Couldn't resist...

I live for bad puns and dad jokes. I am especially proud to have come up with this gem...

A buddy of mine was going back and forth during a fantasy football draft trading good natured and creative insults. He started to crack up and replied with, 'No thank you! Females only!'
I looked him in the face and very seriously asked, 'Does that mean Iron Man is ok?'

Hungry blog?

It seems as though some of my posts have been eaten...or something. I dunno what's up with that, but if I start talking about the adventures of Big Yellow and Two Sticks and black bottomed dwarfs and you're confused, rest assured your faculties are still in tact

Kangaroos

I dunno what brought this to mind, but I thought it was worth sharing. When I was very small (about two or so) and visiting my grandparents, I was particularly awake one night. This wasn't really helpful for my mum's sleep schedule. I had kept her up for quite a while, so she was in tired parent mode and wasn't paying attention to what I was babbling about. I do actually remember this, and I recall being very adamant about a kangaroo being in the house.

My mum pretty much just let me ramble on about it, until about a foot in front of her there was suddenly eye shine. Turns out that two year old me thought that kangaroos and raccoons were pretty much the same thing

Jaw stuff

So today I had a consult with Dr.Goode-Slice. He did my previous jaw surgeries--yes, that's plural. I decided to go back to see him first instead of being shuffled around a bunch,  since he has my history on file and I was happy with the previous procedures he had done.  I didn't have any scarring or complications and there can be a lot of that with the issues that I have. The previous surgeries didn't take because of structural issues,  not due to his technique.

Seems  as though there's a long road ahead regardless of whether I decide to go with what he suggests versus a quick fix until I can have open joint  surgery. It does seem as though open joint surgery is in my future.

Dr.Goode-Slice  thanks it's possible that the migraines are coming from the TMJ issues. I'll talk more about that in a different post. So that's all for now!

Rant about paying brioche

Brace yourself for stupidity. This is the crap I've had to deal with, and will likely continue to deal with until there's a barcode on my id or I croak. After 'Brioche pharmacy' finally got their heads out of their butts and I bugged the hell out of my neurologist's office about it, I was told I'd have to pay a copayment of a whopping $3.70. I'm sure there's about that much in pennies laying around, so it didn't seem like a big deal.

When I went for the injections in February, nobody at Dr.New-Neuro's office said anything about the copayment. When I asked about it the following month, they said I had to pay the pharmacy. That would have been nice to know before. If I had known about that, I might not have done the Botox. Not because I have a copayment, but because of actually paying it. That part isn't so easy.

Let's look at the process here: In order to get the Botox administered, I have to get to the neurologist. I most likely have to take a cab since I don't have any way to get anywhere. That's already over budget for me for the month. If I just had to pay the neurologist's office that'd be way easier. I could just hand them a pile of change in between paying for some cab driver's kid's college fund.
So since I can't do that, I have to find a way to pay Brioche directly. I have no form of electronic payment, which means I have to get a money order. Ugh... I talked about this in another post, but I can't purchase a money order because of my id. That means that I have to stand around and ask strangers to do it for me.

What do I have to contend with after I manage to get a money order? I have to mail it. Someone has to at least read all the info to me, if not fill it out for me. Then I have to either ambush the mailman or  wait till I have an appointment near a mailbox. I tried leaving a bright ass post it note asking the mailman to mail the stupid thing, but I guess he's colour blind or something. The thing sat in the mailbox for days. I'm pretty sure that picking up mail is in their job description.

 Thank God I didn't have to get stamps

Brioche pharmacy

Ok, so it's not 'brioche' but it might as well be. I swear those folks are more dense than bread. Anywho, there's a bunch to rant about but here's the exchange from this morning:

My phone: 'Call from brioche pharmacy'.
Me: 'Hello?'
Lady: 'Hi! I'm calling from brioche pharmacy, to let you know that we called your neurologist.'
Me: 'Ok. What did you have to call them about and what information do you need from me?'
Lady: 'Oh, we had to ask them to put through the authorization for the Botox. We're just letting you know that we let them know, and now that you know, they'll let you know when we know.'
Me: 'Ah. Well if the delay for anything being dispensed is because of the copayment, I did just send it.'
Lady: 'The what?'
Me: 'The copayment. I wasn't able to get or mail it until now and it wasn't clear to whom or how I was supposed to pay.'
Lady: 'Oh copayment! I thought you said "copayment"!'

