Stick it in your ear?

O has been complaining of her arms hurting her – I think they’re fried from her sites. The skin is a bit pink and the insertion places are taking a long time to heal. There’s considerable hypertrophy going on, too.

The problem is that she will only use her stomach. And only an area about three fingers high and a palm wide. She won’t use the top of her butt and after tearing out a leg site, won’t do those either. I’ve convinced her to go a bit higher up on her tummy, but still, those are going to blow out soon, too. There’s just not much space left on her.

So where else can she do them? I’m thinking, with warmer weather, of trying to get her to try a thigh site again, but she’s very resistant to this idea. If anyone has any good ideas or methods of persuading an extremely strong-willed 11 year-old in this matter, I would appreciate them.


A whole lotta nothin’

Random crap.

I need to find out why I’m so fucking tired all the time. I eat well – lots of fruits and whole grains and veggies and protein. I take a good pre-natal vitamin. I get 7 or 8 hours of sleep most nights, sometimes more. And yet, I feel like I’m on death’s door by noon. I’m afraid I’m going to crash my car when I’m driving home because I can barely keep my eyes open. I talked to the OB nurse about it and she was pretty dismissive. I’m either going to have to figure out how to work from home or TCBIM is going to have to get a high-paying second job because I just can’t do this any more. I’m too tired to function properly.

My mother’s stupid cat has broken four of my dishes and took a big old shit on my couch. She had better be bringing me back some fancy-assed presents from her month in Italy because I’m about ready to kill this animal. And I LIKE cats. TCBIM, not so much. He’s ready to chuck the cat outside.

I have heartburn. I never have heartburn. Ever. But now, 21 weeks into this pregnancy, I feel like a dragon. I’m chewing Tums like they’re going out of style.

I need a vacation. Somewhere where I can just go and sit and be and not think about anything or anyone or have to be anywhere. I need to decompress. I need the beach or a big park or someplace where I can just lie in the sun and not think for a few days. By myself.

I think we bought The Money Pit. We found out that three of the radiators leak – one of them pretty seriously. The boiler also leaks. Leaking boilers = very, very expensive, apparently. And the tub and sub-flooring in the bathroom need replacing. TCBIM is in plumbing and can do most of the work himself, but still. Boilers? Not cheap. Steam radiators? Not in plentiful supply. Fan-fucking-tastic. Do we have any money? Like fuck we do. It’s giving me a big headache and making me get all panicky and breathless to think of the expense.

But I did get Joke’s cook book – thanks, Joke. Once I stop living off Ramen Noodles and Kraft Dinner, I’ll be able to cook like I grew up in the North End.

Edited to add: I just got this link from someone and it’s improved my mood immeasurably.

This Is A Public Service Announcement

No guitars, though.

Please contact your senators about this bill. It doesn’t just affect people with diabetes, although that’s my main interest in it.

Sandra has a really good post on this and says it better than I ever could, so go read hers and then go bug the crap out of your senators. Thank you.

Julia, you ass.

Someone in Moscow found my blog by doing a search on Julia ass.

I’m listed just below Julia Bond, porn star and ass eater (ew). Nice.

This site meter stuff is strange. On the one hand, it satisfies my curiousity about who’s visiting the site. On the other, it lets me see that about 50 people a DAY are stopping by. Which means I have a lot of lurkers – or people are just whipping thru on their way to someplace else.

There should be an equivalent of Kilroy Was Here for the blogosphere. Just a little tag to say you were here, but didn’t feel like leaving a comment.

So Bloody Tired

Who needs sleep?
well you’re never gonna get it
Who needs sleep?
tell me what’s that for
Who needs sleep?
be happy with what you’re getting
There’s a guy who’s been awake
since the Second World War

I am so tired. I sit at my desk and fantasize about pillows and duvets and downy beds in a blissfully quiet room. I long for sleep the way others long for world peace or an end to world hunger.

