June 04, 2004

Visiting the Attic

On this, the wedding anniversary of GM1 and I (16 years ago, thank you thank you), I notice that I've been blogging for over a year. My blogaversery came and went during the season of plague and I didn't feel the breeze.
So let's play a little catch-up and see how the Cheese began, starting with a post from exactly one year ago today......

Extend your cheese »

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June 03, 2004

Pigeon-Holed

I have just learned while visiting the Soggy Pigeon, that there are five types of blogs....

1. The WBC Blog
These blogs are the Whine-Bitch-Complain blogs. They are a source of outgoing steam or stress, and provide a substantial amount of relief for the writers...
2. The Zine Blog
These kinds of blogs attempt to create diversity in their subject content. They may be witty, sarcastic, mockingly ridiculous, or scathingly cynical in their writing....
3. The Personal Blog
Like its name suggests, this blog has a few readers limited to their close friends or family only, or would preferrably not have readers at all....
4. The Non-Serious Blog
These blogs belong to those who have trouble commiting themselves to blogging. They may write about a few, trivial matters, or their posting frequency may be sporadic, or they may be both....
5. The Linking Blog
The writers of these blogs are more avid readers than they are writers. They'll find an abundant amount of intriguing, upsetting, or humorous links on the web, and cannot wait to share it with others....

I guess, by this criteria, that The Cheese Stands Alone fits nicely into category 2, with certains aspects of category 3, drifting at times into category 1, with spontaneous category 5 outbursts after a short period of category 4 behaviour.
Or is it the other way round?
Go read the whole thing, it's here.

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Consolation

Well, I just found out yesterday what everyone else who watches "Oz" on HBO knows... that the last show was the end of the series. I had to call my mom and tell her, since she is a serious "Oz" fan.
That in itself gives me pause, imagining my very proper mother enthralled by shankings, prison rape, and the Aryan brotherhood vs. the black drug dealers political machinations that "Oz" is famous for. Oh, and full-frontal male nudity.
She was such a fierce proponent of the show she got me hooked on it.
So when I called her, my poor little mommy actually got weepy. And I can understand it... she's retired, she got no one but my monosyllabic-grunt-as-conversation dad for company, and she can only potter about in the garden so long, you know. She needs the vicarious thrills that a manipulative hot murderer can give.
God knows I do.
And therein lies my errand goal for the day.... go out and get my mom all the seasons of "Oz" that are available on DVD. Because her birthday is on Saturday, and what's a birthday without a little tattoo'd criminal tushie?

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Put Da Lime In Da Coconut And Call Me In Da Morning

10 Signs You've Joined a Cheap HMO:

1. Annual breast exam conducted at Hooters.

2. Directions to your doctor's office include, "take a left when you enter the trailer park."

3. Tongue depressors taste faintly of Fudgesicles.

4. Only proctologist in the plan is "Gus" from Roto-Rooter.

5. Only item listed under Preventive Care coverage is "an apple a day."

6. Your "primary care physician" is wearing the pants you gave to Goodwill last month.

7. Patient responsible for "200% of out-of-network charges" is not a typo.

8. The only expense covered 100% is embalming.

9. With your last HMO, your Prozac didn't come in different colors with little "m"s on them.

10. You ask for Viagra and get a popsicle stick and duct tape.

(From Tonya, who sent me the coolest card ever.)

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Tommy, Can You See Me?

I think it's time for my every ten years whether I need it or not annual eye exam.
I just spent ten minutes out in the parking lot cooing and talking baby talk to a very shy, very still kitten who turned out to be a wet spot on the apartment stairs.
And yes, for those of you with keen survival instincts, they let me drive.

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June 02, 2004

Please Send Lube

I am the Atacama Desert!
Which Extremity of the World Are You?
From the towering colossi at Rum and Monkey.

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Deadwoodian Influences

From what I can hear, the woman downstairs is bludgeoning her vacuum cleaner to death with a chainsaw while trying to force it into a running dishwasher.
I think it's a full-on case of Rampantly Rabid Spring Cleaning.... mainly because I heard her shriek at her Tart-in-Training teenage daughter "Laurel, so help me god, if you don't take the trash out right now I'm going to feed you to Wu's pigs!"
Yes, it's that good.

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June 01, 2004

The Fairy Floss Floozie Fails To Fulfill

"dire-rear
the mad poops
the skitters
the Hershey squirts
spontaneous high colonic
diarrhea
got it?"
Yes, I am on the mend and progressing toward a goop-free sinusy lifestyle, thanks to modern medicine and lying about like a discarded sock plenty of rest. Since one of the side effects of the current antibiotic is dire-rear (say it fast, it sounds just like what causes it), I had the most recent doc write me a Note For Work, more accurately a note to not have to go to work until Day X.
Now, ever since I got the plague was taken ill, I have been entirely By The Book as far as work is concerned. I called in sick every morning within the appropriate time window to the correct office. I turned in the appropriate notes and the appropriate forms to continue to be ill. I have been textbook appropriate.
And, appropriately enough, the department manager has called me every morning to tell me what time to be at work that day.

