Saturday, July 15, 2017

the year is 17776 (not a typo)

A friend sent me this link to a quasi-space opera, or maybe it's merely science fiction once I read more.  I'm only partially through it, so no spoilers please.  Apparently it's updated frequently, but I'm not sure of the interval.

It's really weird and all over the place.  I'm still on the fence if I like it, but it's certainly different and interesting.  Plus I love that it comes out in installments.  And I always like to encourage reading other people's writing when it's well done.

Go read, and tell me what you think.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

did he just put on an evening glove??

I watched my alternate mailman start to put my mail in the mailbox, stop himself, and start putting on what looked to be a glove.  At first I thought he was delivering biohazardous stuff (what did I order recently?), but those purple-blue nitrile gloves aren't that long.  It was blue and went way past his elbow.  Very long and elegant.

I watched him pulling it up for a good extended minute.  It seemed excessively tight and hard to maneuver.  I finally realized that it was some type of elbow compression sleeve.  Maybe to keep the sun off?  Maybe to prevent mailman's elbow? 

He finished with the cuff and eventually delivered my mail.  I'm way too nervous to see if it's a biohazard...

Sunday, July 9, 2017

it's not phantosmia

The last few times I ran my dishwasher I smelled something burning.  Which is never a good sign, especially if it's imaginary.  Yes, that is a migraine symptom to have olfactory hallucinations.  I don't typically have that, so I investigated further.

Recently I had cleaned out my dishwasher filter and apparently not snapped it firmly back into place.  That resulted in plastic parts sliding onto the heating element and melting.  Nice.

I attempted to correct the alignment and tested it again.  Nope.

Rather than berate myself for fucking up my dishwasher, I researched how to fix it properly.  I think I did finally, but I'll test it again a few more times to make sure.

As much as I'm mad at myself for damaging part of my dishwasher, I'm ecstatic that it's not me who is (further) damaged.

Saturday, July 8, 2017

eat, pray, and cry (not necessarily in that order)

I went to Totoro's memorial service, and I cried a lot.

I had debated whether to wear non-waterproof mascara.  I consulted one of my makeup expert friends, who tried to be supportive of an amateur such as myself.  It was much easier to concentrate on makeup choices beforehand than my grief.  I successfully distracted myself from backing out of going.  A friend offered to go with me, which was very sweet, but I decided to be strong and go alone.

I walked into the church, the same one where I had attended Totoro's husband's memorial service previously.  It had been their church, although she hadn't been a fan of going anymore.  I think she'd attended mostly because he'd wanted her to, and it was expected.

The Priest claimed her as his own, of course.  Fortunately, I didn't get smote down for my blasphemous thoughts.  I sat in the back, just in case a fire broke out on me.  The Priest went on and on about her piety and how saintly her church lady friend was who'd helped her.  Still no smoting, even when I recalled a different reality from what he'd named.  I know he was saying all that righteous stuff to comfort her family.  I hope it worked.  I'm always envious of people who find comfort in religion.

When he started reciting Psalm 23, all I could hear was Samuel Jackson from Pulp Fiction.  I know it's not the same, but I always think of that scene when I hear it.  "Say 'what' one more time!"  As an aside, still no smoting.  Perhaps God has a sense of humor.

There was a picture on an easel, of her smiling.  Every time I looked at it, I cried.  It was a fantastic picture of her happy nature.  She would have been pleased.  We sang some songs and said a few amens.  I mumbled along as appropriate.  Mostly, I cried into my tissue and tried not to smear my non-waterproof mascara.

I greeted her family and offered my condolences.  They thanked me for coming.  It was all very proper.  She'd have been proud of them.  They invited everyone to stay for food, but I'd had enough church and crying for one day.  I made my apologies and bailed.

Crying somehow builds up an appetite, so I came home and filled up my heart with Russian sour cream and ruffled potato chips.  And Milka Daim for dessert.  And then I went to bed to fend off a migraine.

Friday, July 7, 2017

can you hear me now?

How about now?  How about when my phone shuts off by itself?

My cell phone spontaneously shut off once or twice while I had it, but it restarted again, so I didn't bother calling Support.  Until it happened two times within a week.  Which happened to be the week after the warranty expired. 

I called in and spoke with a really nice woman, who patiently walked me through some troubleshooting steps.  I had already tried the obvious ones.  Obviously.  :)

She finally transferred me to Level 2 Tech Support, but as these things do, the call got stuck in limbo, and I hung up after 5 minutes of listening to a weird beeping.  I waited a few minutes to see if she would call back.  Nope.  So, I decided to call in again and ask nicely to be transferred like I was supposed to.  Nope.

My second call did not play out as nicely as the first.  To put it bluntly, the man was a jerk.  And I may have been a smidge irritated.  He wanted to go through all of the steps again.  And when I refused and asked to be transferred to Tech Support, he got his feathers ruffled and said he was Support.  His solution was to go nuclear and do a factory reset.  I wonder why I refused.  Dumbass.

What he didn't know is that while we were speaking, Kitten meowed to come inside, and I distractedly let her in.  In my defense, I hadn't had to deal with this in months, so I forgot.  She came running in with a live baby iguana in her mouth.  Which she promptly dropped in the dining room.  Below I have a blurry pic that I took whilst arguing with Mr. I Know What I'm Doing.

Just then, another call came in, which was Level 2 calling me back.  I tried to politely hang up with Mr. Ego, but he wouldn't let me get in a word edgewise, so I hung up on him.   Yes, it was rude, but I didn't want to miss Level 2.  She was also awesome and very helpful.  Mr. Dumbfuck didn't like being hung up on and tried calling me back several times.  He also sent a childish text message with grammar mistakes.

Ms. Level 2 Awesome was super nice and tried a few other things before suggesting the problem was my phone.

While talking to her, the fucking lizard came running at me.  I did the adult thing, and ran into my office and shut the door.  Because why would a lizard run under a door when it has a giant scary predator chasing it?  But I'm jumping ahead.

As I'm troubleshooting with Ms. Courteous Competence, I see Kitten's paws under my door trying to get in.  I assumed she wanted attention.

Because it was one week out of warranty, Ms. Amazing did an override to get me a free replacement.

I hung up happy and opened my door to see Kitten come rushing in and look behind my filing cabinet.  Uh oh.


Kitten is a bad-ass though and promptly found him and disposed of the evidence.  Mostly.

Kitten adding chaos to my already stressed day

Monday, July 3, 2017

B17 - Bingo!

I'm trying another science experiment on myself.  An acquaintance swears by this, so what could possibly go wrong?

I did some preliminary research years ago but never followed up on it.  Apparently Vitamin B17 (aka laetrile) from apricot kernels has the capability to kill cancer cells more readily than healthy cells.  There are lots of articles which argue both sides.  Obviously, I'm ignoring the naysayers for now.

Vitamin B17 is a natural cyanide-containing compound that gives up its cyanide content only in the presence of a particular enzyme group called beta glucosidase or glucuronidase. Miraculously, this enzyme group is found almost exclusively in cancer cells. If found elsewhere in the body, it is accompanied by greater quantities of another enzyme, rhodanese, which has the ability to disable the cyanide and convert it into completely harmless substances. Cancer tissues do not have this protecting enzyme.

I realize that sounds like bullshit, especially when accompanied by 'miraculously' but I've tried other medically-accepted treatments and been very dissatisfied.  I'm being careful about my consumption and hopeful that it becomes a successful part of my skin cancer prevention regimen. 

I'm assuming that my current depression is related to migraines and memories and not cyanide poisoning.  I guess we'll see...