Right there, in the middle of that bed. That’s where I want to be. Sleeping. With no one bothering me, no one crying, no one needing a site change or a diaper change or a personality change. Just me, alone. Glass of water on the table, maybe a fluffy novel to read and hours and hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Concerned Designer

Concerned Designer

This was kind of cool. In a hey-you-really-ARE-neurotic kind of way.

Attack Of The Memes

Since the illustrious Badger is meme-stealing, I have no qualms about joining her. Took a while, but here it is:

Put your iMP3podwinampiTunes thingy on random and answer the following questions, in order, with the songs that come up.

What’s missing from my life?
Falls To Climb – REM
“Someone has to take the fall.
Why not me?”
So, not guilt. That’s a load off.

Will I find love?
Fa Fa – Guster
Hmm. The chorus says Never be the same again. Maybe?

Will I become rich?
Dakota – Stereophonics
If I have to go to one of the Dakotas or name my child Dakota in order to get rich, then I’ll stay poor, thanks.

Does someone have a crush on me?
When You Come Back Down – Nickel Creek
Whatever this may mean re: a crush, y’all should download this song right away. It’s only fantastic.
“When you’re soarin’ through the air
I’ll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare.”

What’s my favourite sexual position?
Smooth – Santana.
The song gets me all hot and bothered, so Smooth must be a good position to have.

Am I good-looking?
It Had To Be You (Instrumental) – Harry Connick Jr.
That’s a yes, then.

What makes me most happy?
Sea Of No Cares – Great Big Sea
Good one. I do love the ocean. No cares is unrealistic, but it would definitely make me happy.

What’s my biggest regret?

Out Of The Woods – Sinead Lohan
I got nothing here.

How will I die?

We Didn’t Start The Fire – Billy Joel
Good. Fires scare the shit out of me.

Do I act my age?
Unforgettable – Nat King Cole
Well, if I do, at least I’m memorable.

What type of tatoo should I get?
Girls On Film – Duran Duran.
Cool. Maybe I’ll get a Nagel chick. That I know, without looking it up, who that is really is testament to my age. Oy.

What is my spirit/animal guide?
No Woman, No Cry – Sublime

Do I like pain?
England – 2, Columbia – O, Kirsty McColl
HAH! Can I get a Hell, Yeah?
“It is not in my nature to ever pick the winning team
Sometimes I think I’m happy then I remember it’s a dream
Now it isn’t in my nature to ever pick a winner
I always pick a bastard who would have me for his dinner”

Is there anyone else out there like me?
Trying To Reason With Hurrican Season – Jimmy Buffett
Yes, as long as they’re full of hot air and lots of drama.

Do I love to party?
What Can Never Be – Sinead Lohan
Well, given that I’m pregnant and will be breastfeeding after that, this is apt.

Where should I move to?
Deacon Blues – Steely Dan
I should move to a smoky, seedy nightclub. I’ll save you a seat on the banquette.

Will I ever be President?
The Broad Majestic Shannon – The Pogues
Not unless I move to Ireland.

What is fun for me?
Star Me Kitten – REM
“Just fuck me kitten
You are wild and I’m in your possesion
Nothing’s free so, fuck me kitten
I’m in your possesion
So, fuck me kitten”
Michael Stipe saying fuck. That’s fun.

Will I ever learn to fly?

Sweet Afton – Nickel Creek
A Robert Burns poem, set to music. It’s not flying, so much as meandering. Meandering is good.

What is my superpower?
Love Is The Seventh Wave – Sting
So what are my other six superpowers, then?

Will I be successful?
This Is Planet Earth – Duran Duran
Apparently, I’m The Brain and I WILL Take over the world. Excellent.

How often do I get angry?
Up The Junction – Squeeze
Only when I’m knocked up. Which is SUCH a LIE!

What is my favourite thing to do?
I Know What I Know – Paul Simon
Trivial Pursuit. Correct.

I dinnae think she can take much more, Cap’n!

Since I now have to get up at what-the-fuck o’clock every weekday morning, it’s made me a little cranky. And before you start laughing hysterically, I’m quite aware that this is my usual state of mind. I am, however, even MORE cranky than usual.

In honour of my born-again cranky-hood, I give to you: Rant In B Minor.

Who thought it would be a good idea to name a trucking company A. Duie Pyle? Seriously. It’s emblazoned across the back sides of tractor trailers all across New England. And I am NOT the only one who thinks of a big, steaming pile of poo every time I see one of those trucks, because I’ve asked. This is one time when I can’t be accused of channeling an eight year-old boy.
I am cat-sitting my mother’s cat while she’s off in Italy for a month – must be nice. Bi-atch. Black cat with an infintessimal white spot on his face. Named Punto. Why? Because instead of just calling him Spot and going for the more obvious humour, she has to name him Spot in Spanish, thus ensuring everyone and their little brother ask her about the cat’s name. I am about to call him DEAD, though, because he’s taken to dragging large sections of newspaper under my dresser every night and then kneading them. All. Night. Long. Crackle-rustle-crackle-rustle. Which makes the Dumbest Dog In The Universe come to investigate. Which makes the cat growl and spit and then knead harder. Which wakes me up at LEAST three times and when you have to get up at what-the-fuck o’clock, it makes you a bit crabby.

Also? Steam radiators? They suck. They bang and clang and hiss and wheeze like a gigantic, asthmatic sperm whale. They have a tendency to kick on at seriously-what-the-fuck o’clock, which is approximately 40 minutes before what-the-fuck o’clock, ensuring that I am awake 20 of those precious minutes, finally falling back to sleep only to be woken up by my alarm going off. Which is infuriating. And if you think I’m getting up at seriously-what-the-fuck o’clock, you’ve got another think coming.

After a 15-1/2 month struggle, we have been able to get The Boo to sleep in her crib without a peep or a fuss, which, let me tell you, was ALMOST enough to convince me that there may actually be some sort of higher power. Now, however, she has an ear infection in each ear. Again. Which means that she won’t stay asleep in her crib for more than about 30 minutes. Which means she’s been sleeping in our bed for the last two nights. Now, I love The Boo. She’s cute and funny and all those other yummy baby things. She’s also a friggin’ windmill in her sleep. I am sick of having toes in my back, my boobs, my hair…it’s getting old. Tonight, she’s going back into the crib, because I am NOT having her get used to this all over again. I want my bed back.

I got to work this morning and there was a TWIG in my bra. I don’t hang my laundry out on the line (not having a line to hang it from), so how it got there shall remain one of life’s little mysteries. Probably explains why my boob was so itchy while I was driving to work.

I just want to be DONE unpacking. I’m sick of tripping over boxes. We have two washers and two dryers in the kitchen, too, which makes for tight quarters. Why, you ask? Because TCBIM had to have the garage turned into a den. Immediately, apparently. So, I have no garage any more, which means I have to place no store the spare washer and dryer. Anyone want to buy them? I’m sick of looking at them.

The final enrage o’ the day: The fuckers over there on Yawkey Way have TRADED Bronson Arroyo for Wily (put the second L in there, for the love of Pete) Mo Pena. (and no, there’s no tilda over the N. I checked.) Why? Why? I love Bronson. He’s a great pitcher and was a great team player, willing to do anything to stay with the Red Sox. After giving them the hometown discount, I’d be willing to bet he’s seven shades of pissed off. Welcome to my world, Bronson.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

It published today’s post UNDERNEATH Friday’s post. How nice.

It’s about bloody time

Stupid Blogspot. It’s driving me NUTS. This site’s been up and down more than a whore’s knickers. And now I’m so annoyed that I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say. I had a book list, a la Joke, all set to go, but alas, it was eaten. I was even thinking about doing the confession thing that seems to be making the rounds. Or, I could have bitched about TCBIM, who is being a butthead again – although I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with another post about him soon enough. The Exhole called to cuss me out yesterday, too, and I was going to go into detail about how I calmly told him to discuss it with my lawyer (who, as it turns out, wasn’t much help, but oh well.)

But now I’m too annoyed. So, nyahboo to you, Blogspot. I’m taking my ball and I’m going home.

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