Tuesday Morn. I drop the kids off and deliriously drive home. Must wait till 11:15 doctor appointment. Turn on T.V. Another TLC gem. “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant.” Seriously. Seriously? How do you not know there is another human in your body? I don’t care if there aren’t normal signs or whatever we are talking another human being moving around in there. And how are there enough people this out of touch to make an entire series? I just . . . I . . . nevermind.
I get to the clinic and wait. And wait. The T.V. is on here too, and guess what it’s turned to? What are all TVs turned to in this area? Fox News of course. Joy. Utter joy. At the moment, leggy blond reporter is talking to fat bald white guy and another leggy blond about how much Obama has messed up. Something to do with him not talking to this Israeli guy when he should have been talking to him because good presidents do that and they certainly do not go on the View to talk to “The Women” said condescendingly by “A Woman” who apparently forgot she was one. I’m thinking they are all irritated that they weren’t invited on a real talk show. There is much wink-wink, quotation marks, none-to-subtle innuendo, and outright slurs. Professional News Reporting at its finest.
I am stuck listening to over an hour and a half of that stupid station. I start feeling low blood sugar (you really have to feed me regularly or watch out) so I ask the receptionist for hard candy. I get a strawberry sucker that is really quite good, at least when you’re famished. Finally, I am called in. Apparently they put me on the schedule, but there are two schedules, and they forgot (shocked) to put me on the one the doctors use, so yeah, I wasn’t on their schedule. Great. I sit in the exam room. And sit. And hack like a dying moose. And sit a little more.
What to do, what to do? I start to feel like Curious George. Remember that book where the monkey swallows a puzzle piece so they X-ray him and cut him open (and I bet that monkey was on Medicaid too) and then put him in a room with sick children? Awesome medical practice there. Anyway, like George, I have been left on my own and decide to entertain myself. Turns out they have all these free samples up on the counter. Popsickle sticks, cotton swabs, gauze, plenty of fun with crafts right there! But I decide not to take any, because Thing 2 already can come up with enough craft ideas to last most children a lifetime in a single afternoon.
There’s also the blood pressure pump, and the instruments he sticks in your ear and up your nose where he pretends he actually sees stuff beside gross old snot. But that’s about it. This is a very unexciting doctor’s office. Clearly I have not packed properly for this journey. My purse offers nothing interesting, despite weighing about 14 pounds. But see, last time I went as a walk-in, and got in and out in like half an hour. This time I have an appointment, and so far I’ve been here six years. Okay, two and a half hours. Luckily, I grabbed another sucker before getting shuttled in here, so at least I have that for provisions.
It occurs to me that that survival expert on the Discovery Channel, Bear, would be most disappointed in my survival skills. (That’s his name. He’s not an actual bear. Though that would make it a more interesting show.) I have no heat, no food and no shelter. Luckily fever keeps me from freezing in the office, so being a portable heater does have its uses. If pressed, I could create a very weak pup tent with that anti-germ paper they scroll on the exam table. But what would you use for a heat source if needed? I spy an electrical outlet. Great. Now I just need a long metal stick and someone dumb enough to poke it. But still no food. I’m not sure if I can make any traps, or if I’d want to eat anything I might trap in a doctor’s office.
Then I have another brilliant idea. Ask the locals. I peek out and beg for a coke. And I get one! And it is so cold it is the most amazing coke ever in the history of the universe. They also give me part of a package of Ritz crackers. No idea where those were scavanged from. Possibly the lunch of my nurse, who is the epitome of awesome, because not only is she competent, she recognizes that her patients are actual humans. Remarkable, I know. She also gets her very determined nobody-messes-with-my-patients- face when I tell her that the NP wouldn’t see me twice at the urgent care side of the clinic. I wonder if someone’s going to get a hand slap? Hope so!
Okay, I’m getting really bored now. Hacking until your lower abdomen threatens to split open like a teddy bear slashed in two is only entertaining for so long. I decide to cast 50 Shades of Grey based on the office staff. Ana is easy. There is this receptionist I call ponytail twit girl (because she wears an itty bitty ponytail and she’s a twit). She rolled her eyes when I informed her that I have arranged something with the nurse already, as if I was saying I knew Elvis personally or something. Twit. So perfect Ana right there.
Christian Grey is harder. Now my doctor is young and nice-looking, and I’m assuming he’s well-off based on my visits alone. But he’s just too, you know, decent and normal and human. Finally, I decide to cast the NP that refused to see me that night despite there being no one else in the waiting room, because that sounds like the sort of thing Christian Grey would do.
Bored again. I drink my coke and eat my crackers. The doctor comes in and examines me. You’ll never, never guess, but my lungs sound perfect. But obviously, I’m sick, because I hack at him and I think maybe I’m making even him nervous. So I get blood work done. I happen to be a pro at this because I have this giant vein on the inside of my left arm. Yeah, I’ve been complimented on it often. It’s pretty impressive, vein-wise. She sucks the blood out and wraps some sticky stuff on me and yay I am back in the room again.
