Tuesday, June 27, 2006
More solids into liquids and gasses
-- The Frantics, "A Piece Of Pie"
<-- Look, a Pepto-Bismol pink car! It's for sale.
The state of my innards (thanks for asking) is really bizarre. Ever since last Thursday stuff has been flying out my exhaust port, but not in a consistant manner. I keep seeing dinner but not breakfast, go figger. Warning: This blog entry is what the Internet was created for. My intestinal schedule has been such:
Thursday: didn't know there was a problem until I spent a lot of time in Idle purging my bowels.
Friday: Everything was fine all day, then when I got home from work at 10pm I went out to dinner with my wife and her sister. Afterwards spent an hour or so in the bathroom of a 24 hour Wal-Mart while they shopped for clothes.
Saturday: Not a thing came out of me beside wind. I figured my intestines were reloading from being totally voided... and realized I'd not soon need one of those colon cleaner products they advertise in infomercials.
Sunday: Figured all was well again, or until night fell and I was in the john on and off. Was able to identify components of the fajita I'd had at Applebee's hours prior (and was surprised the cilantro was intact) so once again my tubing is empty.
Monday: Took the day off from work, went to the doctor, the lab asked for a stool sample... and I was flat empty. Spent 20 minutes in the office trying, nothin', and the lab was going to close in an hour so it's now or later. I want to know what's up now! not in several days. It took 12 hours before I had anything to offer (that's 3am when the need awoke me and kept my attention for awhile).
Tuesday: Nothing out of me so far but my guts and kidneys hurt slightly, so I'm squirming a bit... and I'm a little nauseous. Dropped off my little gift at the lab so they can enjoy it.
Aren't you glad to be reading this? Hopefully the lab/doctor will get back to me soon with an explanation of what's going on so we can remedy it, it's really distracting. As my wife said (who also seems to be having tummy trouble), having churning guts runs counter to going to a food festival so this had better pass by the weekend. And yes, I will be going. More importantly to me, driving two hours and hanging around with friends after that runs counter to having to visit the restroom frequently. At right is a photo of my old friend Richard, half of the "Corny & Horny" as we were known in elementary school, one of the assclowns who didn't bother showing up for the reunion cuz he preferred to sit in his room and get stoned; don't let the hair fool you -- he gets more tail than a toilet seat. (How's that for a segueway?)
Traveling out of my gut and into the real world: I've seen something really annoying on teevee lately, mostly perpetrated by the Ford Motor Company but I'm sure others are guilty too. There are these ads praising cars as revolutionary gas savers with numbers like 27!!! miles per gallon, 28!!! miles per gallon, ZOMFG 30 miles per gallon!!LOLROTFLMAO!! ... er, those are low figures, what the hell is up with this promotion? Those numbers are not revolutionary, they're sort of embarassing. My 2002 Saturn SL1 gets 34-37 highway miles to the gallon but no one goes apeshit over it. (Speaking of, some of the new Saturn models for 2007 look awesome but don't get good gas mileage, hmmm.) As those fine upstanding gentlemen in Public Enemy advised us, don't believe the hype.
You're the Betty Crocker of the bathroom! -- ibid.
Friday, June 23, 2006
I can't dial my Imodium
Something in me was looking for an epiphany, some change or gain of wisdom, from the 20 year reunion. I'd probably be disappointed that I didn't have one if I could put my finger on what it was I had hoped to learn. I noodled over the dusty impressions on the wall where I thought a sign may have resided but I couldn't prove it, and that thing I've said to my bipolar beloved a few times came back to me: in times of tension between the ears she's questioned the purpose of life, and I've had to say, "you're assuming there IS a purpose which isn't being met." We live, we die. We consume, that's what we do. And the only "purpose" I can think of is to do good things for others and make ourselves comfortable; every person cannot become world-famous for some great accomplishment or discovery, so we have to be valued in what we can do with those we are able to touch. I guess the one thing I picked up was that the people I have long loathed aren't too bad afterall... if you wait 20 years, only handle two dozen of them, and only spend five hours around them, that is. Time heals all wounds and wounds all heels, as someone said. Still, I could have used an epiphany of some sort just as a souvenir. I suppose some great pictures and a solo adventure to savor will suffice.
