offbalance: (big damn heroes by antheia)
There have been many ups and downs in the process of planning this crazy wedding shindig. Many. The important thing is that I have people to share it with. And even more importantly, people to snark it with.

For ages now (possibly before the ring was even on it, but I'm not saying), I have adored snarking wedding media. It’s inherently snarkable - the entire industry takes itself way too seriously. And I’m not just talking about the David Tuteras of the world, or the magazines or websites that push the wedding industrial complex and the idea of the special daaaaaay.

When J and I got engaged I headed to the "non-typical" bride side of the aisle, seeing as I didn't want the big-haired, spray-tanned, rhinestone jewelried, dj-with-smoke-machine, cake-that-looks-like-Tiffany-Box wedding details that are so pervasive in the part of Brooklyn I grew up in (and in the places where the people I grew up with have moved to or have relatives). A friend refers to it as the "LI Weddings" crowd, but it's not just Lawn Guyland that rolls this way. Too my surprise, what I'm finding is that the so-called "offbeat" brides are even more precious about meaningless details. (Not to mention more prone to fits of bawling and hand wringing). I like the fact that A Practical Wedding deals with issues outside of chair covers and etiquette, but if I read one more Wedding recap where the bride drones on about the “deep emotions of the day causing tears to well up in her eyes”, mine are going to roll right out of my head. I’m an emotional person, but reading about how these people started bawling at the drop of a hand-made doily because they saw the ring pillow their Great Aunt Gertie made coming up the aisle started to make me wonder if I'm some kind of robot. I don't cry. I cringe, I snark, I shut down, but I’m not a bawler. And what’s more, I was having a hard time getting worked up about the teeny tiny details of weddings. Reading all of the Indie Bride blogs (Offbeat Bride, APW, DIY Bride and a billion others), every recap I read talks about how important it was that they have an emotional connection to the detail of the wedding. Every last detail. I’ve joked with friends IRL about how these posts read about how they grew the cotton to weave into table cloths and raised cows for the buttercream on the handmade cake the baked with the flour they milled with their own hands, while their beloved blew the glass for the Edison bulb lights that would hang meaningfully over the reception. Oh, and the only vessel for either drinking or holding flowers or collecting the meaningful thoughts and prayers and hopes for the couple on paper handmade by the couple on a meaningful, sun-dappled day together.

Now, if any of you know me at all, this is not me. I appreciate the craftiness of others, but my own craft skills are limited. What’s more, I don’t mind things that are ready made. I found a lovely venue with nice chairs and tables and a nice view that is going to be doing the lion’s share of the work for me. I’m not excited at the idea of staying up until all hours of the night hand-crafting centerpieces or escort cards or meaningful touches that most of the guests will either ignore or smile at for a moment and promptly forget. In fact, I was having an even harder time trying to parse out why exactly some of this dumb shit was meaningful - I hate that I even know what escort cards are. In my mind, the only part of the wedding that should be super-meaningful is the ceremony. And only to a certain line (the part where it doesn’t turn cloying). In fact, all of the posts I read were about how these brides managed to have fun somehow despite nearly driving everyone in their wake positively barmy about the minutiae leading up to the day itself.

It seems that I wasn’t the only one who felt this way, though! I was reading the bulletin boards on Offbeat Bride last night and found a delicious wank that helped me have a marvelous moment of clarity.

The wank began sometime yesterday when someone posted that she was worried that her photographer (a big name wedding photog in Australia) was inspired by her wedding to write this rant. The rant didn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular, but at a symptom that has been running amok through weddings lately - frippery run amok; details and decor standing in for actual emotion; that sort of thing.

Naturally, the bride’s reaction to this rant completely missed the point the photographer was trying to make and completely proved him right. This line in particular crystalized a huge issue I’ve been having in the planning of my own day:

“Everything had meaning, the venue itself was an organic farm, without airs and graces - I planted hundreds of bulbs there six months ago that I only told a few people about. So yeah, for us, the 'details' were private demonstrations of emotion and the values embedded in our lives. ”

Am I the only fucking one here who is absolutely fucking bewildered about how bulbs or tablecloths or mason jars or fucking fairy lights in the trees are supposed to be ‘private demonstrations of emotion and the values embedded in our lives’? And more than that - how in blue blazes am I supposed to infuse everything from the dress to the dinner napkins with this all-important ‘meaning’, especially when I have no idea what in hell the kind of meaning I’m supposed to put in them? If everything has meaning, then nothing has meaning. And the whole exercise is fruitless. I've long suspected that all of the bloviating about the importance and hidden meaning of details was a way to justify the fact that you went insane over some trifle that no one gives a shit about but you. So, I found it really hard to get excited about any of it.

Maybe I’m not like some of these people planning weddings in that I’ve thrown some parties in my time, all varied in scale. And I’ve even been told that said parties were pretty damn awesome. Halloween parties that were discussed all year. A birthday party so epic it spawned a sequel a few days later (also equally epic). Good times. And you know what I learned? While a little detail can go a long way (some tablecloths and wall hangings and some halloween music to get in the spirit, perhaps), the real trick is to figure out a good mix of people who mingle and mix and make their own fun. Keep the drinks (boozy and non-boozy) flowing, serve some reasonably tasty food and give people an icebreaker, and all sorts of fun things can happen.

Look, I’m not laboring under any delusions of grandeur here - a wedding may be an important party, but in the end? It’s just a fucking party. Hopefully a good party. But still. A party. That’s what I want - a good party with good music where people are comfortable with each other and have a good time. No one is going to remember the centerpieces unless they: A) Fall over
B) are so bizarre that they impede conversation.

Few will care what the escort cards/poster looks like past the “Where are we sitting?” part.

No one will even look at the tablecloth, except when they spill something on it. No one will give a damn about the chairs unless there are none. I don’t want to run around with my hair on fire running about stupid details. I do that every day at my job and it sucks.

I already know that I’m a unique and special snowflake. I don’t need to do something that I perceive to be “totally original and unique and special” to feel like it. After years months of reading wedding media, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is absolutely nothing that hasn’t been done before. It’s all been done. So there’s not a reason on this blue globe why I should work myself into a lather trying to do the impossible and find something supposedly unique. I burned out on that trope years ago - it's like running to the horizon: impossible, frustrating and fruitless.

I’m just going to do the easy part where I marry this guy I love a lot. And then we take some pictures, I eat the expensive food and drink the expensive drinks I paid for, I punch a few people who are clinking glasses trying to make us kiss, we take more pictures, and I dance until I fall over. There will be a few personal touches that I hope make my guests chuckle. But that’s as far as this bus will go.

