Tasty

Antipasto salad with smoked buffalo mozzarella, spinach, roast peppers, artichoke heart, and prosciutto with white truffle oil and Roast Duck Tacos with Red Cabbage Remoulade Sauce, and of course Cantillion Raspberry Lambic.

Tonight BF and I celebrated all the good things that are happening.

I’m on a food high.

I hope I’m able to roll my over-filled belly out of bed tomorrow morning for my first full day at work.

Perhaps a Tagmet?

The Urine Test

As part of the application process for my new job, I was required to go for a pre-employment drug screening. It’s kind of intrusive and in principle, I disapprove, but when it comes down to it, I just go ahead and do it with out voicing complaint.

So, yesterday, after the offer was made, I figured I would just go directly over to the occupational medicine clinic and get it over with. I kind of had to pee and since it was so close, what the heck. No appointment necessary! How convenient.

Well, for starters, I (of course) had to wait about 45 minutes before being called, so by the time my name was called, my bladder was about to burst.

Then, there was the ambiance in the waiting room. My, my, what an assortment of characters! I found myself sitting amongst a group of truckers and laborers who were there for various reasons. Imagine 6 or so, Beavis and Butthead clones in their 30’s.

Worker 1: Man, I think I got a fuckin’ hernia, or somethin’. It feels like one-na my nuts exploded.

Worker 2: He,he,he. When I hadda’ hernia, it felt like I had three nuts. He,he,he.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Worker 3: Piss tests are stupid, man.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Etc.

I considered changing seats, but looked about the room at my alternatives. There was a middle-aged, overweight salesman-looking type, who’s collar was too tight and was red in the face and kind of breathing a little too heavily. I didn’t want to sit too close to that one. I might have to give him CPR. No thanks!

Then there was a 20-something woman, her toddler and her friend, who obviously failed a previous drug screening and was angry about having to do it again. This was all abundantly clear from her confrontation with the receptionist upon her arrival. No, I thought. I was better off with the hernia gang and chose to stay put. I’m not a precious little Bay Area snow flake who’s never heard the F*-word before.

Then, my name was called. Things went from bad to worse instantly. Some surly, nurse’s assistant handed me the cup and told me to fill it to the designated line and pointed to the room. The room was filthy! The dirty toilet seat was up and there was mud and urine all over the floor. Aaagh! I ended up peeing in my pumps, on my skirt and on the floor, and quite frankly I don’t give a damn! I wasn’t getting one inch closer to that toilet. I handed the woman the dripping container and went home and cleaned up thoroughly.

My point is NOT to make fun of blue collar East Coasters, but simply to air my grievances about this particular occupational medicine facility.

Disgusting.

What Makes You Sick

I just had to post this in response to Leila's Where do Germs Go? post.

I'm SOMEBODY now!

I have my own cubicle! Yes indeed I do! And it’s a beautiful cubicle at that. I got a job! It’s an administrative/clerical position with only a very, distant connection to what I used to do…but it’s a real, honest-to-goodness, full-time job with a well-know retail outfit (where I can no longer afford to shop, BTW).

Hourly pay and benefits (health after 60 days) sound so good right now, I can hardly begin to express. I’ve been hemorrhaging $$ for the last 6 months! It will be nice to have a little bit coming in. Also, hopefully, it will get my mind off myself for part of the day at least and hopefully help get me out of my lethargic, unemployed stupor.

I’m actually kind of happy about the hourly pay thing. I get to come in at 8am and go home at 5pm! Otherwise, I’ll be paid…gulp…overtime! This was unheard of as a salaried worker in the nonprofit sector. You were EXPECTED to work all kind of crazy, ungodly hours and when came in an hour late in the morning because you at a meeting until 10pm the night before, everybody would give you the hairy eyeball.

I don’t know if this will be a forever thing for me. I just know that right now it seems like a really good fit. I might actually be able to continue blogging! Woo! Hoo! Dare to aspire!

