Much time is going to be lost to new game.

Stubbing your toe is the true masochist's injury. You get that whole half-second to realize what's about to come and that there's nothing you can do about it.

I can't believe I've now gone to three malls in two days in prime Christmas shopping season. Not only that but we managed to find the game after two stores. Bad timing to want something new now.

Andrew let me create a character on his Final Fantasy XI account to try out the game and see if I like it. I'm officially switching over, canceling my Earth & Beyond account, and he bought me the game for an anniversary present.

Woman Knocked Unconscious While Shopping at Wal-Mart

A couple years ago I got to fly back home to see my mom for Thanksgiving, a nearly spontaneous weekend trip. We went to Wal-Mart Friday at 5 in the morning to experience the day-after madness. It was easy enough for me since I never left Seattle-time mentally. The store was actually open already, letting people browse but not turning on the cash registers until starting time. My mom was disappointed because she wanted the line-up and rush in experience.

Selina, Jeremy, Mary, and I actually went out shopping/people-watching today, much later in the day. Thankfully people seem to tire out some by the evening and clear out, along with their cranky kids. People, leave your kids at home. I don't know if dragging them through the mall making them unhappy, making you unhappy, and making everyone around you unhappy, is supposed to "build character" or what, but don't do it. We don't need more bodies in the crowd. The same goes for dogs at festivals. Your big dog is either going to get in the way when there isn't room for the people to get through, or your little dog is going to get stepped on.

Contrary to popular belief, stumbling around drunk to music does not count as dancing. Extra points for not being able to tell if you're actually drunk or just really can't dance though.

Is it hypocritical to make fun of a song you used to like but would be too embarrassed to admit to now?

I doesn't think I've ever understood the phrase, 'I think my head's going to explode' so completely before today. I'm sure this is my first actual fear that people are going to be stepping over me as I pick up little pieces of my head.

Unrelated, but might as well be: Karla has two vacation days left when it looked like she was done, and she's using them to take Fridays off in December. She certainly has greater claim with me taking Christmas week off, but I was going to use Fridays off to go to the Grind Thursday nights.

I switched my days so I should be taking off the 8th. 12th (Mondays) and Friday the 15th. I'm wondering though, who put their vacation request in first? (Neither seem to have been responded to.) Every time I put in a vacation request or notify of a doctor's appointment I get asked "Have you told Karla?" I don't know if there's a double standards, if I appear the troublemaker here, or if she lies and ignores me. I've never been told about her vacations—had to figure out the last one from the sign she put up and the time before that I only knew she was leaving at all when I overheard her talking about her trip. Still, I'm going to be the one to get in trouble for being uncommunicative.

A Weight Watchers group has started at work. The last thing I want is my coworkers scrutinizing my weight and my eating habits but a lot of people seem to have joined. Sabotaging the effort was someone going around with homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. "But they're only two points!" Mmmm, guilt-free (for me) cookie.

I took one of my boots to be fixed Sunday (zipper replaced and hole patched) so I'm having to wear my Docs most of the weekend—which is fine because they're my favorite boots but I have a limited amount of things I can wear with them.

I also have my appointment at the clinic after work, with any luck followed by the pharmacy. Part of me says I want to look presentable while another part says no, you want to look crazy and uninsured.

My number one weird happy-clicker search query for the day has to be 'obliterating animal carcasses with explosives'.

After all of that I finally have my package from Amazon with my two CDs. I'm listening to Conjure One, Redemption. I want to have that singer's love child.

Amazon gave me a sample pack of Listerine PocketPaks embedded in my packing slip.

They stick to the roof of my mouth and I'm not sure if that's the intended effect. The fumes go up through my nose like good wasabi.

Extreme ironing – ' the latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt.'

I was just about to the bus stop when the bus went around the corner. 'I'll never make it' I thought but I took off running. The last person got on the bus and it was hopeless so I started walking. The bus stayed there with its door open. It's waiting. So I ran again. Just as I was nearly there, it closed its doors and went on.

Eight 'to base' buses passed while I waited.

If a rain forest is define by rainfall, so that we can have the only non-tropical rainforest, and a desert is also defined by precipitation, so that Antarctica is a desert, then world a wooded area that gets enough snow be a snow forest?

Walking through the UPS parking lot I saw a painted pick-up truck that said 'Fairy Godmothers'. It seemed to be a business of some sort. I didn't know fairy godmothers drove pick-up trucks.