Hail to thee, Jonas Peterson. Your exasperated outburst made me feel so much better. I know more than ever that I don’t have to feel bad because my wedding doesn’t look like an Anthropologie catalog had a baby with a Pottery Barn catalog and the kid puked all over my wedding. Let someone else do that. I’m going to make a kick-ass playlist and a few phone calls and leave it at that.
offbalance: (dr. who)
Thanks times a billion to [livejournal.com profile] killerweasel for sharing this spectacular video with me.



I think I need a gif of the dancing Ood. XD
offbalance: (record)
This has been in my head all night long:



Fun fact? This is actually one of my mom's favorite Beatles songs. It may be her very favorite.

It's been a very Beatles-immersive couple of days. So that would likely explain the sudden pop up.

Today wasn't exactly a basket of kittens, but it wasn't nearly as awful as I'd feared. We'll see how the rest of the week does.
offbalance: (big damn heroes by antheia)
It was a week of ups and downs, definitely.

On one upside: I was reminded about how awesome my friends/loved ones are. Because you are. ::hugs:: Thank you all for reminding me that it's actually *okay* to put yourself first if needs be.

Down: Going back to the place that doesn't exactly make me feel loved tomorrow. We'll see how that goes.

Upside: Actually feeling 90% like a real person again! Imagine that!

Downside: 90% ain't 100%. But we'll see how things go.

Upside: There's been some great media to enjoy the past weekend:
1. Go get your hands on Metals by Feist. Immediately, if not sooner. It's SO GOOD. It's always gratifying to see an artist you like do something amazing.
2. [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl and I watched a fun, bizarre little film called The Baker (aka Assassin in Love) tonight. It's on Netflix streaming right now, and honestly if you're a fan of oddball British comedies, you could do much worse with your time. (It also features the hotness of Damian Lewis and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau [Jaime Lanister], plus Michael Gambon [Dumbledore!] and Kate Ashfield [Liz from Shawn of the Dead] also are in it). It's Grosse Point Blank's weird Welsh cousin, and I mean it in the best way possible.
3. Many, many, many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] rockradar for taking pity on my deeply held desire to watch The Beatles Anthology again and lending me his. After seeing George Harrison: Living in the Material World (which is awesomeface, btw), I felt like going back and revisiting the Anthology. And it was good. I don't think I'm going to need to watch that again for another 15 years or so.
4. I'm also reading a book about the breakup of the Beatles, entitled You Never Give Me Your Money. It's a bit dry, but also fascinating. And it really amazes how much the remaining Beatles wanted to let bygones be by the time the Anthology came around. Shit got ugly. Massively ugly.
5. Caught up on Vampire Diaries, finally. Holy heckfire. I can not even put into words how much I love this show. I'm riveted, and usually pleasantly surprised.

Downsides:
I wasn't expecting much from Love and Other Drugs, but it let me down anyway. How can a film with a cast that good be so very, very bad?

Hardly any of the new shows are retaining my viewership. Pan Am is a lot of fun, and I'm enjoying it for the sugar cookie that it is. Ringer is basically a telenovella in English, and I'm loving every silly moment, Hart of Dixie is the love child of Doc Hollywood and Sweet Home Alabama and just delightful, and Revenge is so very, very awesome - twisty, complex, dark, and just enough soap to make it all gel.

But so far I've tried and rejected Person of Interest (been there, done that), Prime Suspect (I'm sure the original is better), 2 Broke Girls (so bad I'm angry, because it has a mostly good cast and odd premise, but I can't get over the show's awful writing and racist jokes), Homeland (too much of a downer and not enough storytelling), and The Secret Circle (the secret? It's BORING!)

Mega downside: This weekend, I missed two birthdays of two of my dearest friends. Both who are kind of having it sort of tough right now. And who I plan to make it up to once I'm plague free. :/

And now, sleep. Off to face the lions tomorrow. At least I get Castle tomorrow night -- that's definitely an upside.

Sad news

Oct. 3rd, 2011 05:10 pm
offbalance: (gardenstate hug by antheia)
It's been a rough couple of days.

Started off Saturday a bit hung over, because [livejournal.com profile] redstapler was in town, and that required a toast or three. After I got J off to work, I decided to do some coat shopping. I was off today and I figured that might be the better day to spend on the sofa. After fruitless trips to Syms and Century 21, I was browsing in Bloomingdales when I got phone call.

A really fucking bad phone call. The kind of phone call that you really never expect nor want to receive.

I have this friend Gyda, a lot of you know her. Gyda was supposed to marry her lovely fiance, Aaron, in about a month, down in the Cayman Islands.

Gyda's fiance died Saturday morning.

They were supposed to be visiting her dad's new place in New England this weekend, and he was supposed to be on a certain train at a certain time. When he wasn't, they called a friend to check on him. They'd discovered that Aaron, at 42 years of age, had passed away in his sleep.

We're all in shock. Her the worst of it, clearly.

I didn't know him super-well. He wasn't outgoing or gregarious - he actually played it pretty close to the vest most of the time. But I did know some important things about him. He was a super-sweet guy under a tough-seeming shell. He lacked pretension and bullshit. And most importantly, he loved my friend more than anything. His entire face changed when he smiled, but when he smiled at her? The world was almost a different place, you could tell. Over time, we learned we had a few things in common, especially since he was a huge fan of many of the cult tv shows I was. We'd bonded over Veronica Mars at least once when I expressed glee over seeing it on Gyda's shelf and she told me her seeing it was entirely Aaron's doing.

The other thing about Aaron was how talented he was. Both of them are heavily involved in the Brick Theater and I'd gotten to see him perform many times. He was a really gifted actor. I'd seen him do a number of very different kinds of things, and many times, he was the very best thing on the stage.

I wish I'd spoken to him more times with fewer beers in my system. You always think you're going to have more time.

My heart is breaking for Gyda right now. As she said over and over, between sobs, when I saw her on Saturday was that this was the worst thing ever...the worst thing imaginable. And I agree. I can't think of anything worse. Especially for someone as awesome, loyal, selfless and loving as Gyda is. I wish I could do more than feel for her, but right now that's all that can be done. And it sucks. She's one of the very best people I know, and I believed wholeheartedly that he was completely worthy of her. Neither of them deserved this. As one person kept saying at the gathering Saturday, they were both cheated out of a life together. And I think that sums it up.
offbalance: (l33tness darkside)
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What would I do?? What wouldn't I do.

