22 February 2003

[Amanda has little hope. She will be a handmaid, soon]

Fundamentalist Christians enrage me.

17 February 2003

[Amanda is awed by the fisher]

My neighbor's significant other was crying this morning, which is a nice change of pace. Usually all I hear as I wake up or fall asleep are cries of passion. "Bike Boy" (as I call him -- he once barreled down the driveway and nearly hit me as I pulled out in my car) must be a god in the sack -- definitely not affected by the seat on his bicycle (you know those can cause impotence). Yes, I realize that I'll be the stereotypical snooping old lady when I get old -- always listening in -- but dammit, I can't help it. Just the other day, "Bike Boy's" girl was complaining in the shower, "Dammit, I can never get in a shower when you're around." Then of course, they did their thing. I should leave a little note, making it clear just how "obvious" they are. Then again, I have no room to talk. For the three years that Tom lived with me, we fought all the time, and loudly at that. The fact I never received a polite little note or a screaming eviction notice on my door still amazes me. And now that the only loud noises coming from my place are primarily sex-related, I guess I should leave my neighbors alone -- just because I like listening in on their funny little banter, and I wouldn't want that part of my petty little life to come abruptly to an end. Yeah, I'm a sicko.

15 February 2003

[Protein Shakes and Nicotine Fits]

Daredevil is a shitty movie. Definitely a buzz killer, plagued with continuity errors, clumsy, underdeveloped "action" scenes, and a runny, watered down plot. Oh, I can't forget the fuzzy filter. Bereft of the clean, crisp glow of comic book based flicks, this sad excuse for a film donned a Photoshop-type rendering often used by "camgirls" to mask their facial and bodily flaws. Really cheap. And Jennifer Garner's role is a joke.

12 February 2003

[Ease Your Way with Sour Cream]

I went grocery shopping -- serious grocery shopping -- for the first time in months, and for some reason I have this overwhelming urge to eat as much as I can. I've been living off of carry out and fast food for such a long time that all I want to do is sit down with big plate of veggies and fruit and "get my Vitamin C on." No seriously folks, I think I was on the verge of scurvy or rickets or something. All the starchy, fatty crap I've been putting in my body lately has not been kind. I'm already salivating over the pink grapefruit in the fridge, and I just ate one a half hour ago. Food ado aside, I still have over five days to wait before I can have "intercourse" (I still hate that word) again. This afternoon, I mustered up enough of my lost libido (one tends to lose this after seeing the tip of her cervix which was just sliced off) to masturbate in the shower. I feel much better, though "down there" still seems to be an off limits place, and I feel like I violated some rule -- even though Dr. Karram said nothing about nixing the manual stimulation or masturbation. Besides my issues with citrus fruit and my reproductive organs, this week has been pretty laid back -- except for the screaming migraine I had yesterday. Oh yes, that. *That* took the gem out of my donut. I hit the sack at a decent sober hour monday night, as I had to wake up early for my tuesday morning classes, only to wake up at 2:30am with a mild headache, accompanied with a bit of nausea. I thought it would pass. But it grew. I took some Advil, only to throw it up minutes later. My futile attempts at sleeping were violently interrupted by scurried trips to the bathroom for a variety of dry heaves and what not. I'll spare the details. I ended up calling the English department secretary and leaving a message on her voice mail. I prayed that she would actually do her job and post notices indicating the cancellation of my classes (she's not very efficient). Luckily for me, most of my students didn't show (not a surprise, yes, but what I mean is that most of my students who show up on a regular basis -- which is only fifty percent of the registered students -- didn't show) because of the snow which violently attacked the Cincinnati area at about 7:20am. I received several "sorry I can't make it to class because of the weather" e-mails, while I was tucked away in bed fighting off my nausea. I had no clue it even snowed until 11:00am when I stepped outside for some air: I was going to drive home from Sean's (I figured he had enough of me puking in his bathroom), but I was far too lazy to brush the three inches of snow off my car windows. So, I turned from my car, braved the icy parking lot (again), hiked three stories, and crawled back back into bed. It wasn't until last night -- around six or so -- that I started to feel better. I've had hangovers treat me better than that. I'm thinking about looking into some preventative medicine for my headaches, but I don't get them nearly as often as I used to. However, when I am graced with the emergency broadcast signal resonating in my head to the beat of my heart, my day is done. On a side note, when telemarketers call me, I just pick up the phone and hang up. These boobs in Ft. Lauderdale will not leave me alone. Last year, I told them I "wasn't interested." They started calling again during the past couple weeks. I would answer, but this is so much better. Thanks, trusty caller id.