Coming up next on my calendar: The Taste Of Tacoma is coming up June 30-July 2, which coincides with the Tech Support Comedy annual Northwest picnic and pillowfight (this year it's in Portland, OR) so I am requesting Friday the 30th off so I can attend both events; then two weeks later is Nile Valley Days in, duh, the Nile Valley above Naches, WA. (That's usually the third weekend of July, so it's a good thing I stopped by Jim Sprick Park [right of the pointer, alongside 410] on my way through there to find out... Say that name three times fast!) This weekend? No clue, but I'll find out soon enough. To follow the intended theme of this blog: if the Workforce Mangling dept at work fails to give me Friday the 30th off, that will truly be a stupidity.
Friday, June 16, 2006
We're all bozos on this bus. --Firesign Theatre
I did go on the photo spree I had hoped for, taking that segueway... There's a backroad between Yakima and Ellensburg that snakes along the Yakima River, and decades ago it went through this tunnel in the side of the hill. Somewhere during my lifetime they closed off the tunnel and followed a lower path, but you can walk up the old road (there's a parking area at one end) or, as I am prone to do, climb up the hillside, to get to that tunnel. I snapped some pix, and my legs are rather sore right now from the slide back down the hill. I also took a trip out to the Pioneer Cemetary in the Wenas Valley above Selah to visit some folks I could never have met, and took a few pictures... reshoots of some stuff I'd put in a Photo.net gallery in 2003, but not the entire set. And I found some ghost writing in downtown Toppenish I had never seen before -- you live in place for 20 years and you think you know where everything is? -- plus did an update of the postcard as you see below:
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Gimme shum Pepshi and Sheeds wit my Shammon!
The other thing I'm going to do while I'm back in that area is shoot a cardload of photos... the Pioneer Cemetary in the Wenas Valley, the old Canyon Highway tunnel (and the only bug-free without insecticides peach tree in the county outside the entrance), a wander through downtown Yakima for old signs, and to stand out front of the Liberty Theatre to shoot an updated version of this postcard which nancyo23 posted on Flickr:
Monday, June 12, 2006
Plant a tree in your belly button to make navel contemplation more serene
I've been having fun with a few people on a web forum lately; it seems that when a person has pieces of one's self available for public perusal, anyone can have a look and make judgements. (Think similar to: There was a news story out yesterday about how employers check MySpace to see what kind of person they're talking to, and I once made the mistake of telling a Microsoft interviewer the URL to Say Something Cryptic as proof that I can freehand HTML code in Notepad.) Some pseudo-religious kaffee klatch latched onto me like a hungry bulldog on a hambone, due to a difference in opinion as to what is art. [Blogger is not letting me insert a graphic right now, grrr.] What I found most amusing about their assault was that when their profiles were viewed, half of the the taskforce didn't offer any details about themselves and the other half only had photos of themselves in sensuous positions or bare-ass nekkid. Irony overload! And so I had to say after the smoke started to clear:
As pot/kettle as this is, the funniest irony I've ever seen was when prop-comic/watermelon smasher Gallagher nearly got into a punch-up with balloon-wearer/Elvis impersonator Skip Banks over the subject of "artistic merit", backstage at the Western Washington Fair, 1998. One actually used the phrase "at least I have an act" on the other...
I hope that group will go back to whatever it was they were doing before they looked me up out of the clear blue sky. Especially 'KinksLola', who has a lot of wise words quoted but no intelligent things of her own to say. Sigh, I know, this is like that picture that was passed around awhile back of a track runner with Downs Syndrome, which was captioned "Arguing on the Internet is like being first in a Special Olympics race -- you may have won but you're still retarded."