For ages now, I've said that I didn't mind the prequels in theory, but they were done badly. As one person I knew said, they were likely written on a whiskey bender out at Skywaker Ranch, so I'd give the whole thing a revamp.

Notwithstanding better plotting, characterization and dialogue, the first thing I'd do is chuck Phantom Menace in its entirety.

The Saga Continues )
offbalance: (stupid by dunc's icons)
Ever since before I moved in, [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl has had a silver torch-style floor lamp in his possession. His apartment did not come with a ceiling fixture in the living room, but there's an outlet that's somehow wired to a switch on the wall near the entryway to the living/bedroom, so that was the light source.

It was a source we feared lost about a week ago, when the thing just plumb stopped working.

It had been sort of flickering and not quite working well for a tiny bit, so we thought for sure it was just the lamp's time to go. Because of the flickering, neither of us thought that maybe perhaps there'd just been a bad bulb, perhaps just a loose wire or a dead socket. My dad is pretty handy with lamps, and he said he'd take a look next time I came over.

Friday was my last summer Friday, and I had a few things in mind of what to do with it. First and foremost was to hit my favorite dumpling joint in Chinatown. Secondly was to hang with the very excellent [livejournal.com profile] lwoodbloo, whom I hadn't seen in far too long. So, after work, I headed down and grabbed some dumplings and a scallion pancake veggie sammich, and ate them in the park nearby. Then, on my way back to the train, still a smitch hungry and feeling adventurous, I headed into a bakery nearby I'd been to before. I forget the name, but it's on Grand street, not far from Eldridge. All of the signs are in Chinese, but it's always packed and the selection is huge. I got a few goodies (after asking what was in them) and headed home to Brooklyn. (This turned out to be a bad move. Although I asked and the counter person I spoke to spoke fine English, she wasn't honest about what was in one of the buns, and I had a nice allergic reaction to shellfish. [which for me, involves a lot of barfing] Which pretty much tanked the rest of my Friday night and most of Saturday. I'm not going back there any time soon.)

A short time later I met up with [livejournal.com profile] lwoodbloo, and I picked up a lamp at Target. Not an expensive one, but enough to keep things brightly lit. I took it home, and decided to try one of the bulbs from the broken lamp in it. It didn't work. I found another bulb, and left the old lamp in its place, since it was plugged in behind a bookshelf.

When J came home the following evening he set about moving the shelves and switching the lamps around. He asked me if I'd checked the bulbs to make sure that hadn't caused the problem. I told him that I'd thought he'd checked the bulbs.

Turns out?

The old lamp was fine. It just needed new bulbs.

So we now have two lamps. Since we wanted that for the living room anyway, it's fine, but I could have accomplished that without a week of sitting in the frigging dark!

So, remember boys and girls, always, always, always check the bulbs FIRST before making any new lamp purchases. *sigh*
offbalance: (Bridget fuuuuuuck by iamjoey)
OMG IT'S A HURRICANE WE'S ALL GOWNA DIE!

Or not.

Everyone is running around with their ass in their hands because there's a hurricane working its way up the east coast. Granted, two seasons of Treme have probably made me a little more anxious than I need to be, especially since we rode out Hurricane Gloria in my parents' house in 1985 just fine, and she was a Cat. 4. Irene is currently clocking at Cat 2, and is diminishing, supposedly. We're due for Cat 1 here, and everyone is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. Now, I know that we're not due for a pile of kittens, but the city weathered our last hurricane, Gloria, just fine as far as I remember, and she was at least a Cat 3.

I don't remember boarding up windows, just putting things into the garage so they wouldn't blow away. In fact, I remember watching the hurricane through the front windows of my parents' house. It was pretty cool, actually. And it gave us all something to do when the power went out. But to be fair, back in those days, the power would go out if it rained harder than a drizzle. I also spent a large amount of time playing under the dining room table, if memory serves (it was so much higher in those days, it's gotten awfully short).

Still. I'm...apprehensive. I guess I'm feeding off of it all in the air. My apartment is not in any evac zones, but the house in which my parents, sister, and her husband live in is in Zone C. We're not supposed to get any Zone C-type weather, but yeah. More fun things to be anxious about.

Today my friend Meg and I were supposed to spend the day in Coney Island and the evening at the Brooklyn Cyclones game. And maybe have a few beers at Ruby's in between. And well, we did do that. But the whole time this giant stormcloud of anxiety swirled around us. It even followed us to the game (well, the first game of a double-header, anyway). We decided to bail to plunge headfirst into the insanity of a pre-storm grocery store.

I do not use the term insanity loosely. It was nuts. What made it fun was Meg's attitude - she was like a kid on Christmas from all the crazy energy flying around. And she was in all of her glory giving advice on how to live when the power goes out (something that apparently happens frequently back at her Wisconsin homeland). It was easy to keep going with that kind of ra ra around. Plus, [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl was able to swoop in, Han Solo style, with the shopping cart. Meg and I ran to the market from the train, so I had none of my grocery gear with me. But thankfully, I had schelp help after all.

Then I came home and filled about 39240308 containers with Brita water. Now? I'm kind of too tired to see straight. I fell asleep twice while writing this.

So sleep. More if I can post it tomorrow, if not, stay safe, stay dry, keep calm and carry on. That's my plan, anyway.

Check in?

Aug. 9th, 2011 03:11 pm
offbalance: (shield maiden by antheia)
And here's a moment of potentially needless paranoia, but I don't really care, to be honest.

[livejournal.com profile] ladymoonray and [livejournal.com profile] dolores - do check in and let us know how you all are faring. Last I heard you're far from the melee, but I'd still like to know you two are all right. And that's the same for all of my other UK/London-based LJ peeps.
offbalance: (newsteam by uptown girl gfx)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] deathpixie at Signal Boost: Return of the DDoS
For those wanting to know more about the recent DDoS attacks, yes, it looks like it was the Russian government trying to shut down the dissidents again.

As I said last time, while it's frustrating not to have access, LJ is a lot more than a social network platform. From the article:

"LiveJournal isn’t just a social network. It’s also a platform for organizing civic action. Dozens of network projects and groups mobilize people to solve specific problems — from defending the rights of political prisoners to saving endangered historic architecture in Moscow."

So while I know many are considering the move over to Dreamwidth and other such sites, supporting LJ is a way we can help support those who use it for more than a writing/roleplaying/social venue.


Also, as a FYI, LJ is giving paid users effected by the outage two weeks of paid time as compensation.


offbalance: (newsteam by uptown girl gfx)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] deathpixie at Signal Boost: Return of the DDoS
For those wanting to know more about the recent DDoS attacks, yes, it looks like it was the Russian government trying to shut down the dissidents again.