The doc decides that my blood says something blah blah virally something blah yeah we’re not totally sure blah. I told them I needed something better than that for missing a week and a half of work. Viral Pneumonia is written on my doctor’s note for work, and I’m offered antibiotics and this is the best part! A shot! I know, most people are not excited about this, but I know shots work faster. I didn’t realize it would be a terminator shot, though. This was one massive shot. But I got it, they called in my medicines, and at last I was racing out the door, after only four and a half hours!
Maybe not racing. But I was out at least. Now I expected to feel better in no time.
Wednesday: Still not better. I have never been sick so long, ever. On the plus side, I think I spat up a lot more of the Mucus people today, so maybe their vacation will be over soon, if not mine. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.
Thursday: Still sick. I go back to the doctor, you know, that place where everybody knows your name! At first I’m told there’s nothing for me, but then the doctor clears his schedule just for me and my dying whale bellows. They decide to do a chest Xray. Doctor is so surprised! I swallowed a puzzle piece! Not really, but the doctor is actually giddy, which is kinda strange when speaking of lungs. He brings me in and points at this black shadow over my lung. I’m assuming I am not dying as if I were, this would be seriously inappropriate. No, I have a massive pneumonia in the right lung. And the doctor keeps saying “But you have such great oxygen levels! 96 percent! How the heck do you have oxygen? You have some really great reserve systems. I mean, your blood count was normal too but wow, look at that!” It’s really simple, doc. My own body is trying to gaslight me.
Well, it’s determined, and after only a week of this crap, that maybe their current treatment plan has not been working all that well. (This is why they go to medical school, you guyz). They decide to put me in the hospital, but first I get another test called a CT test, which is super fun because you lay in this flying saucer thing with blinking lights like something out of Star Trek and they take pics of you while the doctor carefully stands outside and says not to worry.
After all of that, my dh drives me to the hospital for the next leg of my exciting adventure. I’m starting to run out of legs. Stay tuned next time for: Curious Alice visits the hospital.
You might have been wondering what happened to me since no regular blog post appeared. “Did Alice get a life?” you might ask. Or “Alice writes a blog?” Or “Who is Alice?”
I have been sick, readers. And I don’t mean the garden variety plain old sick either. I mean super double dog sick that is very very bad. So how did you manage to pump out semi coherent blog posts, Alice? I had them prescheduled in a flash of writing ideas. And they ran out Sunday.
I am out of sick leave, so I have had to use vacation leave for this little trip. A vacation to the land of the Mucus People. I don’t recommend it. Very unsanitary and just look at the locals.
Anyway, I’ve been vacationing here since Thursday, and it is now Tuesday, and I’m hoping that maybe I get to go home soon. Either that, or die. Allow me to detail my itinerary.
Thursday Eve: Fever goes up. Go to bathroom. Feel nauseous. Lie on bathroom floor until it passes.Friday: Go to doctor. Stand while receptionist takes phone calls and asks for my insurance and teaches other receptionist how to use the computer. Ponder whether I can keep from barfing on her while she does this. Finally decide to go sit down. Office was recently redesigned with chairs that absolutely no one could ever find comfortable. Good move there.
Called back. Nurse checks vitals. Of course this is not my regular nurse, because my regular doctor is rarely available when I am sick. My fever supposedly has gone down to normal. She also checks my oxygen levels with this strange clamp on my finger. I’m not sure how this works. Do fingers breathe now? Good news. My oxygen rocks. This always happens. My body fails me until I get to the doctor, when it makes a brief valient recovery before collapsing again immediately afterward. Below: My lungs.
I am tested with magical Q-tips for Flu and Strep Throat. One went in my throat and the other up my nose. I wonder if they ever get these mixed up. Turns out I don’t have Flu or Strep. The doctor notes that I am still sick because I look puny which is Doctor-speak for “You look like you got run over by a truck.”
Antibiotics are called in. The second in two weeks. Pretty soon they will run out of alien-planet sounding names for pills. This one is called Bactrin, I think. Or it might have been Betazoid. No, wait, that one really is a planet in Star Trek.
I have become reacquainted with the T.V. and wow I have been missing so much. Like Wipeout, the adult answer to Double Dare, only without the pretense of any intellectualism by disregarding those trivia questions.
I think Wipeout was created as a place for Bachelor Pad contestants to go to die. Sure, everything’s padded, but these people take a beating on courses that no normal human could ever pass. But they try anyway while pelted with water, mud, eggs, bales of hay (I’m not kidding), milk, paint guns, footballs, and more. 50,000 dollars people. Dignity comes a distant second place to that. I can’t believe I never realized this was a show before. I find myself watching back to back episodes.
