I Don't Wanna Die in This Hospital...

So last Wednesday I went to bed with a semi-stomach ache, and woke around midnight with a hardcore stomach ache.
After trying a few things like a hot bath and taking some pepto, it only kept getting worse. I called Chris and had him take me to the emergency room.
I checked in and the first guy who checked my symptoms asked how many times this had happened. It had happened pretty bad a few months ago, and then a couple more times in the past week. But not as bad is it was that night. I thought maybe it was an ulcer or something.

I took some tests, including some ultrasounds, and eventually someone came in and told me I had a huge gallstone and that my gallbladder was infected. They were going to have to remove it. So I was admitted to the hospital. They weren't going to be able to do the surgery until Friday morning. So until then they gave me some really awesome drugs so my stomach didn't hurt.

Friday morning I was carted off to face my doom. The surgery took maybe an hour and I was in recovery for maybe another hour or so. They did the surgery laproscopically, so I only have four small incisions to heal up, rather than one giant cut across my belly. I had five total gallstones and they saved the biggest one for me to see. It's really gross.

I went home that same day around 4 PM. My stomach felt weird because they pumped it full of air during the surgery, like when they do C-sections.

It's been a week now and I'm feeling a lot better. The incisions are still sore, but they are doing ok. I'll be off work for a little bit, but not as long as if they'd had to do they more hardcore version of the surgery. I have some big ugly staples holding the incisions shut, and hopefully they'll be removed next Monday when I visit the doctor.

This came at a very inopportune time, because I was supposed to move last weekend, the After the Fall poetry book is in it's final stages with less than a week until we send out for the proofs, and then Halloween, of course. But being off of work for at least a week is giving me some craft time, and time to play my DS, which is very very important.

NaNoWriMo starts this Saturday. Yay!

Dilauded - I dedicate this post to you.

Tuff Enuff.

Sometimes I feel tuff enuff. Today I do not feel tuff enuff. Maybe just tuff, but not tuff enuff. Maybe you understand.

I haven't seen a preying mantis in years, and in just a couple weeks one was in my office and then one in my backyard. I kept the one that my friend Mike found at work, but I let the one my mom found in the backyard go. The one from the back might die. I'm not sure. He wasn't doing so well. I picked him up and put him in some plants. I hope he will be ok.

The other one I kept is doing well. He likes eating crickets and hanging upside down. His name is Kawaii Morning, which I've taken from this character on you tube that I'm obsessed with for some reason. I'd like to believe it's a real person and not just a character. I'll keep thinking that. At about 45 seconds in he or she looks like a mantis, I think.

Kawaii Morning has his own critter keeper and some sticks and water dish. I've been wanting to try keeping a mantis as a pet for a long time. I had one briefly named Ninchago Ninchago, but I didn't do a good job and he soon died. He was a good mantis for awhile.

Tomorrow morning I am going to cheer on my friend Angie when she participates in a 5K. I have to get up early, but it will be nice to do that for a change. Even during the work week I'm not out of the house before 7. I'll be leaving at 6:15 maybe. It should be a nice and cool morning. I don't even need the box fan in my window, which is good because the neighbors are smoking weed again, which is turning my stomach. I haven't worked up the courage to call the cops yet. They've been doing it outside every night for weeks. I don't mind being around it, but I can't stand when unsoliticed scents come in my window. It doesn't seem fair. I don't want to smell your cigarettes, fish, leftovers or cigars. I could shut my window, but it's nice to have it open when it's cool outside.

I've been trying to type more for a few days, so I'll just act like this post is Day 3 of October and post it now.


guitar solos - I dedicate this post to you.

A Haiku to You Too!

It would be hard to
write five hundred words in this
haiku-type format

that one above was
only fourteen words! I can't
even believe that.

Unfortunately,
syllables do not equate
to words. So uncool.

I thought at first "this
is something I can very
easily complete!"

After all, to type
that many words only takes
a couple minutes.

Oh, but I now have
to be concerned that my lines
are five, seven, five.

Even now I'm at
only seventy four words
and it's been an hour.

So by that logic
It would take me close to
five hours to make it.

But then again I'm
at work, and typing between
phone calls and faxes.

So all in all I
think we could all agree that
is not too bad then.