We have two bottles of champagne in the cellar that we brought from CA. One of them is going to get opened tonight. The other is saved for the day BF finds full-time employment (consulting doesn’t count!).

Lust for Life

God Bless Iggy Pop! Stage diving at 60!

Defying the odds and risk factors. Just think risk factors and Iggy Pop. Imagine the possibilities. This is someone who is indeed “lucky to be alive.” Iggy’s certainly got a lust for life.

When I read this article in the morning, my first thought was “Oh, too bad I wasn’t back in the Bay Area. I could have seen Iggy Pop at the Warfield!”

Then after consideration, I realized, I would NEVER go see Iggy Pop at the Warfield!

This man has been known to SPIT on audience members.

I am way too much of a pussy to go see Iggy Pop. I admit I am just NOT that cool. Frankly, I was NEVER that cool. Oz Fest? No problem! I know how to stay out of the mosh pit…but NOT Iggy Pop! I can probably imagine many of the unwholesome things that have paid a visit to Iggy Pop’s mouth, and can definitively say that I wouldn’t want the guy spitting on me.

Stage diving at 60 is indeed inspirational, though!

I thought celebrating my 40th birthday in Vegas and seeing Blue Man Group was just the cat’s ass. I guess I am really an old fart.

Anyway…It blows me away that “Lust for Life” has become the anthem for family-friendly cruises.

Happy Birthday Iggy!

The Heck With Green Tea

Study finds Fruity Cocktails Count as Health Food.

Who would have ever guessed that adding rum, vodka, tequila and other spirits boosts the antioxidant nutrients in strawberries and blackberries.

A Good Evening

Oh what a beautiful day! It was up around 70 degrees F. today. I went around and picked up all the branches that were broken during last Sunday’s heavy, wet snowstorm. A lot of branches broke.

Finally, the bulbs are budding! It’s really fun this Spring, because I have no idea what was planted out there and each new green thing is a surprise. It looks like mostly pink and purple hyacinths, and chives. We have wonderful, fresh chives popping up all over the place.

This evening after dinner I went out and really hacked back on the dead wisteria that is covering an arbor that once held a grape vine. I got about 1/3 of it clipped back. This was really fun since the evening was so lovely. The sky was deep blue, blue, blue and the new moon and Venus were plainly in view as I cut. I could hear the sound of a train off in the distance and the air smelled fecund. It’s moments like that, that make my insides go all warm and squishy and make it seem all worth it.

Specially For Women

A very wise friend pointed out to me years ago, that products marketed “Specially For Women,” generally suck (with the exception of products intended only for women, i.e.: tampons).

When you see the words “specially for women,” you might as well just substitute “lower quality, comes in pink.”

I am reminded of this today, after drinking a can of Sin-A-Man, Rip It Chic Energy Fuel. Yes, I do make impulse purchases on occasion. I think what hit my consumer nerve in this case, was the special foil cover designed to prevent dust, germs and bacteria from contacting the can's lid. I was fooled. This stuff tastes like ass and I swear it’s putting me to sleep.

I can barely keep my eyes open. Will I succumb to the power of the nap?

Richard McBeef

I’m very horrified and embarrassed to admit that I’m fascinated by the unfolding drama about the Virginia Tech Massacre. As a public service to anyone else with morbid curiosity:

The Smoking Gun already has one of Cho Seung-Hui’s plays posted. Its entitled “Richard McBeef.” It reads like the sort of thing high school students write to shock, disgust and amuse one another. In hindsight, it seems like a telltale sign of the impending violence to come, but on it’s own, doesn’t seem so horrifying.

Back when I was in high school, we read Edward Albee for the first time during our junior year. My nerd friends and I were so impressed we all began enthusiastically writing our own absurd plays. A pal of mine wrote one and dedicated to me (and the bus we rode to school on). I know I still have it around here somewhere. It read like Edward Albee meets “Psycho” meets “Pink Flamingos.” My pal is now a well-respected 43 year-old who teaches philosophy at a university in New England. Go figure.

