two L's please

And I Get What I Want My Name Is My Credit Card Don't Try To Hate Me Because I Am So Popular

2009-12-10T22:46:00.000-08:00

I was not one of the sparkly popular kids in school. My family didn't have a lot of money; I wore my sister's hand-me-down clothes; my parents drove a 15-year-old station wagon (with imitation wood panelling!); we lived in a neighbourhood of families who took annual vacations to places like Palm Springs and Hawaii. It wasn't just my family's financial situation that made me an easy target, though. I was quiet; I got good grades in school; teachers liked me because I did my homework and didn't create any problems. I was a nerd, is what I'm saying. I was a nerd without trendy clothes or exotic vacation stories. I was a nerd before being a nerd was cool. Most of the time I was able to stay under the radar of the beautiful people but occasionally one of the Wretched would take notice of me and make my life miserable. It made me a little mistrustful of the beautiful people. The anxiety doesn't help, of course, but I'm fairly certain that the root of my social awkwardness can be traced back to my angst-ridden days in elementary school. I live my life stumbling from one awkward encounter to the next, relying on my core group of people to provide my comfort zone.

And then a night like tonight happens. Kyla Roma came to Vancouver and asked if I wanted to meet. Kyla Roma is one of the sparkly popular kids of my bloggy world. Her writing is honest and beautiful. Her soul shines through her words. She ... scares me. Seriously. I was excited to meet her but also anxious. Tummy-clenching, speak-too-quickly, forget-to-breathe anxious. Which is silly because obviously she was lovely and sweet and I had a fabulous time. We drank winter ale and ate yam fries and talked about blogging and this may just be the 9% beer talking but I feel like tonight I managed to be kinda sorta un-awkward (Kyla, if you don't agree, please be a darling and pretend that you do!) Nights like tonight make me feel like maybe I can do blogger meet-ups without dying inside. Not anytime soon, mind you, but I'm getting there. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

His Smile's Your Rope So Wrap It Tight Around Your Throat

2009-12-08T10:11:00.000-08:00

I had a fabulous weekend, running from one thing to the next; baby kisses here, tequila shots there, with no rest in between. Instead of paring down my weekend's festivities when I started to feel overwhelmed, I added to the craziness whenever a new opportunity arose. When Shawn called at 6 on Saturday evening and said he'd been invited to play a show, I didn't tell him that I was hungover and in my pyjamas and attempting to motivate myself to do my accounting homework. I got dressed and went to the shady bar and held the video camera while simultaneously keeping a death grip on my bag because it seemed like the sort of place where muggings are not uncommon.

(The audio will not sync with the video and I cannot be arsed to sort it out. Sorry.)

(Shawn's playing the bass.)

My body protested when I forced it out into the cold on Sunday, almost as loudly as Robin protested when I forced her to attend the BlogHer Holiday party with me. I can't meet lovely, sparkly people on my own though (especially when I am hungover and so far from sparkly that I cannot even muster a single twinkle,) so she agreed to be my wingwoman. The party was lovely and everyone I spoke to was wonderful and I will definitely be returning to Tempest.

I'm paying for my fantastic weekend now, as I lie in bed dying of the Throat of Doom. I don't want to be home from work; I'm actually feeling quite twitchy as I picture the mounds of paperwork piling up. I'm determined to be better by tomorrow so I can get caught up. I'm meeting Kyla on Thursday and I'll be anxious enough about that without worrying about invoices and germs too.

A Coffee Shop With A Cause Then I'll Freak You Out

2009-12-06T14:02:00.000-08:00

It took me much longer than it should have for me to figure out how to set up my etsy shop but I think I'm finally there. If you love moose-tashes, check it out!

Twisted Diamond Heart I'm The Weekend Warrior

2009-12-04T10:25:00.000-08:00

This weekend I will:

nibble on tiny little baby fingers when a good friend visits with her 7-month old bundle of love.

quell my ovaries' treacherous longing by spending time with her almost-3-year old bundle of piss and vinegar.

bake Angella's whipped shortbread (and hopefully whip up some Christmas spirit while I'm at it.)

finish the Christmas stockings I'm making for Shawn's and my stocking stuffer gift exchange.

set up an etsy shop so I can sell my moose-tash keychains.

party like a rockstar to celebrate a lovely lady's birthday.

recuperate from said partying with a Special Ladies' Christmas Brunch and Book Exchange (which is being held at my place. Tomorrow morning. Even though I have not yet cleaned my messy kitchen or bought any food. Eh, details.)

try not to spill anything on myself or swear too much at the Vancouver BlogHer Christmas party. If you're planning to be there, say hi! I will be the socially awkward one with bad hair.