Next to it was a car with a www.jesus.calm bumper sticker. I don't think that's a valid top level domain.

I'm trailing loose hair like Pig Pen and his dust cloud. Shaving my head seems again like a viable option.

When ever day is "one of those days" the phrase no longer has any meaning. You lose your "one of those days" invoking privileges.

It's known that smell and pheromones have a lot to do with attraction. Silly people keep trying to deny that we have anything to do with the rest of the animal kingdom. Why wouldn't it be the same for us?

What's weird is when you're close enough to someone to notice their natural smell, or their natural smell combined with whatever personal hygiene products are enhancing it, and it's not unpleasant. If not unpleasant it must therefore be attractive, and there are certain people where it will break your head to think of them as attractive or not.

Something else I'm learning from this job is that there's only so far you can physically roll your eyes before you have to give up altogether and get out of there. Everyone here talks like they're talking to small children or Teletubbies with another year's language development, the former to the latter, in that exaggerated voice that lets small children know that you find everything they say to be wonderful and fascinating. That voice and the need for it is probably endearing up to a certain age, say ten, and should be banned from adult language beyond that. "Oh really? Isn't that wonderful?"

It reminds me of one of the major reasons I don't want to grow old. I have a paradox here—I don't want to be old but I don't want to die young. In fact I want to hit triple digits just to say I did. I don't want to hit the age where things reverse and people start taking to and treating you like a child. I'm enjoying this phase of life where, while responsible for my own health, no one's telling me to eat my vegetables, don't eat desert before dinner, come here, don't touch. I don't want to live my whole life just to end up with someone (children, nurse) shake their head and take my hand just because I was silly enough to think for myself.

La la la. It's solar flars again. I think I'm going to make up a song about solar flares.

I'm book hopping right now. I started with Awakenings, the book the movie was based on. I don't know if I've seen the movie or only been in its presence long enough to remember it as interesting. The book unfortunately is another one of those that has vast potential with an interesting subject but the writer doesn't pull it off. I think it was written by the doctor. Instead of weaving his experiences together to make a story along the timeline of his work, he tells each patient's case history as a separate chapter.

I took Schoolgirls off my feminist books stack. Then I decided I wanted to read some fiction and this morning I took Daughter of the Queen of Sheba from my bookshelf. I only realized later that this book isn't fiction so saying I wanted to read a story would be more appropriate. It's about her experience having a manic depressive mother (these days politically correct-ly that's bi-polar though I don't know if there's a technical difference) so I've wondered what my mom would think of it. Now I wonder how she feels being surrounded by us on either side.

Another exercise in frustration: I wake up extra hungry but no time to eat breakfast. Try instead to catch the early bus that will let me grab a scone from Starbucks on the way to work. Miss the early bus, by this time need some cold water more than food. I run into Louisa's Bakery next to my bus stop, who are out of bottled water, and no I don't want juice, it's not the same in any way.

I run into the Bartell's on the way to the bus tunnel downtown, something I've never attempted before time-wise. Water in a cooler near the check out line and I'm next behind the old woman chatting with the only cashier as she adjusts her purse and whatever else it is old women do to waste time for everyone because they have nothing better to do themselves. "How's your husband?" asked the cashier herself.

I gave her the fifty cents I had in my hand all along. "Fifty four cents" she says as if I'm trying to cheat her and then the display changes to show tax. She gave me a mini Babe Ruth bar for some reason. Sure, I'll have this for breakfast in an hour when I can eat again after taking my antibiotics.

I hate UPS. I want my drugs back, I want my package, and I want a new job!

I had good timing with involuntarily losing my lithium, not that I could have planned it. Everything is relatively calm, nothing to fixate on, and it's still early in the winter. Andrew was in class at night for two weeks and at the end of it gave me a pile of news before I went to bed—new job, car fixed for free. (I'd say more but I don't want to steal his thunder.) I didn't have time to process it all before going to sleep so I kept having to sort and verify that everything I'd been told was good.

It should be reassuring that I'd done so well this week—I've been a bit extra leg-can't-stop-bouncing hyper, indistinguishable from too much sugar, even to myself, except when I haven't had any sugar—but I still have this fear that if I don't appear crazy enough the doctors won't want to help me.

Work is not worth mentioning, the same mundane frustrations building up and amplifying like inside a giant echo chamber.

The UPS building is in some awkward place, too far to walk but too close to bus. So I walked south with a printed Mapquest map to the place I was supposed to be but instead was lost and panicked in the middle of nowhere in the industrial area at night with bad lighting, the street numbers too low, and the street I was supposed to be on ending.