I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to sort it out and make policy.

With Sympathy

My heart goes out to the families of those who were killed today at Virginia Tech.

Mc Nugget Hell

Just shoot me! I’m old enough to know better, but last night around midnight, I ate 20 Chicken McNuggets with some unknown quantity of ranch dressing. My excuse? I was toasted on white wine and was very hungry. I am shocked, disgusted and more than a little amazed by my own gluttony.

I was apparently burping in my sleep last night, because at some point, BF brought in a bucket. I wish I had the good sense to use it….but, N-OO. I woke up this morning at around 7:30, a whiff of McNugget still on my breath, suffering from one of the worst cases of heartburn I’ve had in a long time.

The interesting thing though, is that the epicenter of the pain was located in precisely the spot where I experience my burning mouth symptoms. My two new most likely (less fatal) diagnoses are acid reflux or burning mouth syndrome.

Mc Nuggets, BAD. Tagamet, GOOD.

Hunter S. Thompson Was Right!

...at least about the bats.



My recent experience with two new doctors has convinced me that there really is a stigma attached to being a hypochondriac. As someone with a “sincere” mental health or physical health concern, I’ve generally gotten more or less, fair treatment by the doctors I’ve seen. On the other hand, when I’ve disclosed that I am a hypochondriac, I’ve been dismissed and treated condescendingly. Yes, I mean this with regard to psychiatrists too!

Up until this last shrink, I was never comfortable enough to say, “I’m a hypochondriac.” I talked about my anxiety and obsessive/compulsive disorder and even occasional panic, but never, EVER used the “H” word. I figured that if they were worth the weight of their medical license, the psychiatrists would figure it out for themselves.

Hunter S. Thompson put it beautifully in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, “No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.” Hunter S. Thompson was right about the bats and I think I’m equally right about not mentioning the “H” word.

Yesterday, before I saw my doctor, I practiced telling her about my symptoms and my past history, biopsy and all, without making it sound like I was a hypochondriac. “Yes, the burning in my mouth and sensation that something is there, has been going on for at least two years now. My last doctor told me to take this ($72) Nasarel, but it’s not doing anything. What do you recommend.” I waited until my hands stopped shaking enough that I could actually drive myself to the appointment and delivered my speech. Fine. I feel like I was given a fair shake. In the past, I have made the mistake of mentioning to otolargyngologists that I was perhaps a little too concerned with the sensations. MISTAKE! After that they were worse than useless.

I haven’t made my mind up yet, but if I do end up switching psychiatrists, I’m going back to NOT mentioning hypochondria. This last one sort of curled her lip back when I said the word and questioned me a little too enthusiastically about why I had difficulty being reassured after a doctors visit.

I should have asked “Are you a ‘real’ psychatrist?”

The Other White Meat

Since Mom’s bout with the stomach flu (I still need to report this on http://whoissick.org), my mission has been to cook rich, tasty, not overly spicy, high-calorie things to encourage her to eat. I think tonight’s creation was a success. I haven’t even TRIED to figure out the nutritional information on this yet. Suffice to say, it’s PLENTY nutritious.

CROCK POT PORK CHOPS

4 pork chops (center cut)
¼ cup olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Creole Seasoning
¼ cup white wine
1 box pork Stove Top stuffing
1 can garlic mushroom soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
6 large mushrooms sliced (Crimini or Portabella)

Prepare stuffing as directed on box.

Mix the 2 cans of soup together with 1 can of water. This is best done in a saucepan over low heat in order to get the condensed soup to melt and blend properly (get the lumps out).

Season pork chops to taste with salt, pepper and Creole seasoning. (I add a little Creole seasoning, too). Brown pork chops in olive oil.

Deglaze pan with ¼ cup white wine add back any oil that dripped from pork chops. Add chopped onion and mushrooms. Cook until onions begin to caramelize.

