Friday, January 27, 2006

The Sickness.

The sickness continues.

When I went to the doctor last week, he gave me meclizine for my dizziness. He said that I had an upper respiratory infection - probably viral since most of them are - that had probably crawled up into my ear canal, causing my vertigo.

I went back today. The upper respiratory infection has spread throughout the entire respiratory tract; mercifully I don't have much coughing, though I do apparently have a wheeze. On top of that, I have a middle ear infection and an inner ear infection, and a sinus infection.

I am a walking infection.

I'm getting quite paranoid about pneumonia, given that my original infection thinks its Alexander the Great.

This sucks. Medicine is expensive, too.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Mom: They smoke marijuana.

Illness does not become me. Though normally my demeanor is always best described as saintly ::cough::, being sick makes me kind of, erm, grumpy.

I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me yet. The doctor says I have a viral upper respiratory infection which probably crawled up into my ear canal, hence the dizziness. Of course, you can't really medicate a virus, so I have to stick that part of it out. He put me on a heavy dose of meclizine for the dizziness. The meclizine helps, but damn I'm sleepy. I don't know if it's the infection or the medicine, but I just don't seem to be able to stay awake for anything.

Also, I'm grumpy. Tired and sick grumpy. And way forgetful. Everything has this dreamlike quality and I can never remember if I've already done or said things.

I think maybe this is God teaching me a lesson for making fun of my mom when she takes her ambien. She's so funny, though. She talks in her sleep and her dreams are so funny. The other night she fell asleep while I was using the computer in her room.

She was like:

Mom: "What are they doing? I'll tell you what they're doing. They're down there smoking marijuana!"

::silence for several minutes::

Mom: Mar-i-juan-a!


Mom: They're horrible people. You know what they do down there?

::silence for about fifteen minutes::

Mom: They smoke marijuana!

That sounds like a dream I'd like to be a part of.

Monday, January 16, 2006


I decided to take a break from being so damn dizzy that even the slightest movement or noise makes me want to vomit.

This sucks. I have no idea what's wrong in my head. I've said that before. This is different. I am not emotional. I am sick, damn it.

I started to get dizzy yesterday at Jasmin's house when I was working with The Boy on his report. I wanted to go home and sleep. Jasmin wanted to stay at her house and sleep, too, but Matt talked her into going to this card party his sister was throwing. I told her she should go, so she said that I should go, too. And because she had to, I went too.

I had fun. I was on team SIke (S from Sarah + Ike for Isaac). We won our first game against Jasmin and Matt's sister, but subsequently lost to the tournament champions (Matt and his brother-in-law: Team Domination). I played Dance Dance Revolution with the kids for a while. But mostly I was just sort of miserable acting because I felt like junk.

I hate acting miserable at parties. People kept asking me: "You don't look so good, are you all right?" And I'd smile and say: "Oh yeah, I'm fine!" So then they probably thought I was just being a jerk or something. I don't know why I don't just admit to being sick. It's so much better to be sick than it is to be antisocial, and yet, which do I choose?

I'm all disoriented. I had fun last night playing euchre; we won one game ten to nothing, on my two loners and a euchre I orchestrated :P But I can hardly think straight. I got sick earlier trying to look up my doctor's phone number.

Meh, I'm starting to feel bad again.

I hate being sick by myself. Misery loves company and all I have is my blog to complain to.


Friday, January 13, 2006

Bad Dog.

Jasmin's dog has behavioral issues. I've heard it said that some dogs are just like people. Peppy is very much like a person. A vindictive, degenerate person.

For the past several months, I've spent a lot of time at Jasmin's house during the day. I watched my nephew over here because, with Mystery Baby at my house, and a terminally ill mom at home, two kids were sometimes a bit much for one tiny little house. So Ty Guy and I would head over here at like 10:00 or so. Then the dogs only had to spend two hours by themselves.

Lucky loved the baby and was with him all the time. Peppy, well, not so much. He hung out with me. If I took a break from Ty, I didn't exactly get a break from Pep. Peppy would be in my lap every second that Tyron wasn't, and most of the seconds he was, too.

Anyway, I haven't had Ty lately, and I've been really busy. Plus, I've been spending a lot of time with Mystery Baby because she's so darn cute. I haven't been getting over here 'til like 2:00 or 3:00 or so most days, which means that the dogs have been alone for like six or seven hours.

Peppy seems to view this as quite the betrayal.

He's been relieving his anger by relieving himself all frickin' over everything. Every day there's at least one mess to clean up.

Oh, sure, it was kind of funny when he pooped on Matt's favorite sweater. But it's gone too far. A full week of poop clean up culminated today in Peppy approaching my bag, looking me straight in the eye, and proceeding to pee.

To be fair, he didn't hit my bag. I know that this was intentional. He's not so new to peeing on stuff that he would miss if he intended to hit something. But it was a warning. An act of open defiance.

Little bastard.

I don't feel all bad though. A long time ago, the King of Retalitory Pooping actually pooped in Matt's work shoes. Now that would have been funny to see.

The funniest though: One time Peppy waited for Matt to get in the shower, and then he peed on his towel. So when Matt reached out to grab it and wipe his face off, it was soaked in urine. Of course, he didn't discover that until AFTER he'd wiped his face. The pre-planning is what makes it so funny. Matto's totally unawareness is classic.

I'm keeping my guard up though. I told Jasmin that if he tries something like that on me, she's going to come home to find a literal boot up this dog's ass. She's going to be all: "Peppy? What's on your booty?" And he's going to be all: "::whines::" Who has the last laugh then Poopy?

Kidding, of course. I'm not down with animal cruelty.


Boot, Dog, boot!

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Let me take you to Boogietown.

This is so wrong for my first post of the new year. It's probably wrong for any post, period. It will doubtlessly come back to haunt me some day when I run for public office. Regardless!

It struck me today as I was driving The Boy to his art class that I now work in Boogietown. When I was little, my mom used to always call this part of town Boogietown. She'd say: "Lock your doors, we're in Boogietown!" And we would. Because we were afraid of the Boogieman and this town must be where he lived.

When I was little, I asked my mom what the Boogieman looked like. She said that he was black. I always thought she meant that he was pitch-black, like a shadow come to life in an old cartoon. I thought his skin must feel like boogers and that's why he was called the Boogieman. Whenever I was bad, mom told me that I'd better be good or the Boogieman was going to come and get me. Either that, or she'd sell me to the gypsies.

It never occured to me until today that my mother meant he was black because he was a black man. I only learned in college that boogie was a racist term for a black person. I never connected that Boogietown was the town of boogies, where the black people lived.

I work in Boogietown now. I walk down Boogie streets. I play with Boogie children. I share recipes with Boogie neighbors.

I wonder what my mom thinks of that. I wonder if people lock their doors when they see me. I am, after all, a part of Boogietown.

I hope I can befriend some gypsies soon.