DM: "Um.... you know you're scheduled to work the fairy floss cart today at 10 AM, right? You'll be there, right?"
Me: "DM, I told you this yesterday, and the day before.... I filled out the forms and stuff, my return-to-work date is the 5th."
DM: "The what? The 5th? The 5th of what? What?"
Me: "Check the paperwork, it's all there. She made six copies. They can't all be lost."
DM: "Oh... here it is. The 5th? Are you sure? This shows a rather disrespectful attitude, to be absent so long, you know...."
Me: "DM, the medication gives me diarrhea."
DM: "Um.... what?"
Me: "It gives me diarrhea. The mad poops. The skitters. The Hershey squirts. Spontaneous high colonic. Diarrhea."
DM: "Ummmmm.... oh, and this should keep you from working your shift?"
Me: "I'd think it would be more of a disrespectful attitude to be unable to control my bodily functions in front of the tourists, don't you?"
DM: "Um.... what?"
Me: "See you on the 5th, DM."

PS... he called me again this morning. We had almost exactly the same conversation.... again.
I can't wait for tomorrow. I'm going to take the phone into the bathroom with me and give him a play-by-play.

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Come Hell Or High... Too Late

Scooterdeb left the bathtub running again and this is just the sort of thing that happens.

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Let the Games Begin!

Survivor Blogosphere has announced the six victims players who will be giving their sanity all to challenge themselves, to entertain us, and most importantly, to win.
I'll be checking it out on a steady basis mainly to see who's gonna get naked for peanut butter.
I'm all about culture and stuff.

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If Only

I'm great. Like gold.
Which Office Moron Are You?
Rum and Monkey: jamming your photocopier one tray at a time.

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May 31, 2004

Fiddle-fartin' Around, As My Papaw Used To Say

Everyone in the blogworld
has by now
diddled about
with pullquotes
and as usual
I'm a day late
and several IQ points short.
But still, doesn't it look so very... I dunno, peppy? If only this were actual content and not just stuff I'm typing so as to see what this looks like. Perhaps an amusing anecdote could be inserted here, or a pithy quote, or a witty saying.
Perhaps naked pictures of Bea Arthur.
Hmm, perhaps not.


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Fashionista

Click here to take the M*A*S*H quiz!

(found in the jeep I swiped at Blather Review)

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Memorial Day From My Perspective

Over the years of my marriage to the GM1, I've taken a bit of flak from those in my family who are lifelong civilians.

(Backstory: The GM1 entered the military at age 18, this having been his goal from childhood. Now, after 20-plus years, the GM1 is leaving on the final deployment of his career. He's going to the Persian Gulf, and other ports to and from, and his mission is as always- to serve his country, to maintain honor, and to protect the citizens of the United States of America.)

And yet there are those who delight in giving me shit about it. Please note, however, that they are not demented enough to give the GM1 shit.
Examples:
Cousin A: "So you keep saying he's been gone on deployments and assignments that add up to being away from home for about 1/3 of your marriage. So what? Travelling salemen are gone all the time!"
My answer: "Yes, but he's been gone protecting YOU. "
Aunt B: "Okay, he gets hurt from time to time at work, injuries that might aggravate him for years afterward. So what? Carpenters bang their thumbs all the time!"
My answer: "Yes, but he was hurt protecting YOU."
Uncle C: "He gets calls in the middle of the night about problems at work. He gets called in on his days off. He gives up his free time to help his shipmates. So what? Plumbers get midnight phone calls all the time!"
My answer: "Yes, but he gets calls and helps out to protect YOU."
Cousin D: "He makes less than most secretaries. He owns very little material wealth. Poor people scrape by all the time!"
My answer: "Yes, but he makes substandard wages for constant overtime work so he can protect YOU."

They don't get it. The GM1 has served his country for all of his adult life. He's given up personal goals and altered idealistic plans and devoted his life to protecting our country, our citizens, and our way of life. He's the biggest, brightest star on the flag- the man who didn't just talk about it.
He did it.

Memorial Day is the day we commonly remember and celebrate the lives given in service to our principles of freedom, democracy, and equality. Let's also remember and honor the lives given for this by those who are still with us.
There are millions and millions out there just like the GM1.
Let's remember all of them too.

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This Worries Me

I admit it, okay, it wasn't sinuses at all. I was having some "quality" time in the "special" jacket.

