Deep in the trenches of Mirgaine Territory

Feeling like 100% Ass today. Headache started when the alarm went off yesterday morning. Went to work anyway, took some Tylenol (aka Complete Freakin' Joke of a Pain Killer) and muddled through. Around 10 am the nausea hit, so I took an Immitrex. A few hours later, still hurting and wishing for death, but with the added side effects of: muscle weakness, dizziness, and overall sluggish response times. Sounds like time to drive home.
I don't remember my journey home. I don't know any other way to put that, but it's just as scary as it sounds. I don't remember anything past getting in my car, and being inside the daycare lady's house. Fantastic.

Realizing where this was going, I tried to get everything arranged at work just in case I was out of commission today. I spoke with my boss about it, and he gave me a kind of ominous, "Try to come in tomorrow...." That sounded less like a request and hope for my well being, and more of a "come to work or suffer the consequences" thing. But maybe paranoia is another side effect of medication. Either way, I'm here at work this morning, unmedicated since driving 35 miles in a complete stupor is not really good for one's health.

I am not happy about it, can you tell. Whatever.

Warren has decided that crawling is for suckers, and he ain't no chump. So, he spends every waking minute walking around every piece of furniture within his grasp. We've been trying to make him crawl over to the furniture (as he's still waking up nightly, on his hands and knees rocking. Apparently, babies will practice crawling in their sleep until they get it down. Fun.) so he can get the skill mastered, already. But, Warren isn't having it. He rolls over, scootches in his pattented BoatSkimmer method to the furniture where he pulls himself up and bounces around like a demented little hillbilly. (only having 4 teeth, and usually wearing overalls that are too short for him does not help with the hillbilly imagery). But at least he's happy, and has stopped crying if Xtian or I am out of his immediate reach.

9 Months? I love you. Let's be best friends!

So, it's a pattern is it?

Two Monday nights in a row, Warren has awoken before 2 am, and stayed awake until... well as far as I know, till now. Anyone else have an issue like this? He sleeps like a prince all week, but come Monday night, he goes down easily and sleeps well until 1:30 or 2:00. Then he's just awake. I'm kind of thinking it's a baby hangover from the weekend, when we aren't very good at sticking to schedules and the days are weird and we usually have a million people over. But, I could also just totally be making this up. I have no idea. Lack of sleep has left me headachy, cranky and less than rational. Should be fun times at my house.

So, all family has left my house and we've got a few days of relative normalcy before we ditch him at the grandparents' for a few days. Good lord I hope that goes ok. I'm really excited about this trip, and I'd hate to have him miserable throughout the whole thing. But also, I really really need three nights in a row of baby free sleep, and if we have to come back early, I'm going to be less than pleased.

~~

Due to family and friend obligations, I attended church twice last week. I think that has me all god-ed out for the next...five years? Sheesh. Like I know 12-step programs are way in jebus and hey, if it works for you and helps keep you clean, right on. But damn, would I rather be pretty much anywhere than sitting through church services. Luckily, having a kid is the perfect way to get out of any situation. As soon as Warren starts making any noise at all (I can't wait for the fussing, as it usually doesn't happen, so I utilize the happy sounds too) I just scoop him up and exit the room. Works like a charm.

Unfortunately for my ass, at the Catholic baptism on Sunday ( my work husband's kid, he of the shitstorm of a girlfriend) Warren was the best behaved kid there. Leaving me stuck on old school wooden pews built with no back support. I'm fairly certain these are designed to cause maximum damage to fidgeting children, as I saw no fewer than five kids accidentally crack their noggins into the seat back. Looked ouchy. But Warren wasn't one of them. While every other baby there screamed and cried, Warren sat happily and quietly ripping apart their newsletter. Damn well-contented kid. (Just kidding! Please, Karma, don't let my kid start behaving badly in public!) Also, I do have to give Warren props for, so far, never responding the Baby Scream Chain. You know the one, one kid starts screaming and within a 38 seconds every kid is screaming in a show of unity? Yeah, apparently Warren isn't linked into the chain. Whew!

Yeah. My head hurts, and I'm out!