What's on the agenda for your weekend?

If We Were Children I Would Bake You A Mud Pie

2009-12-02T23:16:00.000-08:00

Things currently making my heart sing:

* * * * *

All of the sweet comments and emails you guys have sent regarding my last post. You are all rockstars. I hadn't written about the seizures because there wasn't much to say about it. It sucks. It's kind of scary. It's extremely inconvenient (my driver's licence has been suspended until I have a clear brain scan.) And it feels slightly less scary today after writing about it. Thank you for reminding me why I love blogging.

* * * * *

Fantastic Mr. Fox. I rarely go to the movies but last night Shawn convinced me to go see Fantastic Mr. Fox with him and a few friends. It blew my mind. I spent half the movie grinning like a fool, not because the movie was particularly funny but because it made me so happy.

* * * * *

One of my favourite feelings in the world: the clean sheets, clean pyjamas, clean Hillary amalgam. I am currently in bed after a brutal workout. I came home and put clean linens on the bed, took a hot shower, and put on my comfiest pyjamas. I am a happy bunny.

* * * * *

The Them Crooked Vultures album. Dudes. It rocks my effing world.

* * * * *

Ben's hatred of science.

* * * * *

What's putting a spring in your step and a smile on your face today?

If Your Head Is High You'll Never Fear At All

2009-12-02T06:02:00.000-08:00

The week before I saw my horrid doctor I punched Stella. It was accidental and was actually what prompted me to get over myself and make the damn appointment.

I am not a good sleeper. I talk in my sleep, I wake up multiple times a night, sometimes I sit up in my sleep, sometimes I walk in my sleep, and a few weeks ago I punched my puppy.

For the last few years, I've had seizures while I sleep. My doctor said it was either a sleep disorder or a stress disorder but since it only happened a few times a month on average, it didn't affect me any more than my other sleep issues did.

Until it started happening more regularly. I had ten seizures in the two weeks before I worked up the courage to see my wretched doctor. Then I punched my poor pup and that sealed the deal for me. I made the appointment and saw my doctor.

The good thing about my meany-pants doctor is that she's a well-connected meany-pants doctor. Within a week of seeing her she got me in to see a neurologist.

So that was pretty much the longest introduction to this, the shortest story:

I had the appointment with the neurologist. Not just any neurologist, mind you. A prominent neurologist who runs impressive neurology programs at the university and who has a fancy office in a state-of-the-art medical building. So I go to the exam thinking it will be a quick little head exam (side note: for some reason I thought neurology was about the head not the nervous system) except that when I show up, the neurologist tells me to put on a hospital gown. This would not have been an issue, had I been wearing underpants instead of a tiny little lacy thong (what? I hadn't done laundry in a while.) So I put on the hospital gown and we start the exam and things are going fine. Until I have to walk in a straight line away from the neurologist and do this balancing thing and my gown flaps open and I show my bare ass to the fancy neurologist.

So basically I'm all about showing my bum now. It's kind of my thing.

Dye Your Hair Suicide Blonde

2009-11-30T20:18:00.000-08:00

I'm very unsure about my hair. I don't know what looks good or what doesn't look good; the only thing I'm sure of is that I do not love my natural hair colour and have never loved my natural hair colour. Over the years, this dislike has made me susceptible to wily hair stylists.
Admittedly, I am usually quite pleased with the results after I've agreed to highlights or lowlights or deep-conditioning or whatever it is the stylist is pushing. After the initial buzz wears off though (usually about the time I've washed away the blow-out and have been unable to recreate the salon results,) I'm left feeling sick at the amount of money I've spent. Yes, I loved my hair. But did I love my hair that much? Two hundred dollars' worth? Even one hundred dollars' worth?

I have a hair appointment on Thursday (I'm debating a Kyla Roma fringe ... stay tuned) and in an effort to prevent spending my grocery money on my hair, yesterday I coloured my hair at home. I spent $8 on a box of non-permanent hair dye and went nuts. One ruined tank top later (note to self: a wee tea towel is not large enough to protect your clothes from hair dye, especially when you are a clumsy oaf) I'm quite pleased with myself. My hair doesn't look as good as it does after a day at the salon and the colour is a bit darker than I hoped it would be, but I kind of don't care.

