And, In An Instant...

I never want to eat again.

This is 'Why, Yes, Of Course It's Asparagus Mousse....', brought to you by the truly special collection of glen.h.

Who would eat this? Who? HOW? Although I DO understand capturing the unbelievable in photo form....But this was not that, THIS came from a professional COOKBOOK.

And yet it looks like it was sculpted from the results of my hideous infection.

I hope this thing was sold in a screened section of the store, for protection and general health.

This section could only be titled 'Gifts for People You Really REALLY Hate...'

Comics, and More Comics, and Living Illuminated Manuscripts (ft. Robots), and Dancing...Oh, and Boobs, ABSOLUTELY YES on Boobs

If my pain level gets any worse, you will be able to hear me scream. From wherever you are.

Yes, even if you are in the Marianas Trench...

(And if you are, I am SO. Fucking. Jealous.)

But since sharing pain isn't any fun--at least not at this level--I need to make sure you've seen these. Because, like Josh, they make your life Complete.

Why yes, I DO now own the Director's Cut of Masterpiece Theatre. Complete with dvd...and TRADING CARDS, bitch!

Also, you totally NEED to pick up Fix Me.

Hey, they're a Canadian band. Josh is pure sweet amazeballs--at least three of them--but...he needs your dollar to eat today.

I at least want them able to afford real KD. Not the Sobey's brand, that turns green as you're eating it, as if by the decomposed taste you couldn't tell how diseased it really is...

But it is a different genius I came to share. No, no, not portableapps.com. You need those too, badly, but they're not going to make you laugh.

Not like comics and dancing and absurdly brilliant light displays...oh, and boobs. NEVER FORGET BOOBS.

Here we go:

Conan's Ultimate Set:



Both my geek self and my art self were panting and flaily armed with joy. My green self cringed when it thought of the power consumption, but then omgomgomg....THIS has to be worth it. HAS TO. Hell, I nearly live in the dark. And I just got an LED monitor / tv. It has to balance out. Right? RIGHT?

And I totally wanted to adopt the Robo-Rabbi. He was like #5, but just pure awwwww squeee; zero annoying attempts to be with it and happening and rad, that is, a douchebag.

For our next presentation, we have to keep with Conan and distilled geekitude:





I freely admit the only DC comic I have ever bought or owned--and it's still in my pull list--is the Unwritten. And yet, if you didn't laugh so hard watching those clips that you choked, multiple times, and seriously thought you might die, but that would be okay, good, okay, fine...I demand you hand over your geek card, to be stripped of its Mylar. Then, it will be dipped in liquid nitrogen, and flung to the floor. The humiliated bits that remain will be scraped up and hurled into a vat of hydrochloric acid, of a MINIMUM 12 molarity.

No, you can't watch. Because this is going to be cool *seal claps of glee*

I would include here the recent Daily Show bit, where Jon Stewart clearly lays out how Obama is not a failure, he's a Jedi, but I don't know if you can handle its brilliance. More importantly, Viacom is always instakilling or region blocking EVERYTHING, so I couldn't find a handy bite-sized piece that (hopefully!) everyone could see. *Turns to ceiling cam, with raised shaking fists* Damn you, Viacom!

So instead, I leave you with--The Dance:

Biotic

On my first doctor's appt yesterday...

Despite feeling like I still have a very angry alien about to snap through my ribs at any moment, and the fact that my breathing sounds like Darth Vader...or rather like I stuck on the fishbowl helmet of one of those old diving suits? And oh yeah, someone--or several someones--is standing on my air line. Yes, despite this, my lungs were declared fine.

O.o

Seriously?

Yes, quite.

And my sinuses were declared fucked.

:|

And I got put on my THIRD course of antibios for this damn death flu.

Although, maybe it was all worth it, just for when the SU opened my new bottle of meds and recoiled in horror, declaring, "What are THESE? Horse suppositories??!!"

Note To Pharm Companies: please study a HUMAN esophagus before deciding how much filler to wrap into your pill. These bitches are like twice the size of a Centrum! And no one--expecting, perhaps, a heavily abused porn star--can swallow a Centrum.