UPS didn't hold my package like they were supposed to, and neither had they tried to deliver as of the time I was there. "He's probably there right now," said the oh-so-helpful counter guy. I had to walk all the way back to work because the bus stops were on the other side of Airport Way, a busy street at night with no crosswalks or stop lights.

Downtown I was accused of being racist because I wasn't interested in talking to a random person at the bus stop, who happened to be black.

This whole thing took me over two hours and I have to do it all again tomorrow.

Walking to lunch, right as I was thinking about the ~1-1/2 mile walk round trip to pick up my package at UPS, I slipped off the curb and scraped my knee. Smart and graceful I am.

I walked into the warehouse and recognized the song on the radio, after a bit. That wasn't Eddie Vedder singing. Who did a cover of Pearl Jam's Black? That was my all-time favorite song for the longest time.

Andrew is good to me. He drove to my place to pick up my codeine while I was in his bed trying to sleep through cramps.

The perfect couples shopping—Andrew looks in Best Buy while I go bra shopping in Target.

Ups is being mean to me. My Amazon package was attempted to be delivered today, the later of the two days it was predicted for, but it needs a signature and an actual person to be given to. Now I have to go pick it up after work, and won't be able to have it until Monday, after the weekend.

It should be known that sour tangerine Altoids are really yummy.

No spam in my email? Is it possible?

The Bon, on the other hand (I can't accept calling it Bon-Macy's yet, even if I'm not a local,) has Christmas decorations up in their windows.

The baby changing table in the bathroom in Westlake has securement straps to keep your baby from rolling away while you ignore the 'Please do not leave baby unattended' sign. Having never had my own baby of course, I'm now wondering if all changing tables have seat belts or if children are more likely to fall off of things in public where they can make their parents look bad.

"Moreover, in her clinical work on culturally based gender differences, Sandra Lipsitz Bem has found that traditional femininity does not, in fact, correlate with empathy. Women who, according to her sex-roll inventory, were considered 'feminine women' were no more likely to be nurturing toward a baby than 'androgynous' women and men or 'feminine' men, and they were significantly less likely than those other groups to be responsive to a kitten."& – footnote from my book, Schoolgirls. (How do you footnote a footnote?)

I love this study, not the results or anything in particular, just the study itself. I imagine it starting out with a bunch of boring self-examining questionnaire, 'Do you see yourself...', true of false, 1 to 5, strongly agree, somewhat disagree. Then, you hand your sheets in to a researcher behind the window, like paperwork at the doctor's office, and in return they hand you a kitten.

Andrew and I have been watch the X-Files on DVD since, pretty much since we've been dating. We're going slow, only into the third season not. Although, three seasons in three years—we're almost going in real time.

A recent show with a typical small town with people acting strangely that doesn't want the FBI involved. It centered around a chicken plant and made note of a vat of former chicken parts that were going to be fed to new chickens on their way to becoming former chicken parts.

Before I even knew what was going on in this particular small town I said, "Mad Cow, Mad Cow!" Turns out I was right, or more specifically, the human version Creutzfeldt-Jakob. The funny thing is, I'm sure this show came out before the real life Mad Cow scare, and at the time was just another obscure disease to base a show around.

I also got to hear it pronounced for the first time and found out that no, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease is not named after my ex.

Walking by cars in the parking lot with snow still on them, (who's getting snow? I want snow.) I had the urge to pick up a snow ball, sneak it inside, and throw it at a random coworker. Even better, to throw it at Karla when she wasn't looking, if only I could look completely innocent immediately after the incident. Having just come in from outside would probably give me away. I'd have to hide it in my drawer for a while first.

I'm missing out on all the good weather. I didn't get any snow, and I'm hearing around that there was a huge thunder clap last night and general thunder and lightening. I did see a flash of light from the window when we were at Dragonfish last night but I assumed it was emergency vehicle flashing.

The moon was such a brilliant crescent sliver this morning I had to comment on it. I wish you could have seen it. When you get a time machine, come back and look at the moon with me... but I know you won't or I would have seen you.

Hot chocolate and sushi with Selina and Walker means I'm not going to have time to write more about Mad Cow. Instead I am going to bed with my boyfriend's silk shirt.

Selina: I can't believe I'm drinking a light green beverage that tastes like crackers.

I've learned not to make fun of wasabi or it will retaliate and make you cry.