Grumbling Makes the Day Fly By

Still alive. For now. I’m on a record Day Eight of the Migraine that Never Ends! Luckily, I have narcotics. Not so luckily, they make me feel pretty high, so I really shouldn’t be driving or anything while on them. And I’m also almost out. This presents a problem. Can this shit just STOP?

In other news, I’m currently carrying a monstrously large child. We’re measuring a full 2-4 weeks ahead of schedule, leading me to hope this kid will indeed make a nice early appearance. And since, by my calculations, we’re in week 36, I’m ready for this kid….today. Although, ideally we can wait until after this weekend’s baby shower. You know, since I have no clothing for this kid yet. I hear babies wearing nothing but diapers for the first year of life are highly frowned upon. Not sure why, I figure it just makes nibbling on chubby baby appendages easier. Mmmm, chubby baby toes!

I saw my pregnant aunt over the weekend, and can I just say, thank the lord I feel as good as I do. She gained a ton of weight and is now so bloated and uncomfortable she has trouble walking around. At least I can still touch my toes, for now. She’s about 4 weeks ahead of me, but she’s been off work for over a month already, since she’s been so uncomfortable. That poor lady. I’m so glad that I’ve apparently inherited my mother’s pregnancy genetics.

All I’m doing for the next two and half weeks at work is prepping my boss to do all my normal tasks. He’s not thrilled about learning how to do these things. Oh, and did I mention that I had my meeting with my VP about my maternity leave? Because I did. And just as I expected, I got a big FUCK YOU from them. So, I get only the twelve weeks required by law, with no options in working from home when I return. Thanks guys! That’s awesome!

I no longer feel any guilt at all for job-hunting while on leave. Ideally, I’ll never have to show up here again. Wouldn’t that be heavenly?

Please speak softly.

No talk. Migraine. Want to vomit and die. Can't do either. Stuck at work because I have a stupid doctor's appt later this afternoon. And like a retard, I made all my doctor appointments near my work for "convenience". So rather than doubling the number of hours I'm on the road each day, I'm forced to sit here in the dark and wish for death for another 3 hours.

Someone, please, just take a hacksaw to my skull. I'll pay you.

Seriously.

PS. Taking Tylenol for a migraine is about the equivalent of spitting on the still-burning fires in Southern California. Just useless exercises, both.

Rambling begets rambling, with a side of complaining

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Open letter to my brain:

Dear Brain,

I have always tried to treat you well, but it has become clear to me that I just can’t provide what you need. For the last 25 years, I’ve done everything in my power to make you happy: I drink all the water in the world, I eat well, I take my vitamins, I work out, and I do my best to sleep at least 8 hours a night. I don’t know what else I can do to keep you satisfied.

And yet, after all the effort I’ve put in, you still refuse to meet me halfway. Why? Why do you insist on waking me out of a dead slumber by trying to make my entire skull explode from the pain? Why do you constantly seek a way out of body? It hurts me. It really does.

I know this might come as a shock to you, but I think it’s time we saw other people. I’d like to remain friends, but I just can’t do this anymore. I feel like we keep having the same problems over and over again without ever finding a solution.

Please, vacate my skull as soon as possible.

Best of luck in future endeavors,
Love,
Coley.

(If you can’t tell, my head fucking hurts.)

You look hungry...

So, yes, long weekend, eh? I slept an enormous amount all weekend. I tallied it up this morning and figured out that I slept about 11 hours each Friday and Saturday, and averaged about 2 naps a day. I felt pretty awesome, aside from the headaches which have made a delightful third trimester return.

Tried to see the Bourne Ultimatum on Saturday. But, didn’t make it through the movie. Allow me to explain: I woke up on Saturday at about 10:30 am. I ate a fabulous bowl of cereal (Yum, had forgotten how much I like Apple Jacks. No nutritional value, but tasty, nonetheless), watched some Food Network as is my weekend habit, then set about cleaning the house. Now, we all know I’m a bit of a clean freak/OCD nightmare, so when I clean the house, we’re talking about baseboard scrubbing, under the couch vacuuming sweeping swiffering and mopping, bathroom sanitizing, moving the oven to scrape the scum etc. Needless to say, this is a long, involved process. So, around 4 pm I was finally finished and able to catch a shower. Xtian got home just in time to clean out the cat box for me.