While his printer was sending out my prescription, my doctor asked me if I had ever taken my pulse. My face involuntarily twisted up, knowing where this was going. I replied that my resting heart rate now is well over a hundred, and that I'm told it's part of my disease. His face continued to do this...well, I was going to just emoticon here, but there isn't one that truly captures the disdaining frown. I added that my resting rate in high school was always well under sixty. The frown did not change.

Instead I got ordered to take ANOTHER thyroid test, with the helpful toss that I could to it the same day as the liver one.

As for my second doctor's appt...

Fuck no, I am not getting into that...mess...of terror.

If anyone needs me, I'm still in my bed, flinching with constant panic, and frequently convulsing.

Yay.

I did manage, by sheer bitchitude, to get my self downstairs to get Boo...Second Breakfast? First Supper? My boy hoovered so enthusiastically, he ate the half can I put down for him in the time it took for me to get a little spoonful across the room to Hissy.

Hissy not only refused to eat, she cowered away, bolted up the stairs so frantically she had to have hurt herself, and hid from me.

Thanks, dear daughter. I really needed that.

So I did the only good thing I could do. I managed to scrap down the other half can for Pheen. And then I crawled upstairs. Literally.

For the record: fuck. That's it. Just...FUCK.

It's Not Easy Being Green

I am still in the agony of the death flu.

I mean that quite literally, as the congestion pain is crushing my skull, and shooting down nerves of my chest and back. I would be constantly screaming--if I had a voice.

It may be literal on the mortality part too. I've had death flus before--the kind the just keep getting worse and worse, and I've spent my time with antibiotics and nebulizers.

Bu this flu is entering three months, and, impossibly, I'm still getting worse. I've been through two rounds of antibios. Because--of course--it's given me a respiratory infection that won't die either. When I went to the clinic--because the doctors are all on holiday--they wouldn't let me stay in the waiting room.

Let me be clear, the waiting room was crammed full of people who were coughing and spraying mucus in every direction. I was endlessly coughing too--the pain, it felt like the alien would rip out of my chest at any moment, but even delirious and exhausted, I was spitting my horrific fluids into tissues and dropping them into my bucket. I, by necessity, had become very efficient at this assembly line.

But I, who was the only one at least making at effort to keep my disease to myself, I was too disgusting to wait with everyone else. Instead, I got the humiliation of being ordered to wait in the washroom--easily the most filthy repulsive place they could come up with. I hurt so bad, and I was so weak, that I couldn't manage to stay upright. I ended up stumbling into the corner, and leaning into the wall so I wouldn't fall down.

I waited like that for more than an hour.

The doctor, in about two seconds, diagnosed me as "infected". But I didn't get pulled away by scary people in Haz-Mats. I just got my second run of antibios, which, it seems, this thing has laughed at...

Here is how brutal this flu really is. The SU finally got it. Yes. The Teflon Immune System (tm) was breached. In a big way. Yes. Respiratory infection. First ever. Not only antiobios, the doctor said to use my asthma puffers. Why did the doctor not just prescribe them? Who the fuck knows. But I had to break out the aerochamber.

But, in the dark, around 6am on the 25th, I had the best present ever stroll up the bed and cuddle into me, purr already activated, for the perfect Hello / Good Morning / I Love You.

I wish we weren't sick, but I'll take anything to have my family together. His doctors say that Phoenix is doing great. They plan to switch his chemo soon to every other week. With that revelation, I sobbed like crazy. My brain couldn't help it. It did insta-math, calculated that meant we were halfway, and that meant we only had two, maybe three, months left.

Cue me losing my shit.

Every day, every MOMENT with him is precious. I've been so angry about this flu, because, on top of everything else, it means I'm not there for him the way I need to be. I won't get a do-over, and there's so little time left. That will hurt forever. The only comfort I've had is that I can't give him this flu. But my son deserves so much better. So much better than me. And so much better than life gave him.

It should have been me. He's a better person than I am. And my health....it's not good anyway.

But no, fate choose my son, at sixteen.

It's good that we don't know what's coming. We'd never go forward if we did. But to miss the pain, the terrible pain, we would have to miss all the joy and love and beauty.

I think now of how fate only gave me two children. I wanted so many more. And they just...didn't come. But fate knew what it was doing. The pain of not having them come, it now seems like a scratch. Because the pain of having them forced to go, is....is just.. everything ripped apart...