That is exactly how it went, with the exception of the pharmacy name change. I was struck by the sudden need for communication on their part, considering all the shuffling around since last fall for them to dispense anything. And also the fact that they didn't seem to care about getting their $3.70

Best spinach and taters ever!

I have a friend who will take a bite of something and lean back for a second before saying, 'That is exactly what I needed!' That's how I feel about this recipe. Seriously, you need to try it or your life won't be complete.

Best spinach and taters:

1 can spinach
1 can whole or diced potatoes
1 can plain stewed tomatoes
1 can coconut milk
Spices: cumin, coriander, allspice, ginger

Combine all ingredients into a pot and add spices to taste.
Go heavy on the cumin though, and add the coconut milk last incase you don't want
it really wet. It should be the consistency of stew or chowder. Cook until taters are soft

The Power of Choice

Bit of an odd post here, but have you ever given your favourite something to someone? Think about a time when you shared your favourite food with someone (this is ME, of course food is the example here). Ok, now multiply that feeling by at least ten. It's sort of like that--at least for me.

I've been through a lot of shit in life that I haven't had control over, but I guess I rolled high in Wisdom cuz I've always made good decisions. I've lost a lot of things that were important to me. But somehow, being able to choose to give something like that to someone is empowering. It's also liberating-- knowing that I can make that decision myself and not let life circumstances dictate everything

My brain sucks, but it's never dull!

I get frustrated with myself a lot. It's hard for me to do simple things and that gets me, so I'm venting. It's also challenging to convey what's going on sometimes, leading to even more frustration. I've been told that I have a unique way of describing things. Well, let's see...

I have synesthesia. It's not the super cool kind where you can identify notes of music by colour (although I'd be perfectly fine with that one!), but I wouldn't give mine up for anything. Even though it can suck. So, what's it like?

Imagine that you've just been served this amazing dish of food. You go to dig in, but can't. It smells too 'green' and that smell happens to make you emotionally distraught. So, you try to go for something else. That's much nicer-- this colour smells ok. Alright, let's eat some! 

You put the food in your face, and immediately reach for a napkin. Why? Well, the shape tastes all wrong! It's too angular and you prefer food that tastes rounder. Let's try some of the water to wash the offensive shape away. Ugh! That's no good either--the texture isn't right. All you wanted to do was go out for a bit and enjoy the day, but now you have to go home or at least somewhere that's socially acceptable to not have pants and shoes on.

Ok, let's get in the car. There are nice things in there, like your toothbrush which calms you down. And your mummy bag that you can have on instead of pants. Also, you can recline a bit and you brought Mr.Bucket cuz POTS sucks and you forgot your Nuun tablets. So, you get comfy and put the radio on. And you proceed to trip balls...

The music feels amazing! The physical reaction you get from this song is incredible and you begin to float away after a few songs. Except the music changes and the pleasant chills and tears have given way to fear and now you're being pulled away from yourself. That's easy to manage though and you just change the song. 

You start thinking about this and that on the way home. Suddenly you get a text from a friend that's filling out a job application. She can't remember various details about work history and wants your help. Why? Your synesthesia also effects how you remember things too. Your brain pretty much has some crossed wires that allow you to associate memories with points in time...in extreme detail.

So, yeah...its pretty much like that 

Mistaken identity

I like 'The Cure'. Robert Smith's voice is great. But I was having a hard time trying to find a few songs. Couldn't figure out why. Turns out I had searched for 'Tobert Snoth' instead of 'Robert Smith'.