I think my roommate eats phones.

I think I've finally gotten to see the infamous Scary One's son, from a distance as I preferred. Technically you don't get a proper impression of someone from a distance, but from what I could see everything I've heard about him is true.

I heard on the radio that cold air coming down from Canada is going to be responsible for cold weather and more snow. Andrew, Pete, and Josiah it's all your fault!

Perhaps people not living in Canada are exempt, in which case, Pete it's all your fault!

I woke up with the pleasant soreness of my muscles healing and getting stronger after the gym. Of course as the day progresses it becomes an annoying kind of soreness that makes itself known in every little task such as putting on my coat.

It's cold when you can see a nipple through a big bulky sweater.

Roberta has made fried yams and I am appreciative.

A woman was talking to the bus driver, telling him he was nice for letting someone on who had ran for it. She said she ran for a 7 in the rain and the driver wouldn't let her on. After confirming that her bus was still at the stop and hadn't moved, only closed its doors, he said, "I find it hard to believe." Obviously this driver has driven more buses than he's ridden because I've seen this happen plenty of times. (In defense of the drivers—it's more likely that they don't see the people since their attention has switched back to the road than any malicious intent, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

This same driver got a weird look from someone getting on with a cell phone for telling them to say hi for him.

Nordstrom has a poster on their windows saying they celebrate holidays the old fashioned way, so if you don't see Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving, that's just the way they are. (Paraphrased because I didn't stop to write it down.) They say they're closed Thanksgiving, of course, with the obligatory message wellbeing to their customers' families. I notice however that they aren't closed the day after Thanksgiving so that you may spend more time at home and avoid the consumer nightmare. Oh well, I suppose they are retail at the core.

I got myself to the gym with the logic of paying my bill. I got myself to actually work out by bribing myself with sushi.

Crisis averted, mostly. Walker sent me a link to the King County mental health something or other page. The details were fuzzy even while reading it, but I love that the plan abbreviates to PHP.

There was a daytime office number, only open while I'm at work, and a 24 hour crisis hotline. I had to figure out if I qualify as a crisis, or if trying to prevent one combined with my mild phone phobia counts as close enough.

I know that not calling someone would lead to Jason dialing the number for me and putting the phone in my hand. He's done it before.

I called the 800 number before going to bed, after 11. I got weird sounding tones the first try, possibly fax machine but I'm not sure. The second and third time I got a busy signal.

I had to go back to my computer and get the local number. By this time I was hoping the same thing would happen so I could be done with this whole phone thing and deal with it all later.

I wanted to laugh at the soft, calm voice he used. I know they're trained to talk that way whether someone says 'I'm setting my kittens on fire.' or 'I've been abducted by aliens.' I told him I don't know if I'm a proper crisis. I wanted to tell him, it's okay, you don't need to use the soft voice with me. He gave me the name and number of the Country Doctor Community Clinic and the 45th Street Clinic, two places I knew of but not in the context of being able to help me.

I went with Country Doctor because they're on Capitol Hill, more central for me, and I've been there before when I was unemployed and without insurance. I remember getting lost the first time with it being on the back of Capitol Hill, and thinking when I found it that if only they had described it as being next to Izzy's apartment it would have been much easier to find.

I have an appointment next Wednesday after work. It means a week off my drugs but that was my trade off to not miss any more work.

Organic Turkey Sticks: 99% Mad Cow free

The first snow reports of the season started this morning. Redmond got some at the least. It's been raining too hard to know if we got snow in Seattle before it washed away.

It's a bad sign when a crisis hotline gives you a busy signal.

Gay marriage has been made legal in Massachusetts! It's too late for commentary, but this is a good thing.

I finally got my message from the doctor's office when I got home that no, they aren't going to authorize more refills on my lithium. I'm still annoyed that I had to wait all day to find out something I was promised this morning, that's going to be a major determining factor in my life right now. You would think they'd know better in the psychiatry department of all places.

Jeremy and I were waiting at the bus stop when a man carrying a large black umbrella started backing into us. After we got resituated I asking Jeremy, "Did you read my rant about umbrellas on happy-clicker?" The man looked back at me. Oops, I thought he was safely shielded by that umbrella.

I was supposed to get a message left on my phone this morning about whether my lithium refills would be authorized. I made it to 12:15 before calling and no message. As of almost 1:00, no message.

Aren't the solar flares over by now? My bus this morning had mechanical trouble and we got switched to another bus at the end of the bus tunnel. I started out early and ended up two minutes late to work.