As I said last time, while it's frustrating not to have access, LJ is a lot more than a social network platform. From the article:

"LiveJournal isn’t just a social network. It’s also a platform for organizing civic action. Dozens of network projects and groups mobilize people to solve specific problems — from defending the rights of political prisoners to saving endangered historic architecture in Moscow."

So while I know many are considering the move over to Dreamwidth and other such sites, supporting LJ is a way we can help support those who use it for more than a writing/roleplaying/social venue.


Also, as a FYI, LJ is giving paid users effected by the outage two weeks of paid time as compensation.


offbalance: (Mrs. Peel)
So, amidst my vacation and LJ's general asshattery, I learned the rather sad news that Amy Winehouse, an artist I was exceedingly fond of, passed away at the alarmingly young age of 27. A lot of people have said a lot of things about her, and they're entitled to their opinion.

I first heard of her around the same time almost everyone I know did, when people started linking to her video of "Rehab" around the time Britney Spears had her bald-headed freakout and got shipped off for her first of many involuntary psychiatric holds. I liked the song immediately - it was sharp, it was funky, the lyrics were clever, and it had horns, which is a major musical weakness of mine. I love me some brass and woodwinds on a track.

New Orleans Girl had just started working with me around that time, and I asked if she'd heard of it. She's generally way ahead of the curve music-wise, and already had the album in her possession. We listened to it at work a lot, so much that I got my own copy as soon as I could. It's a fantastic, fantastic collection of songs, with Amy growling over a whirlwind of moaning horns, thumping bass and drums and dirty guitar. I can't lie - the songs "You Know I'm No Good" and "Back to Black" would send me back to the repeat button far more than some of the others, but I loved every bit of that album. And when New Orleans Girl introduced me to "Valerie", I went nuts. It was a perfect combination of vocal and instrumental, produced beautifully, and what I point to first when explaining why Mark Ronson is one of the best producers around today.

I tried not to pay too much attention to the train wreck that Amy's life started to become after awhile. I just wanted her butt back in the studio, writing and releasing new songs. (Preferably good ones). I discovered other, similar artists that I came to really enjoy as well - Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings, Adele, Kate Nash...but I still hoped that Amy was going to record another amazing record and blow everyone away.

Instead Adele did that (What, you haven't listened to 21 yet? GO. IMMEDIATELY.) and Amy died. :/

I realized today that despite New Orleans Girl's urging, I never listened to "Frank", Amy's debut. She'd said it was more "Erikah Badu-esque", and I kind of shrugged it off, as I much preferred the post-apocalyptic Ronnie Spector vibe she had on "Back to Black." But after learning that there would be no more albums, I finally cued it up on Spotify (a new toy I'm still learning how to use) and had a listen.

Now I am truly sad. The music is funky and jazzy - combining bebop swing with hip hop bounce seamlessly. And the lyrics are equally good - as sharp and funny as anything on Back to Black, if not better.

I wish she'd put more tracks down in the studio than tracks in her arm. I really do. It's a fucking waste that we lost someone with so much potential, and I feel that way someone young and promising meets and untimely end, especially when it's due to addiction. It's so unfair.

One song I heard on Frank just now sent chills up my spine. It's called "October Song," and looking back with 20-20 vision, let's just say it's a little prescient. Look that up, check it out. Check her out - she's more than a punchline, she's a great voice that we lost. And that's a fucking sad thing.
offbalance: (My dad thinks you suck)
The last few times I've taken time off of work, even with [profile] j_bkl, they've largely been staycations. Aside from some NYC-based activity (which is no slouch, really), we've largely stayed home, much to the derision and consternation of others (despite our own satisfaction with it). So, when J informed me that he had some days to take off coming up, wheels began to turn, and we decided that it was high time we Went Somewhere.

See, [profile] j_bkl's family owns a lovely three-bedroom, two bathroom 18th Century farmhouse in the Hudson Valley region. For the unfamiliar, that's nestled between the capitol region in Albany and my hometown of NYC. It's about 2.5 hours by car, also somewhat accessible via train, and full of green and scenic scenery. Naturally, the house has been well-decorated and appointed by J's folks, combining mid-century touches with many of the original details of the house, making for a really impressive mix. We asked if we could possibly have it for a long weekend in July, and his folks were happy to oblige. I made arrangements with a rental car, and we even invited some friends up for part of it. I was definitely excited - I love the area, and this was going to afford us some opportunity to spend time up there to both relax and go do things, in addition to maybe a tiny bit of wedding-related recon.

The rental car was retrieved from Enterprise on Thursday morning. I was excited, because I had an upgrade coupon and we got everything together to get on the road nice and early. After some mild Manhattan traffic, we made good time and got upstate around noon. That's when the fun really started.

We arrived, turned on the house's central a/c unit, and set about unpacking and settling in. It seemed to take awhile for the a/c to cool off the house, if only to me. Now, I grew up in what some might consider dubious conditions - my house had neither a dishwasher nor central air conditioning. Mind you, we had sponges and window a/c units, so we all muddled through somehow. Anyway, we headed out for some lunch at really amazing local place called The Wild Hive and to pick up some provisions at A&P and cash at our respective ATMs. When we got home a few hours later, it became patently obvious that something was amiss. The house was still not showing evidence that the a/c was working, despite the fact that it was on high. (And with the exceptionally hot weather last week, ac was kind of crucial). We called J's folks, who called their local HVAC people, who said they'd come by Friday morning to see what was up. We had a nice dinner at a local (and delicious) BBQ joint, then came home and crashed early.

Friday J woke up to do some watering in his mom's extensive garden. When he went downstairs to head outside, I heard cursing. Turns out, there was a grapefruit-sized bulge in the ceiling that was leaking water. We scrambled and found a water-catcher, and called his folks yet again to inform them. Luckily, the HVAC people are also all-purpose handy-people, so they would be able to deal with this). Eventually, the colorful locals who run the HVAC company informed us of the following:

- The central air unit was fine, it's just that the house was hot, the weather extreme, it's an old building... (Riiight. Yet my hotel in August in Las Vegas in stupidly hot temperatures managed to get the rooms down to a chilly 60 degrees with no problem. WTF.)

- The leak was caused by the pipe that led to the shower head in the master bathroom upstairs. So we couldn't use the big bathroom to shower, we could only use the small shower on the first floor. They'd be back Monday to fix it. Greaaat.