Pour some soup mixture in the bottom of your crock-pot. Place a few spoonfuls of stuffing on top of soup mixture. Then place 2 pork chops on top of stuffing. Add some onions and then pour some soup mixture over the pork chops. Continue, until all ingredients are used.

Turn crock-pot on low and cook 5 to 6 hours.
Serve with vegetables. Steamed, French-cut green beans went well.

I'm OK, You're OK?

Today I had my appointment with my new Otolaryngologist.

I just wanted to let everyone know that I got a clean bill of health. I like this doctor a lot. She’s a straight shooter and gave me a thorough examination.

I’ll no doubt have more to say later, but tonight I’m just feeling exhausted from the emotional roller-coaster ride of visiting a new doctor for the first time about this ongoing “problem.”

I’m going to grab another glass of wine and stare into space a while before I turn in.

Haha! Leila, you once asked if the schnauzer liked beer. I don’t know about beer, but he seems to really appreciate a nice, German white. (just had a little spill here in the kitchen…no need to wipe up.)

Happy Easter!

Join Sanitation Crusade!

Donate Now

America's advocate for the availability of clean, safe, well-designed public restrooms needs your help.

AMERICAN RESTROOM ASSOCIATION

Donations are tax-exempt and what a great mission. I support clean, safe, well-designed public restrooms!

“The 2007 World Toilet Summit” in India, sounds fascinating. I would attend this conference. “Documenting the problems faced by people who hesitate to travel or who avoid activities that put them out of range of proper toilet facilities” is an important topic - perhaps even more meaningful to me than many of the sessions my professional association's annual conference holds.

The trip also includes a visit to the Sulabh International Museum of Toilets and the Taj Mahal. Wow!

In the words of Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak, founder of Sulabh International Social Service Organization “Join sanitation crusade.”

$72 Nose Spray

As of April 1st, I began recording all my daily expenses in an Excel spreadsheet.
I felt that I needed to do this to really see where I was wasting money.
Even though I haven't had an income since September, I'm still not very good at denying myself many of the luxuries that seemed like nothing in California.

This idea occurred to me, week before last, when I managed to say "NO" to a pair of $79 red, Ann Taylor shoes. A mere six months ago, I would have asked "Do they also come in black?"

Three days of this process passed surprise-free.

Today, however, I paid a visit to the pharmacy and got the shock of my life!

The allergy, nose spray that I was prescribed and had been getting with my $5 Kaiser co-payment, REALLY costs $72.99 a bottle!

It dawned on me (embarrassingly not for the first time) that this nose spray doesn't even do any good. It's a useless nose spray that I've just been taking out of habit. This is the LAST bottle of Nasarel for me, baby! I can't believe I paid the $70! I'm an idiot...

but not as big an idiot as Keith Richards.

Today's news story had me literally, laughing out loud. Imagine how OUT OF CONTROL you've got to be, in order to have your publicist issue an official statement DENYING that you snorted your father's ashes.

You just can't make this stuff up!

Peeper Problems

or..."Please Not the Bowels Redeux"

Leila V’s post about twitches in the eye reminded me of a terrible hypochondria episode that immediately, preceded my separation from my ex-husband.

One fine, spring morning, about 10 years ago, I woke up with a urinary tract infection. I knew (even then) that this was a common problem. I visited the doctor and got the necessary medication.

Unfortunately I couldn’t stop dwelling the symptoms and sensations down there. Well, after the infection seemed to have cleared up, I continued to experience twitching (sometimes painful) in my urethra.

VD! I was CERTAIN I had contracted VD somewhere, somehow…from using a public toilet perhaps.

After the obligatory, slew of tests (some rather unpleasant) and weeks of anxiety, I was informed that I was experiencing stress related muscle spasms in the urethra.

This is the kind of thing that you just don’t read about on the Internet. Even now, a quick search brings up everything else under the sun.

The distressing symptoms disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared.

I was cured.