I am so boy-lounging right now. I'm wearing boxers (flannel, dragon print) and a men's button-down shirt (silk). It took me too long that the silk should be worn without anything underneath.

I feel I should be reluctant to mention this at all because I've learned the best way to manage relationships is to feign as much sanity as possible at any given time. My lithium prescription runs out in two days and I'm out of refills. The doctor who prescribed to me isn't likely to authorize more because he hasn't seen me in six months, according to the person (receptionist? nurse?) I talked to in his office. I never had the followup appointment with the doctor he was transferring me to because after finding out my insurance doesn't cover mental health I couldn't afford it and I'm still paying off those bills. She's leaving him a note with that story and I'll find out tomorrow.

I hate this waiting part. If this doesn't work I'll almost start giving those spammers who offer me drugs a chance. I don't want to be crazy again.

Mmm... stolen silk shirts are warm.

I left work early for my dermatologist appointment. Doctor's appointment after never ending doctor's appointment it feels like sometimes, but at least I'm noticeably cutting down on the number of problems I'm trying to fix. And I had no urge to steal the purple gloves today.

The dermatologist is switching my drug. The creams and whatnot I am using are doing their job but the antibiotic isn't. So I get a new one which is supposed to work wonderfully for people who don't respond to the minocycline. I'm supposed to go back in two months and I'll either be completely clear, or she'll start me on another drug that's supposed to be the miracle drug. As I was wondering, she explained that the FDA requires someone to have 'failed' the other two first. The way she described it, I almost wish I don't respond to this one as well so I can try have the miracle drug.

Either way, soon I will manage to look like a normal person.

My phone was dead when I got to work again. Imagine that...

My mom told me I am hard on clutches. Andrew told me a new driver will always ruin a clutch. I guess just my presence, with a learners' permit, in Andrew's car will wreck havoc.

He drove the car down to the car shop in first gear last night and we took the bus back. (They have such wonderful stick people warning labels. I don't suppose they'd have a spare I could have.)

There was no going home for me last night but I was prepared for that possibility. I'm carrying my laptop and old clothes to work while my sushi makings have to spend the week at Andrew's. What I wasn't prepared for was the sudden cold windy weather. So I warned Andrew that I would be stealing one of his shirts this morning. I took one of the silk ones (because silk's the warmest, right?)

I'm known for stealing clothes but in this case he knows where to find me.

maergid: You gotta fight the man. Even if the man is an independent feminist magazine

Some old quotes I found saved as drafts...

Minxie: if I skin my cat alive do you want the ears?

The FDA has approved chewable birth control pills! I'm all about chewable drugs. I take children's vitamins because they're the ones I remember to take. I'm waiting for chewable lithium.

The 'Mom Finds Out About Blog' article made it to the front page of Blogger. They even added an official stance on the matter.

Andrew and I are at the Aurafice where they're playing a really messed up sounding AC/DC cover CD. Imagine Highway to Hell done in an almost country style.

On the other hand, it at least reminded me of a song I can use for yet another themed CD.

The problem with cereal for me, especially sugary cereals like Alphabits, is that ten minute after eating I find myself thinking 'I'm hungry. I should eat breakfast.'

This company has the fastest turnaround time I've ever seen. Apply through Monster in the morning and get a response by the evening. I called from another phone in the office, and when I finally got through after lunch, she thinks they've already found someone.

I want to shave my head and purge my house, clothes, shower, everything of hair while it grows back.

I got to the bus stop at the time on the schedule, which is actually the time the bus leaves some place way down the line. The bus never came, and didn't pass me while I was on my way up the hill. The same thing happened to me yesterday. I was three minutes late to work.

I have to call back about the interview at work today. I have to check my messages at home to get the info I need for that. I have to pay my phone bill, which I do over the phone.

My phone at work is flaky. My phone was dead when I got in. Both people that can fix it are out today.

I feel like fate is messing with me right now.

I applied for a couple Monster jobs before work this morning, just quick resume submissions that I don't expect much from because I didn't bother to write a cover letter or anything. But I justify that getting my resume out there is better than never getting around to writing a cover letter and applying before the job is long gone.

I got a message when I got home from Click Wholesale about my resume on Monster.com. I had to do some research to find out which job I applied for and what the company was. They don't seem to have an accessible web site, but I found out from a web search and an article in the Seattle Weekly that they are a beer and wine distributor, and from their domain whois info that they are located in the Belltown/downtown area. It's just an office job but it's an interview!