(I'm not saying they weren't super entertaining. We heard some great stories, and they were pretty damn funny. But still. #$@%@#%)

We showered and headed out to Kingston (about 40 minutes away) to investigate wedding hotels. I learned a lot and felt like I made some good decisions regarding hotels to block for the wedding. We also had extra time between dinner plans with [profile] trebleahead and his awesome gf, so we even saw Harry Potter. (Which was amazeballs). While wandering around the area (full of every chain restaurant and big box store in the known universe), we got a call from J's mom saying that she'd gotten a call from the alarm company that the power went out at the house. Thankfully, we were far away at that moment and not returning home until later, so we weren't worried, and we heard a couple of hours later that the power was back on, so no big. Friday passed without major incident, only including us getting lost on the way to meet our friends for an awesome dinner, which freaked me out. See, I'm a city girl to the nth power. I like cities, I feel comfortable there. Put me in the middle of a rural-ish area that I don't know and utter the phrase "I'm not sure where we are"? Hello, panic attack. Still, we got there, and more importantly, home, with no problem. The house wasn't too warm when we got back, either. So we came home, did a few things, then went to sleep.

Saturday was the big day of the weekend, as we were expecting [personal profile] blergeatkitty, [profile] kip3f, [profile] selftoken and [personal profile] teany up, *our* first guests at the farmhouse. I was a little concerned about the house being warm in the morning, but didn't really concern myself with it too much. We had a really nice day with everyone despite the oppressive heat, and then when [profile] j_bkl took [personal profile] blergeatkitty & [profile] kip3f back to the train, I hung out and played a fun card game called Fluxx with [profile] selftoken & [personal profile] teany. To our dismay, the house was extremely warm when we returned, and after a few hours, it became plainly obvious that the a/c had shit the bed and we were going to have to go without. Somehow, we managed through the hot, miserable night to endure, but it was the opposite of fun. I do have to extend my thanks to our overnight guests for their grace and good humor in a really crappy situation.

J called his folks in the morning after our guests had left and it was decided that we would head down to their Westchester house for the night when it became plainly obvious that no one would be able to come to look at the a/c unit before Monday, and we couldn't deal with another hot night. So we packed and headed out, a full day earlier than planned, but that's life in the country, I guess. We got down to his folks', had an incredible dinner cooked by J's dad (seriously one of the best meals of the weekend) and were settling in for the evening when I'd realized I'd left a bag I needed in the car.

The battery of the car was dead. Awesome. Because experience has taught me to always get full coverage, I called the roadside assistance people for a jump, and that's when our adventure really began.

The roadside guy made all sorts of upset faces at the sounds our car was making, and after performing a few tests, declared to us that the car had no oil in the engine. Now, I'm not exactly a pep boy, but I know that oil is pretty fucking important to a car's engine. He said that the car was not safe to drive and that we should call Enterprise for a replacement in the morning.

Thus really began our odyssey.

Me: Uh, hi. The car you gave me? It's borked.
Call to Enterprise Brooklyn: "Oh, they're just telling you that to get more money out of you."
Me: [redacted rage]
Them: "Uh, okay, you can call the office in the next town for a replacement."

The guys in the next town were super-helpful, especially after J's dad called and dropped his name, considering they see lots of business from him. They just had to wait for a car that they could give us. And the tow truck to come and get the broken car. After that half a day went by, we were FINALLY on the damn way back home, in the pouring, torrential rain.
There were wrong turns, and we didn't even have time to stop home first to drop off our stuff if we wanted to get the car back in time.

BUT - in a save worthy of Mariano Rivera, the super-apologetic Enterprise Brooklyn branch manager credited us a day on the rental and paid for our cab home. And he was wise to do so, as it prevented me from opening up the epic can of whoop ass I was prepared to launch at them. But after he explained that the employee who told me to drive the car anyway had been straightened out, and was extremely sorry for any inconvenience I was caused. Okay then. Eventually, we were home. And we'd survived.

I'm not saying there weren't highlights, there definitely were. But on the whole, this was a vacation worthy of the Griswold family. And as such, I leave you all with this song, which kept popping into my head over the course of the weekend as things just grew more and more ridiculous. As my dad said, "Times like that, you have to laugh. There's nothing else to do."

Back to work tomorrow. Hopefully that will be smoother than my time away from the office. :/

offbalance: (yankees - Coney Perfect)
Ugh. So usually the best thing about my CSA is that I start eating lots and lots and lots of leafy green vegetables. A better lunch for a better America and all that.

Only problem is that after a week or three of that many salads, my stomach usually rebels in a majorly epic way. A "No, fuck you!" way, as [livejournal.com profile] antheia might say. (Speaking of, happy birthday, doll!)

So I feel like I have gravel in my stomach at the moment. I have less than no interest in food, but my body insists on being annoying and getting hungry at times. (The nerve!) I'm doing my best, but I'm guessing I'm going to have to revert to eating like a three-year-old for a day or two while things reset and my stomach decides to stop being full of gravel.

And naturally, I have a fridge full of all sorts of lovely leafy greens. Of course.

I finished Bobby Murcer's memoir (Yankee for Life) today. It was excellent. Bobby was always a favorite of mine in the broadcast booth, and I was positively crushed when he passed. He seemed like such a genuinely nice guy, too. I loved his games, it was kind of like having a cool older relative sit with you and talk to you about the game in such a way that you felt more informed after. (Kind of like watching sports with my dad.) It was weird - reading the book, I could totally hear his voice just like I did for so many Yankee games over the years. And for my money, I will stand by the fact that my favorite broadcast team will always be Murcer, Jim Katt, and Michael Kay (back before his head grew to unnatural sizes). Yes, Scooter was fun and all, but he was gone by the time the 1996 team rolled around, and when I really got swept up in the pennant race and fell in love with the team in a way I hadn't loved them before. So it was nice to have Bobby back, in a way. It was also hard as hell to read about his diagnosis and fight with cancer, and how upbeat it was, knowing something he didn't know as of the writing of the book. I just hope that somewhere, Field of Dreams is real, and he's hanging with Munson and Mantle and some of the other guys right now.

Otherwise, not much to report on. Work was as usual - like hitting myself in the face with a nerf bat over and over again (not painful, but more than annoying). Our team won trivia yesterday by half a point, which was pretty cool. And now I have to decide between reading two books, but I think Game of Thrones will win that dogfight. Annd I'm going bridal gown shopping on Friday. Hopefully that will be less painful than I'm fearing. (Bringing a team of aces with me - my mom, [livejournal.com profile] quasisonic and [livejournal.com profile] blergeatkitty, so hopefully we can get something accomplished).

