I was at my desk listening to yesterday podcast for Fresh Air. An interview with a forensic veterinarian. I thought this would be fascinating, I love animals, I love forensics, I love when mysteries come together. I love the idea of using real science to prosecute criminals (because, let’s be honest here, far too many people have been convicted of crimes they never committed because the prosecution can dangle fear or prejudice in front a jury, but that’s another rant for another time. right now, science=good). Terry Gross, host of Fresh Air warned me that some of the stuff they would be talking about would be hard to hear.
I got 8 minutes into the program before I was furious and crying at my desk. I could not believe what I was hearing. I could not believe what these people had done. Who thinks up these terrible things to do? I’m not even going to describe what they did, but I am sickened to my heart to imagine it.
On the other hand, there is an awesome cute puppy outside my office learning to play fetch. That makes me smile.

oh damn! I just ate the grossest thing ever. Fuck. eeeeeuw. Like I just want to shit twice and die!
I should have known better. The security guards had a box of off brand “Marzipan Rum Balls” that had been sitting in their office all day with only 3 eaten. Now that’s an official red alert warning sign. If the security guards won’t eat it, then actual humans should avoid it at all costs. But I’m craving sugar and all my hidden supplies have slowly dwindled and I’ve been getting more whiskey than candy from my minions.
I gave in, I grabbed one and tried to eat it.
Dude! Shit! GOD!!!!! Holy crap. Psycho crazy pink dried out marzipan substance loaded with artificial rum extract, covered in chocolate and those waxy brown sprinkles that you always think with taste like chocolate but usually taste like otherbutt.
What was I thinking? Was my sugar craving so bad that I just had to eat it? I’ve had some pretty nasty things in my mouth, but this was the worst. I would rather run my open mouth across the entirety of the dog park before eating another one of those. I’ve consumed almost a quart of water and still the taste lingers like satan’s own skidmark in my mouth. I might be the first person ever to die of gross flavor.
The thing is, I did this once before. The security guards got a box of freaky Russian candy and they were all remarking on how gross it was. Still, I had to ignore them and try it. The thing about Russian candy is that all the colors are correct, it LOOKS like real and tasty candy, but none of the ingredients for candy are actually available in Putin’s nut filled wonderland of assassinations and bizarreness. They just use equivalent replacements. Instead of sugar, they used ground up newspaper (except they don’t have newspaper so they use old paint and the souls of Boris and Gleb for their newspapers), instead of chocolate they use the clay from the banks of the Mighty Volga River, instead of fruit flavoring, they use various forms of cat urine. This shit is popular over there because they don’t actually know what fruit, sugar or chocolate are supposed to be like.
Maybe I’ll stop at the DQ on the way home and get me a buster bar. I totally deserve it.
LATER: David and I went to DQ after the dog park and I got me an entire peanut buster parfait. He got the buster bar. I’ve eaten only the peanut buster parfait for dinner and nothing else. I defy old age! Now I just need to figure out how I can sit in the tub and watch my Discovery channel vhs documentary about the sun while soaking in the tub. (the video was checked out from the library AND Michael “Lt Worf” Dorn narrates it. I cannot defy my nerdiness)

I used to have lots of issues with allergies in the past, then I read somewhere that sometimes people with lots of allergies also have lots of stress and maybe the allergies are just physical manifestations of stress. It was written with all kinds of conditionals and whatnot so as to not offend those with real (or deeply realistic) allergies. So imagine I’m writing it the same way. Imagine I’m saying everyone has real allergies except me.
So yeah, once I read about the psychosomatic allergies I took it seriously and mind over matter took over and I talked myself out of my allergies proving that they were in fact psychosomatic.
Now part of my issue is that ever since this worked for me, I try to convince myself that all my health problems are probably psychosomatic. Interestingly, it’s one of the reasons why I took so long to seek medical attention for my depression. I just figured I was being a big baby and it would pass. Actually, you’d be surprised at how often I heard some refiguring of that statement from friends of mine but whatever.
Anyway, allergies. Yeah. For 3 weeks now my nose is gunny, my eyes itch and run, I’m tired and I have crazy mad scientist mucous. I refused to even acknowledge that this was happening. This was not happening. Not at all. My nose does not itch, my eyes are not gooey, I do not feel like crap.
All I could find to take at work was some sort of generic cold pills. The decongestant helped but not really. I feel like crap. I need to take medicine for this, but if I take medicine then I am admitting that I have a problem and then it’s all “is it real or is it psychosomatic? is this runny nose real or just a manifestation of the stress that I hate dealing with?”
I’m wondering if I can use this to get another burrito out of David. He bought me one last night (chili verde sin cebollas from Pineda).

I met Patti and her mom and her sister and her neice for lunch today at the Uptown diner. The beauty of the uptown diner is their hollandaise, rich, buttery, eggy, delicious. When you order a benedict you get enough hollandaise to cover your entire plate including the thick, crispy slab of hash browns. I could write sonnets to the hollandaise.
I usually order the cajun benedict made with spicy andouille sausage. It feeds my craving for spiced pork AND hollandaise. Perfect.
What did I order for lunch? Not the cajun benedict, my usual order or even the biscuit and gravy benedict (served with your own defibrillator!). Nope. I ordered a giant bowl of oatmeal and a side of cantaloupe. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate oatmeal, I hate it so much. Or at least I did until 6 months ago when I was overcome by a craving so deep I had to go to the store and buy some and I ate it almost every day! Now I purposefully shun the cholesterol and pork for oatmeal and cantaloupe.
See also: my insane consumption of cheerios and my habit of consuming a pound or more of carrots for lunch on any given day. Or even an entire evening spent at Nyes with someone else driving and all I drank was diet coke because drinking and getting drunk has lost all appeal.
wait…these are the things that old people do!!!!! Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit! What the hell am I going to do? I’m almost 34 and I’m acting all 45! “blah blah blah drinking just doesn’t appeal to me…blah blah blah I love oatmeal and fruit….meh meh meh i poop regularly…honk honk honk why don’t i go crochet a doily and make some jam and drive my beige car 5 miles under the speed limit…”
I need to rectify this and fast. I stopped smoking 6 months ago, time to start again! I’ve got a brand new bottle of Jack and I think I can rustle up some porn and doritos. I will not accept that I am an old lady!!!!