I rarely get fever, but by Saturday, I’ve had it for three days straight, anywhere from 99.9 to a whopping 103 in which I could actually see heat waves coming off of my body. I think. That might have been hallucinations. Since my body often wants to mess w/ the medical profession, I normally run only 97.5, so maybe this is even higher for me. Not sure. What brain cells are left from 50 Shades are starting to fry.
I have also developed a nasty, nasty cough from deep in my chest. Have you ever heard a Great Dane bark? These are enormous dogs, probably bred from grizzlies, with barks so loud and deep and echo-y they sound like Barry White. I bark like that now. We have a neighbor dog that is a Great Dane. I bet if I went outside, I could outbark him now.I try to go back to the doctor, urgent care. I don’t think humans should bark. If we did, we wouldn’t need dogs. Nurse practitioner refuses to see me. I haven’t been on antibiotics long enough, and didn’t I get that cough syrup? Oh. Turns out Wal-Mart didn’t have any, so instead of getting a replacement, or say, telling us they had to reorder, they just left it completely off. Thank you, Wal Mart. I should supposedly have cough syrup tomorrow, and it had better be good.
The regular nurse that saw me (and took more oxygen from my finger, etc) informs me that coughing is my body’s way of getting rid of this nasty stuff. I think there has got to be a better way of doing this. Also, that I shouldn’t wrap up if I’m cold, because that increases fever, like foil bakes a potato. That’s comforting thought.
Sunday. Hubby does laundry and various other household tasks. He hands me my clean laundry. I don’t really care. There are a lot of things I don’t care about when sick. Here’s a list.
laundry, clothes, money (I am cheapest on the planet, but would pay 500 straight up for a cure), other people’s problems, other people (unless they can, say, go get me a coke), work, basic hygiene (I have not even changed clothes since Wednesday), blogging or internet (this is frightening), everything else.
Just getting to the bathroom (that is only a few feet away from the bed) is a trip when you have high fever and Great Dane cough. Let me show you a diagram.
I get the cough syrup. Finally. It sucks, and not just taste wise. It’s not entirely liquid, like a sugary gel, and even better, does not appear to work. I fall asleep for a bit, only to wake up drenched in sweat and coughing. Codeine you have failed me. And here we had this awesome relationship before.
Monday. I have already missed two days of work the week before, and must call in again. Honestly, I have never, ever wanted so badly to be able to go to work. I watch daytime T.V. TLC has a show called A Baby Story. I used to actually like this show. Before I had both babies. Now I have no idea why I liked it, or babies for that matter. They look like slimy lizards. Their parents are happy but deranged from lack of sleep.
“It’s a little challenging, parenting a toddler and a new baby.” Mom says. Toddler screams. Lizard screams. Mom smiles creepily before leaping out of a window.
There is a trashcan by my bed. Law of averages says I should have hit the can at least once with one of my dirty pieces of toilet paper (which I am using as Kleenex, I’m not that gross yet) since I am only dropping the wads from the bed a foot away straight down. Not so much. I don’t care.
Monday night / Early Tuesday. I go back to urgent care, thinking if I go this early, hubby can take me to the hospital where they will do some Houdini magic that will make me normal again, or at least put me into a coma or something. Nurse practitioner again refuses to see me, and tells me just to make an appointment with my regular doctor in the morning. I’m starting to think he just doesn’t want to see me or something.
Tuesday. I arrive at the doctor’s office.
. . .to be continued (Adventures in the Doctor’s Office!)
That stands for Save Our Alice. For everyone’s info, Alice is currently being held hostage, and has been since Thursday, by an evil race known as the Mucus People. She would appreciate any kind thoughts and prayers. Also bling and cash donations. But mostly prayers.
And crank out another blog post! I have learned so much from E.L. James. For instance, you do not have to have anything remotely interesting or even sane to say in order to write for pages and pages. Wait, I learned that in college English. Still, E.L. enforced it.
Scienerf, who is a fabulous lady with an awesome dog and blog, gave me this award because she knows I like bling even though the idea of my blog being lovely is really funny. Maybe it’s an Ironic Lovely Blog Award? A Lovely Use of the Word Buttplug Award? A Shut the Crap Up Alice Here Is Your Bling And Would You Like a Cookie Award? It can be all of these things and more!
It comes with rules. This award does not realize that I am Rebel Library Person and so rules do not apply to me. But what the heck, like I’m doing anything else productive. I’m supposed to list seven random things about myself and nominate 15 bloggers. Or was it that I was supposed to nominate seven mes and say random things about 15 bloggers. I get so confused. But I think that’s it. So here goes. I nominate myself, Inner goddess, Subconscious, the One behind the Alice, Bratty younger sister, Slacker mom, and Poster Child for Various Mental Disorders for the Lovely Blog Award because scienerf nominated me and so I am lovely and you guyz who don’t think so can suck it, okay? Good.
