Mmmm….Kodes
I have three DreamWidth codes at my disposal, that I’m never going to use, so if anyone wants an invite there, just leave your email address in a comment. First come, first serve. Don’t be shy! Ask, demand, butter me up and beg, be creative!
During his “shift” to carry the 5 galleons of water to the bath tub, Dennis decided that it was too much hard work, grabbed a kitchen knife, sliced the hose in pieces, made a new drain tube for the bed, and we both stood there in the bathroom, beside the tub, looking at the phallic-shaped hose. “YOU suck it,” he said and handed it to me. “No, YOU suck it,” I replied and handed it back.
“YOU broke it.”
“YOU wanted it.”
“YOU suck it.”
Dennis’ dad’s voice shouted at us from the other room: “Don’t make me come in there and suck it!!”
*awkward silence*
“Does he know what happened?” I asked.
“No,” Dennis replied.
“I’ll suck it,” I volunteered.
“Ok,” Dennis said, and hurried out of the bathroom.
It took a few minutes to get the flow going, and giving oral sex to a green, muddy garden hose at four in the morning was kind of bad, especially since I was on all fours in front of the bath tub and the dog was trying to hump me, but I got a nice flow going. I think I swallowed some of that nasty, warm, salty, moldy water. But it was a little worth it; the towel on the floor is soaked through, and this method is draining the bed a hundred times faster. Yes, it was like giving head to the Jolly Green Giant.
Pictures in the morning. I promise.
Where’s Dennis while I monitor this drainage? Asleep next to his dad, in his dad’s bed. The perfect way to end the night.
PS: You can still laugh about this. I need to go elevate my foot before I die of snake venom infection.
Build The Ark!!
At around 1am, I went to adjust the sheets on the bed while Dennis was taking his bath. Bad idea. Why? When I pulled the upper left-hand side of the mattress up to pull the sheet out, the mattress split. That wouldn’t be so bad, except we sleep on a 600 galleon water bed.
This wouldn’t have been too big of an emergency, if we had kept the drain tube we made in 2004 to drain the old bed; made out of a piece of a garden hose, it was about ten-feet long, and reached perfectly to the bathtub or sink drain. But nooooo. That’s out in the storage building. I ventured outside in crocs and my night shirt and yellow panties while Dennis bailed water out of the bed with a 2.5 galleon bucket then siphoned water out of the bed with the aquarium cleaner into a 5 galleon bucket.
I never made it to the storage building.
On the way out there, I was attacked by night crawlers, a bat, and to add injury to insults, I stepped on a copper head out for a midnight snack, and yes, got bit. Never mind that I tried to rely on the outside light, and therefore there was no light for me to see where I was going or what I was walking on (or into). So I had to come back in and bandage my snake wound.
Meanwhile, Dennis is siphoning off water from the bed, throwing down towels, wrangling kids and dogs, all while trying to salvage our stuff from the floor and around the bed. Our bed had a series of drawers under it, which is where I stored my extra printer paper, notebooks for school and the sex toys. Needless to say the water seeped into the drawers and ruined the two vibrators in there. =( Also, the adapters/cords to the DS, cell phones, camera battery, and various other things. I also had a wooden box of pictures under the edge of the bed. Guess what? All of that plus our laptops were drenched. Incase laptop cases do nothing to protect your computer from water damage. If anything it holds moisture there against it. I think the power surge supply is also shorted out.
Of course, there’s a reason this happened. Dennis made it a point to say this never would have happened if “someone” would lose some weight. Of course. < Davy Jones voice> It’s cuz I’m fat, isn’t it? < /Davy Jones voice> I have a meeting at 1pm tomorrow. Hauling 2.5 – 5 galleons of water to the bathtub every ten minutes is making me sweat like a pig. My back is aching for the same reason. We’ve been at this for two hours and the bed doesn’t appear to be any thinner than it was before it burst. My things are ruined forever, and I have no money to even replace the mattress, never mind my digital pictures, my computer, my vibrators, my notebooks, the cords to my phone, camera, DS, and so on. This is exactly what I wanted to do instead of sleeping or having sex tonight. Totally worth it.
The stripped bed, complete with fish aquarium tube siphoning system:
The bucket system. Notice my new shoes! Yep, they got drenched and they aren’t even paid for yet!
