Enter pitchforks and torches, Stage Right

You know, I should KNOW better than to go off on these kinds of rants, but here I go, pissing off Blogland again ...

... it's just my opinion, but I really feel that a certain blogger* should have, maybe, oh ... STAYED BY HER DYING FATHER'S BEDSIDE instead of leaving to shuttle her kid to yet another preschool evaluation.

Okay. This strikes a nerve, because I was not at my own father's bedside when he died. He and my mom were living in Florida at the time. He had been diagnosed with cancer, and the doctors had given him six months to live, and of course, all of us family members were making plans to fly down to stay with him and mom. Six weeks after his diagnosis, two DAYS before I was scheduled to fly down to spend time with him, he died in the night. And it KILLS me that I wasn't there. I will always regret that I wasn't there to say goodbye.

So to read about this spoiled little twit blogger, who LEFT HER DYING DAD'S BEDSIDE because she had, you know, MORE IMPORTANT STUFF TO DO, just makes me livid.

Grrrrrrr.

(This is why Blogland hates me.) (If I don't show up here anymore, you'll know that this gal's friends hunted me down and killed me. Except I'm pretty sure we don't travel in the same, you know, bloggy circles, so I should be safe.)(And I mean, COME ON, she left her dying dad's bedside to take her kid to a routine appointment. SHEESH.)

*email me if you want the ID.

Survey SAYS ....

... poison ivy. Or poison oak. Or possibly poison sumac. Definitely poison something. Something that brushed against my skin.


See that? My friends know as much as the doctor! Heh. Kidding, doc. JUST KIDDING.

Anyhow, it's not MRSA or some other flesh-eating monstrosity, which is all I needed to know. The doc gave me a prescription for steroid cream, which, you guys, if you thought I was cranky BEFORE, just wait until I start absorbing steroids through my skin, is all I'm sayin'.

Oh! Oh! And guess what? The doctor called my sock-as-bandage getup ingenious! HAH! I am ingenious!

Or, you know, insane. Either way.

Stay tuned - I'll try to get a Freaky Friday up a little later.

Put a sock on it

Warning! Discussion of gross medical stuff ahead!

You've been warned.

Okay, so the creeping crud continues to vex me. According to trained medical professionals (i.e., my friends) who've been brave enough to take a peek, it's poison ivy. Or poison sumac. Or possibly poison oak. Definitely poison something. Okay, okay, so they're not really trained medical professionals, but they're all I've got, unless I want to pony up a forty-dollar co-pay at the dermatologist, which, NO, not unless parts start falling off or something.

Here's the main problem at this point: Bandages do not stick to me. Nor does adhesive tape, or cloth tape, or basically anything that's supposed to stick to your skin. They don't stick to me.

I don't KNOW why, okay? Maybe I'm made of Teflon or something. It really presented a problem back when I was having some moles removed and the dermatologist resorted to what amounted to industrial-strength glue to affix the dressings, which worked GREAT until it came time to have the bandages removed, and the top layer of my skin came off along with the dressings. Whoops! Live and learn, Mr. Dermatologist.

Anywho, I've been jury-rigging bandaids and bandages and gauze and everything else you can think of for the past WEEK trying to keep the creeping ooze covered, until I finally hit on a solution. I cut off the foot-part of a crew sock and pulled the leg-part up over my arm. TA-DA! I'm a genius! Patent pending.

Which left the spots on my upper legs, which, I KNOW, how did the crud get on my freakin' THIGHS? Some questions, my friends, are better left unanswered.

I'd rig up a patchwork of extra-large bandaids, slap it on my leg, and watch as it fell to the floor. *sigh* But! Last night, in the middle of the night, I had a moment of clarity: Long johns. I cut the upper-leg parts off a pair of long johns, rolled them over the bandages, and voila! No more falling bandaids.

I'm waiting for the MacArthur Genius Award people to call any day now. I'm gonna be rich! Or, you know, just covered with sock- and long john-parts. Either way.


But wait ..... what's that you say? Ace ..... Ace bandages? That you just wrap around an arm or leg and fasten?

Holy shit, you guys, I'm an idiot. I have an entire collection of Ace bandages, thanks to various sprains and strains over the years, and it never occurred to me until just now that you could use an Ace bandage as, well, a BANDAGE.

Shit. I don't think the MacArthur people are going to be calling after all.

Just because it cracked me up

Courtesy of failblog.


Be sure to scroll down for Freaky Friday!


Gross medical update: I woke up at four this morning in a full-blown panic attack, convinced that I was going to end up in the hospital thanks to the creeping crud and that they were going to have to cut off my arm.


Thanks, The Ruins!


Nothing's much better, but nothing's much worse either, except for the fact that I was in the shower this morning and looked down, and the skin was sloughing off my arm in little sheets.


It's gonna be a long weekend.

Movie Review: The Ruins

So, I was flipping through channels yesterday before Carmen came on, and I saw that FX was showing "The Ruins". I'd read the book a while back, and thought I'd check out the movie.

*Spoiler ahead*

Okay, so the premise of The Ruins is that these people are exploring some, well, ruins, and a vine-type thing starts attacking them by, like, invading their bodies. Like growing into their skin and shit.

This movie was probably not the best choice for someone who currently has alien, running sores on her body. Ahem. But as it turns out, it really didn't matter, cause I happened to tune in right at the part when the dude decides he's gotta cut the other dude's legs off, but first he's gotta break the bones, so he picks up this great big rock and lifts it over his head and

yeah. That's as far as I got. I actually got up and turned away from the TV and covered my ears and went lalalalala so I couldn't hear any, you know, screaming or anything, and then I walked back to grab the remote to turn the TV off with my head turned to the side, blindly groping, so I wouldn't accidentally see any images on the screen, and that's why I'll never make it as a movie reviewer.

Okay! Moving on to TMI land! Gross shit ahead!

You've been warned!

The spot on my arm is oozing yellow crud at an alarming rate, despite liberal applications of neosporin. I woke up this morning with two more spots on my leg that are all bumpy-like and are probably going to erupt into gross at any moment. I feel like the very first character introduced in a very long Stephen King novel.

Googling revealed that impetigo is evidently usually transmitted by direct skin-to-skin contact, which is sadly missing in my life right now. And poison ivy, well, isn't poison ivy itchy? These spots aren't itchy at all, they just sit there and ooze ....

Okay, now I've grossed myself out. If you don't see any more posts up here, well, prepare for the apocalypse, because I am evidently the alpha case in some horrible new disease. Heh. kidding.

I hope.

Chapter Twelve, in which I alienate my remaining readers

Warning: Discussion of gross medical symptoms, coming up!

I mean it!

You've been warned!

Okay, so Monday at work, the inside of my forearm started itching. I looked down, and there was a raised red area about a half inch long by an inch-and-a-half wide. By yesterday, little teeny-tiny blisters were forming. By today, the area was starting to get, well, {upcoming grossness YOU'VE BEEN WARNED} crusty, and when I accidentally-totally-on-purpose scratched some of the crust off, yellow-ish liquid came out.

WTF?

Am I dying? Have aliens laid eggs in my skin? Am I contagious?! Come'ere, lemme give ya a hug.

I had to go to my doctor today for something totally unrelated*, and she took a look at it and thought it looked like an allergic reaction. I think it looks like a really pissed-off spider crawled up my sleeve and fanged me up.

Any ideas?



*annual lady-parts check-up. GOD.