Much better, thanks. The anesthesia mix went very well, and no real pain after, just the sore throat and achy ribs. I haven’t tried to swallow a larger pill to see how it went yet, but I will soon.
Flutterby: If the problems continue, try Allerpet D – there’s a shampoo and some other stuff to help with the dander. I used the cat version when I got my cat years ago – my evil ex-BF was allergic and bitched and whined about his allergies constantly. It worked well enough that he had nothing to bitch about.
Edit: not to imply you’re bitching and whining, Flutterby, you don’t seem to be that sort. But my ex, yeah he was.
I called my doctor’s office, and the doctor on call said my description sounded an awful lot like shingles. I just texted her a picture to put in my chart, and she texted back, “Yep! Looks like shingles!” She is calling in an antiviral, and told me I should go pick it up and start taking it ASAP.
See about getting the shots. I don’t think anyone is allergic to just pets, and it does sound like you have other allergies. I got the shots mumblemumble decades ago, have had them “recharged” once when I moved to Cali and despite being allergic to everything, I have almost zero symptoms. They are a pain in the ass to get but allergy shots are a gift from god.
Allergies, asthma, etc etc. The older I get the more I seem to be falling apart. Or maybe I’m learning how messed up I really am instead of ignoring issues.
You’d think the people running a major international fighting game tournament (for the third time no less) would know how to use pools, right? Here’s a quick lead-in for the uninitiated: pools are used to help assist in the seeding of the main bracket and to (hopefully) give people who wouldn’t make it very far more opportunities to play against better players. What this means is that at no point should it be easier to lose in pools than in the bracket, and you should have at least three games in pools.
So with that in mind: 3-man round-robin pools. 3. Man. Round-robin. Pools. What does this mean? Well, simple. It means you end up playing two games, and if you end up with a 3-way tie (which is possible), you can get eliminated for losing just one set.
Yes, because Marvel vs. Capcom 3 isn’t fucking random enough, as if sets aren’t matchup-dependent enough, we need to add single elimination pools. I flew out to Amsterdam and didn’t even get the fair shake of a double elimination bracket. I don’t even care that I was placed in what many people described to me as a ridiculously hard pool. I just want my fucking fair shake. I want my double elimination.
I’m on hold with the Registration People. A search for the initials for “Swedish for foreigners” led to a page where it said that you get those lessons from your local City Hall some time after you register with them, so today I went to my local City Hall and asked about registering. Turns out I need to go to another village, but hey, hopefully if I can get off hold, I may be able to get all papered and even sign up for Swedish lessons
And on the train from the airport I met an ex-IT-dude biker who lives in the same little town as I do with his wife, we exchanged emails. Now I know someone in town who isn’t from work and who, having lived in many other countries and having a foreign wife, knows perfectly well what kind of issues I’m having. One of these days I may even learn how to count to 20 in Swedish.
You stupid bug! Just what the hell have you eaten. Glue?!?!?
I have new wipers and a Rain-X coating on my windows which normally makes wiping them off quite easy. Saturday afternoon I hit some bug with the windshield. Pretty much ignored the splat till this morning when I drove to work. It poured rain for the 35 minute drive to work. My windshield wipers must have crossed that splotch on the windshield over 2000 times. Rinse, wipe, repeat - 2000 Times!
And as I pulled into my parking space at work there’s still this little smudge in my window.
Whoever renovated this house cut corners in some areas, one of which was the drawer slides in the kitchen. The slides are metal, but the brackets that support them are fucking cheap-assed plastic. All of the brackets in the pantry cabinet failed within the first year here and I replaced the slides with steel ball bearing slides with metal brackets. Then the brackets in the pot/pan cupboards failed. Same replacement.
The other night we heard a noise. Searched the house the next morning and couldn’t find the source. Then I went to open one of the utensil drawers: bingo. So I went out and bought enough new self-closing slides and brackets to do all of the drawers. Decided to start with the bottom drawer, because it’s always the most difficult. Motherfucker kicked my ass for the past two days. Today I’m nursing sore shoulders and other aches and pains because the goddamned cocksucker will NOT go in properly. FUCK YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! SIT IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN AND ROT! But come tomorrow, you soulless motherless fuck, you’re MINE.
I have a metric assload of crap to deal with this week – the *least *of which is that my old-ass cat, Al, will probably finally have to have that last vet trip, and I weep every time I even think about it, and that’s the LEAST of my shit-plate right now – and I’m PMSing and have a giant screaming case of the IDONWANNAs. So of course my psycho parents have been blowing up my work line this morning. Hinty: if I’m at work and I don’t pick up when you call five times within five minutes, then leave a fucking message! Preferable something more useful than “It’s your father, please call me back.” Tell me what you want, asshole!
We’re estranged for a reason. You want something from me? Tell me what the holy fuck it is you want from me.
Sorry for your terrible awful very bad day, purple. And congratulations on NOT picking up your phone when the psycho parents call. I’m so sorry about Al. It’s never easy, but you can be grateful that our culture lets us make this transition easy for our pets, even though it’s not easy for us. Be glad you don’t have to let Al suffer. (We treat our pets nicer than we do our people, but that’s another story.)
And here’s hoping your parents are actually calling you to tell you your rich uncle died and left you a boatload of money.
Pitting my globe-trotting husband. He left here for Scotland on Saturday afternoon and STILL hasn’t checked in with me to let me know where he is and how things are going. I’m very, very annoyed. I even went as far as to make sure there weren’t any plane wrecks. So if any of you all in London or Glasgow see a 60 y/o American wearing a black Stetson and black leather coat, ask him if he’s TheElf, then kindly kick him in the ass and tell him to call his wife.
I’m sorry you’re having such a rough time of it right now. I hope you’re getting some support from New Guy.
Here’s an idea: if he’s game, ask him to call your dad and get a message for you. If your dad can’t bring himself to pass a message through someone who cares about you, it’s probably not that important, and you don’t need to stress about learning what it is until you’ve got some emotional equilibrium.
