokanee is the only beer that should be consumed, ever) can be overlooked by her general awesomeness. Make no mistake, she's no me. But I have high hopes that someday her level of awesomeness might grow to something close to mine...

So Inner Voices and Special Cheese called me up the other day. My head was all afuzz with painkiller nonsense, and they might have had a brew or two, so can any of us be trusted to accurately recall what was said? Probably not. Oh wait, except for me, because I'm badass. So Inner Voices first off calls and is all talkin bout some voice mail, and I was sooooo confused (since I hadn't listened to it). It goes a little something like this "Hi, this is Richard, calling from the port authority down at the naval yard, calling to make sure that all your ports are.... uh... taken care of, and you know, all unported..." and then you can hear cheese in the background, and I want you to know right now that I love these two fools. That was the first time I listened to that voicemail, and you KNOW I saved that bitch. Seriously, seriously. Hands-down, best drunk-dial I have ever received.

Cheese, you were in no way an asshole. I laughed at your good luck, no one rocks at talking to strangers, and I realize my awesomeness can overwhelm at times. Just wait till you kids come kick it in person, you'll be speechless in your awe of me. (What's that? ...No... I'm not cocky. Nooooo. You must have the wrong person.)

Seriously with the port jokes kids? Nasty. My port did not make any sounds or anything. It was under my skin. All you could see was a scar, but you could feel the port under my skin. When the nurses went to do the chemo or blood work, they had to grab the port under my skin and hold it while they hooked me up to the IV. A rather squeamish feeling.

And now, a word from our sponsors:

I have hair! I have enough hair that as of two days ago my hair can get messy. Look at that luscious luscious bedhead! And my eyebrows! I have my eyebrows back. I've let one of my friends convince me that I should leave the eyebrows alone till they're completely back, which is why I look like a wilderbeast.

This is what radiation did to my awesome hair. I quit shaving my head the first day of radiation, and hair started growing all over, but then cuz they were radiating my head, it caused hair loss and a sunburn effect on the one spot they zapped my brain. I can feel a little bit of fuzzy startin to grow on the spot now, but I wish it'd hurry up...

There is an awesome little tea place in Roseville that has wicked chai. And the name of the place just happens to crack me up.

"You are the cheese to my mac." A little shout out to Juno, the awesomest movie ever. If you haven't seen it yet, WTF are you waiting for fools? Diablo Cody (coolest fuckin chick ever, after me of course) won a fucking Oscar for the pure awesomeness displayed in that movie. Seriously? What more do you need?

I'm doggysitting for my next door neighbors, and one of the three dogs is the cutest little bug bug ever. I'm seriously considering stealing her...

And that's a wrap people, much love.

This keg is tapped

2008-02-17T00:24:00.000-08:00

Lately I just feel like I'm drained. I've got nothing left in me.

It could be the copious amounts of vicodin and muscle relaxers. My whatever is all flared up and it won't get better. On monday I'm going to call the doc again, and hopefully we can find some way to fix me. Cuz I am too damn awesome to be this broken. How am I supposed to enjoy my sexy new eyebrows if I can't leave the couch?

I'm blog-stalking you all. I can't seem to formulate my thoughts enough to leave comments, but I'm there. Or here. Something.

And may I just say that having having finally hooked my laptop up to the wireless is so the shiz. I can be a tool to the net from the couch, I can listen to my online radio in the tub, I can blog from bed. Why did it take me so many months to finally give my laptop some love???

P.S. Pandora online radio is the shiz. It's online radio that's so fucking bomb. Like I've got a station where I selected KT Tunstall, and it plays her music and other artists like her. Then I thumbs up or tumbs down the songs, and it gets smarter to what sound I'm going for. And you can have a billion different stations, for all your moods. Awesome much? I think so

Fuck the World (just for Inner Voices)

2008-02-04T15:00:00.000-08:00

My eyebrows are starting to grow back! I'm so stoked, you have no idea.

And my hair is now what someone recently called "duck fluff." Not sure if that's a good thing or not, but it's a centimeter long bitches!

This week was pretty good. Pretty damn good.

What'd I do? Nothing remarkable. But I'm doin good.

Last radiation on friday. Sweet Action much? I think so.

To show you how awesome I've been, let's have some pictures:

Circe

The bathrooms at Circe

My fingernails after I clipped them.

A pamphlet the Dr's office put out regarding your mom.

You have angered the Chicken Hat. Just when you thought it was safe to forget about it... At least it's not sitting in your living room watching you take a nap on the couch.

Me a mere minutes before the port removal.

Your Mom reads this blog

2008-01-23T18:44:00.000-08:00

I'm dying. In my throat. It's fucked-up-throat-itis. Very contagious. Watch out. Coming soon to a theater near you.

On the drive home from my Chemo-Doc today (had to get my blood checked, my port flushed, and just check in with her), I was suddenly hit by a fucked up feeling in the right side of my throat. Which is an area they're radiating every day...And it spread up to right under my ear like the I'm-about-to-get-a-fucked-up-ear-infection feeling. Just a minute ago my eyes got that itchy-burny feeling and I had to take the contacts out. Not sure if the radiation's fucking me up, or it's just a normal sickness.

I finally put on my big girl pants and had some of the Aloe Vera Juice I was supposed to be drinking this whole time. It tastes like NotTheLord, and burns when I swallow it. Fuck-tastic! Then my stomach started being nasty at me.

I bet you're thinking this day is pretty shitty eh? To top all that off, I got a lovely speeding ticket and an ass-chewing by a copper on the way to my doc's office this morning. I'll take the ticket douche muffin, you don't have to make me feel like an idiot too. WhatTheFuckEver.

I thought Guitar Hero was the hotness. Then I got Rock Band. HolyFuckingShit. Sweet action my friends. Sweet, sweet action.

I'm done with today, I'm ready for tomorrow.

Much love.

Re: The comments
Cher-You're on crack, but I love you.
IV-No full-frontal love. For anyone. Ever. How big is this box you speak of? 12 pack? 6?
Sushi-Suicide Girl? (Upon consulting the mighty Google): What the hell? Is it porn? Is it goth-ish girls gone wild? Some of them scare me.
BBC-I laughed. Thankfully, my head's really all that has hair showing back up at this point, so yeah...
IV-That's definitely a possibility.
TheTroll-That's so sweet. You must not visit often enough to know the truth.

Ooh, I just remembered, I get my port out monday! There's the rainbow at the end of the backed-up plumbing shitfest. (True Story. "The Shit" backed up into my bathtub. Yesterday. A plumber was called. I bleached the fuck out of my tub. We're all golden again. I'm gonna go get a popsicle and crash on the couch now.)

Next!

2008-01-22T09:57:00.000-08:00

Let's put that little post behind us and move onto happier things.

My hair, while growing back, is not thick. If it weren't for my daily microwave sessions (radiation) I'd be shaving that bitch.

I'm not a fan of hospital gowns. I "get" to wear one every day for radiation.

I've been kicking it with one of my friends (I'll think of a good name for her soon, I swear) almost every day for over a week. And I still full-on love her. Awesome much? I think so.

I need to get to radiation, so I'm going to say I'll be back, and you're going to pretend to believe me.

Much love.

Maybe

2008-01-16T00:30:00.000-08:00

Maybe... You should do something nice for someone every single day, even if it is simply to leave them alone.

Maybe... Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they will love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart; but, if it doesn't, be content that it grew in yours.

Maybe... Life sucks and love blows, or maybe it's all perspective.

I'm workin on a new one,

2008-01-10T22:42:00.000-08:00

I really am. It'll have pictures and all sorts of shit.

If you build it they will come.

Yeah, Yeah, Your mom.

2008-01-10T11:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday would have been Chemo Day, but it wasn't cuz I'm done bitches! That's so fucking awesome I can't even explain. Eat it Kanser! Eat it and like it.

Went to my Radiation doc on Tuesday, got a new CT scan and my sweet new tattoos. They're just 3 little black dots, they look like retarded freckles. One on each side, and on in the middle of my chest, just under where a bra strap sits.

I go back in on the 15th and should find out the results of the CT scan then, and I believe that's also day one of radiation.

Since we last conversed, I've beat Guitar Hero 3 on Easy and Medium. I'm not so sure about tackeling Hard. That's when you have to start using the 5th button, and my fingers can't reach it. I think the Guitars were built for man-hands, which I don't have.

Yesterday I recieved the most awesome thing ever in the mail. My Ebay'd N64 007 Goldeneye arrived on my doorstep. And it's just as awesome as I remembered. The N64 is the shiznit. Don't believe me? Ask your mom. She knows... Believe.

Goodness gracious, the year's almost over.

2007-12-30T23:15:00.000-08:00

I've never really been one for resolutions. I thought about jacking Sushi's Year In Review, but that looks like a lot of work. We'll see how long the Vicodin keeps me awake, and honestly, my memory's not so great. Not sure I could think back that far.

I was just thinking, I've been truly blessed this year in my friends. I've got a pretty awesome support group. The year kind of turned into a shit fest for me, but my friends have all been there, making fun of my crippled ass and making me laugh (which is really the most important thing.)

And I don't just mean the friends who I see on a day-to-day basis. Most of you I've never met, but I love you to death, and I appreciate all the good vibes and support you've thrown my way. I've whined about laxatives and joint pain, and wonderful little miracles of medicine that won't do their fucking job, and falling off the curb like a tard, and you put up with my shit and tell me it'll be alright, and that I look awesome bald (like I didn't know that... Come on, it's me. I could rock an orange jumpsuit and a mullet and make that shit look sexy. But if I ever do... Please hit me. Mullets are not the hotness.) And I just love you kids. So thank you.

I want to hunt each of you down and give you a big ole hug. But not like a full-on frontal hug. I'm not down with that. Maybe just one of those one-arm hugs. With a couple pats on the back.