Today's moral and object lesson:
How NOT to steal a Sidekick
In a nonviolent, legalistic way: kick their thieving asses!!!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
My Preferred Provider Organization ate my balls
Okay, a serious stupidity has arisen in Mushy's occupation. A new PDA-phone has become available, and it looks and acts pretty damn slick. Being in-house demo models, we couldn't try out all the online functions. It wasn't until the calls started coming in that a huge problem built into the device became apparent. Most people use their PDA-phones to send quick emails and check their email on the go, with the intention of using their home or work computers as their main email viewing/manipulation source (especially since PDAs can't open some document types or edit most document formats). Well, this new doodad -- which has a version of Microsoft's Outlook on it, the king of mail clients -- lacks a "leave mail on server" setting. Most PDAs have such a toggle, or if they don't it's okay because they don't remove mail from the server when it's been read or deleted from the PDA. Not this one, noooo, it does delete the mail from server after being collected, thus the computer never gets a crack at it. See how this could be problematic?
Monday, June 05, 2006
Dead Formicidae tell no tales. -- Ernie Kovacs
The continuing saga of my prescriptions: Still no word from the insurance company about the Lamisil, ten days later. I want a job working in insurance claims, I could spend all day doing nothing but pissing people off! (Not that I don't already have such a job, but they do it so much more leisurely.) They had no issue approving the prescription I submitted on Friday for Nizoral, but as for the pharmacy... It was submitted Friday afternoon, and they said it'd be ready by 7pm. I got caught up doing fun stuff so didn't make it back in that day. I go in Saturday and there are signs up in the Walgreens pharmacy dept saying they're closed due to lack of staffing. Erm, alright... I go in there Sunday and they say it's not ready. Translation, they didn't actually attempt to meet their 7pm quote! (Even the bottle label says "promise: 5/3 5:33pm"!) It was ready soon after that and I'm going to hold off on taking it for a bit. The doctor had said that one takes this, then after a bit does some exercise to break a sweat to distribute the medication over the skin, then stay sweat-covered for six hours. Mowing the lawn is the best way of perspiring, and I did that on Saturday. So it'll be a bit longer before I have an excuse to do anything physical... grr.
Sometime last week, my bride discovered that there were little black ants wandering among the spice jars in the cupboard and across the range hood. It wasn't a large number, so we were squishing them as we found them. We decided that this would be a prime opportunity to redo the shelf paper in the cupboards, since we'd never really looked at the stuff which came with the house. Out with the sky-blue flowers, in with some beige marble on the upper 3 shelves and some 1970's mushroom Con-Tact paper I found in a thriftstore years ago for the lowest shelf. This also gave me more chances to squish ants, which seemed to materialize every few minutes to see what the commotion was. The contents of the cupboards were on the kitchen floor and drainboard for three days, ever in the way, while we tried to rid our home of ants and swap out the shelf paper. With the paper job done, we put the stuff back on the shelves in some semblance of order. (I say "some semblance" because after I got the spices arranged logically, she rearranged them illogically to make space for a tray to put Kool-Aid and seasoning packets in.) I also put in a couple bait traps to get the little buggers. I got up this morning and go for a box of cereal... ANTS! All over the place! Muerte! Muerte! Apparently my breakfast products appealed to them, and I spent the time I usually use to eat breakfast and read the paper squashing, spraying, moving boxes, moving the boxes again when ants would emerge from underneath them and squashing some more. D'oh!! "Stupid bug! You go squish now!" -- Homer Simpson. Sprayed the hoard of ants on that freshly-papered now-empty shelf with pyrethrin like a bug-blastin' Rambo (complete with war cry), wipe up the wet cadavers and move a bait trap from under the stove up to that shelf; grab some food that's handy and antless off the drainboard, toss out the still-full box of Honey Bunches of Oats and last scoop of Trader Joe's Ginger Granola, and drive like NASCAR to get to work on time. And the first thing I did when I got to work, beside submit those three requests for replacement PDAs that I couldn't submit last Thursday due to system issue (the customers should have had those replacements in hand today), was got some aphids off my chocolate mint... with more of a vengeance than normal.