Oh my, this is too perfect. [The Onion] Mom Finds Out About Blog

Redundant label seen at Bartell's today:

Anti-Nausea Liquid
for Nausea

I was looking for a less cumbersome way to carry my drugs than carrying prescription bottles with me at all times. One was okay but I'm going to be on antibiotics for a while making my rosacea go away.

Bartells was selling some elegant looking pill cases on a temporary display, round, reverse silhouette of an old-fashioned couple dancing. One with a black background waited around for me to decide I might as well buy it before it goes away altogether. It was cheap. I could decide if I wanted it later.

I figured out it could hold three day's supply of both drugs. The first day I used it, I found it open and all my pills at the bottom of my backpack.

Now I'm trying Jason's idea which is to use an Altoids/candy tin. It doesn't come open, holds plenty, and using a Sweetarts candy tin helps balance out the grandma feeling of having so many pills.

Paul told me that purple looks good on me, and that only certain colors can look good with red hair. I'm not girl enough to know how it works but I think there's also a very loose dark hair/dark colors, light hair/light colors rule too. I wonder if this is why I remember always being attracted to dark colors, always worn blues and purples, at least as longs as I've been old enough to care about clothes.

I'm keeping a list called Unfortunate Company Names, company names I've picked up mostly from work. TMI Machine is my favorite. B. S. Quality, someone should have known better.

I want to be good and not make fun of people's names, but if my last name was Washbum, I'd be looking into a name change.

I came home to a message from Alaska Airlines about a schedule change in our flight to Puerto Vallarta. Of course they'll never tell you details in the message so I have to use the evil phone thing. Anyway, I'm only pretending to have something interesting to say about this so I can use it as a reminder to ask Andrew if he got the same call. Andrew – did you get the same call? And call Alaska Airlines, they want your passport info.

Walker: Oh, look, my tortillas have become naturally cheesy.

Blame late posting on evenings spent with Jeremy (yesterday) and Walker (tonight). Walker wrote me a script to grab my search queries so I can use make them available for their humor value.

Looks like I'm not the only one... 8 out of 10 Americans want a new job.

I was determined to catch the early bus this morning but didn't want to risk skipping breakfast either. Scanned the kitchen for something quick and portable, threw a couple chicken nuggets in the microwave that I could carry in the paper towel when I ran out the door. It was strange, but could technically even be considered a hot breakfast.

Whatever the bad smell at work is, I've determined it can't possibly be attached to me in any way.

Conjure One is the band I saw opening for Delerium. I missed all but their last couple songs due to oversleeping. (It was a weeknight and Andrew and I napped before the show.) But from those couple songs I realized it's going to be another band I'll kick myself for nearly sleeping through, like Swarf at Convergence.

I've determined I must have their CD. My mom sent me a Borders gift card that I've been saving for an occasion such as this. Now that Amazon has taken over Borders' online store, the gift cards also work at Amazon, which is this amazing thing as far as I'm concerned.

I also found out that their web site will play entire songs off of their album. Entire songs, not samples, though not great quality of course. I've found out that Redemption is the song I remember from the concert, the reason I decided I must have this band, and this will get me through until I get the CD.

When Jeremy and I were walking through the U-district we saw a filer posted, 'Teen Angst Poetry - Open Mic'. He's scared. I'm intrigued, I think because I have notebooks that would be perfectly appropriate there. (Unlike some people, I can't destroy art and writing no matter how awful. I just hide it in corners.)

I think I got propositioned outside of work. Eww, eww, eww.

This time of year starts all the holidays falling on weird days. Veterans' Day on a Tuesday—we have to work but banks are closed. Canada is closed. Thanksgiving on its perpetual Thursday but at least that's a four day weekend. Christmas Eve and Christmas are a Wednesday and Thursday, which means I'd have to go back to work Friday if I wasn't taking the whole week off to go to Mexico.

It's quite disconcerting to keep smelling a vague bad smell around you. I went through the checklist, showered, deodorant, clothes are clean—I got dressed out of the dryer this morning, no cats to leave a surprise hairball in my clean clothes (it's happened.) I want to go in the bathroom where I can discreetly check more thoroughly to make sure it's nothing of me before I start blaming coworkers.

I had an article about bread sales dropping due to people on the Atkins diet—but it turns out to be for AOL users only. I guess bread has to start doing its own commercials like milk, eggs, and pork.