Random Things About 15 Bloggers:
Scienerf is cool and not just because she gave me bling so go visit her blog and see her cute dog and oh yeah her writing.
Le Clown says he is from Canada but is actually from planet Le Zoltran.
Speaker 7 has a puppet named Hugo who last I heard was arrested for public indecency at a Chuck E. Cheese.
Angie uses her blog Childhood Relived to melt peoples brains with evil 80s memories until they are under her mind control and willing to send her endless bling like winky Strawberry Shortcake dolls.
Judith of Stork Hunting writes about all the fun you can have in a pair of stirrups.
Angel of The Mirth of Despair writes posts that actually are lovely and not about buttplugs.
Ruby Tuesday of I Was Just Thinking is, in fact, not a restaurant but a very sweet lady that likes knights with pointy toes.
Love and Lunchmeat is not processed food filled with nitrates. She is leader of the Zombie Apocalypse Task Force. I am her second-in-command because I just nominated myself.
Theabrasiveembrace kind of reminds me of Cyndi Lauper. Her blog just wants to have fun. Or something.
Madame Weebles made me my own purple heart ribbon and I didn’t even have to get shot at for it.
Lulu of Sunny With a Chance of Armaggedon and I will hopefully one day leave our blogs and form our own Dream Team with the other Canvas authors.
Mooselicker writes a blog when he is not licking moose. Or is it mooses?
Rich Full Life has a rich, full blog and a cute baby. Go look at the cute baby! Now!
Miss Four Eyes likes glasses and according to her About page is not clinically insane, so she can be my token sane person.
Sara of Laments and Lullabies is married to Le Clown but is not from Planet Le Zoltran. Theirs is a mixed marriage of clown and human.
There are so many other bloggers I love that I could make an endless list but I have mush brains which I for now will blame on James and plus there is also that attention problem that I have oh hey look, a sad pony!
Don’t be a sad pony. If I like you, I will say something stupid, annoying, or possibly nice about you in a future blog post because that’s the kind of gal I am plus I need blogger fodder and oh yeah, bling.
Chapter 17 begins with Christian’s massive peen and Ana’s butt. I think there’s a metaphor for this book in there somewhere. I hate this chapter, and I’ve only read three paragraphs. Then there is sex and swaying hips and crap kill me now. What’s really bad is that after scanning this chapter a couple times, I can’t figure out anyone else to interview except one of those idiots. So I figured, kill them both with one stone.
Alice: Delighted to have you . . . shit, let’s get this over with. So what happened? Anything? I don’t suppose a plot found its way in accidentally.
Christian: First, Ana and I made love. She’s always wet.
Alice: I would recommend Pampers. I hear they are the best at stopping leaks.
Christian: Next I ordered her to eat every bite of her granola.
Alice: Still not seeing how she’s not a preschooler.
Ana: But I have a car! I’m grown up.
Alice: Does Christian let you drive it?
Ana: He did! I put on “King of Pain” on the Ipod and said it was, like, Christian’s song. Get it?
Alice: Please tell me you didn’t just insult Sting. I feel rage.
Ana: I worried I might not have a job anymore! Marry the gazillionaire. Subconscious, you rapacious bitch! (This is right from the book. No, really.)
Christian: Charming, isn’t she?
Alice: She’s fucking nuts. Next.
Christian: I gave her strict instructions on how to drive. You push that one pedal, and then that other pedal. And I started to think we should have practiced more with the Big Wheel.
Ana: But I did it!
Alice: So then you went to work.
Ana: First Christian and I talked about how we were afraid the other one might leave us and make us sadfaced. And he wanted to know if I’d marry him again.
Alice: Sheesh, it’s been, what, two weeks since you met him? What’s the hold up?
Ana: Oh, but guess what? When I got to work, Jack’s boss told me she was giving me Jack’s job. I’m, like, an editor.
Ana: And I got his big office too! After only a week of work!
Ana: So I called Christian and asked if he got me the job but he said no and I didn’t believe him and he got angryfaced that I didn’t believe him.
Ana: Then Ethan came by, they call him the blond god at work cause he is so hot, and he said I looked hot.
Alice: Wait, which one’s Ethan?
Ana: Kate’s brother. And then Christian’s sister Mia showed up and I asked them to go out together cause I was busy being all businessy and I bet they are going to fall in love!
Alice: Uh huh.
Christian: Wait, he said you were hot? Are you sleeping with him?
Ana: Christi-poo, don’t be silly! I only let one man tie me up and beat me.
Alice: Just – weren’t you two supposed to meet with Dr. Flynn?
Ana: Yes. But first, Christian sent me an email.
Christian: Alice, you’re supposed to put the corkscrew in the wine bottle, not your eye.