Tonight I got home in time to watch the Yankee game. I even got to watch a bunch with my dad over the phone. Talking to him was fun, my new tv has a great picture, and my apartment had a/c, so I was ready to settle in with some baseball goodness. Of course, they lost. I think that about sums up today. *sigh*
offbalance: (yankees - Coney Perfect)
Ugh. So usually the best thing about my CSA is that I start eating lots and lots and lots of leafy green vegetables. A better lunch for a better America and all that.

Only problem is that after a week or three of that many salads, my stomach usually rebels in a majorly epic way. A "No, fuck you!" way, as [livejournal.com profile] antheia might say. (Speaking of, happy birthday, doll!)

So I feel like I have gravel in my stomach at the moment. I have less than no interest in food, but my body insists on being annoying and getting hungry at times. (The nerve!) I'm doing my best, but I'm guessing I'm going to have to revert to eating like a three-year-old for a day or two while things reset and my stomach decides to stop being full of gravel.

And naturally, I have a fridge full of all sorts of lovely leafy greens. Of course.

I finished Bobby Murcer's memoir (Yankee for Life) today. It was excellent. Bobby was always a favorite of mine in the broadcast booth, and I was positively crushed when he passed. He seemed like such a genuinely nice guy, too. I loved his games, it was kind of like having a cool older relative sit with you and talk to you about the game in such a way that you felt more informed after. (Kind of like watching sports with my dad.) It was weird - reading the book, I could totally hear his voice just like I did for so many Yankee games over the years. And for my money, I will stand by the fact that my favorite broadcast team will always be Murcer, Jim Katt, and Michael Kay (back before his head grew to unnatural sizes). Yes, Scooter was fun and all, but he was gone by the time the 1996 team rolled around, and when I really got swept up in the pennant race and fell in love with the team in a way I hadn't loved them before. So it was nice to have Bobby back, in a way. It was also hard as hell to read about his diagnosis and fight with cancer, and how upbeat it was, knowing something he didn't know as of the writing of the book. I just hope that somewhere, Field of Dreams is real, and he's hanging with Munson and Mantle and some of the other guys right now.

Otherwise, not much to report on. Work was as usual - like hitting myself in the face with a nerf bat over and over again (not painful, but more than annoying). Our team won trivia yesterday by half a point, which was pretty cool. And now I have to decide between reading two books, but I think Game of Thrones will win that dogfight. Annd I'm going bridal gown shopping on Friday. Hopefully that will be less painful than I'm fearing. (Bringing a team of aces with me - my mom, [livejournal.com profile] quasisonic and [livejournal.com profile] blergeatkitty, so hopefully we can get something accomplished).

Tonight I got home in time to watch the Yankee game. I even got to watch a bunch with my dad over the phone. Talking to him was fun, my new tv has a great picture, and my apartment had a/c, so I was ready to settle in with some baseball goodness. Of course, they lost. I think that about sums up today. *sigh*
offbalance: (newsteam by uptown girl gfx)
I keep meaning to/trying to post updates on here, but it never seems to work out. Let's have a quick recap for now:

The Good
This weekend was pretty excellent, all told. Epic amounts of running around that resulted in desperately-needed new sandals and a haircut. There were fireworks out in the wilds of Red Bank, NJ, at the (really nice) home of [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl's sister. She had a perfect view of the Red Bank fireworks, which I am told are famous in NJ (is that like being big in Japan?). We got home late, but it was a really fun day. And I received lots of kudos for the all-American mix I made for the party.

Yesterday I didn't get to see fireworks at the Liberty Belle spectacular, since the Empire Hotel was so far uptown. Still, it was an awesome night spent with [livejournal.com profile] airspaniel, [livejournal.com profile] rockradar, [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl and our friend Maryiln. It had a bit of a rocky start (you know that friends episode when Ross is trying to get everyone out of the house in 25 minutes? Kind of like that), but all was fine once we arrived, overpaid for a few drinks (oy), and found a beautiful spot to camp out. Lots of good times were had, but sadly, not much dancing. Next one, hopefully. ([livejournal.com profile] redstapler, you were actively missed.)

On the ankle - the cortisone shot kicked in the Saturday morning following the Monday I got the shots and the two days I was stuck home. Everything feels basically back to normal now, except I can tell you exactly when it's going to rain. The doctor, after hearing my litany of complaints about being incapcitated, only said "That happens sometimes." Really. What also happens sometimes is that if anything like this happens again, I'm finding another orthopedist. Jackass. But on the up side, the ankle is working and I think I can use it for cardiovascular activities. It's passed every subway test with flying colors, so we'll see about the gym later this week.

The Bad

Currently, it's raining plaster and water from our bathroom ceiling. (I don't really want to contemplate the source of the water). I am really annoyed. It's not even the first time this has happened. I'm hoping this can be dealt with before it gets much worse.

As fun as the barbecue was, I'm currently covered in mosquito bites from the knees down. Apparetently, my legs are delicious. Who knew? I wonder if there's some kind of Mosquito Michellin guide. Maybe a biting insect Zagat's. If there is, I'm in it.

The Ugly, Yet Hilarious:

I was treated to the experience of taking a NY-bound NJ Transit train on a holiday weekend this past Sunday (after the Red Bank fireworks). Lots of examples of public intoxication, and general asshattery, but mostly kept down to a dull roar. A few things of note:

- A group of rowdies that looked like next season's Jersey Shore cast. (J noted that one of the guys was wearing True Religion jeans and a bandana around his forehead, with his sunglasses seated atop the bandanna.) Aside from loudly screaming across the aisle to one another, they thought they were being hilarious by shrieking/screaming the lyrics to Tenacious D's "Fuck Her Gently" at the top of their lungs. D'aww. See, kiddums, I was singing that one before you were allowed to cross the street by yourself. it's as old hat as that fedora you're trying to make happen (and it's sonot happening). Thank God they got off after only two stops.

- One girl, seated by herself across the aisle and one row back from us, having a sobbing, screaming (fight? conversation? who knows?) phone call with her boyfriend, Pat. I first noted Sobby as she wailed "NOOOOO! OH NOOOOO!" into her cell phone. It caught my attention. I thought someone had died, God forbid. Or she was hurt or something. Nope. Best I could glean from the convo, Sobby got separated from her friends and the aforementioned Pat by a Red Bank police officer, who put her on the train. I'm guessing she was already drunk and separated from her friends at this point. That was about all I could glean from the series of calls, which went something like this:
"Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaht! WHERE ARE YOU, PAAAAAHT! WHY DO YOU HAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE MEEEEE! JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE! LOOK AT THE MAPQUEST ON YOUR GARMIN AND TELL MEEEEEE WHERE YOU AAAAAARE PAAAAT! ::wails:: PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! TELL ME WHERE YOU AAAAARE! I'M ON THE TRAIN! I WILL SEND A TAXI FOR YOU PAAAT!" And on, and on, before she finally got off in Matawan. (seriously).