I stopped at Starbucks after work and was walking back to my bus with a cup of latte. I passed a scruffled man going the other direction who held out his own empty Starbucks cup toward me as I walked by, but didn't vocally ask or jingle change to let on as to what he wanted. So I can't help thinking he was asking for donations of coffee.

Happy birthday to the Moon Goddess. She even managed a total lunar eclipse on the full moon for the day.

I was wanting fish and chips but the fish and chips place was closed when we got there. So I'm trying to make do with a box of frozen fish, french fries, and a bottle of malt vinegar.

Just what I always wanted... in our paychecks, a 2003 official football schedule. At least the nonprofits who have me on their mailing list waste the money they could be using to support their cause to send me address labels that I use when paying my bills.

Cuteness in babies and small children (as well as puppies and kittens) is a survival trait. It lets them live in society undamaged until they learn the rules of that society. (I'm sure 'don't pee on daddy' is a universal rule.) So what does that say for those of us who don't find babies cute? Are we destined to eat our young?

This isn't a way to start the day:
Get up ten minutes before having to leave. (The daily 'yes you really have to go to work, no you can't call in sick' ritual went long.)
Run out the door without breakfast and no quick-grab food and still see the bus pass by.
Run home to grab more layers and really quick breakfast between buses.
Make tiny bowl of cereal and on first bite find that milk is sour.

Here's another quote I've had laying around for it's humor value, which I picked up from a religious site.

"Do you think Abraham would have let his girl sneak off on his most sporty camel to carouse with the local pagans?"

The bruise on my stomach looks like a valentine.

My only wrapping paper is Hello Kitty Christmas paper but I guess a November birthday is close enough.

A piece of spam got through my filter but this one was worth it:

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The 800-number is down at work, which doesn't concern me except to say: solar flares, it's solar flares!

From a conversation over dinner last night:

"Is your laptop a sex object?"
"It is. It means I have a small penis."
"But you have a small laptop."
"That's true. It means I have a big penis."

Andrew still insists he's not quotable, after all this time.

It's bad enough going to work but I can't forgive having nightmares about the place.

It's no good being bad at both names and faces, especially when watching movies. This is why I've always been bad at the 'this guy from this movie plays that guy from that movie' thing.

Andrew and I watched Star Wars Episode 1, the "good parts" version (kind of like the Princess Bride) where you fast forward through all the political stuff and only watch the spaceships and fighting.

Paraphrased from an information sheet from the doctor: Do not inhale the fiber.

The problem with avocado sushi is that you can't tell if any random bit of green is avocado or wasabi. Of course this isn't real wasabi given that if I get a bit on my finger I just lick it off.

There's a store in Westlake that sells bean bag chairs and they've had a big Jack-o-lantern one in the window. It's kind of cute, (well actually it's not but I was trying to be nice) but it seems much too seasonal.

"Well it's October, get out the pumpkin bean bag."
"Well it's November, get out the turkey bean bag."
"Well it's December, get out the Christmas bean bag."

What do you do for January through September?

*** TMI Warning ***

If you don't want to know, you might want to skip ahead and read about bean bag chairs.

My doctor referred me to a gastroenterologist which started out as one of those embarrassing appointments I was going keep a secret but turned into an 'if I have to go through this, other people have to read about it' experience. I was scheduled for a consultation for a Flexible Sigmoidoscopy. I'm going to let that link explain what it is because I'm not going to.

She was surprised I wasn't scheduled for the actual procedure and tried to talk me into getting it done today. I had expected a little more time to mentally prepare but I gave into the logic of getting it all over with. Reluctantly.

The preparation involves two enemas beforehand. (I can only imagine how that line is going to affect my search stats.) A nurse technician handed me a paper bag as she led me to the area. She told me, "There are two Fleet enemas in there," and I felt very conspicuous walking down the hallway because everyone must know there couldn't possibly be anything in a paper bag except two enemas. Everyone knows that right? Actually, everyone on the third floor probably does know that, but everyone on the third floor has also already gone through it themselves.

The personal bathroom had a shelf with more enemas (it made me wonder if she realized that or if I was special and got my own) and a tube of KY jelly. There was a call button to use for help. I didn't expect to nearly need help getting the box open, with it's 'sealed for your protection' style tape, until I realized it shouldn't matter if the box is ripped.

And that's all I'm going to say on that subject.