Before

After

(Wow. I just realized that in my before photo I'm not wearing a lick of makeup. This is why I should wear mascara and blush every day.)

There's A Woman With A Mustache Who Won't Let Me Be

2009-11-29T23:32:00.000-08:00

In an effort to pull myself out of a truly foul mood, I decided to spend some time being silly instead of angsty. What's more silly then a mustache key chain? (I say "moose-tash" instead of "must-ash" and it drives Shawn crazy. This made my mustache key chain even more fun than it already was.)

A mustache key chain is extremely useful. Not only is it a fun place to keep your keys, it also serves as a disguise for secret agents.

In unrelated news, I'm quite embarrassed by how filthy the mirror is, not to mention the amount of dirty dishes piled in the background. Eh. Who has time for menial chores when there are moose-tashes to play with.

These Holidays Won’t Be Wonderful

2009-11-25T12:08:00.001-08:00

So. The Christmas. I am trying to love the Christmas this year. I really am. Apparently my family didn't get the fucking memo that Christmas is going to be awesome this year, though.

Three weeks ago we started talking about when we were all available to get together for our Christmas festivities. Two weeks ago we decided on a 1pm Christmas brunch (my mom insists on calling it brunch to make it sound more fancy, even though 1pm is totally lunch.) Last week Bow (my younger sister who consistently makes my head melt) mentioned that the Christmas dinner she's going to is "kind of an all day thing." What the fuck? First of all, we all worked our schedules (and the schedules of our significant others, and the schedules of the parents of our significant others) around Bow's fucking Christmas dinner with her husband's family. Secondly, when you specify that you have a Christmas dinner to go to but don't specify that it's an "all day thing," people will assume that you are available during the day. Especially when you don't fucking say anything when everyone else in the family decides on a 1pm brunch.

So now my mom (who is kind of sick right now and won't be feeling better until after her surgery ... in March) is having three family celebrations. Appetizers on Christmas Eve, brunch on Christmas Day, and dinner on Boxing Day. Three separate celebrations because my family of six people can't get it together enough to spend one fucking day with each other. Though really it's just the one person who can't get it together. This is why I hate the holidays. I can quite happily ignore the pathetic relationship I have with my younger sister during the rest of the year. At Christmas, though, I feel like a failure for not liking her. I'm just so sick of her being a selfish brat and my parents excusing her behaviour. Christmas is going to be extra fun this year is what I'm saying.

And I Feel Anxious Sleeping Inches From Me

2009-11-22T20:33:00.000-08:00

I spent the entire trip to my doctor's office feeling more and more surly, composing withering monologues in my head. I arrived for my appointment five minutes early and then sat in the exam room for twenty minutes, my resolve fading every time I heard footsteps outside the closed door. By the time my doctor entered the room any desire to confront her had been suppressed by my extreme anxiety at seeing her again. I spent the first five minutes of the appointment reminding myself to breathe.

Everything turned out to be fine. My doctor didn't mention what happened the last time I saw her so neither did I. It was rather anticlimactic, actually. I was so affected by her words and spent so much time and energy worrying about my situation with disliking my doctor so strongly and not being able to find a new doctor, and in the end it was completely unnecessary. I am so neurotic sometimes, it's ridiculous.

Who's Getting Scared Now

2009-11-20T11:04:00.000-08:00

I'm going to see my doctor today. The same doctor who I swore I would never see again.

My search for a new doctor has been completely unsuccessful. After whittling away at my list of deal breakers, I was left with just one: I will not travel for more than half an hour to see my doctor. I cannot find a doctor within half an hour's travel time from either my home or my office, so I'm left with my doctor who made me cry.

I'm trying to be positive. I haven't seen her in over a year. Maybe she won't remember our last appointment.

I'm putting this on the internet for accountability. I've spent the morning trying to come up with valid reasons why I should not go to this appointment. I need the internet to kick my ass if I don't go.

We Have One Chance One Chance To Get Everything Right

2009-11-19T06:33:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling a bit random today.

* * * * *

Robin gave Burt another chance and ... it went well. So well that they've got another date planned for this weekend. I reckon that Robin should start her own blog so she can keep us updated on the story (hint hint, Robin.)

* * * * *

I am excited for the Christmas card swap! I ordered some kickass Christmas cards in my attempt to love Christmas this year. They feature my puppies because, well, what else would I buy when it comes to Christmas cards? Peeps who left a comment saying they want to participate in the swap should email me their address at ninjahills at gmail dot com. I'll mix up the addresses and get them out the first week of December.

