I had a lot to do at work today having just come off a four day weekend. Find my new desk and unpack all my shit. Sort through an enormously high amount of accumulated voice mail and email. Oh, good lord was there a lot of email to get through. Not to mention the snail mail. Two extra days worth. Oh the joy.

But it was okay. I was ready to go. Four days of doing nothing but eating to my gluttonous extent proved worthy to its relaxing reputation. I can go back to work, I thought. I'm rejuvenate and ready to go.

But I was wrong. My car had other plans for me. She thought breaking down would be a fun thing to do. She thought it might bring a smile my face, a chuckle to my morning glory. Oh, that prankster. A riot full of laughs.

The bitch. Cars are evil and I told her so.






<--- The devil herself









A MUCH too expensive cab ride later I show up to work only a half our late. Two hours later the car is being towed to the Service Center for its check-up and I anxiously await a word we all know as "expense." Not surprisingly, there is no news until nearly 5pm, and then there is all the news I can handle. Blah blah blah...something about a battery and corrosion and not correctly fitting...blah blah blah...$115.00 for parts, service and labor. $115.00! I don't know whether laugh or cry. It could have been A LOT worse...but then it didn't have to happen at all.

As of now the car is back in parking spot #56 and I can still afford to eat. So you be the judge.

"Feed me, Seymour / Feed me all night long - That's right, boy! - Go to it, Feed me Seymour /Feed me all night long / Cause if you feed me, Seymour / I can grow up big and strong."

I woke up this morning to the sound of my stomach growling.

And now I have the song from Little Shop of Horrors stuck in my head. How the hell does that happen? The noises of my stomach compared to an evil blood sucking plant.

I guess, A leads to B leads to See what kind of amusing thought process I have.

Maybe I've just watched way to many movies. Hell, I don't even like A Little Shop of Horrors. I have this very distinct memory of my mom watching it on the telly when I was a kid. It completely frightened me. I was horrified. First off, I had no idea what the hell was going on. There's singing. A dorky man. A woman with an awful voice...and a vampire Venus Fly Trap. What the hell?

I remember standing in front of the TV and being unable to turn my head away. I couldn't comprehend what was going on. It was the weirdest thing I had ever seen and it freaked me out.

It was decided right then and there that I would hate this movie forever.

So, sorry Seymour I will not feed you. And I wish you and your silly songs would stay out of my head forever.

In the HOLY SHIT news of the day:

"Duane Dog Chapman, star of the A&E reality series "Dog the Bounty Hunter," and two members of his bounty hunting team (including his son) were arrested by U.S. officials today for extradition to Mexico..."

"...In 2003, Chapman traveled to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to retrieve Max Factor cosmetics heir Andrew Luster, who was wanted in the U.S. on rape charges. Luster is now in jail, serving a 124-year term. The Chapmans were jailed in Mexico for a brief time for the incident three years ago. Bounty hunting is considered a crime in Mexico."

Evidently it is a crime to pick up shit-head rapists in Mexico. Although not exactly shocking. Do you have any idea how many girls get raped in TJ alone? It's a lot. Trust me. But I digress. They caught Dog! I'm stunned and outraged.

Those fucking bastards. How the hell did they manage this? I mean look at him. Look at him!





























His only real flaw is that he is a ridiculous born-again Christian. But I don't hold that against him. I really don't. His hysterical dedication to "changing" those who are on the wrong side of the law is just way to endearing.

That and he's scary. He could kick my ass from here to Tuesday. Hell his wife Beth could do the same. I'm nothing but an appetizer before the meal. A small snack to handle mid-morning hunger. Seriously. I'm not kidding around here. They are MASSIVE and I am tiny. Look at them!



















And god bless them for it.

Dog, you rule. Get out of Mexican jail man and kick their asses for arresting you for bring scum to justice.

Lots of different things going on to keep me a busy girl this week. Most of it, unfortunately, have to do with the boring day job. The entire third floor is moving. Just rearranging. We're being shuffled like cards. "Re-stacked" is what they call it. I call it an utter annoyance. If there was a point to it I would explain it to you...but there's not. So I can't. It just means I have find extra time in an already busy day to pack my entire desk. What makes it more fun is the fact that I'm not even going to be there on Moving Day. That's Friday. And I have Friday off. And to make things even more exciting I'm off on Monday as well. So while everybody else is setting up their new desks I'll still be fast asleep in bed. Ha Ha Ha...suckers. Oh wait. *wrinkles brow* Tuesday is going to suck.

I'm not too fussed though. I have a four day weekend ahead of me and I am quite looking forward to it. Time with my hubby where we can veg and watch DVD's and get really super drunk. I wouldn't give that up for all the messy-desk ramifications in the world.

I also have to turn in Status Reports for two upcoming File Reviews due on Friday. But, once again, I'm not there on Friday so I have to be done with them before then. AND I AM. Somewhere between packing and regular-duty work and two hour long meetings I accomplished my tasks ahead of schedule.

Damn, girl is awesome.