Alice: My mistake. So then you went to see Dr. Flynn.
Ana: First I bought Christian a tiny little present but didn’t say what it was so that the reader would have to guess! Then we went to Dr. Flynn’s office.
Ana: The female receptionist saw Christian and started orgasming which was like, ew, cause she could be his mother and old women are so gross!
Alice: I hate you.
Ana: I was surprised that the charlatan’s office wasn’t like something out of Freud. Because I like to stereotype the shit out of stuff. And I told him about the NDA. Dr. Flynn asked Christian about that and he was like, yeah, I do that with my relationships and Dr. Flynn was amused.
Alice: You realize his degree is an adoption form for a Cabbage Patch Kid, right?
Christian: I highly respect Dr. Flynn.
Alice: There you go.
Christian: But then he had me leave the room. I was madfaced.
Ana: Dr. Flynn noticed Christian intimidated me. I said not as much as before. And he said, like, he wasn’t surprised and then he asked if he could help me.
Alice: Just skipped right over the intimidating . . . whatever. Next.
Ana: Dr. Flynn told me my, um, “down there” had done more for Christian than any silly therapy could! And then he said a lot of big psychologyish words that I didn’t understand cause he is so smart and I’m like, not, and then he said he didn’t think Christian was a sadist cause that isn’t psychiatric term and he said that Christian just decided not to do BDSM anymore cause I didn’t want him to and I didn’t think it could be so simple.
Alice: Yeah, it can’t.
Ana: Dr. Flynn said “Why not?” He has a British accent. That makes him even more smarter. And he said we shouldn’t beat our breasts, but I don’t, I let Christian do that. Then he said Christian was emotionally an adolescent.
Alice: Finally we agree on something.
Ana: And I said I was not good enough cause I’m not quite as hot and Dr. Flynn said I was attractive and that he was so happy Christian was in love with me.
Alice: Totally appropriate.
Ana: Then Christian dragged me out of the office. And we argued about driving.
Christian: Silly girl thought she could drive her own car. Pfft.
Ana: We had a cute little spat and I pulled over dangerously, and then we fought some more and then he drove and asked me what I said to Flynn and I told him and he asked what else I said to Flynn and I told him that too and then I asked if he thought his subs were lovers and he said no and I was so surprised.
Alice: He’s said that literally dozens of times before, you moron.
Christian: And then we got to the special secret place I was taking Ana. But it’s a surprise, you won’t find out till next time!
Alice: I hope it’s a lava pit and you guys fall in and become flaming balls of stupid.
Christian: I think we should invite Alice to the wedding, don’t you, Ana?*
*I’m not going and they can’t make me. Not unless there’s a LOT of booze.
Welcome back! It’s time for this past week’s horoscope, today. Because the future can’t be rushed once it’s in the past.
This week, I have decided to divine fortunes based on the prophecies fortold within the wrappers of Dove candies. This could not have been accomplished without the unwitting help of my coworker’s candy dish. I managed to steal 12 candies from that desk. How? Here’s how.
Since some of these fortunes are needlessly complicated, I have added my expert commentary to each one.
Aries (The Ram): Mar 21 – Apr 19
Dove candy wrapper say: Now, time for chocolate relaxation.
Alice say: How exactly do you relax chocolate? Melt it? Give it a drink with one of those little umbrellas?
Taurus (The Bull): April 20 – May 20
Dove candy wrapper say: Treat yourself today
Alice say: Eat something better than a Dove candy. Like 12 Dove candies. For a good cause.
Gemini (The Twins): May 21 – June 20
Dove candy wrapper say: Do all things with love
Alice say: All things? Like hail a taxi? How do you do that with love?
Cancer (The Crab): June 21 – July 22
Dove candy wrapper say: Be the first to hit the dance floor
Alice say: Faceplant in front of everybody. You’ll make an impression. (Do you get it? Do you?)
Leo (The Lion): July 23 – August 22
Dove candy wrapper say: Open your eyes to all the love around you.
Alice say: My eyes are open, Dove candy. All I see is laundry.
Virgo (The Virgin): August 23 – September 22
Dove candy wrapper say: Be the first to hit the dance floor
Alice say: Dove candy fortune writers are super original. I think E.L. James writes them.
Libra (The Scales): September 23 – October 22
Dove candy wrapper say: You should charge for your great advice
Alice say: Don’t worry about degrees. Just throw “Dr.” in front of your name and you’re golden.
Scorpio (the Scorpian): October 23 – November 21
Dove candy wrapper say: The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.
Alice say: The more Alice asks for bling, the more bling her readers give her.
Sagittarius (The Centaur): November 22 – December 21
Dove candy wrapper say: Ignite your sense of adventure
Alice say: Don’t ignite your adventure around flammable objects.
Capricorn (The Goat): December 22 – January 19
Dove candy wrapper say: You know what? You look good in red.