I realized we could make the next showing of the movie if we left…RIGHT NOW! So, being juvenile delinquents, and cheap, we crammed my purse full of candy and headed to the theater. Once inside, I realized that I’d eaten nothing but that cereal, and should probably put something in my belly that isn’t gelatin based, or chocolate covered. A little popcorn, and a coke to get some caffeine circulating. (See, headaches. All the time, every day again. Thanks Mocha Cub!)

So, we shuffle into the theater, manage to nab the make out seats in the very back, and I proceed to munch popcorn while the previews get rolling. As soon as the movie starts, I can see I’ve made an error in judgment. The camera shakes, swivels and bounces every second of every scene. I know the Bourne movies are like this, but this third one took it to a new level. Not just chase scenes, but quiet conversation in a deli scenes. Talking on the phone scenes. Every scene. I’m feeling queasy. Within 30 minutes I’m dashing to the bathroom where I had the singular pleasure of vomiting popcorn. Just fabulous.

Hoping I’d gotten that out of my system, I returned to the theater. Nope. Repeat performance. Luckily Xtian knows the drill, and let me go, finished watching the movie and met me outside when it was all over. So, major bummer there, and man, did I feel like shit for the rest of the day. I finally managed to get some actual food into my body around 8pm. Nice job taking care of yourself Coley! Yeah, and I’m in charge of the care of another human in a few months? Good luck.

So, Sunday was spent nibbling food (which all sounds gross again. After a couple of weeks of fantasizing about what else there was to eat, WHILE EATING, I’m back to everything sounding/tasting horrible. No wonder I’m having trouble with the weight gain.) watching movies and trying to get Xtian to make out with me. No dice there. *sigh*

Whoop that Trick.

I feel like ten tons of ass today. As though the third trimester (which officially began today) is welcoming me with a blinding headache, nausea, a racing heartbeat, lightheadedness and overall inability to function. Thanks! It’s a pleasure being here. Dear lord, if this lasts for another three months, I will die.

And I’m going to bitch about work for a minute here, if you all don’t mind.
In an attempt to be a good little worker bee who also happens to be a pregnant lady, I typed up a maternity leave proposal that sounded like a nice balance of time home to be with the new kiddo, and working to make money and still be a valued member of the damned “team”. Basically, I asked for 16 weeks at home, with the last 9 weeks working part time from home. Additionally, once I return to work full time, the option of working from home one day a week, to be determined by the company’s needs.

My supervisor looked it over, thought it sounded more than fair, and told me to put it forward to our Vice President.

In a candid conversation with my supervisor, the VP mentioned she doesn’t think it will fly. The reason? Our CEO has shown discomfort with employees telecommuting. Not that he’s here more than 4 hours a week. Not that he has any idea who I am or what job I do. Not that he has any inkling about the goings on of this office. Not that he reviewed my proposal in any way. My VP will not even present my proposal to the CEO. Because my VP is retiring soon (maybe another year or two) and is just trying to cruise on through. Why would she bother to go to bat for one of her employees? Why would she bother to try and make the office a more family friendly place? What the hell does she care? Her kids are grown.

So, instead, I will take every single minute of leave allotted to me by law (which will probably end up being at least 16 weeks, because I live in CA and our state laws are a little better than some), and refuse to communicate with the office during that time. I’m so fucking tired of companies talking about being family friendly employers, but having no policies that work for families. Fucking bullshit.
Oh, and while on maternity leave? I’ll be finding a job that isn’t full of asshats.

Wherein I whine about my head hurting.

Yeah, so headaches are on the menu for today. Why do I keep feeding myself lies about them going away? As I look back through posts, it’s just about every other day I’m ready to decapitate myself to get a little relief. But I keep pretending that it’s only every few weeks. So, I guess self-deception isn’t very effective.

It’s genetic testing day, and I was warned to give them my most recent weight. So this morning I hopped on the gym’s scale only to find that all weight I’ve gained since being pregnant has come off. Seriously, body? The only time in my life where it’s a bad idea to be losing weight, and with no extra effort on my part, I’m dropping 4 pounds a week. This is some bullshit.

(And just to stem the advice: I’m eating. I’m eating often. I’m eating well. Now, let’s move on).