I was trying to explain to my mother when she was here about all of you, (And about this crazy canadian chick I need to go visit, especially once I move back home and am just a few hours away), and she got all weirded out. She's all, "You know them thru the internet? You don't know who they really are. That chick could be some man in prison somewhere..." But it's not like that. And even if Cher is some weird dude in prison who likes impersonating canadian chicks, I full on love you man. And that goes for all of you. I full on love you. In a strictly platonic way of course.

Last Chemo: Done!

2007-12-27T12:57:00.000-08:00

Let's celebrate. But not right now. Still got my chemo hangover. Radiation starts in January. Keep fucking kanser in the mouth.

Much love and holiday cheer to you all. I'm going back to bed.

Edit: Cher.

Since I last posted

2007-12-20T21:39:00.000-08:00

More juice Edits. Get out your wet suits... I haven't really done a damn thing. I've taken painkillers (sometimes in vain) to try to make my pain go away. When my brain's not in a total fog, I watch some TV. I read the paper. I call people and try to have coherent conversations. Sometimes I don't try to have coherent conversations, and just talk anyway. When the pain's at it's worst, I call someone, usually my dear mother, and tell them to talk to me. Listening to someone, and not having to talk myself seems to help when nothing else can.

I started drawing, just to keep my hands busy, and for something to do. So far just people. Just pencil sketches really. I used to be alright back in the day, and it's something I enjoy. I realize I need practice, lots and lots of practice. But I don't care. The only one I'm doing this for is me. And everyone's their worst critic right? So believe me, I have no illusions regarding my skill.

I've been using pictures for my guideline. I like to use black and whites, just because that makes it sooo much easier for shading and whatnot. My first picture was of MarkyMark, and I was trying to draw it from a picture in my cellphone. Yeah, that didn't work out so well. I abandoned that sinking ship, and moved onto the lovely Mr Depp. Now, I'll admit that I fucked him up, but, at least you can mostly figure out who it is. Couldn't say the same for poor MarkyMark. The next picture to catch my fancy was the wonderfully talented Kate Beckinsale. Sadly, she came off looking more like Hilary Swank. Shaft.

I was at a loss to pick my next victim. Then the wonderful Cher offered a solution; I should draw her! I am sad to say, I did her no favors. It's a barely recognizable Cher that I found staring back at me from the paper when I finished. I'm terribly sorry mi amiga. I shall try again once I've worked on my skillz a bit. Edit: So I yanked the picture when realized I neglected to ask Miss Cher if I could post my rendering up here... My bad. But now that we have Cherental permission, it's back! /Edit

Then I moved onto that Pirates of the Caribbean heroine. This was a bit of a challenge, since she's laying on her back with her head turned to the side looking into the camera. I'm actually rather stumped as to how to continue, so she's been put on hold for the time being.

Tonight I started another drawing, I'll share that when I'm done. Or when I give up. Whichever comes soonest I suppose. Perhaps by the time I fill this sketch book I'll be content with my level of skill. Of course, if that happens, then I'll quit trying to improve, so maybe not.

The parentals and younger brother will be arriving Saturday evening, and staying until sometime the following evening. Retardation Edit: They're staying till the following Saturday, not the following evening. Who drives 800 miles to stay for one night? I'm sure it will be a unique holiday. I hope you're done with your Christmas shopping and no longer have to venture forth into the hell that all the stores have become.

Happy Christmas and Merry New Year.

Hola

2007-12-12T19:52:00.000-08:00

I'm alive.

I'm rather sick. Fuckin chemo. Fuckin Kanser.

My bum and my stomach are less than ok.

One more chemo kids! One more. The day after Christmas.

I love you all. I've had nothing to write. Terribly sorry.

I went and saw the Golden Compass with a bud on Satruday (and bailed on ThanksgivingGirl's little WeeMan's birthday party. It was at Chucky Cheese, and as much as I really wanted to be there, it just wouldn't have been smart with my compromised immune system.) Then the bud and I greabbed lunch, and I headed over to WorkFriend's house to make Christmas candy, eat dinner (so much food in a short period wasn't good) borrow some more dvds and play Guitar Hero. I love me some Guitar Hero.

So in closing, Golden Compass is good. Chemo nausea is not. Guitar Hero is awesome. Kanser and Chucky Cheese are not.

Much love.

I hurt

2007-11-30T16:03:00.000-08:00

I hate chemo.

I'm addicted to Guitar Hero.

I miss MarkyMark.

My stomach's very upset from Wednesday's chemo.

On the bright side, I haven't had to fuck with laxatives in quite some time.

I meet with the radiation people on monday to find out what they'll be don to me when chemo's over.

2 more chemo's.

Much love.

And I don't care about you either.

Except I do.

Cher-All I can think of for your contest is "Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I loves me some Cher... Something Something fuck you." So I think I'll sit this one out.

Inner Voices-your dedication to punishing that liver is something I can only sit in awe of.

Jerk-Much love. Much love.

Sush-No booze for me yet, but MarkyMark definitely put a dent in my fridge stockpile.

Happy hello

2007-11-20T19:47:00.000-08:00

I get to pick up MarkyMark tomorrow at 8 15am from the airport. I can't wait.
I'm so happy. MarkyMark and I will attempt to do the "cook Thanksgiving meal" thing, but since it'll be just the two of us, it won't matter if it all goes horribly wrong. I'm so very happy MarkyMark will be here, cuz I'm still not allowed to travel and all. I get el Marko from Wednesday to Sunday. As usual, it won't be nearly long enough, but... It's better than nothing. It's better than sleeping alone. Better than 100 texts and a bedtime phone call every day. It's these little extended weekends that make the distance bearable. These brief snippets are why we've made it through the last 4 ish years. They're the reason I'm still sane.

Moving on, the chick who drove me to my last chemo? She was cool. I like her. She ran out of fucking gas on the way to my appointment... She seemed hella young to me, and she hella freaked out about it. I found it all quite funny. So that put us about an hour and a half behind schedule. But, my docs and nurses were cool about it. I called them to tell them I'd be late, and called again once we were back on the road with an estimate of how long it'd be till we made it there (and I was right on time. There's no denying it folks, I'm good.)

I finally met Crossbow's new dog this weekend. It's a mini-pinscer, and SO cute. She looks like a tiny deer (she's all brown), and I love her. She didn't reciprocate my feelings, but that's cool. My fake dog Rowdy is bigger than she is, so I'm confident that if it came time to throw down, I could take her.

I washed my truck today. TJ, not Zachary. Zach went home to live with Mommy and Daddy for a while. I think that was the first time since my knee surgery, and that shit was in May... I didn't do such a great job. There are missed spots and brush marks, but hey, I was hurtin. I also cleaned all the empty water bottles out of the back seat-area. And I did all my grocery shopping on Monday. I'm officially ready for MarkyMark's arrival, and I'm all excited about it. I miss my MarkyMark.

I even went into work today, cuz I was all excitedness and needed to get out of the house. Crossbow knew I was excited bout MarkyMark cuz I get like this every time. It was weird that my big boss and all the other people at work were askin me about Mark, cuz normally I don't tell anyone. Just cuz... It's weird. Me and MarkyMark kinda fall off the face of the earth when Mark comes into town. We go to movies, and out to eat and shopping, or just hole-up here cuz I can't fucking move, whatever, but to have everyone at working asking me "So when's your friend getting in?" is weird. I want to tell them to mind their own damn business, you know? But... I know Crossbow just told them cuz they were all concerned; wanting to make sure I had someplace to go for Turkey Day. Which I appreciate. I'm just not a touchy-feely, have everyone up in my business, kind of person. Hell, my parents and family don't know Mark's coming into town. They don't need to know. And my parents don't really like Marky, but the can just fuck the hell off now, can't they?

Now that I've told you all sorts of shit you probably never wanted to know, I think I'm gonna wrap this shit up.

Much love, and may you all spend your Turky Day with those you love. Or may you have enough alcohol to think that you love those you spend the day with.

P.S. Fuck Kanser

2007-11-13T21:30:00.000-08:00

I can't get enough of this shit kids:
The little girl in the middle/front of the room is awesome, and the little boy in the front is all over that shit. I love it.

I saw that shit on Ellen today, and had to go look for it. Have I mentioned that I love Ellen? She cracks my shit up. As long as I'm not asleep when it comes on at 3, I make sure I watch that shit. What cracks me up even more than Ellen's general hilariousnessicity, is all those suburban housewives in her audience. And when she dances around the audience, they all want a piece of her. It astounds me.

Tomorrow's chemo #5. I can't wait to be done with this shit. I begin to realize why people choose not to do this shit again when faced with that mother-fucker cancer at a later stage in life. If it weren't for that little bitch drug Neulasta, this shit would be so much easier. When my white counts were nice and low, my joints didn't hurt, my bones didn't ache. I didn't spend 5 hours of my day in the fucking bath tub trying to soak the ache out of my body that returns as soon as I get out again. My precious Percocet used to work on my fuckin pains, where instead I find myself laying upon my bed with my pain pegged out at a firm 10 on the "Rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10" chart. And that shit goes on for days. All I can say to it all is Fuck this. I'm so tired of this shit. So so tired. 4 more, that's what I keep telling myself, but it's so hard. I hate the feeling of the needle first going into my port. I hate the chemicals the pump thru the IV to flush my port. I hate the taste of those chemicals in the back of my throat as it rushes thru my system. I hate the harsh chemical smell of my pee for 2 says after my chemo. I hate that the chemicals ravage my insides and cause me to be wonderfully ill Wednesday and Thursday of chemo week. Fuck this shit. I want to quit playing and go home. Home doesnt poke me with needles and make me look at my blood. I'm not a fan of blood. Or needles.