- After Sobby exited the train (after several well-meaning folks stopped to ask her if she needed help and received downright nasty responses from her), we were approached by two girls a few rows up from us who were also extremely amused by the whole Pat opera. They were sweet, obviously a bit young, and were a bit exasperated when they found out that the train we were on did not, in fact, go to Long Branch. (We were almost at South Amboy at this point). Granted, they went looking for a conductor and managed to wrangle their other friend, a tall, blonde girl whod' been quietly sobbing for several stations, but had been drowned out by Sobby's antics. According to one of the girls, she said her friend was fine, and it was all "boyfriend shit" and they'd "take care of her." And they did, although they couldn't stop her from getting up too fast and bashing her head into the luggage holder. D'oh.

***********
Trivia tonight! Hopefully more updates tomorrow.
offbalance: (newsteam by uptown girl gfx)
I keep meaning to/trying to post updates on here, but it never seems to work out. Let's have a quick recap for now:

The Good
This weekend was pretty excellent, all told. Epic amounts of running around that resulted in desperately-needed new sandals and a haircut. There were fireworks out in the wilds of Red Bank, NJ, at the (really nice) home of [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl's sister. She had a perfect view of the Red Bank fireworks, which I am told are famous in NJ (is that like being big in Japan?). We got home late, but it was a really fun day. And I received lots of kudos for the all-American mix I made for the party.

Yesterday I didn't get to see fireworks at the Liberty Belle spectacular, since the Empire Hotel was so far uptown. Still, it was an awesome night spent with [livejournal.com profile] airspaniel, [livejournal.com profile] rockradar, [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl and our friend Maryiln. It had a bit of a rocky start (you know that friends episode when Ross is trying to get everyone out of the house in 25 minutes? Kind of like that), but all was fine once we arrived, overpaid for a few drinks (oy), and found a beautiful spot to camp out. Lots of good times were had, but sadly, not much dancing. Next one, hopefully. ([livejournal.com profile] redstapler, you were actively missed.)

On the ankle - the cortisone shot kicked in the Saturday morning following the Monday I got the shots and the two days I was stuck home. Everything feels basically back to normal now, except I can tell you exactly when it's going to rain. The doctor, after hearing my litany of complaints about being incapcitated, only said "That happens sometimes." Really. What also happens sometimes is that if anything like this happens again, I'm finding another orthopedist. Jackass. But on the up side, the ankle is working and I think I can use it for cardiovascular activities. It's passed every subway test with flying colors, so we'll see about the gym later this week.

The Bad

Currently, it's raining plaster and water from our bathroom ceiling. (I don't really want to contemplate the source of the water). I am really annoyed. It's not even the first time this has happened. I'm hoping this can be dealt with before it gets much worse.

As fun as the barbecue was, I'm currently covered in mosquito bites from the knees down. Apparetently, my legs are delicious. Who knew? I wonder if there's some kind of Mosquito Michellin guide. Maybe a biting insect Zagat's. If there is, I'm in it.

The Ugly, Yet Hilarious:

I was treated to the experience of taking a NY-bound NJ Transit train on a holiday weekend this past Sunday (after the Red Bank fireworks). Lots of examples of public intoxication, and general asshattery, but mostly kept down to a dull roar. A few things of note:

- A group of rowdies that looked like next season's Jersey Shore cast. (J noted that one of the guys was wearing True Religion jeans and a bandana around his forehead, with his sunglasses seated atop the bandanna.) Aside from loudly screaming across the aisle to one another, they thought they were being hilarious by shrieking/screaming the lyrics to Tenacious D's "Fuck Her Gently" at the top of their lungs. D'aww. See, kiddums, I was singing that one before you were allowed to cross the street by yourself. it's as old hat as that fedora you're trying to make happen (and it's sonot happening). Thank God they got off after only two stops.

- One girl, seated by herself across the aisle and one row back from us, having a sobbing, screaming (fight? conversation? who knows?) phone call with her boyfriend, Pat. I first noted Sobby as she wailed "NOOOOO! OH NOOOOO!" into her cell phone. It caught my attention. I thought someone had died, God forbid. Or she was hurt or something. Nope. Best I could glean from the convo, Sobby got separated from her friends and the aforementioned Pat by a Red Bank police officer, who put her on the train. I'm guessing she was already drunk and separated from her friends at this point. That was about all I could glean from the series of calls, which went something like this:
"Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaht! WHERE ARE YOU, PAAAAAHT! WHY DO YOU HAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE MEEEEE! JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE! LOOK AT THE MAPQUEST ON YOUR GARMIN AND TELL MEEEEEE WHERE YOU AAAAAARE PAAAAT! ::wails:: PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! TELL ME WHERE YOU AAAAARE! I'M ON THE TRAIN! I WILL SEND A TAXI FOR YOU PAAAT!" And on, and on, before she finally got off in Matawan. (seriously).

- After Sobby exited the train (after several well-meaning folks stopped to ask her if she needed help and received downright nasty responses from her), we were approached by two girls a few rows up from us who were also extremely amused by the whole Pat opera. They were sweet, obviously a bit young, and were a bit exasperated when they found out that the train we were on did not, in fact, go to Long Branch. (We were almost at South Amboy at this point). Granted, they went looking for a conductor and managed to wrangle their other friend, a tall, blonde girl whod' been quietly sobbing for several stations, but had been drowned out by Sobby's antics. According to one of the girls, she said her friend was fine, and it was all "boyfriend shit" and they'd "take care of her." And they did, although they couldn't stop her from getting up too fast and bashing her head into the luggage holder. D'oh.

***********
Trivia tonight! Hopefully more updates tomorrow.
offbalance: (Scott Pilgrim - Punch)
So, the pain has gone down. Last night, on a scale of one to ten, I was nearly up to fifteen. It was bad news. On top of that, I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. If I tried to act like it was a normal leg, it would buckle and I would tip over. Not good. I had to sleep like an ancient Egyptian painting, and even that wasn't all that comfortable. (Poor [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl was kept up by my tossing and flailing.) I really didn't appreciate just how important my ankles really were until this, and how much they do that I just didn't appreciate. Like turning over in bed. That has a lot to do with your heels and ankles. As I discovered last night, trying not to scream. I slept in fits and starts, before finally passing out at one point for a few hours.