Side-view of the bed, showing the drawers. The little bowl on the floor is (unsuccessfully) catching run off, so that tells me the liner is busted and we would have gotten electrocuted if I hadn’t seen the bed was leaking:
Scary thought: When we cleaned some black mold out of the air conditioner this spring, Dennis and I had horrific nose bleeds, stuffy noses, headaches and other allergy-related signs and symptoms. With all this exposed water, we’re having the same signs and symptoms as before. I wonder if that means there was mold growing in our mattress? The water coming out of the mattress is a bluish-green, and it bubbles like it has soap in it when it’s dumped in the bathtub. Hmm.
PS: Go on. Laugh about this. You know it’s funny.
Start Spreadin' The News….
My friend Josh made a casual comment to me while I was waiting for Dennis to get out of the bathroom. It was kind of ironic..I was a little excited and we were going to slip away to bed when I checked my IMs and Josh had sent me a message. I thanked him for (eventually!) getting back to me, when he messaged me back and said he was busy organising this year’s JournalCon. For those of you who have no idea what that is, it’s a gathering of bloggers who have blogged since 2000, read each others blogs, and commented, linked, or other wise communicated with one another. It’s mainly for old school bloggers, but sometimes we make exceptions for other people to be invited through sponsorship.
JournalCon is going to be held over the Fourth of July weekend in New York City, and Josh emphasized that he’d love to have me there, just like old times. When he said that to me, I tracked down an old Simpsons episode and watched it. I got this really wicked sense of wanderlust. Dennis waited for me for nearly an hour while I chatted with Josh about JournalCon and watched that episode. When it was over, I brought up the suggestion to Dennis that I get a small, personal vacation this summer. “Why? Where?” he asked. “I was wondering if I paid up my credit card bill and had them bump up my credit limit to two-thousand, if I could go to New York City this summer for the JournalCon weekend,” I suggested. He wasn’t thrilled. Firstly, the attitude he gave me was that I’m this extreme idiot. I can’t handle myself alone. Second, I don’t deserve a personal vacation. Third, there’s street crime in New York City…. How well do I know this Josh character…? Oh, not much. I met him before I met you…
So…
Validate me. Am I too stupid to handle a weekend in New York City? I’ve fired a pistol before. I’ve loaded one before. I just don’t have a permit to carry concealed.
Dennis’s gone to get his dad from work. I can imagine the bitch-fest they have in store for me. How dare I want a little fun of my own!!
Imagine It's 1990…
It’s 1990 again. If just for tonight. I am sitting in a Cancer treatment center hospital waiting room on the 8th floor, strumming a guitar and singing to my barely two year old cousin who has leukemia. He’s sitting wide-eyed on the floor, watching me intensely, probably thinking I’m eating candy or chewing gum and just not sharing any with him. The sun is setting in the smoggy sky, creating a panoramic of orange, pink, yellow and blue behind me. Busy streets buzz as if the night is not coming. Above the orange sky, stars struggle to shine in the pale sky.
Suddenly, another toddler comes stumbling into the waiting room. He’s carrying two cookies, and is wearing a diaper three sizes too big. It falls down around his ankles, he trips and falls, the cookies tumble from his hands.
I stop playing and singing, looking up to see that I have an audience.
A chubby teenage boy, and an adult male patient of the hospital, holding a second toddler, are standing just inside the area. I am suddenly quiet. The toddler who has fallen, gets up, steps out of his diaper, picks up both cookies, and toddles over to my cousin, handing him a cookie that has been on the floor.
“Don’t stop singing. I want to hear how it ends,” the teenager says.
Quietly, I finish the song, as the patient takes the cookies away from the toddlers, and puts his son’s diaper back on.
That’s how I met Dennis. The toddler who raced into the waiting room was Jess. I was there for Micah’s second birthday because his mother was convinced he wouldn’t live to see his second birthday. I talked with Dennis for more than four hours that night. I met him in the 5pm hour and we talked until 9pm. It became a ritual for us to meet up at the waiting room. That night he gave me the bookmark you see in this entry. Of course, that’s a really bad scan and I wasn’t in the mood for cleaning it up in Photoshop because I was under the impression that we were going to go out for a dinner tonight, but I guess I was wrong about that too. Here I sit, dressed up, waiting for our friend from the west coast to come and pick me up because he’s been waiting at the resort since 5pm and no one is there. I was supposed to sing the same song I was singing when we met: The Morning After.