Take the quiz: "Your Psych-Ward diagnosis"

Anxiety Disorder
Diagnosis: General Anxiety Disorder. Excessive anxiety or worry occurring more days than not over a significant period of time. These worries can be associated with a number of events or activities. In addition, the individual finds it difficult to control the worry. Can be marked by physical signs of tension, hyperactivity, and lack of ability to respond in a positive or productive manner to problems or difficulties as they arise.
(the voices in my head told me to find this at Emma's super place.)

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May 30, 2004

An Emaily Explanation

Dear Goddess,
I am sneak-emailing. Don't tell the GM1, cos I'm not supposed to be up, let alone mucking about on the computer.
I think you gave me your sinus thingy. The doctors pulled it out of your dainty schnozz and using stealth alien abduction technology, implanted it in my head and made me dream I was having probe sex with an alien who looked a lot like Colin Farrell. Or the Farrelly brothers. I get confused.
Point is, I've been laid low (was that a pun? Must check rules...) by a "serious" sinus infection. My doc likes to say "serious" a lot, in case I think she means "comedic" sinus infection.
It probably does not help that I had a sinus headache for three weeks before it blossomed into screaming adulthood, so I guess I can be booked for negligence.
In any case, when my right maxilliary sinus exploded, it kicked off a migraine chain. Kind of like a daisy chain without all that gang-bangy goodness. But the meds I was on for the sinus disaster precluded the migraine meds. Ergo, I spent three days pogo-ing between "please, for the love of god, shoot me" to "give me the fucking gun, I'll do it myself."
I was, at one point, awake for 29 hours as the pain just wanted me to stay up and listen to bad late night television. At hour 27, the hallucinations kicked in and I was sure Suzanne Somers was at my thighs begging me to be the master. Or something like that.
At hour 29, the GM1 got a bit miffed that no one at the doctor's office had returned my calls and he proceeded to storm the Bastille. He called them three times then stomped down there in person to get answers as to What Can Be Done Until These Stupid So Far Non-Effective Antibiotics Kick In?
Finally they told him to have me take the Tylenol 3 they'd given me (so far useless in the fight against crime) two at a time instead of one. Now, before you write me off as all tits and no brain, let me assure you I'd thought of this many many times but had been lectured "seriously" on the dangers of doing such a thing. So I didn't.
I am such a good patient. Might die of the goodness, but I'm good nonetheless.
In the meanstwhile, during the worst of it, my eye swelled shut and my ear went dead and my jaw refused to let me talk or eat. It was just before the migraine grabbed me by the balls for a second attack that I had the GM1 post the notice, as I suspected I would be outta commission for a bit and didn't want a "she's run off to SF to do drugs with Courtney" scandal on the blog.
Cos I know that's what you all think when I don't post.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the T3 times two did the trick and I fell asleep like a great huge falling asleep thing. I slept for almost 14 hours, got up to look at dinner and retch, and slept again.
The GM1 tippy-toed off to work this morning, with strict instructions regarding my behaviour, including "no drinky, no dancey, no bloggy". Apparently my one-eyed squinting at the monitor (and it would be my one good eye that goes astray, leaving the 20/150 one to carry the load) disturbs him, as does the subsequent gagging that follows once the nausea kicks in.
I am just one fucking barrel of fun lately.
So that's where I's been, missy and keep it on the QT, because the GM1 reads your blog and I don't need a spanking on top of everything else. I prefer to save that for when I can savor it.
And as I check this over for spelling flaws, ever perfectionist even on my deathbed, I realize it might make a sufficient post to explain Where The Hell I've been.
Forgive me if I pimp out our correspondence for my blog. :)
Yours in snot-hood,
LeeAnn

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Only Mostly Dead

Put away those mourning rags and dust off the happy feet.... The Cheesemistress is back, evicted from the sickbed by her own ennui and resurrected as the New, Improved, 50% Less Bacterical Secretions Cheesemistress!
Okay, only the 50% less thing is actually true. Nope, there is no truth in advertising, Virginia.
I will be trying to catch up and resume my bloggy duties, particularly since I am on house arrest for almost another week. I bet the tourists are crying for their fairy floss even as we speak. Weep, tourists, weep, for the fairy floss floozie is fled the fair!
Yes, alliterative abuse is a side effect of the meds.
To all those who left me kind and thoughtful get-well comments, I gotta say I was pleasantly shocked that so many of you miss me and it was wonderful to read. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
Like the GM1 says, "Laugh and the world laughs with you. Snot up a lung and it's a comment bonanza."
I loves ya all like you were my very own.

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May 25, 2004

Message

This is the GM1. LeeAnn is ill and won't be able to blog for a while. She asked me to tell you all this so you will not think she has quit and not said goodbye.
Thank you.
GM1

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Random Deadwood Wisdom

Sol Star: "Comin' out with your fly down might strike the wrong note."
"Deadwood"
Purty Is As Purty Does