The File Reviews themselves scare the shit out of me. I totally blew the first one I ever had last month. I turn bright red just thinking about it. This time my boss says she will be on the phone with me to help walk me through it. Last time she was on vacation. I shudder at the thought of "last time." I was a newbie left out to dry. If next time is anything like last time there won't be a next time.

But I digress. All of this is really blah and boring. People don't grow up dreaming of being a Worker's Compensation Claims Adjuster.

And if you did then there is something wrong with you. So don't tell me because I'd punch you in the face.

The initial surprise will never really go away. The "holy shit" of it all. It's a somber and crazy day.

I can't stop munching today. I already gorged myself with one the of best fast-food burgers on earth for lunch. Why must I keep shoveling the food into my mouth, eh? A little snack here...a little snack there. All of which I am washing down with my new favorite diet soda. But waaa! When will this madness stop?!

Ah. I'm tipping the scales so that must mean the weekend has come to an end. It is the typical Battle of the Bulge I face every Sunday. A never-ending battle which is proving to be the story of my life. Me against the scale. And the scale wins almost every time. The dirty evil bastard.

Meh.

It always seems like I am battling something. I guess I just like a good fight. And the truth be told I'll fucking fight until I win. I'm a poor loser. I hate losing. I reject the idea totally. Take for example this battle with my lips. Three weeks today this fight began. But guess who's winning now? That's right motherfuckers...your girl genius here. The battle is not over yet, but I'm beginning to look a little something like my old self. Which between you and me isn't half bad. I'm hoping by this time next week things will be back to normal. In the meantime I still have to walk around looking like a creature from Night of the Living Dead.

Michael has just turned on Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, which if I am correct, has been on HBO for something like four straight months. So why am I laughing? Why is my head turning to watch the screen? You know the part of the movie when Bill and Ted are talking to themselves out side the Circle K? That was filmed at the Circle K right up the street from my house. I visited that very location many many times. I can remember when the trailers and lights and all that movie jazz was parked out front. No spotting of Reeves though. Not that I would have cared back then. His career was just beginning. But I digress. Must...refuse...to...watch. Oh dear another battle. This one I think I can win without too much of a hassle. I have extra-credit to do for my IEA class anyway so I must go and be productive. Until next time....






Told you so!

Do I care that Jon Stewart was rejected and replaced by Ellen Dengeneres to host the Oscars next year?

No. Not at all. I don't watch the Oscars. Therefore I do not care.

Of course it's a big mistake...Stewart rules. So make it up to him folks and sign this petition.

.......and no, do not fret my dear friends, it has absolutely nothing to do with the Oscars.




Or real life for that matter.

Well, so far it has been another uneventful week. Work pretty much sucks my energy dry and what ever little energy I do have left is spent worrying about my infected lips.

YES they are still horrific and horrible. Sorry for the alliteration but it's true. There are signs of improvement but having gone on for nearly three weeks I don't believe there should be any issues at all. Oh, but how wrong I am. How very wrong indeed.

I'm going into the office late today so I can take my hubby to a job interview. (Going into the office late?! Geez, when did I get old enough to say that type of sentence). It's odd being home when I should be at work. I get that feeling like I'm doing something bad. You know that feeling when you were sixteen and ditching school. You either lied to mom telling her you were deathly ill or left school at lunch and just went home. It's that kind of feeling. Like you pulled a fast one. You are silently laughing at those you suckered while at the same time you're always a bit weary that you're going to get caught. It's almost thrill-like.

But I'm not really playing hookie. I have to go to work . So there is no joy in this. Just an overwhelming sense of tiredness. Largely due to the drowsiness of the prescription drugs I'm taking for my lips. That. And knowing I still have a very full and long day of work in front of me.

It's exhausting just thinking about it.

Ah, Labor Day. A day celebrating the hard worker. The nine to five drone. The paper pusher and the customer service representative. Basically someone just like...me.

I took full advantage of my day off. I did absolutely nothing and it proved to be just as wonderful as I thought it would be. I've managed to eat every piece of junk food in the house. I would have gotten incredibly drunk if there was alcohol. Unfortunately, there wasn't and I was much too lazy to drive the mile and a half to the market to get some. So instead I napped and ended up watching something like six or seven hours of a CSI: Miami marathon on A&E.



WoooHooo! God damn I love this shit.











I did however not waste the entire day. Oh no, responsibility displayed its ugly little head about an hour ago when I quite suddenly remembered that I had an IEA test due today. This week's test was on Death Benefits and Vocational Rehabilitation (according to the Worker's Compensation law of California). Does that sound boring to you? Because it sure as hell sounds boring to me. Which is why I just couldn't bring myself to do the required reading. But don't despair. Your girl genius here still managed to get an A on the exam.

Just one of many reasons why I rule.

Oh. If you're wondering...my lips are still hurting, disgusting and turning me into a hermit. Thank you very much.

Things are not exactly as well off as I hoped they would be at this time. I've just peeled another layer of skin from my lips leaving them, once again, bright red, swollen and disgusting.