This weekend is Gay Pride in San Francisco. I can’t wait! I’ve made it out to some of the festivities before, but I’ve yet to attend the parade. This is the year. I’ll have to bring my camera, as shenanigans are always pervasive. MC is a lucky little fetus. In the course of one summer, MC will get to see naked people proudly strutting on the streets of a major city, The Wu Tang Clan, Rage Against the Machine, Mos Def and more live from in the womb. How many kids get this much excitement before they’re even born? Few if any.

I’m almost done torturing poor Xtian via command Charmed viewings. And, to be honest, I’m a little sad to think about it being over. 7 seasons, 6 discs each is a lot of time committed. And I’m not sorry.

So, I’ve had three nights in a row of amazing dinners, only to find that I hate them all in leftover form. (Turns out, Chicken pot pie, crab cakes with roasted red pepper sauce and Macaroni and cheese with spinach all made from scratch DO NOT get better the next day). So, yet again, I heated up my lunch, took one bite and promptly threw it out. Maybe after labs I’ll pick up a Taco Salad. Goddamn, I love Taco Salad. (It’s a salad with more than 1000 calories. How can that suck?)

Right. I’m just rambling on about bullshit, I know. I apologize. But since my posting has been all garbage lately anyway, I’ve decided to keep the bar low. Just makes life easier right now. Let’s hope for 15 hours of sleep tonight *fingers crossed* since I’ve slept like shit all week.
Peace, and I’m out. Or something.

I've already whined at Xtian and my mom, so now it's YOUR turn.

Preface: I know that I have had a much easier time of things, so far, than most pregnant women ever do. I feel pretty good more often than not. I’m not so tired that I can’t get out of bed in the morning, and I’m fortunate to have passed the twelve week mark safely and with most of my life still in tact. So, I know, I shouldn’t complain as others have had things far worse. And really, I actually WANTED to get knocked up, so some might say that I shouldn’t complain, since I brought it all on myself. (Which leads me to ask, in this line of belief, do only people with unplanned pregnancies get to complain? Or are they precluded because no one MADE them choose to continue the pregnancy? Either way, this is a fucked up belief. I get to complain because I have a mouth, or in this case a computer and fingers.)

Face: A headache woke me out of a dead sleep this morning at 2:30. I stumbled to the bathroom, threw down some Tylenol and went back to sleep. I skipped the gym as my head was still screaming when the alarm went off at 4. I can’t miss work today, so I forced myself to get up and get out of the house at a decent time.

I was stumbling through the necessary tasks at hand and doing ok, when the headache took a turn for the horrible. I ran to the bathroom and promptly dry-heaved for 10 minutes. Pleasant. My question is this: am I dealing with some residual morning sickness? Is this a migraine in the making? Or am I suffering from food poisoning? All of these have their arguments, which I won’t get into for the sake of my distaste for discussing bodily functions. (Yeah, hilarious, I know.)

Either way, I’m blaming Mocha Cub. Well, that’s not fair. MC’s only the size of a freaking apricot right about now. So, I can only blame my fucked up body. Did you know that some people almost never get headaches? I just assumed everyone had them relatively frequently, and just dealt with them better than I.

That is, until Xtian had one. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s had ONE headache. And he whined and complained the whole time. It was actually a good thing, though, as he realized: THAT’S HOW I FEEL AT LEAST 6 DAYS A WEEK!

Since I can’t take any good drugs these days, I’ve decided that whining and complaining will have to take the place of medication. Because seriously? Right now, slow death is sounding like a really good alternative to sitting at work, feeling horrible for another 4 hours.

Postface: I’ve completely run out of steam on writing this. And you’re tired of reading it anyway. So, hurrah, enjoy the weekend. If all works out like I’m hoping, I’ll spend the next two days horizontal on the couch with junkfood. (For reals, did you know that Oreo makes CHOCOLATE CRÈME COOKIES? I can’t believe I’ve only just discovered them. My diet will consist of 25% Doritos, 30% Oreos and 45% greasy takeout. Damn it, now I’m hungry AND nauseous.)

Cryptic no more!