The second thing I had never expected to do was to see the inside of my colon. For all the diagrams you see of body parts and organs, it's nothing like the real thing. A little too real for me I think. I have to wonder what makes someone want to be a gastroenterologist out of all the specialists there are.

Why are the cute people on a later bus?

Why does a hospital have valet parking?

Why have all the hospital staff already been through the icky procedure before you, in a reassuring way. Do they get a good deal or is this a glimpse into the time of life where you have to go through icky procedures on a regular basis?

A family tied their little black poodle-type dog outside of Louisa's Bakery while they went in for coffee. Poor thing looked freezing, and kept looking expectantly for its family. When she/he looked my direction I realized why I can't switch platforms from Cat to Dog.

I grew up immersed in Cat and I know the language pretty well, though not fluent given the lack of tail and whiskers. I know they like to be higher and that slow blinks are a sign of friendliness. I know that wearing cat ears really freaks them out. (They don't feel dominated by a human but a giant cat is a different matter.) I have a better chance than not at calming skiddish street cats, had my moment as the Cat Messiah, and was the chosen lap for a sphinx kitten which is an honor even though I know it has more to do with body heat and padding.

When a dog looks at me though, I don't know what to say.

Some random quotes from Halloween that got set aside:

"See, now if you had dressed up as a penis I would've gotten that one."

"Okay, did you say that with an exclamation point or a period?"

LiveJournal may be evil, but even Selina's got one now.

Bikepoet is teasing me by giving me the temperature in Mississippi, in Celsius.

I saw Josiah tonight. I saw him looking up the street with the appropriate 'watching for someone' look while I came from the other direction, wearing my cat ears so I'd be easy to recognize. Time was short but we wandered up to Capital Hill and stopped in the Aurafice so he could see my Seattle, and my coffee shop.

I got a minor nosebleed at lunch, my first in years. I don't know if I should worry—I don't want this to be a new trend. I also have those polka dot bruises all over my legs...

It's flu shot day at work. Half the office disappeared at once to go across the street and get poked. Once again I'm counting on everyone else to get them and not get sick, thereby not getting me sick.

Solar flares? My phone at work died again today.

Walking to the bus yesterday, I saw a dead rat on the ground. The funny thing, if there's anything funny about a dead rat, is that it looks just like a miniature ROUS.

This morning I walked past a frozen dead rat...

Speaking of things you're not supposed to do, I'm meeting an online friend in person for the first time today. Josiah/Cheezwiz is in town for a geology conference.

It feels weird to say I'm meeting an online friend, if not for the 'everyone online is a stalker-killer' parental warnings we've all read, then for the feeling that long-distance online friends are so 90s. The 00s are all about taking to people you've never met in the same city on a message board. Still, this is someone I've known forever,since high school anyway, the fourth longest online friend I've had. The first seems to have me blocked on AIM for some reason, the second only talks to me when it's late on the East coast and he's drunk, and the third is busy with his band and never around.

Anyway I'm feeling nervous and shy as to be expected. We're meeting after work outside FAO Schwarz. But since I'm writing here on my Palm none of this will matter by the time I get to my computer.

I know you're not supposed to take rides from stranger but I guess you also get to break the rules when you're an adult. I traded the chance of a psycho stalker killer for getting to work on time when a man offered me a ride downtown after seeing me miss my bus. So I went from being annoyed that I didn't have time for breakfast and missed my bus (if I could know ahead of time I might as well take the extra five minutes and eat something) to getting downtown early enough to grab a scone at Starbucks. The barista at Starbucks had her neck in a brace and arm in a sling. I wonder if she gets lots of sympathy tips. I know I couldn't help it.

I'm going to blame the solar flares for Karla's odd behavior today too. She was verging on mini temper tantrum behavior again for absolutely no reason, unless she's reversed the rules on me and is getting upset because I leave her work.

"We could hunt animals in hydroplanes."

I walked into the wrong part of that conversation but didn't bother to stop and ask.

Solar flares strike again. When I got to work this morning we were told the computers would be down for two and a half hours.

I was buying Selina's birthday present in Best Buy (should make her wonder what I'd get for her there, if no one gave it away) and they had all but one of the registers labeled as 'Debit or Credit only'. How strange. I was paying with cash—since when is cash the outcast?

Selina dressed as Amazon.com for me! My petticoat is foofy and takes up a lot of space, though luckily is soft enough to walk through in a crowded club. I have pictures but they're stuck on my camera for now.

I found out that with my hair up and makeup on I look like Carrie Fisher.