Today has been sort
of semi-ok as far
as work often is.

It's too hot in here
because they turned the heater
on. It's still summer!

Luckily they just
recently turned the air back
on! Oh sweet relief!

It's now 5 P.M.
and I get to leave work. Then
forty minute drive.

I don't think I will
make it to five hundred words.
I've made peace with that.

The most important
part is that I've written for
yet another day.


down comforters - I dedicate this post to you

500 words.

Six days passed before I realized I'd broken my October vow to write a post per day in anticipation of the daily writing of National Novel Writing Month. It's not too late to catch up though, since I make my own rules. Loner Dotty, a rebel and all that. I'll just date this for the first and hope no one notices.

Today I will write about the fact that I have nothing to write about. It was simpler when I kept the entries to a live journal. Live journal is more confessional, more whiny, more bad days than good. On a real blog with a real url it feels like what I write should be more important. But I guess it doesn't have to be. It's not like anyone reads, except for people searching for "What does a dead animal smell like" on google. that's ok.

Blogs make us vain. Make everyone think they are a writer. Just like myspace makes everyone think they are web designers. I miss geocities and their neighborhoods. Flashing gifs and scrolling text were acceptable. But that was 1999. And now the rest of the world thinks blinking photos and quiz results are totally cutting edge. It's false, right? I mean, I don't think I'm most like Ariel. I think out of the Disney Princesses I'd actually be Snow White. Though their problem is they waited for rescue instead of kicking butt. Did any of them really kick butt? Not really. They waited. And the baton is passed.

I thought was I wrote above was already near 500 words, but it was only 241. That is lucky because it's a Reel Big Fish song. We used to take pictures of the number 241 if we saw it anywhere. Houses, license plates. Even the cell at Alcatraz. We don't really do that much anymore, but if the posse is together, specifically if Angie is there, we point out 241 sometimes.

I'm trying to practice word counts so that I actually finish NaNoWriMo again this year. That would be fun and satisfying, I think.

There is a guy I work with. Well used to work with. We're in different departments now. He mixes up his sayings or uses words in a semi-wrong context. He's awesome. I made a list of Lloydisms. Some are just weird things he's said, other things are his slightly mixed up phrases. Maybe you can guess what he's trying to say. He's usually not that far off.

- Dealing with less than a full hand.
- You really hit the hammer with the nail.
- The company is going through a rehaul.
- He listens to that poga music.
- I'm part death.
- Pour syrup on you and let the cat lick it off.
- Do you partake in direct deposit?

It's almost at 500. Only 40 more words maybe? Less after this. One could use loooooong words like "lugubrious" instead of simply "sad", but it still counts for only one word. So using short words, or evn wrds w/o vwls & abbrv still count for one word and takes less work to type. Though it took me longer to think of how to take out the vowels than to look up lugubrious to figure out if it meant what I think it meant. Contractions are the enemy, I do not recommend using "don't" over "do not"! Oh look, a "&" or even $ is considered a word too! ! It's going to be a nice November.

master debaters - I dedicate this post to you.

Super Awesome Reading Adventure Safari 2008

I'm having a major Harry Potter hangover after I finished book seven again. I've got a little lightning bolt shaped piece of my heart missing.

And speaking of Harry Potter, they are actually going to release The Tales of Beedle the Bard later this year. We'll see how that goes.

I tried getting into those Twilight Saga books, but I found the writing to be inane and vapid, like reading a 16-year-old's livejournal. [Oh, ok, like reading this blog too.]

An Amazon user summed up book one like this:

"The whole book is basically: 'Today I went to school. Edward gave me a ride home. I couldn't speak for his amber eyes were oh so mesmerizing! When I got home I made dinner for my father and cleaned the entire house. Then I got myself into mortal danger and Edward saved me. His eyes are soooo amber and mesmerizing.'"

I was disappointed because the book was highly recommended by Emsie Hammer. But alas. Terrible. I know all the little girls are going nuts over it, but a sexy character does not equate to quality writing.

This summer I've been reading books that I'm a little embarrassed to admit I've never read. Stuff like 1984, Fahrenheit 451, and The Bell Jar. I picked up Flowers for Algernon as well, because I've only read the short story version.