Anyho, I've got to get to bed. My ride picks me up at 6 45 tomorrow morning. I just hope it's not too terribly akward. She's some chick from work I've talked to maybe twice... While I appreciate her giving me a ride, I think I'd rather drive myself. But my doctor and my BigBoss have conferred, and decided I'm not to drive myself anymore. Whatev. Fuckers. Everyone's a fucker. Fuck em all.

Here comes Chemo #4

2007-10-30T18:30:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow's the big #4 kiddos. That gets us to the halfway point. Fuck Kancer much?
I never made it back to work. It's not the chemo's fault. It's not so bad. Not really getting the nausea anymore, maybe just for a day or two. It's that damn shot that fucks my fibromyalgia up that I'm not a fan of. I put a nice little dent in that bottle of percocet the doc hooked me up with. I have an appointment with her tomorrow (I keep spelling that tomowwor. How wetawded are we today?), so we'll be discussing that. Which suddenly reminded me I need to make an appointment with my ENT doc who did my neck surgery. He said to come back halfway thru my chemo. On the phone with his office right now... And we've got an appointment to see him on the 6th. Yea team!

So I was talkin to The Mother last night (ok, I pretty much talk to her every night) and we were having a discussion about globes. See, mother was talking about how it'd be interesting to collect globes, since so many things are always changing. So I'm thinking, "Hey... I have an idea for a Christmas present for Momma." I'm thinkin she'd love a globe from maybe the 60's. You know, to compare how much they've changed since she was born. Then maybe I can buy other decades to add to her collection. Yeah... Globes don't work that way. You can buy old old replica globes. Or you can buy current globes. You can buy Antique looking globes, you can buy globes you can write on, and globes that light up. Apparently there isn't much of of a market for Globes from just a few decades ago. But there have been a lot of changes made in the past few decades. Found an interesting site Here that lists all the changes that have been made in country names in the last 60 ish years. Call me boring, but I think this shit's pretty interesting. So if any of you stumble upon a site that has historic globes that aren't from 1775, hook me up.

In other news, have I told you about the little ditty MarkyMark made up? MarkyMark likes to sing "Chemo makes her hair fall out" to the tune of a certain country song about tequila and clothes falling off. It does make me laugh though, so I suppose it serves its purpose. We usually talk on the phone every night while we're in bed until we fall asleep, which results in me not remembering much of what we were talking about. Last night I have no idea what we were talking about, but I texted myself to look up the How Many Licks Tootsie Pop commercial.

I've decided I need a Polaroid Camera in my life. The camera itself is pretty damn cheap, it's the film that kills you. They come in packs of 10, which are 10 bucks apiece. Retarded much? Yes. But I still want one.

To keep my life geeky, I also want a video projector. Not the old school ones, I want one of the new ones. I think it'd be cool, with it mounted to the ceiling and all. Watch a movie on the wall (or on the geeky pulldown projection screen), layin on my Super Awesome Foam-Filled Beanbag/Mattress. Oh that's right kids. Fucking awesome. It's the size of a king size mattress. Did I mention it's fucking awesome? I haven't exactly ordered it though. It's not the price, it's that I'm pretty sure I couldn't lift/carry/move it on my own.

This shit has taken hours longer than I expected.
Cher-I miss you chica. Come back to blogland. Isn't fibromyalgia the best!?! Fuckin not.
Jerk-It's all you baby!
Tena-You're cool, just not a cool as me. Don't worry, if you believe, someday you'll be there.
Inner Voices-I can't not love you man. You're awesome. I would love to be able to have a beer or 6 with you. Hell, I'd love to be able to drink, period.
Sushi-If you were to move to Cali, the chicken hat could be yours...

Much love kids. I think I'm gonna go soak in the tub, then it needs to be bedtime soon after cuz I've got to be at my doc's early and it's a long drive.

2007-10-23T15:16:00.000-07:00

I don't think you understand just how angry this chicken hat looks. I'm afraid of it. Seriously. And it's a puppet. So when you're not scaring small children by just wearing it around on your head, you can take it off, and move it's wings and head around to really terrify them.

I repeat: My mother's a crazy woman.

So in other news, I haven't left my house since I got home from chemo Thursday afternoon. I'm ok with that. Ish. At least I've been showering every day.

I meant for this post to be a lot longer, but my left arm is really hurting me typing right now.

I'm here. I'm reading other blogs, but not for very long cuz the computer's making my head dizzy (thanks to my lovely percocet). The tv makes me a bit dizzy too after too long, or if I focus on it too hard.

Holly, Cher, I love you both, but let's take a raincheck, shall we? It's not you, it's me.

Stone, I reshave the dome every 2-3 days cuz I can't stand the stubble. It's not like there's a lot of stubble, just enough to drive me crazy.

Ookami, The hat's both awesome and scary at the same time.

Inner Voices, The light at the end of my tunnel of a week is Percocet. Without my magic little pill of happiness, (which isn't really that fantastic), I'd probably crawl out into oncoming traffic. The chemo's not so bad, it's that damn shot that fucks up my Fibromyalgia.

I'm 80 people. Fuckin-A. I just want to go back to work. Seriously.

Fuckin Kancer. Fuckin-A

Fuckin Kancer

2007-10-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

I'm straight done in the game. Chemo #3 was Wednesday. I spent the night (cuz my hospital's 80 some miles away), and got my shot of nastiness Thursday morning (the White blood cell booster, which can kiss my pale white ass.)
The nausea hit me early. I'm fuuuucking tired, my brain's foggy, and I hurt.
I'm here, I'm just a whiney little bitch. I didn't stop hurting after the last chemo, but my wonderful doc gave me a prescription for 100 more little pills full of magic (God bless Percocet).
I'm gonna go watch the Jungle Book with my super awesome new heating blanket my mom sent. She also sent a shitload of hats, cuz she's crazy like that. Crazy...

Much love

Who are you calling a cootie queen you lint licker!

2007-10-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

Edit: Californiakay: Now with more fiber... And pictures.

I'm here. I'm mostly still alive. I'm fed up with this Chemo bullshit. Seriously. It is not of the lord.

My hair started falling out 2 weeks after my first chemo. I couldn't stop pulling it out either. It's like scratching at your chicken pox. It's wrong, you know it's wrong, but you have no intention of stopping. So, the hair started the great gravitational migration to the ground on a Tuesday, and by that weekend there wasn't much left: Sunday night I realized there was no way I was going into work that way, so I hacked it off with the scissors, then buzzed the rest off. Almost immediately I realized that having no hair upon one's head is a very cold way to go thru life. I have been rocking beanie's religiously since that Sunday night. Even to bed. And if my beanie falls off my chrome dome in the middle of the night, I wake up freezing, and search for it in my pile of blankets.

Blogger's being a punk ass little bitch right now, and not letting me add any pictures, but I assure you, I have pictures to share with you.

I've felt like completely and utterly asstastic since roughly Thursday. The doc has decided they shall start giving me a shot the day after chemo every time now to help boost my white blood cell levels, and good God it sucks so badly. Every muscle and joint in my body has ached for days. The pills they told me would fix it (Claritin. The fucking allergy medicine) hasn't done a Goddamn thing, and as of today Percocet won't help me either. I want to whine and cry like the punk ass little bitch that I am.Edit: This is a shot from one end of the "Chemo Room." It's just a bunch of recliners full of sleepy people and IV poles.

To answer some of the things brought up recently in the comments:
Jerk: I don't remember that deal, but a deal's a deal. You just have to clear it with MarkyMark. I'm sure sex with you has to be better than chemo. Do you induce vomiting and hair loss?

Holland: I assure you, I am fucking sexy as Ms. Clean. It's astounding how awesome I look bald. My dear mother told me I should even think about rocking this look after my hair comes back. I told her she's fucking crazy.

Stone: You're right. We should start our own club, and only follicly challenged people can join. It'd be awesome. Just cuz we're there. Props on the Blazing Saddles shout out there too.

Sushi: I'm down for the scalp tattoo. That'd be fucking bad ass.

Cher: Sometimes you leave me a little bit speechless. I swear I'm going to send it... I just don't really leave my house much right now. Like at all. I got the box from the post office. I just lack the motivation to send it. It'll happen. Don't give up on me.

Inner Voices: It's weird how my hair is falling out. I still have a bit on the top of my head. My eyebrows and lashes go thru little spurts where I seem to lose a bunch, then they're content to stay again. My arm and leg hair seems to want to stick around, not losing any of that. And the "bikini area," I've lost like half of it. That I'm not losing all my hair all at once is weird to me. I guess I just expected to wake up one morning and for it all to have gone away. I wouldn't mind that at all. Think about it girls, no more shaving! I can't fucking wait, but of course, my body seems to have other plans. Anyway, I can't actually get a tattoo till after the chemo and radiation are thru. Apparently my body would have a shite time healing and all right now. The parlor you mentioned sounds awesome. What's it called? When I had mine done, it was by some smelly old guy in a place that had bars on the windows. It's a miracle I didn't get an infection...

I can't wait till all this is over. I want my body to go back to behaving in a normal fashion, doing what I ask of it, nothing more, nothing less. I know the odds of that happening are pretty slim. My hair will most likely come back a different color or texture. I'm most likely going to end up sterile. My doc said it's possible that I might even go into Menopause. Fuckin A right? I'm tired of being tired.

In other news: Crossbow got a cute new puppy (a mini Pinscher named Diamond. So cute). Hefe's staring to settle in over in whereeverthefuck he is. ThanksgivingGirl got another kitten that I have not yet seen but really want to. I got to see RunnerGirl last week and I miss her like crazy and gave her a bazillion hugs, and told her I absolutely hate her. The girl is 5 months pregnant and has gained 3 pounds. 3! She doesn't look pregnant at all, except for the tiny little bump that is her belly. MarkyMark was here a couplefew weeks ago, and took absolutely wonderful care of me and I had wonderful food and wonderful sleep for 5 beautiful days. Damn school for making MarkyMark leave again.