Then there was a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. That was fun. It was dark, I had one working leg, and the path wasn't exactly perfectly clear. Ugh.

It was abundantly clear at 7am that while the pain had dropped to a comparatively more manageable 9 on the scale of doom, I still couldn't stand on it. Or really walk. I could do a sort of hobble-hop-lurch between bed and the bathroom, but not too much more. The subway was not going to happen. And as a result, neither was work. What was really frustrating was that tonight was Star Wars/Star Trek trivia night at rope, something I was really looking forward to, was likely out, too. I was NOT happy. I called out of work, and was able to get a tiny bit of sleep.

I spoke to my parents early on, and as it turned out, they had a spare cane I could borrow. Mom brought the cane over and it's helped quite a bit, especially as standing and walking are still really fucking awful things to do. So far, laying flat, the ankle only hurts a little. Standing and walking still suck though. Like a big sucking thing.

Naturally, I called my doctor's office during the day about all of this. I learned the following:
1. This is considered normal after you get a cortizone shot. Perfectly normal. WHAT.
2. When I'd originally asked if I should plan for time off of work after the shot, the doc's assistant told me that wouldn't be necessary. It turns out, she didn't realize I'd be getting a cortizone shot. She just thought I'd be getting a "regular" shot. Granted, she was super apologetic about this, and granted, as she doesn't have a medical degree, it's not her fault. But holy hell, would it have killed my doc to perhaps mention the fact that I should clear my schedule after one of these? JFC. I realize that to a doctor I'm a puzzle to solve with a copay, but in fact I have a life and a job and commitments. He and I will have words about this, oh yes we will.

So yeah. Here I am. Not sure if I'm going to make it to the office tomorrow, either. I am so fucking frustrated right now I could scream. Why is it so hard to just provide the information I asked for, and was told was 'not going to be an issue.' GAH.

So now all I can do is wait. And hope. And possibly worry. But honestly? I'm too fucking exhausted to do any of these things. Hurting is a big energy drain, apparently. *sigh*
offbalance: (Scott Pilgrim - Punch)
So, the pain has gone down. Last night, on a scale of one to ten, I was nearly up to fifteen. It was bad news. On top of that, I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. If I tried to act like it was a normal leg, it would buckle and I would tip over. Not good. I had to sleep like an ancient Egyptian painting, and even that wasn't all that comfortable. (Poor [livejournal.com profile] j_bkl was kept up by my tossing and flailing.) I really didn't appreciate just how important my ankles really were until this, and how much they do that I just didn't appreciate. Like turning over in bed. That has a lot to do with your heels and ankles. As I discovered last night, trying not to scream. I slept in fits and starts, before finally passing out at one point for a few hours.

Then there was a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. That was fun. It was dark, I had one working leg, and the path wasn't exactly perfectly clear. Ugh.

It was abundantly clear at 7am that while the pain had dropped to a comparatively more manageable 9 on the scale of doom, I still couldn't stand on it. Or really walk. I could do a sort of hobble-hop-lurch between bed and the bathroom, but not too much more. The subway was not going to happen. And as a result, neither was work. What was really frustrating was that tonight was Star Wars/Star Trek trivia night at rope, something I was really looking forward to, was likely out, too. I was NOT happy. I called out of work, and was able to get a tiny bit of sleep.

I spoke to my parents early on, and as it turned out, they had a spare cane I could borrow. Mom brought the cane over and it's helped quite a bit, especially as standing and walking are still really fucking awful things to do. So far, laying flat, the ankle only hurts a little. Standing and walking still suck though. Like a big sucking thing.

Naturally, I called my doctor's office during the day about all of this. I learned the following:
1. This is considered normal after you get a cortizone shot. Perfectly normal. WHAT.
2. When I'd originally asked if I should plan for time off of work after the shot, the doc's assistant told me that wouldn't be necessary. It turns out, she didn't realize I'd be getting a cortizone shot. She just thought I'd be getting a "regular" shot. Granted, she was super apologetic about this, and granted, as she doesn't have a medical degree, it's not her fault. But holy hell, would it have killed my doc to perhaps mention the fact that I should clear my schedule after one of these? JFC. I realize that to a doctor I'm a puzzle to solve with a copay, but in fact I have a life and a job and commitments. He and I will have words about this, oh yes we will.

So yeah. Here I am. Not sure if I'm going to make it to the office tomorrow, either. I am so fucking frustrated right now I could scream. Why is it so hard to just provide the information I asked for, and was told was 'not going to be an issue.' GAH.

So now all I can do is wait. And hope. And possibly worry. But honestly? I'm too fucking exhausted to do any of these things. Hurting is a big energy drain, apparently. *sigh*
offbalance: (Bridget fuuuuuuck by iamjoey)
I'm no stranger to pain. I've been through stuff.

Some of you may rememberHumpty Dumpty's great fall down the Rockefeller Center stairs and the biopsy from hell that followed. My battle with migraines are well documented. And hell, just for the sake of thorughness and TMI, before I went on the pill, I had menstrual cramps that could drop a weightlifter.

All of this to say that I discovered a level of pain that kicks all of these down to the "oops I bumped my elbow" level. (This is a handy chart for reference.)

As most of you know, back during the blizzard I sprained my ankle. It hurt a lot, so I went to an orthopedist who pronounced it sprained and sent me for some PT. The PT wasn't going as well or as quickly as anyone thought it should, so I was back at the doctor a week or so ago. That trip resulted in an MRI.

(which was a whole other kettle of fish. I thought I'd be fine, as most of my claustrophobia is triggered by a feeling of being trapped, and not confined spaces, and I figured since I was going in feet first, I'd be fine. Not so much. But I endured.)

Turns out, I have a torn ligament, and have a chipped ankle. Which is really a bit of torn cartilage flapping back and forth and banging against nerves. Painful. Annoying. And often inconsistent.

So, the doctor said our next course of action would be a cortizone shot. Fine then, athletes get them all the time! No big deal! It'll help! Jeter or A-Rod gets one and they're back hitting home runs in no time!

See, I might be able to describe this as a similar sensation to having a rusty steel spike being driven into my angle at a jaunty angle, but I'm not sure that really expresses it quite vividly enough. Walking hurts, sitting hurts, ice does nothing. And thanks to my stupid body's inability to tolerate naproxen or ibuprofen, I am at tylenol's mercy. Not a good place to be.

So yeah. I'm in rotten shape, LJ. Sorry to come over just to whine, but this is a level of pain for the record books. *whimper*

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