08 February 2003

[This Cannot Be Good (my reaction to "being" Othello according to a {real} shakespearean quiz)]

My first week in the recovery stage since my LEEP on monday has been good for the most part. Howwever, deciding to go to Sam's and purchasing mass quanitities of detergent and cat food (definitely in breech of the "don't lift or carry object over thirty pounds" rule) has proven to be a strain on my reproductive organs. Walking and/or standing for more than ten minutes at a time is painful. I'd like to medicate myself, but I want to be aware if I start to excessively cramp, so that I can tell my doctor. I still can't have sex for another week, but as of right now, I don't really care. The couple next door was screwing around in the shower as I put on my makeup. The fact that there is only a wall separating us is usually a turn on; but not today. I don't want anything to do with myself, which is odd, because I usually can't go very long without -- at least -- masturbating.

03 February 2003

[My Monday Morning Date with a Speculum]

I had my surgery today, and here are some brief highlights of the procedure as well as my pre-op, post-op, and home recovery categorized into "bad," "good," and "weird." BAD 1. Traffic was shitty. I arrived Health South at 8:20. I was supposed to be there at 8:00. 2. I was not admitted until 8:35. I was supposed to be spread eagle on an operating table by then. 3. Two words: hospital gowns. 4. Answering the barrage of questions about my personal life and health history made my blood pressure soar. 5. Operating rooms are not sexy. 6. I saw the hacked off piece of my cervix. 7. Two words: Local Anesthesia. 8. Five people -- three RNs, my gyno-surgeon, and a scrub nurse -- saw me naked from the waist down. 9. Speculums are not sexy. 10. Being told that I can't have "intercourse" for two weeks sucks. I guess I won't getting any lovin' for Valentine's Day. GOOD 1. I got to keep the nifty socks with treads that I wore into surgery. 2. The nurses were very nice. 3. Dr. Karram did not yell at me for being late. His office is literally two minutes from Health South, so he as able to get in other patients while I was M.I.A., cursing the morning pile-up on southbound Montgomery Road. 4. Two words: health insurance. 6. I wasn't required to dish out a co-pay today. 7. My gyno-surgeon is cool. He'd be a good neighbor or bartender-type. 8. During post-op, I overheard an old lady in the adjacent stall demanding that she be permitted to have her 4:00pm vodka and lemonade. 9. Warm towels during op and post op make cold hospitals much more comfortable. 10. I drove home with no problems and ate a bagel. 11. Surgery is an excuse for chocolate cake and tea at noon. 12. Surgery is also an excuse for naps at 3:00pm. WEIRD 1. I did mention above that I saw the hunk-o-abnormal yuck lopped off of me. 2. I was in more pain when I had my biopsy than I am in now. 3. I am at ease with the fact that I've had a date with a speculum five times in the last six months. 4. As much as I hated it, I wish they gave me the hospital gown, ya know, as a souvenir. 5. I did, however, keep my hospital bracelets. That's not the weird part. The weird part is that it made me giddy when the nurse said I could keep them. 6. The head attending nurse in surgery had to put tape over my nipples, to assure that the hunks of six gauge metal in them would not cause a problem whilst I lay amid the operating room's electric field. Not sexy. Definitely weird. A tad embarrassing, actually.