I love you all, lots and lots. I'll come back some time and try to get up the pictures that Blogger doesn't want you to see. I've been around, I've been reading you all, even if I don't comment (I'm really bad about that... Sorry. I have Chemo-Brain. I can't formulate coherent thoughts. But I'm still following along with you all.) I just haven't really had shit to say about me. Or when I have, I haven't felt like sitting down and getting it out here. My bad. I'll try to work on that. If you want to get get ahold of me, email's probably best. That has a 1 in 3 chance of me responding same day. This.... Anyway, don't be afraid. Hit me up: kay_fro @ Hotmail
Love Love kiddies

"that's my cubicle. I sit in there."

2007-09-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

Not random enough? What if I told you the little rabbit by the fire said it? What now?

Ok, so it was actually MarkyMark.

Wednesdays are supposed to be my chemo days. Every other Wednesday anyway.

Today my buddy, uh... I don't think he has a name on here. So the nameless one picked me up at 0730, and off we went. The nurses connected the IV to my port, took some blood for my weekly tests, and then I went to talk with my doc. She gave me some new nausea meds, a new laxative (yea for laxatives! Fuckin not), a stool softener (Apparently we "mush, then push." My doctor actually used those words), and a mouthwash that's supposed to prevent Thrush (so no more yeast infections in my mouth. Yeah, that's right. I had a yeast infection in my mouth. Sick right?)

So all my blood levels looked good, except my white blood count. Which is freakishly low. So I am to avoid all salad bars (I thought I was already supposed to do that...), little people, animals that haven't been vaccinated, animal poo, and people who may or may not be sick. So I'm quarantined.

My hair started falling out yesterday. Like hard core. I was in the shower, and you know how you run your hands thru your hair and some comes out? It just kept coming. Every time I ran my hands thru it. It's not possible to wash one's hair without running your hands thru it. Or perhaps I wash my hair wrong... Who knows.

So I lost a bunch there, then when I was brushing it... Well, see for yourself. Then today, more of the same. I usually put my hair up into a messy bun, and that proved rather difficult this morning. The shit wouldn't stay in my head. It just kept coming out. It's a bit freaky, but hey, MarkyMark'll have to stop calling me Cousin It right? Oddly, the hair on my head seems to be the only hair making The Great Migration to the floor. It's fucking everywhere. All over my shirt, my truck, my floor. It bugs me. I'm very tempted to find someone with shears and just end it all. But... I have to go to work the next two days now that my chemo didn't happen. Have to rock the sock bun now. Have a random knee pic (from right after surgery), since I can't find a picture of my sock bun. I know I've got one, I just can't find it.

Alright. I'm fucking tired. But just so it's not all about me, Cher's awesome. You should go check her out if you haven't already. I've been meaning to link her up for awhile, she cracks my shit up. Also not about me, Sushi's been going thru some shit, and she could use all the good vibes and/or prayers you can spare. Much love to you chica.

Is it ok to be obcessed with pooping?

2007-09-18T17:58:00.000-07:00

I know it's not normal, but is it "ok"???

Alt Title: My brush with pseudo-anorexia

Alt Title: OMG! Laxatives! Nuff said.

Alt Title: What do you mean I have an infection in my mouth?

Alt Title: Dude, I heard Cemo's the new hotness.

So, the last week has eaten my asshole with a rusty spork. Thus, my realization yesterday that I was unable to poop. Which kind of sucks. And hurts. I then rushed to the FuckMeUpAgainstTheWall-Mart, and decided to purchase the one that said it was "Gentle, yet Effective." And then woke up every hour because I thought I had to shit. But, I must admit, between rushes to the bathroom, that was the best sleep I've had in days.

On to other topics, Chemo's the best new diet ever! You guys should rush right out and get some. I heard this one girl, Kay or something, lost 10 pounds in a week! Yeah. I need to get me some of that.

But seriously, this shit blows, the first 2 days, I was starving, and sleeping like a champ. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep. Now, if I get 4 good hours of sleep a night I should count myself lucky, and forget about eating. My stomach rumbles, so I know it's hungry, but me, I'm not hungry. And the thought of food is sooooo not happening. I eat because I know I need to, but I'm almost gaggy. Nothing sounds good. Nothing tastes good. I had a fucking popsicle today, and even that didn't taste good. A popsicle. WTF tastebuds?!?!

My weekend I spent writhing around my bed and house, and not in a good way. It started with my mouth infection. My mouth was a fiery pit of death-pain. It just kept hurting. I didn't understand. Every time I produced saliva, it hurt even more. And everything you put in your mouth produces saliva people. Even water! Then I started getting a headache. By Sunday it was a full-blown migrane. I was dying. Slowly. In a horrible, melty, wicked-witch way.

I called my doc as soon as the office opened Monday and took my ass in. They ran my blood tests, gave me some drugs for the infected mouth (it's called Thrush or something... Babies and people with low white blood counts get it), and gave me a big ole bag of fluids cuz I was dehydrated.

I went to work for a whole 2 hours today before I punked out and realized I couldn't handle the truth. I'm getting better but I'm by no means fantastical. Or even good. My stomach's a punk ass little bitch. And I still can't sleep at night. But I'm seein yet another doctor tomorrow, and I'm hopeful maybe he'll hook me up with some sleeping pills that'll work. Cuz mine won't.

Much love to you all, I hope you're having a better week than I.

And to end the post on a totally dead-wrong note:
What did the deaf, dumb and blind kid get for Christmas.....?
Cancer.

It's Friday already?

2007-09-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not quite sure where the week went. I had the surgery to put my port in on Tuesday, but didn't do my chemo till Wednesday. Apparently during surgery my heart started beating too fast, so they wanted to get an echo test on my heart before starting chemo (basically an ultrasound of the heart). So I stayed the night, got my echo first thing in the morning, and started my chemo at 9 or 10 am.

They don't just hook you up to the chemo first thing though. I had to have a test dose of one of the drugs to make sure I didn't have a "reaction" to it. Then I had to wait an hour to see if I reacted. Then CrossBow showed up (she'd gone home Tuesday night, since she wasn't a prisoner.), and they put some sort of anti-anxiety/sleepy shit in my IV. It made me more relaxed but I sure as hell didn't sleep. Then they put my anti-nausea meds in. Then they started with the chemo. By this point, breakfast was long gone from my system, and I was craving a muffin, so I sent CrossBow out on a scouting mission. So I'm sitting there in my chair, hooked up to my chemo, eating a blueberry muffin. Not exactly the chemo I had pictured in my mind... Then CrossBow and I were a bit bored, so we were playing FamilyFeud on my laptop, and the nurses started joining in. It was pretty fun stuff.

On the way home we stopped at Arby's to grab some grub (for the life of me I can't remember what I had), and then Bow dropped me off at home.

I haven't worked since last Friday. As long as I'm feeling alright I'll be back on Monday. All I've been doing is sleeping, waking up to eat, and sleeping some more. I feel completely exhausted, but thanks to all the anti-nausea drugs, I haven't been hugging the toilet like I expected to.

They say my hair will fall out somewhere between the first and third weeks, so look out for that shit.

Much love to you all, I'm off to eat or sleep, I'm not really sure which.

Titles? We don't need no steenkin titles

2007-09-11T05:44:00.000-07:00

So it looks like I lied about the San Fran post. Eat me.

I'm actually working on it on my lap top. That story will also come later.

Don't have a whole lot of time right now. Crossbow's on her way over to pic me up and take me to the doc.

I went to the doc yesterday, and she made me get the Bone Marrow test. HolyMotherFuckingHell Batman! Don't ever do that. Ever. I don't care if you're dying. It is not The Lord.

Now I have 4 appointments today (3 were sheduled yesterday. Fun!) I have to watch some video and sign papers at 8 something, then see my ENT doc (to look at my neck scar) at 9 something. Then at 10 something I'll be prepping for surgery (I know! AFuckingNother one.) to put my port in, then after I wake up, I go downstairs and start my chemo! Yay me!

So, Love you kids, I've got to go. Enjoy your day and be thankful your doctor's not drilling a second hole in your ass (a public service statement brought to you by bone marrow tests.)

I've got a post for you

2007-09-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

It's just stuck in my brain.

Me and Hefe went to San Fran on Sunday, and had many adventures. I'm going to share them, and some pics, just not right now.

Crossbow's coming home Friday and I can't wait to see her.

I've been having some nasty sleeping problems lately, and I'm drained. I'm going back to my oncologist tomorrow, so hopefully I'll get some more info.

Any way, I'm here, I'm just not really here.

Much love, I'll try to get that post up soon,
Kay

I love you all

2007-09-01T23:15:00.000-07:00

Really, all of you.

Seriously.

How did I just finally hear Pink's "Dear Mr President" yesterday? Am I seriously that far out of the loop? I love on that song.

Look at that, I'm just full of love today.

So today my Hefe and I went to Yosemite National Park, and can I be the first to say that 4 hour drives behind douche-muffins who refuse to abide by the If5CarsAreBehindYourPullYourPunkAssOver Law can kiss my ass. Repeatedly.

So the drive kind of sucked. And we didn't really have any clue what exactly Yosemite held that was so great as to be worth a 4 hour drive each way, but it's a 4 day weekend, and we were bored. Hefe's lived here (collectively) for 4 years without having yet been, and I've seemed to have avoided it for the last 2.5. Maybe avoided isn't the right word. There's a lot of stuff around here I haven't gotten around to yet. For example: Reno, San Francisco, Lake Tahoe, Chico (a college town that's supposedly The Shit during Halloween)... Today was the first time I'd been through Stockton. I have no idea what's there. Maybe it's my inner SmallTownGirl that's causing all this hermitness in me. Maybe I'm not adventurous. Maybe it blows to go places alone, and most of my buds have already been everywhere (they've been here longer than me).