Alice say: Dove candy wrapper says you can eat more candy. You’ll still look good. Trust them.
Aquarius (The Water Bearer): January 20 – February 18
Dove candy wrapper say: Chocolate therapy is “Oh, so good.”
Alice say: Heck with psychiatry. Just eat chocolate. And then become a Scientologist.
Pisces (The Fish): February 19 – March 20
Dove candy wrapper say: Stir your sense of pleasure
Alice say: Alice is not going to touch that one.
Stay tuned next week to find out what you should have done last week!
I wrote a post earlier about Time Management in which I proved that I know nothing about what that is. I’ve got a lot of stuff that needs doing, but I keep forgetting because of ADHD or possibly just laziness or – hey is that a meerkat?
Anyway, I decided I would type up a list and post it here in hopes that I will be held accountable by fellow bloggers who are also avoiding work by reading blogs. It’s a rock solid idea. Here we go.
Try to accomplish something at work.
1. So far I have confused and misdirected several students and written this list. Score.
1. Sort that strange pile that I swear I saw move the other day.
2. Re-wash clothes that have been in the washer for three days
3. Re-dry clothes that have been wadded in the dryer for three days.
- One could use an iron for this, but that would ruin the lovely damage to the environment. Plus I would have to find the iron. Saying I even have one.
4. Wash and dry other clothes and try to actually remove them when they are done.
1. Ignore them until the pile is high and smells like death in hopes that either husband or the dish fairy will finally wash them.
1. Have the doctor purposefully inject me with stuff I’m allergic to in hopes of curing me of allergies by making arm swell up. Try not to die.
Pick up meds
1. Pick up prescription from the pharmacy. Saying they finally get it in. And it’s the right one.
1. Figure out what the heck is up with the medicine the pharmacy never got in. Be directed back to the pharmacy. And back to the doctor. Do the hokey pokey and turn self around.
Help child(ren) with homework.
1. Hope that 6th grade Math is not too advanced yet, because boy did I feel like a dork when I didn’t know where half the states were in 5th grade Geography last year.
1. Most likely something with lots of nitrates that comes in a bag or a can and ends with “o’s”
Force children to bathe.
Force children to get out of the bath.
Read to children
1. Children’s author, Rick Riordan, has double-crossed me by making his chapters progressively longer with each book.
Mess around on blog and facebook (I might as well put this in because you know I’ll be doing this for sure.)
I’m fairly certain I’m in a time machine. Because I know I already did Chapter 16, but now here it is again. I think somehow James keeps adding chapters in my sleep, so that I will never finish. It’s like when you’re in Vegas, and you would swear that the next casino is just a block away, but it’s really like 27 blocks, and you’re never getting out of the Circus Circus parking lot alive. Yeah, like that.
So last we left Ana, Jack Hyde, otherwise known as Snidely Whiplash, was about to pounce on her. Now I don’t advocate rape, ever, but maybe he could have just stuck her head into the copier and pressed copy about a billion times while laughing hysterically. I would have more respect for him. Anyway, oh look, here’s Snidley again to tell his side of the story.
Alice: Hello, Jack. Quit twisting your mustache, it’s creepy.
Jack: I guess you want to know about that tight-assed, cock-blocking, prick-tease?
Alice: Wow. That’s romantic.
Jack: That’s what I was going for! I thought I had her, but Dudley Do-Right showed up and– foiled again!
Alice: Ah, right. So what happened?
Jack: Well, I waited until closing, when my ride was due to pick me up in five minutes. Then I made my move when she went into the break room. I had carefully set up the Zingers as bait.
Alice: Yeah, uh, that doesn’t seem like the best plan, there. If your ride was about to pick you up for the airport, how were you going to have time to rape her?
Jack: I . . . nevermind! It was genius! I leered at her and told her about all the emails she’d been sending. The idiot has an ancient Blackberry, but uses her work email?
Alice: Yeah, even Christian figured out that was moronic.
Jack: And I told her she wasn’t the most qualified but I fought for her! And she owed me for this job!
Alice: If only you’d been Christian, this all would have worked out so well.
Jack: Yes! I followed all his moves, but it didn’t work for me! She kicked me in the groin and ran, which was not a nice thank you.
Alice: Cause every girl wants to be felt up on the copier. Actually, Ana might. But only if it were Christian. So then what?
Jack: Do-Right’s minion Taylor came in and shouted at me so it would sound bad, but really he was just wanting to ask if I’d help him out later with a little project. It was hard to hear over Christian yelling at Ana – you could hear it through Taylor’s walky-talky.
Alice: Wait – Ana nearly gets raped and Christian yells at her?
Jack: Well, yeah, he said he was pissed at her and she was stupid and to get in the motherfucking car.
Alice: Wow . . . way to make a gal feel safe there.