* * * * *

I love So You Think You Can Dance (though Mary Murphy's voice and the shrieking and the "woooooo"ing make my head melt.) Ryan and Ellenore's routine this week made me extra happy because they danced to a song by one of my favourite bands, Stars.

* * * * *

After months of having an assortment of red, orange, green, brown, and taupe paint chips taped to our bedroom walls, I have finally decided that I want to paint the bedroom blue and grey. Maybe.

* * * * *

Wolfgang is a fan of the facebook.

* * * * *

What bits of randomness are floating around your brain?

Help

2009-11-18T14:23:00.001-08:00

(shamelessly stolen from Cat)

Don't Give Up The Fight I Saw You Dance Tonight

2009-11-18T06:29:00.000-08:00

My adorable puppies, having a cuddle:

The cuddle lasted for approximately 2.3 seconds before this happened:

And then Wolfgang was all "you want on my couch? I don't think so!"

My life is never quiet.

Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 11

2009-11-17T08:27:00.000-08:00

Random Tuesday Tidbits

Robin loved all of your comments. Miel et Cannelle brought up the point that we don't know Burt's financial situation, which is true and totally valid. It's possible that I'm being an insensitive douche (it's been known to happen.) The thing is, he chose the restaurant for their first date. He took her to a trendy oyster bar in one of the fancier downtown neighbourhoods. He set the tone. Anyway, Robin hasn't fully decided what to do about Burt yet but I will keep you posted.

* * * * *

My family got together on Sunday to celebrate my mom's birthday. We were all in charge of bringing something to contribute to dinner. They should have been suspicious when I offered to bring the salad course.

Why yes, those are my November beets atop the salads. Suckers!

* * * * *

We have had nothing but rain for days. I try to walk the pups but it only takes a few minutes of precipitation before Wolfgang decides he has had enough and starts to cry. He is such a delicate flower. He'd much rather curl up in bed and hibernate until it's sunny and warm again. I don't blame him.

One More Cheap Suit In The Loop More Chlorine In The Pool

2009-11-16T09:22:00.000-08:00

I met Robin and Cat for breakfast yesterday to dissect Robin's dating life. Robin is very smart, has an awesome job, is gorgeous, has a great apartment downtown, is very witty ... and finds the douchiest guys to date. She probably wouldn't say that she dates the douchiest guys; however, as her best friend, I feel I have the right to be protective of her. I met Robin when I was 7 years old so it's possible that I have unrealistically high standards for the guys she dates.

So. Robin's dating life. She is facing a dilemma and has given me permission to share it in the hopes that someone can shed some light on the situation.

Robin started dating "Burt" a few weeks ago. They have no history together; they met through work (though they don't work together) a few weeks ago and he asked her out. He took her to a nice restaurant (which he chose) and then when the bill came, he asked her to split it with him.

Here's where Robin and I disagree.

I am a fan of splitting the bill on the first date. I feel like it removes any pressure and/or expectations from the person who isn't paying. Robin feels like the person who does the asking should do the paying.

Anyway. She split the bill with him.

Her dilemma is that every time she's seen him since (a few dinners and lunches) he has made an issue of the bill. Either asking her outright to split the bill with him or making a big deal out of the fact that he paid the bill (one time. He has paid the entire bill one time and was really ungracious about it.)

Here's where Robin and I agree.

Robin doesn't feel like the guy she's dating should pick up the bill every single time. She's more than capable of paying her own way. She's a very generous person and loves to treat people. Her issue is that Burt has removed that aspect of treating each other from their relationship. (Not that they have a relationship relationship yet but "courtship" sounded douchey.) She likes to feel wooed. She likes to be treated and she likes to treat the people she cares about.

Robin was undecided about Burt. She liked him alright but money can be a really big issue in relationships. It seemed like a bad sign that money was already an issue. I had advised Robin to give Burt a chance. He seems like a good guy on paper. And then ... Friday happened.

Burt asked Robin out for lunch but she was really busy so she suggested they meet for a quick coffee. She grabbed a handful of change on the way out of the office but when she went to pay for the coffees she was $1 short. She asked Burt if he had any change and he said no, he would pay for the coffees with his debit card. And then he took $4 from Robin's hand (she had her hand out because she was sorting the change.) The 2 coffees came to $8 and he took $4 in change from Robin. Exactly half. He split the bill. For coffee.