Back to the topic at hand, we finally got to one of the Park Entrances, and those fools want $20 bucks for a 7 day pass. Why the hell don't they have one day passes? Yeah, that's right, they're fucking people in the ass. In the ass folks. They give us a bunch of shite, a newspaper thing with a map, some useless booklet on the park, and your receipt from paying The Raping to enter the park (that you're supposed to hold onto and show the wonderfully frumpy looking park rangers upon exiting the park.) We decide that Yosemite Valley is probably where it's at, although we have no idea how long it's going to take to get there (windy ass roads + a map that doesn't really make much sense at all + millions of fools pulling over ever 5 seconds to take pictures = an inability to accurately gauge the distance vs time ratio.) Plus, we were one of those millions of fools pulling into every turnoff for a photo opp. My favorite picture from today (That I took. I haven't seen Hefe's pics from his camera yet): The classic "Hey Hefe, pose for me" = *Immediate shift into the Heisman Trophy Stance* Crazy kid. Doesn't he know that you're supposed to switch it up every now and then? Of course, all my attempts to look hardcore during pictures are ruined by me cracking up at the last minute; thus turning all my pictures into FroHead cheesin while in The Thinker pose. FroHead cheesin while looking hella buff. FroHead cheesin while throwing up the biggest standby in the book (the thumbs up). That's right. I am almost completely unable to take a picture that doesn't have a huge cheesy-ass grin. And if such a thing does happen, it's usually not the first take.

So after we bought some shit that's marketed to all Tool Bag tourists, we bailed and headed home. Deciding we were mildly hungry, we stopped off on the way home at a little place called Lucille's BBQ. I've been there once before, and this shit is awesome. Being me, I got my usual Chicken Caesar Salad, and Hefe got a chicken sandwich or something. During our wonderful dining experience, we somehow stumbled upon what was to become the most important part of this whole damn post. We were having a rather intense discussion (that followed us out into the parking lot, then continued for part of the drive home) regarding the appropriateness of trying to holler at a waitress in her workplace. Having just spent countless hours listening to a wonderful CD mix featuring such classic songs as Rod Stewart's "If You Think I'm Sexy," Donna Summers' "Hot Stuff," K.C. & The Sunshine Band's "Shake, Shake, Shake," and many others of that genre, Hefe's idea to get a waitress' attention was to step up to said waitress and say something along the lines of "Hey. If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, come on sugar let me know... I'm sure you get plenty of fools hitting on you every day, but maybe after you get off we could go out and shake shake shake, shake shake shake, shake our booties or something." This fool had so many cheesy ideas that I couldn't stop laughing the whole way out the door as I was adding my input and arguing that there is no way in hell a waitress wants to be hit on in her workplace, no matter how original it is. Then he was coming up with a bunch of shit I should have said to her. One was something about "On my way back from the restroom I overheard some guy saying that a pretty girl like you belongs at home in the kitchen, not out in the workforce. I had to beat his ass for making such sexist comments, and I think you should totally take me out to coffee sometime to thank me."

On a serious note, waitresses, bartenders, any and all people who have an opinion regarding this:
1) Such behavior would get a person bitch-slapped, right?
2) Is it ever appropriate to holler at a waitress/bartender/anyone at work?
3) Girls, has a chick ever hit on you?
4) What's the craziest shit some customer's ever said to you?
5) And finally, do you think either of these would have worked?

What say you? Do I win or lose the argument?
1) Hell yes
2) Hell no
3) Not that I can remember, no
4) I had some nasty old guy who'd come by every day (Back in my Barista days) and just made uncomfortable remarks about any and everything. It was a small-ass town and one could not tell off a customer if they wanted to continue to work in said town.
5) Hell to the no.

***I like to color fuzzy posters. I take pictures of my progress and text them to MarkyMark all the time. Today, you get pictures of my fantastic artwork instead of my nastyass neck. That's right. Be jealous of my mad skills.

Hey

2007-08-28T20:07:00.000-07:00

I've started this post so many times. It's not blogger's fault for once.

This post is rather difficult for me to figure out how to word, so I'm just gonna say it. And if it doesn't come out right, fuck it.

I got the lab results back last week. The results from my surgery. It was the bad news thing.

It turns out I have Hodgkins Disease. That's cancer of the lymph nodes. Of all the cancers to get, it's one of the best; it's got really good recovery odds.

When my doc told me, I first asked what Hodgkins was (cuz he wasn't exactly making it sound like the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol was about to roll up to my door). Then I cried a little; and apologized for crying. Dr Doc then says "Hey, you're 22 and just found out you have cancer, I expect you to cry." I still felt like a major wuss for crying in front of the guy. He then explained a bunch of stuff to me, and said the 2 oncologists in the clinic/hospital are really great doctors. He said if he didn't think so, he'd send me someplace else. Then he set me up an appointment for a full body CT scan, to find out if any of my other lymph nodes are fucked up.

I'll admit that when I got out to my truck that day, I bawled my eyes out for about 20 minutes. I called my Mommy and cried at her. I called MarkyMark but only got the voicemail and didn't want to cry into that.

So I go see my oncologist tomorrow. I should also get my CT scan results back then. I just want to get all the info and start this shit so I can hurry up and get it all behind me.

I also told ThanksGivingGirl the day I found out (cuz I was calling her to let her know I wouldn't be back at work the rest of the week cuz of the infection), and it just kinda came out. "TGG, I got my test results back. I have cancer. *CryCry*" She told my big boss and that's why him and the little posse came over to my house last wednesday.

I've told CrossBow, and she's been texting MarkyMark like crazy trying to make sure I'm ok. I think she's so worried cuz she's all the way down in Texas and can't do anything. Have I mentioned that I love CrossBow? She's a sweetheart. She's seriously one of the best friends you could ever wish for.

Another good friend of mine, a sweet little southern girl from Arkansas, called me the other day. She was askin how the surgery went, and I told her the wonderful news, and she said she's coming to see me. SouthernGirl even MySpaced MarkyMark to make sure I'm ok, and to say she'll be out in October to see me. Nevermind that SouthernGirl's never met MarkyMark. They spoke on the phone when I was in Mississippi a few years ago, and I talked about them so much to each other, they feel as if they know one another. SouthernGirl's also a sweetheart. She just went thru a rather nasty divorce, but she's with a new guy who seems to make her happy and I'm so thrilled. The Ex was a jackass.

Yet another great friend of mine, a runner from Oregon, said she'd try to come see me soon. She was my roommate when I lived in Maryland, and is like a sister to me. She's in SoCal right now, househunting with her husband, and due to have a baby in a few months. This sweetheart, RunnerGirl (I'm so original with names aren't I?), told me that she's not sure if Lymph nodes can be donated, but she'd totally give me hers. How could you not love a girl like that? Even if she is unfortunate enough to be from Oregon... I haven't seen RunnerGirl in almost 3 years. I really need to get off my ass and go see her, it's only like 6 hours. She hasn't met MarkyMark either, but they pretty much know each other, same thing as above.

When shit hits the fan, it feels good to know your friends are there for you. I know I'm going to be rocking the Bic'd head look by the end of the year, and that my friends are already talking about wig-shopping with me (which I'm so not doing, wigs really weird me out), really makes me feel good. CrossBow said I'd better still be able to go out with them, cuz she doesn't want to leave me out. Honestly, I just think it's gonna be hilarious to be called my nickname (everyone calls me Fro. always) when I'm hella bald. I mean seriously... Think about it.

My parents offered to drive here immediately when I told them. I told them that's unnecessary, I haven't even been to the oncologist to find out any info yet. My mother said if I need anything, or decide at any time that I want her here, my parents will do whatever.

So ThanksGivingGirl, CrossBow, SouthernGirl, RunnerGirl, MarkyMark, Hefe, and all the rest of my friends and family, I love you all. Love Love Love.

This kind of makes me wish I'd told my parents some things when they were here a few weeks ago. I just feel there's a lot of things we've just never come out and said you know? I know they don't like MarkyMark, so I've never bothered to tell them about us. For 3 1/2 years. We don't live together, so it hasn't been a pressing issue, but I really feel like I passed up a golden opportunity. Maybe I'm just freaking out and want everything cleared up. On the one hand, I'm not really scared, but on the other, I'm fucking terrified. I don't know man, I don't know.

I'm going to leave you now with the happy image of my neck, taken for you today. And I rocked it to work like this, all uncovered and nasty. (Dr. Doc told me to keep it uncovered for now when I saw him yesterday.) And if you look closely, you can see the hole they re-opened that the string was hanging out of until yesterday. Fun!

Sup Bitches?

2007-08-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

So I went to my doc yesterday and now I don't have to go back to work for the rest of the week! Eat it and like it.
My neck wasn't just infected, it was FUCKING infected. It was bad. Dr Doc had to reopen my fucking neck wound and clean it out, then he put something up in there to help it drain, and I have a little string hanging out that I have to pull out in 4 days. I'm all... "So essentially I have a tampon in my neck?" That's right kids. Hefe's already declared my new name to be bloody tampon. Isn't it great? Be jealous.
So I have to keep gauze right at the hole to catch drainage, and we all know gauze doesn't just stay there by itself. So, drumroll please, I introduce you all to the latest craze, the shirtless turtleneck. Eets so sexy! Ees too sexy! Don't be jealous, please.

My BigBoss is on his way to my house for a talk, (I know, I know, WTF?), so I've got to go. I'll be back. Much love.