So after 3 days of migraine fun, and 8 hours of being ignored by my doctor, I landed in the emergency room. I got there at 5 pm. I got back home at 2 am. Hurray! Not.
But the lovely ER doctor pumped me full of narcotics in an effort to kick my migraine’s ass. As a side effect, it made me completely high for about 45 minutes. The migraine receded enough for me to go home, take some Tylenol (fucking joke of a painkiller that!) and spend the rest of the weekend feeling hungover.

Normally a migraine wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I take an assload of drugs, pass out, and eventually wake up with only a minor headache (instead of the inability to deal with light, sound and SMELLS leading directly to overwhelming nausea). However, for those who figured out what I meant in my last post, this girl has finally gotten herself knocked up. So, that puts a big fat kink in the whole “taking any reasonable medication to kill pain” thing. It also means that I have to have a 30-minute discussion every time I call my doctor’s office. I have to answer the same litany of questions, usually no fewer than 4 times every time I come within 10 yards of medical personnel. And when I’m feeling fine, it’s not big deal. When my brain is trying to escape the captivity known as my skull, however, the questions make a Coley a little psychotic.

And even better, since several symptoms of migraine mirror that of pregnancy, it takes forever to explain to people, that NO, it is NOT because I’m gestating. The nausea only got this bad when the migraine kicked in. And no, you cannot prescribe me vicodin, it will kill my fetus. Sometimes, it’s funny when you have to explain to doctors and nurses WHY you can’t just pop a handful of Ibuprofen and call it a day. You’d think some portion of medical school would cover the whole “NSAID’s can cause miscarriage” thing. Glad I’m paying them for their expertise.

So, all that said and done, this kid better be fucking cute.


~~


I have a doctor’s appt. today, and I’ve been asked to provide a urine sample. And for the squeamish, yes, I’ll be discussing URINE in a moment. Consider yourself sufficiently warned.

I remember urine samples used to involve a rather large plastic cup. Apparently, that was too easy. Instead, the doctor’s office gave me a vial for my urine sample. A vial with an opening no more than 2/3 of an inch in diameter. Excuse me? How am I supposed to pee into that? Oh, by pissing all over my own hand?
Spectacular. I’m so glad I’ll be doing this every month for the next 7 months. Just glorious. I knew pregnancy would be filled with indignities, I just didn’t think the doctor would be adding on new ones.

So to recap: Migraines suck. Coley’s having a Mocha Cub (our favorite pet-name for the baby), doctors are absolutely ridiculous with the urine sample vial.

I'll pay you $5 to drive a stick into my eye and rid me of this misery

The migraine has taken up residence in my body, trying to spread democracy. The migraine assumed it would be viewed as a liberator to my poor, entrapped body. But this is not the case. If I didn’t feel quite so much like dying, I might try to fight it. Instead, I think I’ll go home and hide under the covers until it can no longer fund its military take over.

Perhaps one day my doctor will call me back and tell me she’s found medicine for me. But, since it’s been over 4 hours since I last talked to them, I’ve lost hope that this will actually occur.

Oh well, only 7 more months until I can take all the pain medication in the world….

In which we bounce from topic to topic, sans coherent segues!

All bets are off today. I’m fighting a migraine, so I’m drinking a ton of water. Which leads to the need to pee every 25 minutes or so. Unfortunately, my body chose to do this on a day when we unexpectedly have no water in my office building. Which means, every 25 minutes, I’m walking down the block to use the bathroom at a church.

And not just any church, a creepy amphitheater church. You know the ones; “Raise one hand if you’re feeling the spirit. Raise BOTH hands if you’re REALLY feeling the spirit,” lightshows and a live band, very Leap of Faith. And oh my god, it freaks my shit out.
~~~
And for those wondering, my team lost our softball game last night. How badly? Just guess. No really, just guess.


WRONG! 27-3. Did you know that was even a possible score for a softball game? Because I didn’t. The first inning ended on the 10-run rule (Our team couldn’t get 3 outs, so the inning ended when the other team scored 10 runs. In one inning.) Not an auspicious start at all.

Here’s the thing, I like winning, hell everyone does. But I don’t mind losing if we play well, and the other team is just better than us. What my team does out there could in no way be called “Playing Softball.” It’s more like “10 people standing around watching in dumbstruck awe as other people run around the bases.” It’s just embarrassing.

I think I’m giving it one more game before I call it “WHO FUCKING CARES?” and just bring a book onto the field with me, so at least I have SOMETHING to occupy my attention.