I also read Cabin Pressure: One Man's Desperate Attempt to Recapture His Youth as a Camp Counselor by Josh Wolk, which I really really enjoyed. It was similar to some zines I've read, but longer, and by a guy who writes for Entertainment Weekly. I thought the flow of the chapters was great, and Wolk really wove the tale of his last "free" summer before getting married beautifully. I'd recommend it for anyone who has gone to camp, has wanted to go to camp, or who likes to read books.

I'm currently reading I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone, which I'm on the fence about. The writing has it's fair share of smiles "dancing across his lips" "slate gray eyes" and "sharp cheekbones", but the story itself is decent. Stephanie Kuehnert paints a pretty decent picture of Emily Black and her family and friends and the town they grew up in. They only thing I'm not entirely convinced of is the supposedly amazing punk rock beauty and talent of the main character. At times she is a little Mary Sue-ish, in her own punkish way. She sounds pretty bratty and stuck up, yet everyone seems to adore her and her attitude. I'm not finished yet, but I'm enjoying it despite the flaws.

Next books up: Summerland by Michael Chabon, Whitechapel Gods by S. M. Peters, Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy poetry by Tao Lin, and the Apocalypse Reader edited by Justin Taylor.

Yay reading!

I think I need to remember to renew my library card.

The place where they keep all the books - I dedicate this post to you.

Mucca Pazza and the Mystical Tuba

So I was talking with my friend Angie at a show last week, as we sat at the back of the venue watching a band play. She said "remember when we used to say 'I can't imagine ever NOT being in the very front at a show?'"

We used to scoff at the "old people"- you know, the ones in their 20's- who would stand watching the band from the back, hardly rocking out. "If you love the music so much, how can you do that? How can you just stand in the back not even moving?"

Ok, so now that we are those old people, I totally get it. I mean, I don't leave the house after work on a weeknight, so staying up at a show, in Los Angeles, past 9 PM, is like really hardcore.I had to go to work the next morning. And I'd been at work all day prior. This is tough stuff.

Maria had told me about Mucca Pazza, a 30-piece marching band from Chicago, Illinois, that plays punk rock tunes. She asked me if I wanted to go see them play live.
"You had me at '30-piece marching band that plays punk rock tunes.'"

The self-proclaimed "circus punk" band members wore old marching uniforms, all in different colors from different schools. Up on stage they had an ominous Steampunk look about them, and I could imagine that their polished brass trombones were really guns and they were about to fight a war against a mechanized establishment.

All 30 members, against all odds, fit on the stage. However the performance was punctuated by a cymbal player doing rock and roll jumps off the side of the stage, crashing his cymbals as he landed, as a portion of the brass section wandered around amidst the crowd, half sneaking half proudly marching like they were in a really important competition. Oh, and did I mention the cheerleader?

It was nice to see smiling hipster faces in the crowd. People don't smile at shows anymore.

Maria and I took some photos, but my battery unfortunately died only a few shots in.
[click for bigger photos]

Find Mucca Pazza here and here.
The guy dressed all in khaki who was really really into Mucca Pazza - I dedicate this post to you.

Not Going Home

I don't usually post You Tube videos, but I can't stop listening to Sun, Sun, Sun by the Elected. I feel so safe and calmed when I'm driving home after work and I play the entire thing on repeat and Blake Sennett is just so sincere and I want to hang out and have some drinks in a small, dark bar in the middle of America and we'll talk about what's going on and then what we're having problems with and maybe even make each other feel better and then when I go to leave and he stays behind finishing up his last drink, I'll give him a long hug and pat on the back before I leave. It's going to be awesome. I hope he talks like his lyrics.




"Not Going Home" was actually my least favorite song on the album. Honestly, I used to skip it for the first year I owned it. But luckily I changed my mind.

The sincerity on his face at 2:31 breaks my heart when he looks to the left of the screen. A music video isn't supposed to make me feel this way. And then there is that little piano part that makes me leap.

His joy at the end will let you know everything's going to be ok.