Kicked out for not conforming

What could I have done that was so outrageous that got me kicked out of a public pool? Well, I wore pants. Yup! That's the whole reason why. Pretty dumb, right? This was in the days before 'modest swimwear' was more recognized. I was told I could wear shorts, though. Lady, the whole point of wearing pants was to have my legs COVERED. Last time I checked, shorts didn't do that. If I didn't want my legs covered, I would have had my fat ass hanging out of a bikini because then at least I wouldn't be trying to claw shorts off my legs.

I like dead guys

I have a theme with pet names. Most of my critters have been named after philosophers/great thinkers, and artists. And most of them happen to be dead guys. Critters really don't care what you call them and I took a few liberties. I had a leopard frog named Shakespeare and a beta named Nostradamus. That fish had sort of an ironic death. His head got crushed by one of the glass marbles at the bottom of his habitat. Perhaps he saw it coming.

Then there's the bunnies. Copernicus was a huge white rabbit. If I new she'd get so big, I would have named her Harvey. Perky didn't last long, maybe a bit over a year. She lived the longest out of the whole litter though. Next came So_Crates. He's an old guy now, going on about 13. He lives with a friend of mine and their dog and several cats quite harmoniously. And of course now I have Voltaire, my favourite breed of rabbit: a French breed called Hotot. So, in keeping with the theme I named her after the dead French guy.

I had two cats follow me home last summer, so I took them in until they could be re homed. Stevie Nicks, and Rasputin. I broke the theme a little bit with Stevie. I originally wanted to call her Spooky-- she was all black with striking green eyes. But the day she followed me I was wearing a flowy green dress, and she didn't answer to Spooky. So Stevie it was. Rasputin got her name because of her eyes, which I can only describe as 'electric pumpkin' in colour, or perhaps Ra Ra's eyes were flaming gold...

Back to Voltaire, as in the dead guy. I was vaguely familiar with his work but fell in love with him in New Jersey. I had purposely been avoiding 'Candide' for years, but happened upon a book in a private library while visiting family. It was one of those Reader's Digest type books and had several of Voltaire's pieces in it, including 'Candide'. I passed the play up for the moment.

I wish I knew what book it was so I could hunt down some of those poems and essays. They were hilarious. Like piss-your-pants-cry-so-hard-you-can't-breathe hilarious. I vaguely remember something about apples and possibly a mystic.

Years later I happened to catch a bit of 'Candide' on the radio. I was doing something in the kitchen when suddenly 'You were dead, you know' came floating over the airwaves. I managed to hunt down some information about that particular production and Panglos's song about syphilis had me in a fit of laughter. It was the production done at the  Baltimore Symphony orchestra in 2015 or 16, if you're curious.

So, yeah... I like dead guys.

How to cook rice

Ok this sounds dumb, but it took me forever to learn how to cook rice. In the end, I came up with this method and it has yet to fail me. The only thing is that you won't get any of the crunchy bits with this method.


Perfectly cooked rice

In a pot, combine twice as much water as rice. So if you use a 1/2 cup of rice, use 1 cup of water. Add  an additional 2 splashes of water and a little butter or oil. Bring to a boil then stir. Start a timer for 5 minutes and let it be. Then cover, turn the heat down a bit and time another 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let it be for 5 more minutes. That's it! Now when I say let it be, I mean just that! Don't poke it, don't stir it, and for goodness sake do not futz with the cover during the last 10 minutes. That's the secret to success.

Italian with grandma

My gram was pretty awesome. For some reason, I just remembered two of the times she threw in a language lesson. Out of the blue by the way.


Lesson one
Gram: (From the kitchen) 'Hey!'
Me: 'Yeah?'
Gram: 'You wanna learn Italian?'
Me: 'Sure!'
Gram: 'Ok! You know pasta, right?'
Me: 'Uh...yeah...'
Gram: 'You know ''al dente''?'
Me: 'Yeah.'
Gram: 'You know what it means? ''Hard as your teeth''!'

Lesson two
Gram: (From the kitchen) 'Hey!'
Me: 'Hmm?'
Gram: 'You know ''mortadella''?'
Me: 'Yeah.'
Gram: 'Know what it means? ''Strikes you dead''!'