~~~~
Anyone who reads this thing knows I don’t usually talk about current events, and I don’t plan to start now. I will however write how sad I am for all the folks who were lost and who lost their loved ones on Monday in Virginia. It’s heartbreaking and upsetting and I don’t know of any way to really wrap your head around things like this. There’s no reason, there’s no one at fault. Just a mentally ill person who destroyed an entire campus and 33 families.

What I’m always most saddened by in situations like these is thinking of the perpetrator’s family. His parents had hopes and dreams for him, and did as much for him as they could. They moved their family to the U.S. hoping to do something that would make their children’s lives better, they sent him to school, and he even got to go to college; something most people in this country never get to do. People knew he was weird; teachers were concerned and sent him for counseling. He was on medication for depression, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from hurting others.

But like what happened after September 11, the media has completely lost their shit. I know, I know, they are covering the stories people are interested. But at what point does it stop being reporting the news, and become capitalizing on human misery for every dime they can squeeze? I think at this point, we have all the information we’re going to get. Continuing to rehash is only serving to keep the wounds open and prevent healing for the people directly affected. I don’t know anyone who isn’t upset, we all know as much as we want/need to know. Now let’s do whatever we can to help the victim’s families heal.

I’m not advocating forgetting this. Not in the least. But are we really going to be helped by seeing and hearing cell phone recordings of the events? No. That’s not news, that’s feeding morbid curiosity at the expense of others’ dignity.

Friday Night's For Fighting

So, I called my body a shithead, and it answered back with a fury. My non-allergies kicked in during Jen’s Birthday Dinner Fabulosity last night. I could deal with that, no problem. A little nasal steroid, a little Claritin, and she’s all taken care of right?

Yeah, not so much. I’m on every bit of sinusy medication I can find and the sneezing, the snotting will not end. As if that weren’t awesome enough, my body really took it to a new level this morning, with a record THREE headaches at the same time.

That’s right, three distinct headaches all happening at the same time.

We’ve got the frontal sinus pressure headache. We’ve got the top of the head residual red wine headache, and rounding out the trio, we’ve got the back of the head lack of sleep headache.

I rule. In classic Coley form, I’m heading into my birthday feeling like microwaved trash. Spectacular.

On the plus side, had an AMAZING dinner last night to celebrate Jen’s birthday. Fabulous food, good wine (hence headache #2), really fun company and a waiter who couldn’t pour enough lemoncello into Sarah. Fantastic.

I think this bitch is going to get herself home early today. Fuck it, I’m salaried.

Certified Hoodstar

So, what is UP, headache? Making yourself comfortable? Good, good. Wouldn’t want to be a rude host. At least you won’t be disturbed by any drugs that are actually effective. Instead I’m stuck with the laughable Tylenol. I know, you scoff in the face of Tylenol and only grow stronger. And the stronger you get the more I clench my jaw, the more you grow. Fair play to you. You’ve won this round, but just wait. I’ll have last laugh. You can count on that.

~~~

Oy, I’m driving to Chico alone this tonight. Should be interesting. I’m up several hours before dawn, and am going to have to stay awake past 8 pm. I’m pretty sure I will be deliriously calling everyone I know in an effort to stay awake on the most boring drive in the world. Dark, barren fields? Check. Dark shitty suburbs? Check. Patience crippling traffic jams in the middle of nowhere? Check, check and Double Check.
But really, I oughtn’t complain, since I’m going to Chico so my dad can put new brakes in my truck. And whenever we’re getting free maintenance on our vehicles, we must be gracious. (That would be the royal “we” apparently. I need a nap.)

I’ve got very little today. Oh except for this bout of ridiculousnessReally? If I in any way resemble any of these women, I’ll eat my own sweater. Followed by my glasses, then wash it down with the foulest of all beverages: tomato juice.

Ow.

Alright, there’s no more denying it. My eyes have gotten even worse. Reading a book makes my head hurt. Looking at a computer screen makes my head hurt. I can no longer see the words of the On-Screen guide for my TV. And squinting while reading glasses, really? From an arm length away, I can’t even see that there are letters on my keyboard. This can’t be good, right? But at least that’s a reason for the never-ending headaches. And why they’ve gotten so much more pronounced toward the end of the week, and toward the end of the day. But, really, my job is to stare at a computer screen for at least 8 hours a day. And I know, I take “eye-breaks” every 20 minutes or so, just stare at the blank wall, and it doesn’t help.

When will this end? How long before my eyes just stop working? When the optometrist expresses disbelief at the strength of your prescription, that’s weird. I already have the most compacted lenses, and their still thicker than my uber-thick frames.

This sucks. No one else in my family has these eye-problems. Sure, both my sisters have “reading” glasses, but they can legally drive without corrective lenses.

Deal lord, I hope my children don’t get my genetics on this one. Or my skin, or my body type, or my bitchiness, or my hirsuteness. Damn, do I really want to pass anything genetically on to my children? Hmm. Good question.

Stuff, Stuff and More Stuff

I’m supposed to be writing some things for work. But I’m lacking anything good, so I thought I’d vomit all my non-creativity onto the internet before I start.
~~~~
I converted this here blog to the Beta version. Which I can't really see any features I'd find useful, but you know the big drawback? Now I can't even comment on NON-Beta blogs. So, I'm more than a little bitter. Everyone else should now convert their blogs forthwith in order to accommodate ME. I'm awesome, didn't I mention?