I recommend the Elected's "Sun, Sun, Sun" for anyone who enjoys non-horrible music, and who also likes having drinks at the bar and Winter.

the long drive home - I dedicate this post to you.

p.s. In the song "I'll Be Your Man" these lines go "Now, I read through your poetry/yeah, every last one/felt like I ate too much butter/and drank too much rum..." and that is fantastic because that's the weird light-headed, slightly nauseated, giddy feeling you get when you really connect with something and you're pretty sure they've been reading your diary that you've hidden between the mattresses because that's exactly like how you feel and sometimes makes you cry a little, but in a good way because you're so connected to the music or the art or literature and you are just so damn happy because you have a great fella and the best friends ever, and even though not everything in life is ideal at the moment you know that everything is good and will get better. But everything's perfect in that moment at least.

p.p.s. I read in Filter magazine that he doesn't drink anymore. So I guess we can't get hang at the bar. But I hear he flies a mean kite.

Being an Adult Means Hanging Your Posters in Frames.

It looks like Chris and I are gonna be moving. Sweet. We haven't looked too much, but it needs to be close to the mountains, have air conditioning and washer/dryer hookups. It'll be awesome.

I get nervous when I get too far from the mountains.

He said we can have a craft cabinet. Which is good. My boxes of supplies are encroaching on my living space. Chris got me a 2.25" button maker for my birthday. My supplies just came in the mail. 100 more pinbacks and 50 hand mirrors. I want to make some and add them to the Etsy shop.

I'm going to miss Clay though. Even though he's a cat he's still my homie. We hang out, like, all the time. He's watching me type right now. He has no idea.

I have vacation time planned for August. I might go visit my dad in Flagstaff. But I also want to do more stuff too. Arizona would be nice. Maybe more camping than we did last time. I'm down with that.

My life needs a choreographed dance scene right about now.

A Soft Pillow for an Armadillo - I dedicate this post to you.

Saying Goodbye is Hard To Do...

...unless it's a pet fish that repulses you.

Last year for my birthday Chris got me a fishtank. We had quite a few that lasted a long time, but some died over the past 12 months, possibly due to our inexperience of running a proper tank.

Here is a normal Mickey Platy:

Here is what our looked liked before it died:

Our last Mickey was bloated and scales sticking up like he was all punk rock. Alas, he was not punk rock, but it was the dropsy. Dropsy isn't a disease, but a condition caused by a bacterial infection. It's also really really gross to look at.


This Mickey liked to hang around in our little sunken pirate boat, which was probably where all the rotting vegetation and other fun stuff got trapped. So that caused a bacterical infection, which let to the dropsical conditions.

"This disease is characterized by a swollen or hollow abdomen (Ascites). A concentration of fluid in the body tissues and cavities causes the fish's abdomen to become swollen and appear bloated. Swollen areas may exhibit a 'pine-cone' appearance caused by the fish's scales sticking out. You can best see this by viewing your fish from the top. Fish may also stop feeding, appear off-color, become listless and/or lethargic, have sunken eyes, and hang at the top or stay at the bottom of the aquarium. The condition affects the fish's internal organs, ceasing proper function."

So we noticed it last weekend, decided to separate he fish from the others. I checked on lots of fish care boards and it sounded like without antibiotics, Dropsy is usually fatal, and even with antibiotics prognosis is not good. One of the only humane ways to kill a fish is to chop it's head off, or inject it with certain medications, and I wasn't about to do that. I mean, it was a nice fish, but it only cost us like $2.00.

And this is going to sound worse, but just looking at the fish made me want to throw up. I've been through some gnarly stuff with my cats [infections and face drains and sicknesses], but this damn fish and it's dropsy made me so sick to my stomach to look at. But I couldn't stop staring it! And staring at other photos of fish with dropsy.

So for your sick viewing pleasure, I present more photos of our fish with dropsy. [click for larger photos]

There's that weird "pineconing" they were talking about. Gross.

Dropsy the fish, R.I.P.


dropsy the disease - I definitely do not dedicate this post to you.

Me and the Interwebs are Becoming One.

I've been spending too much time on my computer. I first knew it when I caught myself trying to hit "CTRL-Z" when I screwed up something I was drawing on paper.

Today what really had me worried was when I was wracking my brain to figure out where I put something and I brought up the Google homepage intending to type "Where is my American Gods book I bought a few months ago?"

[the answer according to Google? Amazon! I guess I'll check my closet next.]

The Future - I dedicate this post to you.