No, I’m not bitter. Just disappointed. At least I get to meet the man I’ve been talking to on and off for the past ten years.
‘Cos you know you should do better” ~ Queen
I frequently have to remind myself that I’m a forgiving person. That I am not a vengeful, wrathful person. Today was one of those days. It bothered me. It still bothers me. I feel vengeful, but I am not going to act on it. I will forgive the adult man, the meter-reader who came by today and maced our friendly dog through the chain-link fence. I will forgive that adult man who reacted to a three-year-old kicking the fence in defense to her pet being maced, by throwing a piece of a brick at her and hitting her in the head, causing convulsions. I’m working on forgiving myself for taking the money out of Jess’ memorial fund to bail Dennis out of jail for kicking the tail of the meter man who maced the family dog and rocked our three year old.
However, I did tell the meter man, who had the nerve to approach me at the hospital while I was trying to see my head-injured baby, that he was lucky it was just my husband home. Had I been there, the police would have been searching for his remains that had been stomped into the ground.
Seriously. What grown man throws pieces of a brick at a three year old who is in her own yard, behind a chain-linked fence, causing her to have convulsions and then has the nerve to confront her mother at the hospital, demanding payment for his medical bills because of injuries he got for assaulting another person’s child?
Apparently they do that here.
Chloe is fine, but she has to spend the night at the hospital tonight. We’ll more than likely get to bring her home tomorrow. Dennis is home. Pissed off, but home.
I forgive that meter man. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Update
I woke up dizzy with deafness in my right ear today. I hope it’s a fluid imbalance from being sick, and it’s shorted out or moved my implant and not that the Vancomyacin has caused permanent hearing loss. I took the home remedy pills last night around 10 and fell asleep an hour later, only to wake up after 1pm today, so there’s the chance they wore off and I had some fluid back up. I’m going to make an appointment to see the (asshole!) doctor tomorrow. $10 says he’ll want me to come in at 2pm (during my last apothecary quiz) or “it must not be that important to me”. Remember he did this last year? I think I’ll call for the appointment after the test and before the final lecture.
Right now I have to get Pogo to the pediatric after-hours clinic. I think she may have this infection and even though she never received chemotherapy, her immune system is low because of the nuclear tests she had all last month. And I caught her drinking out of my juice bottle Tuesday after I threw up, so she probably has my same infection.
Speaking of yesterday, Matt made me this nasty blended protein-whey (sp??) smoothie and even though I couldn’t taste anything, I just knew it was nasty tasting and I puked it up within five minutes of drinking it. However, my sense of taste came back after that! I remember after our meeting yesterday, he told me if I ate something I’d get well quicker, so he invited himself over, told me to get in bed, and he’d fix me something nutritious to eat. I told him my throat still hurt, as I got out my home-medical bag, looking for the thermometer. My temperature, if I converted Cel. to F. was 104. I should have been in a hospital. Matt was in the kitchen about three seconds when I heard a crash, dishes breaking and him cussing. I got up out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. He was sweeping up a pile of white glass. “Are you breaking my dishes?” I asked. He looked up, “Well not on purpose! Get back in bed!” A few minutes later he brought me that nasty smoothie. It made me sick because I associated it with drinking raw eggs. Cold. Slimey. Wet. Thick. It probably did have raw eggs in it…
An hour later, my temperature was down, though I seem to be sensitive to the climate changes. If I’m not sitting in front of the air conditioner, I get over-heated. Even if I’m just laying in bed.
Bottom line: When I get home, does anyone want to join my caravan on The Shining Force II? It’s boring with wimpy Josh and super-hero James in the battles, and I need to keep my mind occupied.
Finals Approching
So here I sit, preparing for finals next week. We have a final math test next week, then a week later, we have the actual exams. Right now I’m just printing everything out so that I won’t have any excuse to sit at the computer.
I’m starting to feel much better. I feel better than I did yesterday. Dennis wants me to change the sheets on the bed and help look for his BlackBerry. Hmm. If I were his BlackBerry, where would I be? Gee, the guy would lose/forget his you-know-what if it wasn’t attached to his body!
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