Jack: And then Do-Right came in and they made me pack up my desk. I mean, I was totally fired for that? I thought office rape was standard policy.
Alice: . . .
Jack: So they led me to my cab and I took off.
Alice: You mean they didn’t arrest you?
Jack: I didn’t rape her, just tried to, so it was totes okay. Luckily, Ana still had that camera in her purse, so I was able to tell what was going on after that.
Alice: If the camera was inside the purse, how could you –
Jack: Just go with it. James does. First Christian wouldn’t talk to her, and then he got her in the elevator and stuck his tongue down her throat. And then they drank.
Alice: The girl is almost raped but is okay with making out immediately afterward . . . nevermind, why do I ask?
Jack: And they yammered about Jose coming to visit and Christian was pouty just cause Jose had tried to rape her too. I mean, seriously, what’s up with that? And she said she didn’t like Elena, and Christian was all surprised about that for some reason and then she was on her own and she decided to explore the apartment.
Alice: Explore the . . . she really is like a goldfish. By the time she gets to one side of the apartment, she’s forgotten what was on the other side.
Jack: She went into the Red Room o’ Pain and dug through the museum chest. There she found an assortment of sex toys, all carefully organized. There was a butt drawer, a vibrator drawer, a genital drawer, and the leather straps and ballgags drawer. (I did not make that up, I shit you not.)
Alice: Well, it’s nice that he’s organized.
Jack: Christian thought maybe she wouldn’t want to do it cause she was attacked but Ana was like, no biggie, so they got out a spreader bar . . .
Alice: A spreader bar? Nevermind. Please don’t tell me.
Jack: And he tied her up and had sex with her that went on and on and on. I mean, I wasn’t even going to tie her up. Life is just not fair.
Alice: Yeah. It doesn’t make sense either. I am in some sort of warped parallel universe.**
* Do-Right and Whiplash are totally Canadian. Of course.
**It is called E.L.JamesFunLand Express
For my next review of Children’s T.V., I really wanted to review Maisy Mouse. There were some technical difficulties with that. You see, I have two daughters, but for ease of reference I will call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. Thing 2 told me she still has fond memories of Maisy and I was not to touch her with my snark. I was saddened by this. I mean, look at this mouse. She’s begging for snark.
Ah, well. Instead, I went with their suggestion of Oswald. This is a truly disturbed cartoon. I know I say that about all the cartoons I review, but really, these writers had to be out of their minds on something. I’m not sure what country we can blame for this cartoon, so we’ll just blame Canada. They’re an easy target. I know, for instance, that they are responsible for Dudley Do-Right. That shows they are capable of this level of awful.
Oswald is an octopus that lives in the city. Of course. He wears nothing but a freakishly tiny hat on his head and has a pet that is a literal weenie dog – as in a dachshund forced to permanently wear a hotdog bun, because these poor dogs don’t have enough issues. And it only makes sense that if you are a walking, talking octopus that you would own a pet, and that pet would be a dog. For instance, Mickey Mouse owns Pluto, a dog, but is friends with Goofy, another dog. I think. Gosh, I’m confused.
Anyway, I really think you have to see a clip to truly believe how far out this is, so I have helpfully provided you with one. You’re welcome.
Anyway, Oswald also has friends, and they are just as normal as he is. First is Henry, a penguin with something stuck up his butt, because man is he stuffy. At least for a penguin. They are usually so happy-go-lucky. You’re always seeing them sliding around on their butts in the ice and snow. This one is in the city. No wonder he’s uncomfortable. Then again, Oswald is an octopus and by all rights should have dried up by now. If only.
But wait, there’s more. They also have a friend that is a – wait for it – Daisy with arms and legs that rides a bicycle. And she’s named, you will never guess, Daisy. There is a reason daisies aren’t animate. They’re so freaking annoying you would spray them all with Weed-Be-Gone.
They live in some sort of bizarro world with buildings shaped like baseballs and Old West saloons, stop signs with baseball mits at the top, and a cast of background characters straight out of your nightmares. In one scene, you will notice a living cactus. He’s just sitting there, drinking a coke, wearing a sombrero, minding his own business. Then up flies the waitress, Madame Butterfly, to take their order and OMG HELP ME.
And I just have to think – who thought this up? Who comes up with this kind of insane stuff? Somebody has to, right? Who just sits around and suddenly decides, “I know, I will make a cartoon with an Octupus who is pals with a penguin who owns a spoon collection. And they will live in the fifth circle of Hades. And just when parents think they can’t take anymore, we will have the octopus start singing.”
I think writers for children’s shows are just irritated that they don’t get to write for shows like Grey’s Anatomy, so they decide to make everyone else pay. By doing the penguin polka while the octopus plays piano. Children’s show writers are just mean.