The one with the pictures

2007-08-17T04:04:00.000-07:00

This is a pic from as soon as I got home, the day of surgery. Wonderfully healthy looking isn't it? They put some clear glue/goop/something on it to seal it, and no stitches. Then yesterday that bullshit started to get swollen, but not really swollen enough that I could get a good picture.

The orange band says I'm a fall risk. It doesn't get much funnier than that. Unless, of course, I actually had fallen. I would have laughed my ass off at that. So they pushed me around in a wheelchair absolutely everywhere, even to the bathroom. I tried telling all the nurses, med techs, and anyone else around that I was perfectly capable of walking, but... No love.

Ok kids, I've taken more drugs and am really wanting my bed again.
Love to you all, thanks for all the well-wishes.

hey

2007-08-16T07:39:00.000-07:00

Surgery was yesterday.
Everything went fine, no worries.
I feel like I've been judo-chopped in the neck.
It hurts to swallow anything.
I have Percocet.
I can only talk in a whisper.
The docs said it probably won't leave a scar.
If you want a pic I'll post one later.
I'm tired and going back to bed.

Love love.

Yes, I've been horrilbly horrible

2007-08-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

The parentals got here at 8 ish this morning. We went to IHOP to get some breakfast, talked some, and now they're sleeping. They were on the road for 14 ish hours? Maybe more. I don't know. They stop to eat real meals, MarkyMark and I usually eat in the truck. I'm not sure how long I should expect them to crash for. MarkyMark and I are usually out for about 12 hours after that marathon drive, but my parents are different.

As I'm sure you've guessed, I took today off work. I suppose I didn't really need to, since they'll be sleeping all day, but whatever.

Sorry I've been AWOL. I either haven't had anything to say, or I've been so beat by the time that I get home that I just completely crash. I don't even cook dinner most nights, just pass out.

I got Starbucks with Hefe last night, and we just chilled at his house talking till like 11. I don't know what it is, but me and that guy can just talk about the randomest shit for hours. We only shut up last night cuz I looked at my phone and saw that it was 11, and he had to work today. I stopped in at a 24 hour store for some necessary groceries last night, and ended up talkin to some weird (and I think drunk) dude for like 15 minutes. It was funny, he was going on and on about how Sacramento has a secret fued going on between all the different races, and how houses get burned down and shit. Crazy dude...

When I got home I cleaned up the house some. Just tryin to make it not appear to be so much of a war zone. I think I finally went to bed at 1 something.

When I went to my orthopedic surgeon last week she said my knee's lookin great, and I don't need to see her anymore. I was tellin her about my new problem, and she gave me about 2 week's worth of pills, and said to call her and let her know if they were working or not, and she'd write me a perscription. I guess these pills are something they've started using on people with Fibromyalgia. Dudes, they are the shit. While they don't take away all my pain (nothing does anyway), they do make it so I don't get the brain fog, which my last pills didn't do. This doc is fucking awesome. She said she was helpin me out cuz she likes me, and doesn't think someone my age needs to be using a frickin cane to walk. After she said that though I started thinking, why does this chick like me? I mean, there's nothing I could really see. It's been bugging me. She told me if there's ever anything I need, just call and she'll try to help me out. Which is awesome, but that I don't know why is bugging me. I know, just shut up Kay.

Then I met with my normal doc Tuesday, just to follow up on my million things going on. I've got a pre-op on the 6th, and surgery on the 15th. He said the Cat scan results (I've had two) can't tell if my lump/tumor/whatever in my neck is benign or malignant, so they definately want it out. They'll do testing on the tissue afterwards to find out if it's bad news. So I'll be out of work approx 5 days for that. Then after I'm fixed up from that I need to get the wisdom teeth out. And why wouldn't I be blessed with all four? My dentist said the bottom ones are in sideways, so they'll need to drill those bad boys out. It's cool though. After my first surgery I'm not really freakin out anymore. I'm cool with anyone cutting into me for whatever they need. I know it'll be alright. I'm not looking forward to the IV, but I'll do whatever I need to to get this shit straightened out.

(If you're a bit queasy about blood and needles you might just want to skip this):
I set a new personal record at the Lab this week. I needed one more blood test, just one little bottle. I walked in and said, "I don't want to be that guy, but can I request that either *Betty* or *Wilma* draw my blood today?" The chick sitting at the desk (we'll call her Pebbles, since she's a bit younger than my requested techs) remembered me, since she tries every time I go in there to get my blood, and fails every time. So Betty tried first, and stuck my right arm, with no love. Then I asked if she wanted to go for the hand, since that's what she had success with last time. She said if I was down, she'd give it a try. No love there either. The vein was moving in my hand, it just kept scooting away from the needle. Betty says she's done, and Pebbles asks if she can give it a try, since Wilma works in another part of the clinic now, and they're only to call her for emergencies. I tell Pebbles to go for it, I don't have a preference who tries. She also tries the right arm, since the veins there just feel better than the left arm. No love. The ladies feel so bad that they keep stabbing and stabbing me, but I feel bad because I'm making their job suck. Pebbles only tries once, then calls Wilma. So we're waiting for her to get there, and I ask if I can just paper-cut my finger and squeeze the blood into the little tube or something. They laughed and said they wished. Wilma shows, and they already have her little lab coat ready and waiting. I tell her that she's the super-hero who always sticks it on the first try, and she laughed and said I probally jinxsed her now. She tried the left arm, since the other was rather pin-cushioned by this time. No love. She must have nicked it or something though, cuz by the time she pulled the needle out there was a nice bruise already forming. So she went back to the right arm, and gets the vein instantly. They fill the little bottle in no time, and tape me up. I told them that I love them all, but really hope I don't have to come back and see them ever again. They're a great bunch of ladies, it's just not fun for any of us when I have to come see them. My doc even apologizes every time he has to send me to the lab. I'm not a squeamish about the needles anymore, though I don't like them by a long shot. I just try to joke and laugh about it, cuz otherwise it'll blow. And laughing's always fun. I know it's gonna suck, they know it's gonna suck, so why not at least have some fun with it? Maybe I should just learn to do it myself. Some other dude walked in for his own bloodwork when I was on my 4th poke, and he was watching all the trouble it was with me. I told him that they're all very good at their job... He laughed and didn't look so sure at all.

It was just MarkyMark's birthday. It kind of sucks not being able to celebrate birthdays together, but I get to make up for it soon. I love MarkyMark. We had quite a scare the other day because PieCat was missing. Marky was really starting to worry about her, she'd been missing for about 8 hours. PieCat was found in the shed, apparently MarkyMark's gramp had locked her in there on accident. MarkyMark washed her up, and she has barely left Marky's side since. Poor girl.

When my grandmother went on her little road trip this summer, her and gramps stopped at some garage sales (as usual), and found something they thought was perfect for me. I admit, when I first heard about it I said Hell-to-the-no! To my grams. Yeah, I'm a great kid... But then the idea started to not be quite as creepy. And now that's it's arrived (my parents brought him), I think it's mad cool. Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Rowdy (his tempory name, a homage to the stuffed dog on Scrubs). I keep catching him out of the corner of my eye and thinking he's moved. I keep freakin myself out. But I love him. How many people do you know that have someone's taxidermied dog from a garage sale in their freakin house? I'm not too sure MarkyMark will find it as awesome as I do...

Crossbow's off in Texas for some sort of super-special training. She won't be back till late September. By that time Hefe will be gone for his bullshit in North Carolina. And ThanksgivingGirl's leaving to go home to the east coast for 2 weeks. All my bro's are leaving me. I was thinking the other day, and I really need to get out and get some new friends. Really. Cuz in our job, you never know, they could decide to transfer any of my buds at any time. And then I'm completely assed out. I guess everyone doing their training and vacations just has me depressed or some shit. It just blows that once you get close to someone they leave (StapleGun, Choncho's leaving this weekend, SwimBoy has like a month left till his contract's up and he'll be leaving. He doesn't want to renew the contract, the wifey wants to move back to her home state of Florida.) I need friends that aren't from my work, so I don't have to worry about them leaving my ass all the time.

Whatever, I've rambled long enough, I'm gonna take a nap. Much love to you all, and I'll try to update more often. Try.

No title

2007-07-22T20:17:00.000-07:00

I'm lovin on this video. I just saw it on Ifilm; it's dumb but it makes me laugh:

Kelly Clarkson tries to charm a cobra on a Danish talkshow

Anyho, haven't done much this weekend. Friday night was craft night at ThanksgivingGirl's house. We made chocolates this time, but it wasn't as much fun as making soap, so I don't think we'll be doing that again. Just kind of boring. Melt choco, put in molds, that's it. The soap you could color, and add scent to, there was so much more to do. I have no idea what we'll be doing next time, I suppose we'll talk about that some time this week.

Then Saturday I went out with ThanksgivingGirl, her WeeMan (son), and boyfriend. On the way to her house, I was plauged with AssHole drivers at every turn. First, some douche parked so close to my truck I had to climb in thru my passenger door (why does this shit Always happen to me? Is there some magical sign on the back of my truck that says "You should totally park way over the line into my parking spot. I won't mind.") Then, just as the highway drops down to one lane I got stuck behind some bastard in a semi who decided he needed to do exactly the speedlimit and not one tiny bit over. He finally pulls off, and as I'm catching up to the cars in front of me, some other douche turns right in front of me, causing me to hit my brakes and horn simultaneously. The thing is, this little fucker had his middle finger up at me Before I even hit my horn, so he Knew he was dead wrong. That shit pissed me the hell off.