This is the last straw, right? She should give Burt the axe, yes? I mean, he's either extremely cheap or he's setting some pretty firm "friend" boundaries.

Thoughts, comments, suggestions, advice all welcome!

Lilac Wine I Feel Unsteady Like My Love

2009-11-13T08:53:00.000-08:00

Every summer since before I was born, my family has spent a week in the Okanagan with two other families. The core group started when my dad was in university with his buddies and expanded as they got married and then had kids. Five years ago his buddy's kids started having kids, meaning the group has grown to 21 adults and 3 children. That's a lot of people in one cabin.

Happy hour is legendary during this week. I have so many good memories of the adults acting like complete and utter jackasses when I was still too young to realize that they were just hammered.

With all the drinking and the many wine glasses, one tends to forget which glass belongs to whom (who? Dammit, someone please explain who/whom to me.) We've tried different varieties of wine charms (the little trinkets you attach to your wine glass to identify it as yours) but that mainly led to confusion. After a few drinks, how can you be expected to remember if your charm is the martini glass or the champagne flute? Drinking should not involve thinking is what I'm saying.

The wine glass mix-up, combined with my hatred of other people's saliva, prompted me to make these:

Personalized wine charms! Colour-coded personalized wine charms. I cannot tell you how much I love these.

This Ordinary Mind Is Broken

2009-11-10T17:59:00.001-08:00

Various events have left me feeling ... discombobulated. Just when I think I've fought my way back to centre, something happens to make me realize that things are still a bit off-kilter. Like when I searched for my lost wallet all day and then, after giving up hope of ever seeing it again, found it on a stack of old books on my bookshelf. Or like how I knocked a knife off the counter and then tried to catch it mid-air, slicing my thumb in three places in the process. My brain is working at half-speed, it seems. I blame it on the rain.

Bringing a massive smile to my face today is Ben and his tit-o-grams (don't blame Ben for the crassness, please. I couldn't resist.) Please, if you have a moment or two, read Ben's entry and help out if you can. I wish I lived in Halifax so I could eat one of Ben's boobies. Yeah. I went there.

Gonna Find Myself A Duck And Legally Do Something Awful

2009-11-07T14:04:00.000-08:00

Garfunkel and Oates (the same ladies who did Pregnant Women are Smug) made this video in response to Pat Robertson's comment that legalizing gay marriage would lead to sex with ducks.

Garfunkel and Oates make me smile.

I Wrapped Up All Your Presents Wrote My Name On Every Card

2009-11-06T12:04:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of negative feelings about Christmas. I spend a large portion of every December (and November if I'm being completely honest) feeling blue, then feeling guilty for feeling blue because I have a lot of good things in my life that I should be happy about, and then feeling sad about feeling guilty about feeling blue. Feel free to pity Shawn; I do.

Last week Nilsa wrote that holiday traditions don't need to be traditional. It was an aha! moment for me. Every year I feel like I fail at Christmas because we don't have (or want) a Christmas tree, or decorate every available space with assorted Christmas bric-a-brac like my mother does, or enjoy listening to Christmas carols. Nilsa's post, along with all of the lovely suggestions you made on my "woe is me, Christmas is so haaaard" post, made me understand that Shawn and I don't need to have a cookie cutter Christmas. Last year we barbecued hamburgers in the snow on Christmas Eve. It is officially our very own Christmas tradition (the hamburger part; I could do without the snow part.) I'm (tentatively) excited about Christmas this year. Sure there will be family drama - there always is - and frustration. But there will also be hamburgers. And ... what else? What are your non-traditional holiday traditions? I need to poach some new traditions for Kickass Christmas '09.

In other Christmas news (look at me go! I'm all about the Christmas this year) I am thinking of putting together a card exchange if I can drum up some interest. I'm thinking anyone who wanted to participate could email me their mailing address (ninjahills at gmail dot com) by a certain date and then I would distribute the addresses so everyone who sent a card would receive a card. I love receiving snail mail and finding new blogs and this seems like a cool (holiday-themed! Kickass Christmas '09!) way to do it. Is this something you would want to participate in? I realize not everyone celebrates Christmas and I'm trying to not be exclusive so let's call this the Holiday Card Swap. Open to everyone!

