ampersand · after · ampersand

Here are some things I've been doing for the past few months: working six days a week, taking ibuprofen, sulking, baking, reading, petting cats, alienating my friends and acquaintances, and developing some truly awesome collarbones.

Today, though, I've mostly just been puking and napping on the couch. I'm better now, though. Mostly.

And now, a recipe for cupcakes! ( Read more... )

My bathroom smells like sausage and maple syrup. How confusing!

If there's one thing that having a double ear infection has taught me -- other than, say, how to know when I should go to the doctor right away because now I finally know what an ear infection feels like -- it's that I would definitely rather go blind than deaf. Even the perilous adventure of walking around without my glasses is much less freaky and isolating than going around with the relatively little hearing loss I have now that I'm almost all the way recovered.

This is all a long way of saying hey, middle ear, all is forgiven! Plz to be draining yourself because I miss my midrange very much. Love, Mandy.

Good: I don't have the flu "flu-like virus" anymore. Also, no more pinkeye, which ended up being just a really gross side effect.
Bad: I'm still hanging on to the double ear infection, sinus infection, and bronchitis I got as secondary infections. Hack, choke, wheeze.
Worst ever: I'm on heavy antibiotics, so I can't even have a beer to distract me from The Phlegm Situation and my subsequent week-long deaf streak.
At least: I'm not contagious, and I have codeine cough syrup to keep me company. My doctor (actually, my regular GP's husband) hooked me up but good. He also totally understood when I told him ( about my really gross X-Files moment ).

I had really great plans for reconnecting with people and starting off 2006 on the right foot, but the past couple weeks have been miserable. It's impossible to feel less isolated when you can't even participate in a conversation because the ringing in your ears is so loud. Maybe I'll be able to get it all out of the way at once, and then I'll be happy and social and able to not alienate my friends and acquaintances for the rest of the year. (Next year, though? I have decided to become a hermit and not talk to or see anyone. NOT EVEN YOU.)

Not only do I still have the flu (this is day 10, if you're counting, and I know you are), but I rang in the new year by not being able to open my eyes, because GUESS WHAT? I now have PINKEYE. PINKEYE. AND THE FLU.

I'm a fountain of mucus in the shape of a girl. Like Björk, but not dainty and elfin. I think I can offically mark down 2006 as the year I gave up on my lifelong expectation of growing up to be at all dainty or elfin. Alas, I shall have to settle for being knobby and awkward at best.

What's that? You're saying I actually have the flu and not just a bad cold? And you let me go to work this way? That's it, self. You're off the tour.

This is the third day in a row I've awakened with no voice whatsoever. Self, this is totally unacceptable.

So I get this brand-new LJ in order to get over my fear of not having anything to add to the conversation, and here I am, afraid I have nothing to add to the conversation. Ha ha, I lose.

Also why I lose: I went to make muffins tonight and discovered that my muffin tin had rusted through. Seriously. How does that happen in a month?

PS. If you want a Holiday Of Your Choice card from me, comment here with your address and chosen holiday. Don't worry, they're screened so I'll be the only one who can see it.

PPS. In lieu of cards, please send me chemical hand-warming packets or Swedish Chef car fresheners. Or, you know, just cards?

So, uh. Hi.
I moved to a new apartment that's kind of awesome but slightly more expensive, which means more than it normally would because right around the time we moved in my car blew up. Now I have a deposit down on another car, which is also kind of awesome but understandably expensive. Now, to stop feeling like I'm constantly about to barf from sheer nerves.

(I'm going to have a housewarming party soon, I think. You're all invited, of course. Do you think I could get people to bring food and laundry money? That would be helpful.
Or, like, alcohol. Sweet booze! You solve everything!)

In conclusion, ARGHFSDGJTJGFSWSRHHH.

Dear everyone: I am moving! Two whole blocks, yes, but it still necessitates putting everything I own into boxes and then getting them up three floors. I donated a bunch of books to Goodwill and now I'm really cranky about it. They were crappy books, most of them obtained from various thrift stores in the first place, but they were mine.

I have some stuff that I don't want to move, but I don't want to throw out. Chief among them is a ton of musical theatre bootlegs and some related ephemera -- a few magazines, Playbills, videotapes, what have you. I really, really want them to have a good home, by which I mean "not a dumpster". I know I have some theatre nerds here. You probably won't want it, but can you point me in the direction of some people who would? ( Likewise... )

If my past medical history is anything to go by, someday I will get some dread disease and I'll be prescribed a handful of Motrin and three vanilla-flavored Tylenol PM every hour on the hour, and my doctors will be incredibly confused when it doesn't cure me.

This is the sort of week which starts with you in your pajamas at the police department and only gets more dreamlike from there. Well, normal dreams for me, and what I can only guess are fever dreams for the rest of the world. Except, you know, the whole awake thing. Hi!

Also, my horoscope tells me I'll be cranky and pick fights with people for the next five months. Well, doy.

My new wrist brace is very comfortable, but makes it nearly impossible to write. Oh, look, I made a metaphor!

I've had the most distressingly suburban weekend, full of wedding and bad beer and football. I have a headache. Too much sun, probably. Hrmph.

Because I've been doing all the things I'm supposed to do for the past week, I can now frivolously complain about being left in the house alone for the holiday. Uh, what do I do with myself? I haven't even bothered to eat yet or anything, so, uh, there's that.

Today was a wonderful day to get my arm mangled. Okay, fine, I've had blood taken before, no big deal, right? Except the girl poking me today does the worst needle job ever, and you know how when someone gets hurt on The Family Guy and the scene kind of lingers on the character for a while while they alternately hiss and moan? Like that. ssssss OWWWWW.

I had better get an awesome diagnosis out of this.

a.) I can barely walk. This is my punishment for having fun two nights ago; alternatively, my punishment for being hopelessly uncool and spending a Saturday night in Hartford.

b.) My hamsters are the cutest hamsters ever. I will fight anyone who says otherwise.

Cost for today's day at Six Flags + food + goodie bag feat. giant Tweety Bird: $6.54. Twenty-five cents for a locker to put my stuff in while I rode a rollercoaster, and $6.29 for a stuffed octopus.

Then I spent $12 on Sparks Light and breath mints. I have to go dancin' tonight!

More unpopular opinions:

1. The new Death Cab is kind of great and the new Nada Surf is fucking terrible. Seriously, I want to know who told Matthew Caws that any of those lyrics were a good idea.

2. I don't care how nice or well-meaning you are. If you keep interrupting me, that is not okay. You are not a good person. Stop belittling me.

Hey, want to hear a funny story? Okay, so a week or so ago, I went to get an oil change. However, instead of changing my oil, the attendants lecture me about how I obviously have a MASSIVE OIL LEAK -- yes, in all caps. They tell me that they will not change the oil for me, as it will only make my problem worse. They scold me for having the temerity to drive my eleven-year-old Toyota to work and back every day, since it is obviously the place where 10W-30 goes to die, even though I've never smelled any oil or seen any suspicious puddles under my car. They tell me to get it fixed, and to make sure they don't try to scam me, a girl like you, it's easy to get ripped off.

Today, D. went to get my oil changed while I was at work. They tell him that the oil pan is seeping a little, but Toyotas do that after a while, and it's good that you got it in when you did, you know the oil's black.

And then my boss's boss tweaked my nose. The end.