Once I actually got to TGG's place, we went to Ihop, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Then we went to some outlet mall just to dink around. WeeMan ended up getting a bit of a sunburn, and got rather cranky on the ride home, so TGG's boyfriend pulled over to get him some milk. It was like a fucking miracle, bring out the milk and WeeMan's mood changes instantly, like there was never anything to cry about. This boy better grow into the fucking Hulk or something, the way he's all about getting his calcium on...

Then when I got home, I was just relaxing, and the neighbors from upstairs knocked on my door to see if I wanted to go to this Festival they had going on all weekend (which is why parking was such a bitch at my house all weekend. God bless living in downtown). I said I had to change, and the dude handed me his card with his cell number on it, saying to give him a call when I got out there (the fest was like a block from the house). So I changed, hit up the ATM, and give him a call. No answer, that's cool, I start walking, checking out the fest, keeping an eye out for the neighbors... About 10 minutes (and 3 or 4 blocks) later, I call again. Still no answer. Alright, so he can't hear his phone. That's cool. I wandered down to the end of the fest, turned around, wandered back the other side, watched some BMX dudes do their thing for the crowd, bought a couple things from booths, and went home. It got me out of the house for an hour, and I'm not bitter, shit happens.

Then today I went out to breakfast with Hefe, came back here to work on his essays for his English class (he uses my printer, and I proofread them as he bounces ideas off me). Then we went over to his place, made some brownies and watched the latest episode of Big Love on HBO On Demand. After that, I got my groceries and went home, only to be bitter about the lack of parking (this time due to the church right next door being in session), and muttered horrible things under my breath the 4 trips from my truck to my house.

Next week I have a billion appointments to include, but no limited to: another CT scan, a meeting with my orthopedic surgeon to review my right knee and discuss her sick plans to go into my left knee, a couple more physical therapy sessions, a physical therapy re-eval, and a routine dentist appointment. My normal doc wants me to schedule a follow up with him just to see where we are with all the millions of appointments I have going on, and decide what to do next about the "Abnormality" on my rib. Sweetness. The parentals are 12 days out. They're planning on taking my old truck back home with them. I'm going to miss him very much, but I realize it's probably for the best. There aren't really any "good" days for me anymore, so I don't ever drive him... And I'll be transfering the title back into their name, so they'll be taking over insurance, which is another 70 bucks in my pocket every month...

Hope your weekends were more eventful than mine.
Much love.

Weeee ken'D

2007-07-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

I'm terribly sorry I haven't updated and kept you all in the loop. I've still got some major brain fog due to the pain pills I take every day, so today's post will be in the form of a list, as usual. Some of the things I've had/have going on:

I was supposed to go see AC/DShe last night with Crossbow, her mom, and ThanksgivingGirl, but Crossbow dogged us out. So instead, ThanksgivingGirl came over here and we made soap. We both decided last week that we want to do crafts and such, so we're going to have a weekly craft night. We made soap Friday and Saturday night, and are a bit burned out on it now. But that's ok, we've got all the stuff to make chocolate candies this coming Friday.

I found out I don't have breast cancer (but I kind of want a second opinion to find out what is going on. Scary stuff.)

I still haven't had a housewarming party. I'm not sure I want to have one, cuz then people I don't really like will know where I live. Right now only Hefe, Crossbow (and her husband), ThanksgivingGirl, and of course MarkyMark have been here. I'm completely ok leaving it that way.

ThanksgivingGirl has a cute new kitten named Nora. She's a feisty little devil too

I finally washed one of my trucks (first time since before the surgery). And then it goes and rains that night and my truck looks like hot ass again.

I made a kick-ass potroast

My parents decided they're coming to visit the first weekend in August (watch the news for word of a double-murder in Nor Cal...)

I read a hilarious book by Augusten Burroughs

This is the most beautiful thing in the world. If any of you crazy kids come to the housewarming party I won't be having, we shall drink much Kokanee, and play much air hockey.

I got a CT Scan

I got a tiny, tube-like video camera shoved up my nose by a doctor

I had another doctor stab me in the neck a couple times in order to extract cells to examine them under a microscope

We made all this frickin soap yesterday. Lots of different colors and smells. The top half is what I kept, and the bottom half went home with ThanksgivingGirl. It got to the point when we were making it that we were just closing our eyes and grabbing a scent or color, because we just didn't care anymore. Amazing how fast you can get burned out...

Hefe has started coming over on Sunday mornings to type and print off his weekly essays for an English class he's in (he doesn't have a printer). I review it and offer my suggestions, and we usually end up discussing all sorts of things, eventually leading to one of us saying the world is a fucked up place. And when he leaves I go grocery shopping for the week

I've got to go to the Ear Nose and Throat doc again tomorrow

Ok, I think I'm done.
Much love to you all, hope you enjoy what's left of the weekend.

I'll post a real post later, can't think right now

2007-07-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

9 lasts:
Last dollar spent: Filled my gas tank yesterday
Last cigarette: n/a
Last movie: Ocean's 13
Last phone call: MarkyMark
Last song played: something from KT Tunstall's Eye to the Telescope
Last bubble bath: beginning of June ish
Last time you cried: Tuesday night
Last thing you ate: A big ole bowl of fruit

8 have you evers:
Have you ever dated a best friend: Yeah, it can be good
Have you ever skinny dipped: never
Have you ever kissed somebody and regretted it: once
Have you ever lost someone you loved: nope
Have you ever been dumped: nope
Have you ever been drunk and threw up: lots
Have you ever ran away: nah
Have you ever wanted someone u thought u couldnt have then found out they liked you: nope

7 states you've been to:
1. Washington
2. Cali
3. Texas
4. Mississippi
5. Maryland
6. Minnesota
7. New York

6 things you've done today-in no particular order:
[assuming the day started at midnight]
1. Ate breakfast
2. Talked to MarkyMark
3. Ate lunch
4. Popped pills
5. Went to Physical Therapy
6. Took a nap

5 of your favorite things in no order:
1. Weeds on Showtime
2. A nice hot cup of tea
3. A long weekend spent with good friends
4. Air Conditioning
5. Frozen Oreos

4 people you can tell [almost] anything to in no order:
1. MarkyMark
2. Crossbow
3. Hefe
4. That's pretty much it

3 things that make you smile:
1. ThanksGivingGirl's new kitten
2. TGG's Wii (I spent all afternoon and evening yesterday at her house)
3. MarkyMark's silliness

2 things you want to do before you die:
1. Live with MarkyMark
2. Adopt

1 one thing you can't live with out:
1. My family of friends (And of course MarkyMark is included in that)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In case you hadn't noticed a recurring theme: MarkyMark just left me to return home after spending 6 beautiful days in my new house. I love when we're able to be together, but it takes me a while to regroup and get used to being alone again.

God Bless Mondays

2007-06-25T23:29:00.000-07:00

I had to go to the doc twice today. The second time was to redo some blood work they took on Friday. Apparently it wasn’t supposed to have light touch it, so they goofed. On Friday they stabbed me twice, and finally got blood on the 3rd jab, but not before they blew a vein in my right arm. Today, I should have been so lucky. They tried once to get blood from my right arm, then that girl gave up, the next dude taps the veins on my right arm and I jump. He asks if it hurts, and I explain that yes, it’s still bruised, and it’s not the Lord. He jabs the left arm once without success, and then goes and grabs some other higher-up. The usual lady who can get blood out of me is on vacation, so we haven’t got that to fall back on… This new lady tries another jab to my left arm, with no luck, and then I tell them to go for the hands. She asks if I’m sure, since it’s up to me whether or not we keep going after 3 jabs. I told them to keep going, cuz I’m not going to want to come back any other day. I have very tricky veins kids. They appear to be fat and easy, and then the tech jabs, and can’t find the damn things. So this high-up chica jabbed my hand and managed to find a vein, got her blood, and let me out of there. I walked out, using my cane, with those bright wraps on my right and left arms, and a band aid on my right hand, and told some dude in the waiting room who was looking at me “stay away from the lab…”

The reasoning behind my first appointment was even less pleasant: It’s something I (rather stupidly) have been avoiding. I knew I should get it checked, but GodDamnIt, I was scared. I had to get a breast exam because I had a lump. The doc is now sending me to get a mammogram. Not something any female wants to do. Especially since my aunt had breast cancer. It might be nothing, it might be something, I guess this is just a lot of shit to deal with all at once.

So in other news, I got my furniture on Friday, so now my place is shagadelic. That’s right, Austin “Danger” Powers gave it his stamp of approval.

MarkyMark will be coming for a visit soon. I can’t wait. I miss Mark.

InnerVoices, that's a big fat shaft. Sorry bro.

Holly, I'm down. I am totally down. And if you ever want a break, you can crash at my place as long as you need.

Much love kids, night.

I'm so not dead

2007-06-21T00:03:00.000-07:00

I don't really have a legitimate excuse for disappearing but I'm about to attempt a brilliant explanation, if I do say so myself.

1) I had knee surgery.

2) I had to pack to move into the new house.

3) I moved into the new house, which didn't have my cable hooked up immediately because Comcast had to schedule a hookup appointment, and my schedule's rather full of Physical Therapy appointments.

4) I haven't gotten my furniture delivered from "home" yet, so it's not exactly the bestest thing ever to be browsin the net from my floor. Cuz that's what I'm doing right now. Just for you.

5) I got a slight promotion at work, and haven't really got an office at the moment, which makes it difficult to blog at work.

6) I had a birthday which sucked mightily and I had to drown my sorrows. Still workin on that.

7) I have many many doctors appointments, filled with lots of bloodwork, non-answers, pain, painkillers that don't work and just make me sick, more appointments, less answers, 2 more surgeries in the near future, and a general sense of helplessness and depression.

So, that's pretty much it. I'm not going to pretend to drop some heartfelt apology on you, and you don't have to pretend to care.