*big sigh*

When will this madness end? It's been so long since my lips were normal looking that I'm beginning to think of this look as "acceptable," and that's just wrong. Bright red peeling lips is a disgust to look at and I refuse to start accepting this as my permanent reflection. It's a horror.

I deserve to be locked in a dark underground dungeon where nobody can see me and I can't see anybody. God, how I dream of such a place for me to hide.

But enough talk of hopeful delusion. I must continue to drudge into the public eye....

I took my lil' sister out to lunch today. We went to Ruby's for hamburgers and shakes. I've never been there before and I can't say I'm inclined to ever go there again. Not to say that it was bad...because it wasn't. It's just that there isn't entirely anything special about it. Burgers, fries and shakes...all of which I had, enjoyed and was charged way to much for. But considering the company I was with it was completely and utterly worth it. My sister is a dream. Yes, I'm completely biased. But that doesn't mean I'm not right. She is awesome. Eleven years of wonderfulness wrapped up in her little body. Okay, so she's not so little anymore...shocking as that may be to me. I just can't help picturing this cute little toddler when I think of her. Just like I picture an annoying fourteen year old when I picture my now twenty-six year old brother. I wonder why I'm stuck in this memory that is close to ten years old. Now that I think about it, I wonder if that is why when I look in the mirror I still see my horrific acne-ridden sixteen year old face.

Hm...

That really is something to ponder.

Anyway, we went to a late lunch to eat and chat. She told me all about her new school, her friends and things of that nature. I found out she's been playing the violin for two years. Who knew...

Who knew my dad had surgery two days ago for skin cancer. Well, not me. Geez, thanks for telling me dad. Thanks for keeping me up to date on things of somewhat important nature. It's unbelievable how my dad can go out of his way to make me feel like anything but his daughter. In fact, it was somewhat staggering at his nonchalance toward the entire situation. He completely shrugged it off, saying "whoops." The truth of the matter is he barely said two sentence to me. "How's the car? How's Michael?" How's the job?" blah blah blah..."Don't be such a stranger, but now we have to go do some shopping. See ya kid." The end.

Yeah, I left feeling a little hurt and little bewildered and a little lost. Usually when I see my dad (even if I hadn't talked to him for a long time prior) I get shown a little sign of interest. But not this time. This time it was just really awkward and weird. I don't know whether to shrug it off or cry. My dad truly has NO idea how much I love him, how I used to idolize him and how no matter how much I try to deny it or pretend it's not there, how much I seek his approval. Some things never change and no matter what I do...or what I don't do...he's never going to acknowledge me. Half the time I get the impression he wishes I didn't even exist. Maybe it would best if I stopped living in denial and just accepted that fact. But that's hard to do. It's not an easy thing to accept the idea that your own father wishes you didn't exist. Think about that....

Not cool. And I haven't been able to do it yet and who knows if I ever will be able to.

*sigh*

But Jeannelle is awesome. I love her to pieces and I am so glad I made the effort to hang out with her today. I promised to call her on Tuesday to hear all about her first day of Middle School.

And now I must go. The Jeffersons marathon on TV Land beckons. Plus, I feel fat and bloated. Even though my lips have been more then unpleasant this weekend, I've somehow made up for those lost four pounds. In fact, according to the scale I've gained 5 since Friday. So there. Skinniness be gone. Meh. Whatever. Depression has a way to account for over eating. At least for the weekend anyway.

Which reminds me. I promised my baby some Carls Jr when I picked him up from work. So now I've really got to go.

Ugh! my lips, my lips, my lips are on fire.

Grrr.

This is getting so incredibly ridiculous you have NO idea.

I called the doctor again on Thursday and informed her that the lip cream (locoid lipocream) she prescribed me wasn't working. So she prescribed me some Hydroxyzine in pill form. It's basically a Rx only antihistamine used especially for allergies that effect the skin. (Not to mention it's use for anxiety issues. I think I scored here on more then one level). Anyway, the minute I took it, I felt relief. The pain and itching diminished considerably. And I have to admit, two days later after taking these pills, the redness has turned into a bright pink. And that folks...is improvement in my mind. However, the peeling hasn't stopped and it still hurts to move my lips. Yes, this makes smiling hard...not to mention eating. I've lost 4lbs in these last two weeks! Not that I'm complaining about that...but come on! This is getting to be re-god damn-diculous as my friend Luke Wilson says in Anchorman. And until these symptoms and "hard-ships" go away I don't think I can claim victory on this mess. At least I've confirmed a diagnosis. Allergies. Thank heaven for that. Not knowing what the hell is happening to me is scarier then the symptoms themselves. Although what the allergy is remains a mystery. I'm totally clueless in that regard.

I JUST WANT IT TO GO AWAY. Two fucking weeks now. Enough is enough.

Hopefully, though, if things continue to improve, my bloggingsphere will expand next week. I'll actually have something to talk about other then my impaired lips. Thank heaven for that, too. This topic is way over-played.

In other news...three day weekend. I plan to get drunk today. So, who knows, I may be back earlier then you think and write something deeply moving in a drunken endeavor.

Oh, the anticipation. How will you contain yourself, eh?