~~

Two great things I’ve heard in the last 24 hours:
“You’re a bitch, but I love you anyway.” And no, Xtian did not say that to me. That little gem right there (which pretty much describes how most of my friends feel about me) is courtesy of Bowling for Soup in their spectacularly titled song “The Bitch Song.”

The Second great thing came straight from the mouth of my beautiful Sarah.
“Remember, half the population is below average.” Just kind of reminds me that at least half the people in the world are probably too stupid for me to feel like talking to. (Wow, that was bitchy. May I refer you to Great things I’ve Heard in the Past 24 Hours, Thing the First?)

~~

So, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat all day. I’ve been having the feeling that something bad is going to happen. It all started when I got up to run this morning. It was just after 5 am when I got outside. It felt weird. Ominous. I live in a semi-sketchy neighborhood, and my run takes me through some places I’m sure have been featured as crime scenes on TV shows. I run this way at least 4 days a week, but today I felt terrified the entire time. I was just sure something was off. It was too dark, too quiet, too windy too….everything

Then as I was running through an intersection, a car was turning left just past me. The driver’s side window was the closest to me, and I swear this guy leaned out the window and said “Coley, I’ll see you soon.” Except I didn’t recognize the car and didn’t see the guy. Then he drove past me about 3 minutes later, heading toward my destination. In that moment, I made peace with my life, because I was sure this is how I died.

Now, it’s possible I miss-heard the guy, and it’s all just some weird thing concocted in my imagination. And nothing came of it…yet. But even so, the whole day feels weird. So, if you all don’t hear from me again, it’s probably just that Creepy McCreeperson finally got ahold of me, and is in the process of torturing me until I either die, or he becomes bored.

So, now that my weekend is all planned out, I feel pretty resigned to my fate. Or something…

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Now that my cell phone is officially a glorified clock (at the low, low price of $80 a month. SUCH A DEAL!!) I feel like I’m not talking to any of my friends anymore. I usually use my 40-minute commute to call the people on my list. However, now that would take a lung capacity I simply do not have. It’s getting way too easy to revert to my hermit-like tendencies.
And this weekend will continue with my hermitness. If possible, I plan to not speak with anyone who isn’t Xtian, my cats, or my TV? (come on, can I really watch football without screaming at the TV? The answer to that is no. Absolutely not.) Could get difficult when I go shopping, or when Xtian and I go out to dinner, but whatever. I’m willing to make that sacrifice.

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And for a final Friday Morning Note: My headache is back with a vengeance. I swear, if this one lasts longer than a few hours, I’m going to go looking for Mr. Creepy McCreeperson and see if we can get a jump on the sadistic murder. At least then there’d be an end in sight. And to make it all worse, I share living space with a man who DOESN’T GET HEADACHES EVER. How is this possible? I didn’t realize that some people just don’t get them. The injustice, the sheer lack of equity and fairness.

Right. I’m out to transfer pre-existing documents to a new template design. Sounds riveting, no?