I bought my first ever oil painting this weekend between going to the gym and the pool with CrossBow (we were going to eat some greasy fast food when I spotted it.) I'm in love with it, and it now hangs in my bedroom. With my floor-bed and my tiny tv.

My furniutre and such might get delivered this week.

I miss MarkyMark so much. I think the depression isn't helping much. Neither is not being able to sleep. I'm a wee bit stessed out:
I've got approximately 11 months left with this job, which means less than 11 months to figure out what the hell's going on with me medically before I'm without medical coverage.
I don't know where my life's going.
I'm getting old.
I have no concrete plans for my future.
In 11 months, may I come crash with one of you if me and Marky don't work out? I have no problem with sleeping on floors, and I have my own sleeping bag. Just don't hide my cane while I'm sleeping alright?
I believe I might have Fibromyalgia
I've got to try to get to sleep now or I'll be a trainwreck in the morning.

Sorry I haven't posted in so long. I have a million thoughts rambling through my head and none of them are worth sharing. Just saying I'm here, I'm alive, and I miss you all.

Wednesday Hilarity

2007-05-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

Prettiest Girl In The Room I just found this video on Break.com. It had me cracking the fuck up up.

I move out Friday and haven't even begun to pack or do any of the last laundry loads I know I should do before I leave... Probably need to jump on that tonight.

I'm on my way to the doctor's right now to see if we can figure out the source of the joint pain.

Much love to you all and happy Wednesday.

It's almost the weekend. Almost.

2007-05-22T19:47:00.000-07:00

I've got a 4 day weekend coming up, and I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it. Well, I'll do the best I can from my crutches. I think it's time to go out and get trashed again, but we'll see. I didn't go out at all with StapleGun while she was here. That makes me a bit sad, she's always a blast. The timing was just never right though. Crossbow just went home to TheBay and went out with her old homies, so not sure if she'll be down. I should probably start packing my shit up, but I know I won't. I'm a bit of a procrastinator. Just a wee bit.

Look at the beauty of Mi Casa! It's the downstairs part with the open door. A big beautiful beauty. June first that new house is mine kids! I don't have words to convey just how happy this makes me. And I know the place isn't new; it's actually rather old, but that's part of its charm. This will be the first place that's mine and only mine. I have no idea what I'm going to do with 3 freakin bedrooms, Lord knows I don't have enough furniture to fill it... Me and Hefe have joked about him moving in with me, but I doubt that'll happen. He's got his own place, and I know he needs his space sometimes. Hell, so do I. Plus, he's still my boss. Such things are frowned upon at my work. Actually, they're not so much frowned upon as downright forbidden. And since I kick it with everyone I work with, I doubt such thing would stay a secret. If only MarkyMark could relocate. That would make everything perfect. Plus, I'd then have custody of PieCat, since she resides with MarkyMark. God I miss that cat. She's my sweet little girl. That's PieCat with a ginormous Teddy Bear I may or may not have bought for MarkyMark one Valentine's before I was informed that MarkyMark strongly dislikes stuffed animals. But MarkyMark still has it, 2 years later... That's love. Or something.

Garbage is releasing a Best Of cd mid June, and I'm so getting it. It's going to have one (or was it two?) new song(s), a DVD of a bunch of the songs live, and, of course, the best shite they've ever released (according to some network exec who's probably never listened to them in his life...)

And my girls The Donnas are releasing a new CD sometime this summer. This is a good year musically kiddies. For me anyway.

I've got to go. My knee's tweakin like a mother-fucker, and I need to go ice it (Ice ice baby). If only my painkillers didn't make me so damn loopy, then I might still be taking them.

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack!

2007-05-18T10:38:00.000-07:00

Good morning boys and girls. Today we're going to talk about me. Like that's something out of the ordinary...

I just got a fantabulousa phone call kiddies. The 3 bedroom place a block from Starbucks that I looked at a couple weeks ago is mine! BwaHaHaHa. I'm so stoked. This is the first place I actually filled out the app for, and I get it! I just have to go meet with the LandladyChica and sign some paperwork. Never mind that they think Hefe is my boyfriend (well, he looked at the place with me, and we've both been calling them to find out what's up, so I suppose I can understand.)

Today's my first day drug-free. I know the day's not nearly over yet, but the morning is when I usually reach for the pill bottle, and I haven't yet. Yea me!

At my Post-Op Monday I discovered that they did indeed snip off a little chunk of my meniscus, and did a "lateral release" on my tendon (this little release will let my kneecap go back where it's supposed to).

Hefe just called and said he's down to go with me to sign my paperwork whenever the chica said. (Not that he's signing with me. Just, I still can't drive yet, so I'm still bumming rides.)

Dudes, Ms Dewey is the best site ever. It's an interactive search engine and I love it! I just like killing time clicking "Best of Dewey." Go check it out.

My knee is really nasty looking, the skin is hella irritated. But I'm going to be nice and not post a picture of that because, well, some people blog during lunch, and that picture and lunch would not work out very well.

StapleGun is gone again, and she will be missed. Her SignificantOther flew into town yesterday, and they took off for a quick visit to San Fran, and then a major roadtrip to Texas. Hawaiian doesn't think StapleGun and S/O will last and we even placed a wager on it. Maybe Hawaiian's just a romantic pessimist... Or maybe I'm overyly optimistic in a totally delusional way. Who knows. I think StapleGun and the S/O are good together, but hey, whatever.

It's shower time kids, we'll see how that works out. If I fall down and bust a hip, don't be all "I told you so." It's more polite to just point and laugh.

Hey kids

2007-05-08T23:09:00.000-07:00

I had my surgery this afternoon. My leg is wrapped from just above my knee all the way down to my foot and has been propped up since I got home at 4 pm. It hurts a bit, but I've been in more pain. I'm taking my pills religiously, and icing every hour or two. I'm awesome on crutches, and I'm allowed to put some weight on it.

Thanksgiving girl picked me up at 1030, stayed with me thru my nurse jabbing the fuck out of my hand to put my IV in, then when he switched to the other and finally managed to get it in. She left me at 1230. and I really appreciate her being there for me. She kept me entertained and laughing. She laughed her ass off when my nurse told me to stip and put on the sexy gown and I asked "EVERYthing?" and my nurse said I could "keep my panties on" (because TGG knows I hate that word).

Crossbow picked me up after I woke up at 230, and got me food and took me home. I'm feeling hella nauseous this second and need to go lay down before I hurl.

Thanks for all the well wishes.

K loves California, and California loves K

2007-05-06T23:58:00.000-07:00

This is just medical shit. Seriously. I went out this weekend ISH but I'm not writing about that one yet. Give me some time or painkillers I can actually take or something. I'll write about it, I just want to get this bullshit out before I forget and my frustration is forgotten.

My PreOp went as well as one could expect a PreOp to go I guess. Old Boy I talked to (I guess he's the PA for the two orthopedic docs and he does all the PreOp briefings) didn't really have many answers for me. Not even how long my surgery would take. Apparently everything really depends on what DoctorLady finds when she goes into my knee. Example: k-"So, how long will my surgery take?" OldBoy-"Well, it could be about an hour, but depending on what DoctorLady finds, it could be longer or shorter." Ok. k-"Any clue how long she'll recommend I be away from work? Just so I can give my work a heads up and maybe start my paperwork?" OldBoy-"It really depends on what she finds. Some people are back at work then next week, some people are away for a few weeks." WTF... Aright.

Trying to get any sort of definite answers, or anything taken care of ahead of time seemed to be met with a general sense of "Don't fuck up the rotation." So I don't know what they'll be doing to me, what kind of anesthesia I'll be getting (he said sort of a combo of local and general but he wasn't really sure), what kind of prescription I'll be needing (but I'm going to have to get it after my surgery now, thanks Mr Asshat), if I'll be on crutches or shoved into a chair or still rockin that pimp ass cane, I don't even know when my surgery is yet. The whole PreOp process seemed to be broken to me. Then I had to go to some other offices, where they all said I needed blood work, and I told them I already had it, and it was in my file at OldBoy/DoctorLady's office. Then I had to go get a fun fun EKG.

If you've never been to a cardiology office, let me give you the lowdown right now. There will be many people old enough to be your grandparents. They will all know each other. Most of them have the same doctor. Most of them have had the same procedure. Approx half of them will rock a cane. They will all get into the office before you, whereupon a new batch of them will arrive in the waiting room. They will also all know each other. They will compare surgeries. They will know all the people coming out of the doc's office on their way to Sweet Sweet Freedom. After almost an hour of waiting in a room with all these wonderful people, you will finally get called into The Back by someone who mispronounces your name. If they by some miracle manage get your name right, you're probably in the wrong office's waiting room and they're calling someone else. So you go back to some little room and some "nurse" hooks you up to a machine, all the while babbling and trying to molester you because she can't figure out how to attach the little sticky things to your chest and make the chords stay attached. She said my chest was too big, but then admitted to being a children's nurse just filling in for the short-staffed Cardiology office. I've never gotten that particular complaint, thankyouverymuch. Whatever. WhoreFace.

OldBoy said all my blood work came back fine, but that arthritis can be a sneaky little bastard where those blood tests are concerned. It can show for (he didn't actually give me a real time frame, because that would have been something helpful for him to say) but he said for several tests it can show as not being present or whatever, and then all the sudden it'll show *Poof* You've got arthritis! When in reality it was there the whole time. And he also wants me to get my Thyroid checked out, cuz that can cause some joint pain too. Aright. Whatever. I'll do any tests they want. I don't care anymore. They've broken me, I'll admit it.

God. It's tomorrow. I've only got one more day. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Really? A nice gayboy in a kilt this weekend told me I should get checked for Sjogren's Syndrome. Yeah, say that 5 times fast. There are so many damn things out there, how are more people not hypochondriacs?