Talking, walking octopus with freakishly tiny hat – Yes
Penguin with spoon collection – Yes
Daisy with arms and legs – Yes
Crazed, revenge-seeking writers – Yes
Gad. This book. Chapter 15 of Anatwatcrotch Steele’s memoirs is just, so, so double crap with a buttplug. First off, I was fairly sure I was already through Chapter 15, but no. No it was still THERE. All supposedly 18 pages of it, though I don’t really believe it was 18 pages, because I just kept turning pages and the crap just kept going, like that perverted Energizer Bunny. And I thought, I need someone who can clean up the bunch of shit that was this chapter. And then it hit me (not Christian, the idea.)
Alice: Hello, Mrs. Jones.
Mrs. Jones: Hello, Alice. You have a little Jello on your face dear. Now spit.
Alice: I don’t really . . .
Mrs. Jones: Spit into this hanky!
Alice: Okay! Gee, thanks for cleaning my face.
Mrs. Jones: You’re welcome. That’s what I do around here. I clean. So much. So, so much.
Alice: Yeah. So what’s it like working for Christian?
Mrs. Jones: Oh, the pay is nice, and he gives me this place to live. Isn’t it nice? ISN’T IT?
Alice: Yes. Um. So do you like Christian?
Mrs. Jones: Oh, he’s like the little psychotic son I never had. But cleaning up after him? All those buttplugs, Alice. There are SO MANY. And the stuff that gets on them is –
Alice: Thank you! That’s really all I need to know about that. What do you think of Ana? And Christian’s relationship with her?
Mrs. Jones: Well. She looks like all the others, of course. But she’s much more of a , what is the nice way to say this, hmm?
Alice: Bitch? Harpy? Dumbass?
Mrs. Jones: Yes. I mean, before they kept the sex in the playroom. Such a mess, I mean you wouldn’t believe what I would find –
Alice: I would. Anyway?
Mrs. Jones: It was gross, but at least the room was fairly soundproof so I didn’t have to hear all the screaming and thrusting and whatnot.
Alice: They do have sex a lot.
Mrs. Jones: A lot? They do it all the time. Almost every waking second. Except when they stop to drink, or Christian orders me to make a sandwich for Ana. Then it’s back to the fucking. They even did it on the piano. Do you know how long it took me to –
Alice: Once again, I can imagine. So anything interesting happen lately? Did anything happen? At all?
Mrs. Jones: Let’s see. Well, Ana howled and moaned and cried – and she wasn’t even having sex at that point. Christian carried her to bed, because the stupid girl can’t eat or walk for herself. I’m not sure if there really is a brain inside that head at all.
Alice: If so, it ran out of batteries years ago.
Mrs. Jones: Then Christian screamed, but it was nightmare screaming, not the other kind. Just one of the many things you learn to ignore around here. One of the many, many things you learn to ignore . . .
Alice: So then what happened?
Mrs. Jones: Then came the sex. Did you know you can hear a foil packet rip from across the house?
Alice: That’s illuminating.
Mrs. Jones: Then they talked and talked and Ana asked to see Dr. Flynn.
Alice: I hope he shows her what’s in that drawer.
Mrs. Jones: Taylor drove her to work. And then Christian got on the computer.
Alice: Oh, no.
Mrs. Jones: And started emailing Ana. This went back and forth. He was quite upset that she wasn’t using her Blackberry. The raunchy, idiotic emails can be traced on her work computer.
Alice: Did it occur to him to just stop sending her raunchy, idiotic emails?
Mrs. Jones: No. Christian was even more upset because Ana was having a hard day. Her boss, Mr. Hyde, kept yelling at her.
Alice: Because she was emailing instead of doing her coloring sheets?
Mrs. Jones: Also she was late getting to work and late with his lunch. They emailed some more. Ana continued to not use the Blackberry.
Alice: She has no sense of self-preservation and yet she keeps breathing somehow.
Mrs. Jones: Then she called during Christian’s work meeting and they kept telling the other one to hang up, no you hang up . . .
Alice: Just . . . I don’t . . . moving on.
Mrs. Jones: Mia apparently called Ana at one point – come to think of it, so did Jose, and Ethan as well. Christian tracks her calls.
Alice: Of course. No wonder Jack wants to kill the little twit.
Mrs. Jones: Mia let slip about Christian’s birthday. And then Ana and Christian sent emails back and forth about him being so old.
Alice: I hate their emails. So much.
Mrs. Jones: Well, she stopped emailing to go get a cookie since she can’t remember to eat. Taylor and Christian were all ready to pick her up from work, but she didn’t come out. Turns out Jack was trying to rape her in the break room.
Alice: Naturally. Wow. Guess that’s all we have time for today.
Mrs. Jones: There’s so much more I could tell you, though.
Alice: That’s okay. Really. I already know so much no amount of Lysol will ever, ever clean it out. Ever.*
*Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever.