Posty McPostalot
Jul. 23rd, 2008 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielI've been a posting fool today. Don't know why, but I figure it's all good unless I'm offending readers. If that's the case well EXCUUUUUUUSE MEEEEE!
We had a thunderstorm right before 5:00 PM and it rained like a sonamabeetch. I could literally hear my grass growing in response to the heavenly offering of H2O. So it looks like I'll be mowing grass tomorrow when I get home from my EEG. My life is so much fun right now. I literally ponder the favourable points of swift and painless death when I'm out pushing that lawn mower around and around my yard until I get to the middle where the worst grass is there to torment my efforts. I swear, I'm going to drop dead mowing grass. And I'll be thrilled as I gaze down at my prone body, because I'll know I won't ever have to do that crap again, unless I'm completely wrong about the existence of Hell. Then I'll be busting that place wide open where a large, heavy lawnmower awaits me so I can mow grass for all eternity, with no water and no rest breaks. Gads, that's too horrific to think about for very long at all.
Hm, I see they're remaking Brideshead Revisited. Why? Wasn't it done perfectly the first time? I mean, really, Anthony Andrews totally owned the role of Sebastian Flyte. Nobody can outdo him. Do you hear me? NO.BODY! I may catch the flick when it comes out on DVD, just out of curiosity. There's no way I'd spend the money to see this in the theatre, like I have money for a movie like that but, if I did, I'd go see Batman Begins.
Henry. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. It's been 6 years since his passing and I still miss him terribly. No dog will ever add up to the absolute greatness that defined my blue-tick beagle boy. When I brought him home, that night he had a seizure and I had to rush him to Dr. Patch, who came back to the animal hospital from home around 9 PM to check my baby out. It turns out that the seizure was caused by worms. Henry had worms so bad that it caused him to react in an extreme way. Doc gave me the meds Henry needed, welcomed my baby to the WSCAH world, and sent us on our way. So I was thinking that maybe I have worms. Maybe my seizure was caused by worms and all I need is to visit Dr. Patch and be done with the whole thing. It worked for Henry. Maybe it'll work for me.
As mentioned at the beginning of this long and boring ramble, I am scheduled to have my EEG tomorrow at 3 PM. This is the last test I'm supposed to have before I go back to see Dr. Pilch on 6 August. I'm supposed to see Dr. Keith the day before that but, if I don't drum up $280 from somewhere, I'll have to cancel that. I really need to have my shoulder checked out by him. I'm sure he'll want to do an MRI since rotator cuff issues usually can't be seen on X-Ray. That's another $1000 or so. Maybe I should seriously consider bankruptcy, throw my hands in the air, and pray for a swift, painless, and merciful disability claim. Or death. There are no wacky knees or godawful shoulders in the Summerlands, or at least that's what I've been led to believe over the years.
Aunt Tudi is wanting me to post a message to my Friends List. She'll be working on what she wants to say tonight after I crawl off to bed and then I'll post her message sometime tomorrow, if I survive the EEG and mowing the grass. That is, if![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
paul_kiss doesn't beat me to the lawnmowing. I've promised him some Southern Comfort on many levels if he scampers off from Russia to the Armpit of Hell and cuts my grass.
Smidgen just did an incredible impersonation of Thumper. I think she was wanting to scratch, but her leg just went wonky and flew off in a crazy direction. I'm not surprised, though. Smidgen has been acting the fool ever since I let her in about 30 minutes ago. I mean, really, her eyes are all pupil and she's in full Greebling eradication mode. It's kind of scary. I love my Smidge, but she's a tad challenged mentally.
I really need to go to bed, but I don't want to because I know that, when I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, it'll be time to go back to work. I'm beginning to find the job unpleasant. There's no challenge to it, I get only complaints about things beyond my control, and lifting those trays of bottled drinks (24 drinks per tray) is murder on my shoulder. By the time my shift ends, I'm in tears from the pain. Not good. Sith don't cry. Maybe I'm going Jedi in my old age. If that's the case, then it sucks like Star Trek's Hickey Monster from season one (see icon). Get that chick some salt yo!
Smidgen is now doing a Greebling attack victory dance in front of the TV while Aunt Tudi and I try to watch Scare Tactics. Smidgen is a scare tactic unto herself. What a perfect little kitteh.
That's it for me. I'm going to find a midnight snack and then I'm sacheting off to bed. I've taken some pain medicine for the shoulder and knee, and I plan on having an insomnia-free eve. Well, that's the plan. We'll see if I'm successful.
We had a thunderstorm right before 5:00 PM and it rained like a sonamabeetch. I could literally hear my grass growing in response to the heavenly offering of H2O. So it looks like I'll be mowing grass tomorrow when I get home from my EEG. My life is so much fun right now. I literally ponder the favourable points of swift and painless death when I'm out pushing that lawn mower around and around my yard until I get to the middle where the worst grass is there to torment my efforts. I swear, I'm going to drop dead mowing grass. And I'll be thrilled as I gaze down at my prone body, because I'll know I won't ever have to do that crap again, unless I'm completely wrong about the existence of Hell. Then I'll be busting that place wide open where a large, heavy lawnmower awaits me so I can mow grass for all eternity, with no water and no rest breaks. Gads, that's too horrific to think about for very long at all.
Hm, I see they're remaking Brideshead Revisited. Why? Wasn't it done perfectly the first time? I mean, really, Anthony Andrews totally owned the role of Sebastian Flyte. Nobody can outdo him. Do you hear me? NO.BODY! I may catch the flick when it comes out on DVD, just out of curiosity. There's no way I'd spend the money to see this in the theatre, like I have money for a movie like that but, if I did, I'd go see Batman Begins.
Henry. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. It's been 6 years since his passing and I still miss him terribly. No dog will ever add up to the absolute greatness that defined my blue-tick beagle boy. When I brought him home, that night he had a seizure and I had to rush him to Dr. Patch, who came back to the animal hospital from home around 9 PM to check my baby out. It turns out that the seizure was caused by worms. Henry had worms so bad that it caused him to react in an extreme way. Doc gave me the meds Henry needed, welcomed my baby to the WSCAH world, and sent us on our way. So I was thinking that maybe I have worms. Maybe my seizure was caused by worms and all I need is to visit Dr. Patch and be done with the whole thing. It worked for Henry. Maybe it'll work for me.
As mentioned at the beginning of this long and boring ramble, I am scheduled to have my EEG tomorrow at 3 PM. This is the last test I'm supposed to have before I go back to see Dr. Pilch on 6 August. I'm supposed to see Dr. Keith the day before that but, if I don't drum up $280 from somewhere, I'll have to cancel that. I really need to have my shoulder checked out by him. I'm sure he'll want to do an MRI since rotator cuff issues usually can't be seen on X-Ray. That's another $1000 or so. Maybe I should seriously consider bankruptcy, throw my hands in the air, and pray for a swift, painless, and merciful disability claim. Or death. There are no wacky knees or godawful shoulders in the Summerlands, or at least that's what I've been led to believe over the years.
Aunt Tudi is wanting me to post a message to my Friends List. She'll be working on what she wants to say tonight after I crawl off to bed and then I'll post her message sometime tomorrow, if I survive the EEG and mowing the grass. That is, if
paul_kiss doesn't beat me to the lawnmowing. I've promised him some Southern Comfort on many levels if he scampers off from Russia to the Armpit of Hell and cuts my grass.Smidgen just did an incredible impersonation of Thumper. I think she was wanting to scratch, but her leg just went wonky and flew off in a crazy direction. I'm not surprised, though. Smidgen has been acting the fool ever since I let her in about 30 minutes ago. I mean, really, her eyes are all pupil and she's in full Greebling eradication mode. It's kind of scary. I love my Smidge, but she's a tad challenged mentally.
I really need to go to bed, but I don't want to because I know that, when I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, it'll be time to go back to work. I'm beginning to find the job unpleasant. There's no challenge to it, I get only complaints about things beyond my control, and lifting those trays of bottled drinks (24 drinks per tray) is murder on my shoulder. By the time my shift ends, I'm in tears from the pain. Not good. Sith don't cry. Maybe I'm going Jedi in my old age. If that's the case, then it sucks like Star Trek's Hickey Monster from season one (see icon). Get that chick some salt yo!
Smidgen is now doing a Greebling attack victory dance in front of the TV while Aunt Tudi and I try to watch Scare Tactics. Smidgen is a scare tactic unto herself. What a perfect little kitteh.
That's it for me. I'm going to find a midnight snack and then I'm sacheting off to bed. I've taken some pain medicine for the shoulder and knee, and I plan on having an insomnia-free eve. Well, that's the plan. We'll see if I'm successful.