And that was the extent of my lessons. 'Arabic with grandpa' wasn't nearly as memorable and I'm haunted by memories of him having me write the letter F over and over cuz he couldn't read my Spanish. You know, when you speak more than five languages and you're older than me, of course your handwriting is gonna be better than mine! The American education system sucks- you didn't experience it first hand.

The 'Admiral'

We have a saying in my family that describes when someone or something completely unrelated to what's happening seems to chime in perfectly. We refer to this as 'the Admiral'. The Admiral can take many forms such as, another person or someone else's conversation, the radio, something written down, or the TV.

That's actually where the name comes from. Admiral used to make old TV sets. My mum had one growing up and swears this thing 'knew' what was going on. Not quite in a haunted/possessed/sentient way, but in more than a way that was just coincidental.

For instance, if the TV was on and the phone rang. Suddenly it was like the thing was in on the conversation. People or ads would come on that were relevant to the conversation or there would be some snarky comment. I'm fairly certain that everyone has experienced this in one form or another.
Now you have a word for it.

I don't think the thing was haunted, but the phenomenon seems to follow around my family. A lot. The original Admiral is probably in a landfill somewhere at this point, but he lives on. And rest assured, he is alive and well!

Misc. D&D adventures

Whenever someone mentions 'role playing', I think of d20's. Not therapy or weird stuff that you make hookers sign non disclosure agreements for. Nope-- maybe that makes me weird, but I'll take that any day. Let me start with the story of the dented mug...

This actually goes back to my first game of dungeons and dragons ever. There's a lot of superstition in the tabletop rpg community and if you try and play against any of that, you will have a miserable time of it. Trust me, and the Bards. I played a bunch of other systems before getting into d&d. Although, if you really want to get technical-- I had actually played through some of the 'Lone Wolf' and 'Dragon Lance' stuff first.
'You decide to visit Limbo. You've heard it's nice this time of year'.  (Anyone? Anyone at all?)

Point is, I had an idea of what I was getting myself into...sort of. I had a very experienced DM and he didn't even see this coming. There was a party of about six of us, a good mixed party. Dwarves, half orcs, gnomes. Bards, fighters,  rogues, rangers, paladins. A good assortment.

I was playing a half elf ranger. Ever since my very first d&d game, I have played this guy. Even if I have to roll up a new character, the stats are nearly identical. It's spooky.

So after a long day of adventuring, our party decides to camp for the night. We were on our way to go take care of some restless undead in a local graveyard. Surprise! The undead are wandering around and we get attacked in the middle of the night by skeletons. This is a particularly bad deal--you don't want to be caught without armor or weapons. Especially as a level one character.

We're getting our asses handed to us-- spells that had been cast earlier hadn't regenerated yet and neither had hp. So I asked the DM if I could try and grab something to hit the skeleton that was attacking me with. DM says sure--roll for it. I successfully grab my pack. The skeleton tries to make an attack and misses.

Back to my turn. I try to grab something out of my pack. DM allows it, I make the check and roll again to grab... a mug. Well, shit. This situation isn't very good and all I can manage to do is grab a fucking mug. I'm the only one not taking damage, and everything is up to me.

I had to go for it, work with what I had. So I roll to try and hit the skeleton...successfully! Nat 20, actually. Nobody can believe this and I ended up with major xp from that. Everything suddenly started going in our favour after that. And to this day, my half elf ranger never goes anywhere without his dented mug.

We need a word for this...

I don't think we have a word for this--at least in English-- and there needs to be one. We need a word that describes the feeling you get when everything sucks, because it doesn't suck as much as it did and you know it can be better.

'Frustrated' seems too general. I'm talking a specific adjective that conveys the fact that you know it's not so bad (whatever your 'it' is), but that's the fact that pisses you off.

Maybe such a word exists already. If it does, please let me know what it is. Or if you're a bored wordsmith or linguist, now you have a task to amuse yourself with-- you're welcome!