Idiot Wind Blowing Through The Buttons Of Our Coats

2009-11-06T09:31:00.001-08:00

Living in Vancouver means that from October until April my wardrobe is dictated by the rain. Wearing a dress on a rainy day and then sitting at my desk with wet tights/nylons is one of my least favourite feelings. Yesterday, after a cursory glance out the window to ensure the absence of rain, I put on a dress and left for work.

It's important to note that my dress was a bit floaty. It's a summery, cotton dress that I autumn-ized by wearing with a long-sleeved tee and wool tights.

I got outside and immediately noticed that it was a bit breezy. So. Floaty dress + wind. Bad plan, right? I thought about changing but I was already running late and changing meant waiting for the elevator, going through the "you're home! I love you! let's play!" shenanigans with the puppies, changing (I was wearing tights people - it would not be a quick change,) going through the "don't leeeeeave meeeeee" shenanigans with Wolfgang, and then waiting for the elevator again. I couldn't afford the time.

Everything was fine until I left the office at lunch. I didn't take my purse; I grabbed my wallet and my phone and ran across the street to grab some food. As I made my way back to the office, the wind started to blow again. I had my wallet, my phone, and a bagel in one hand and a giant cup of tea in the other. And was wearing a floaty dress.

And that is how I ended up showing my bum to a street full of people. I was wearing tights (grace in small things ... or not so small things in my case) but still, a bum squished into tights is still a bum.

Dear Hillary,
When it comes to being a few minutes late for work or showing your ample behind to a street full of strangers, you can always afford the time.
Love,
Exposed and Ashamed

All That I Know Is I'm Breathing Now

2009-11-05T10:01:00.000-08:00

I've had an extremely negative attitude all week, to the point where even I have become sick of all my griping and groaning. In an effort to remove myself from this cycle of bitch, I'm taking inspiration from all of you Grace in Small Things people and making a list of things (some small, some not so small) that are making me happy (or at least less-bitchy) today.

Healthy friends. My friend had her surgery on Friday and it was a complete success. Not only was the surgery successful, the results she received from the tests were the best possible she could have received. She's got a long recovery in front of her but she's the toughest broad I know so I'm sure she'll be just fine.

Wearing Slippers at work. Why have I not thought of this before? I wear high-heeled pinchy shoes pretty much every day. I sit at a desk pretty much all day long. Where is the logic in that? Right now I'm wearing comfy slippers and feeling quite blissful. My high-heeled pinchy shoes are sitting under my desk for when I need to act like a grownup but for now my toes are un-pinched and toasty warm.

My body. I have spent a lot of years hating my body; it's a strange feeling to actually kinda sorta maybe like it a little now. Last night at karate I was shocked to discover strength I've never had before. I pushed myself so hard that I thought I might vomit and today it hurts to breathe but I feel pretty fucking proud of myself.

Discount Hallowe'en candy. Reese peanut butter cups and Oh Henry! bars for 50% off? Yes please!

That's all I've got. What's making you happy today? Or, if you need to rant, what's making you punchy today?

'Cause You're Doing In My Nut And Do You Think I Care?

2009-11-03T09:48:00.000-08:00

I have the throat of death again, which means that my diet has been reduced to liquids and viscous substances. I'm all about the scrambled eggs and rice pudding right now. My mom is a firm believer in the healing properties of homemade soup so I decided to make myself a giant pot of butternut squash soup. I love squash but I don't often buy it because Shawn doesn't eat it and then I'm stuck eating squash leftovers for a week. I've never prepared a butternut squash before, is what I'm saying. I was completely unprepared for all the burning and crying. Butternut squash is evil. Butternut squash can be a moody bitch . Butternut squash should come with a warning label. My left hand (the hand that held the squash as I peeled it) was swollen and painful. The skin was chapped and reddish-orange. My skin was so tight that it ripped when I tried to straighten my fingers.

Dr. Google told me that I was suffering from "cucurbita moschata dermatitis" which is just a fancy name for "wtf, nature, wtf?"

My hand is almost back to normal now, two days later, but the psychological scars remain. I think the moral of this story is that trying to be healthy is not worth the pain and agony it can cause. From now on I'm eating cheeseburgers.

So Be My Devil Angel Be My Shooting Star

2009-11-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

Wolfgang can't pull off "angelic"

More realistic

Oh the shame

I'd Fix It If I Could

2009-10-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

There is no faff today - just twisty thoughts as one of my favourite people in the world has a scary and significant surgery today. Happy, healing thoughts are much appreciated, as are distracting stories about your Hallowe'en plans.