Spazholio's Niche

This is insane

Sat, 31 May 2008 21:06:39 GMT

Northern Michigan is just one huge dendrological bukkake scene. Sorta unnerving.

My first foray...

Thu, 08 May 2008 15:55:03 GMT

If you have a moment, please take a quick read. There's a 1000 character limit, so it'll be fast and (hopefully) painless.

Comments? Criticism?

Match it for Pratchett!

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 17:39:01 GMT

DISCLAIMER: this is not my idea, I got it from fastfwd's post here.

For those of you that may not know, Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's in December of 2007. He has recently donated half a million pounds (that's $1 million to us non-limeys) to Alzheimer's Research Trust after learning that the money for Alzheimer's research is only 3% that of cancer research. Well, fastfwd came up with the idea to see if we can get enough people together to match it. It's only a few bucks, and he's got a lot of fans, so if we can get most of us to donate a couple bucks/pounds/yen/whatever, we'll be able to match his donation easily. So quit reading this, go donate a few bucks, and tell 'em it's in hono(u)r of Terry Pratchett.

Paging dryad_song, please pick up the white courtesy phone...

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 14:57:59 GMT

...after dunking it in alcohol and sterilizing it with fire, of course.

Saw this and thought of you. =)

I suppose I should post this for posterity....

Sat, 01 Dec 2007 04:29:38 GMT

...or something like it.

So, on Tuesday (11/27) at 10pm, the vomiting started. I've had food poisoning before, I've had a stomach bug before, and they both suck.

This was, unfortunately, neither of those things.

Every half-hour, I was up and running to the bathroom. After a few hours, "running" isn't really the word. "Walking a familiar path rapidly" would cover it much better. It was getting to the point that I was gulping water as quickly as I could just so I could have something to throw up, or I'd get the dry heaves. I hate the dry heaves. I actually found myself begging with my own stomach at some points, trying to convince it that I was done, man, that I had nothing else to give, that I was done. My stomach, as it turns out, is a jerk.

Around 6:30am on Wednesday (11/28), Jess told me to check my blood sugar. I couldn't immediately because a) hello, vomiting profusely, and b) my testing kit was in the car. So she goes out to get it, and the battery is almost dead. Like...one test left in it. I swear, it was like in one of those really bad movies, where all you need is a small flame, and the trusty hero looks in his trusty pocket, and finds a trusty matchbook with only one single solitary match left.

So she manages to get a finger stick going, and my blood sugar read 500+. For the uninitiated, normal is 75-125. I tell her that sounds a touch high, and could we try another test? She finds my backup meter, and is asking me how to work it, as if I can think beyond my ripped esophagus at this point. She figures out how to get the other one working, and it tests the same. So, the next step is to have me test my ketones. Basically, you pee on a stick and wait a bit (30-60s) to see what color it turns up; the darker it is, the worse your ketones. Mine went to deep purple immediately. This was, as Jess correctly guessed, a sure sign of diabetic ketoacidosis, or DKA.

So the next words I heard were "get some clothes on, we're going to the hospital". I don't know how to explain it, but there was no WAY I could do a car trip to the hospital in that state. My body just wouldn't have made it. So I tell her, "Fuck that, call 911". Even in distress, I am eloquent as ever.

10-15 minutes later, I have a bunch of strangers in my home, poking, prodding, and strapping me down. Yes, yes, I know, it sounds like fun, but I assure you, it wasn't. See, now that I'm not drinking to keep myself vomiting (sounds weird when you type it out), my mouth was dry. Now, I don't mean "Hmmm...I could use a drink" dry, I mean, take the worst hangover you've ever had, and multiply it by 10. I swear to god, I'm not exaggerating here - I wish I were. All the vomiting had drained my body of any kind of moisture, even to the point of having no saliva. And, anyone who's had a hangover knows the headache that comes along with it. Yeah, multiply that too. It was insane, and this is coming from someone who has lived with headaches and migraines all his life.

So we're driving down the road, and I'm begging for a drink. Anything, just a sip of water, just something to have in my mouth to alleviate the dryness. Nothing. The best they can do for me is hook up a saline drip. Mind you, they also have to ask me question after question after question: "What's your name? What's your birthdate? Where do you live? How old are you? What's your name?" and so on. Apparently, they do this to a) make sure that you're coherent and able to speak, and b) that you've got your story straight, and you're not trying to....I don't know, lie or something. The only problem was, I couldn't talk. My mouth was so dry, I could barely form words, and when I could, they were little more than a croak. Fun stuff.

So I get to the hospital, IV in arm, saline going in. More doctors, more nurses, more questions, more begging for something to drink. The only thing there wasn't more of was liquids for me. They would NOT give me anything to drink. I think they wanted to get me stable before they gave me anything. It was that, or maybe it was the time I said "An emesis basin would be a *really* good idea right about now," and they barely managed to get me one in time. I finally convinced them to give me some ice chips, which helped. They helped infinitely more when Jess doused them and the inside of the cup with water from the tap. Over and over and over again. Yes, I know doctors are smart, and YES I know I'm not smarter than them or anything but screw THAT - I needed fluids. Didn't help much except for the time it was actually in my mouth; once I swallowed, my mouth was dry again.

After a bit of time, I got moved up to the ICU (never been there, go me!) where I had a room to myself. More questions, more questions, more....damned....questions. I continue complaining about the state of my head, and they decide that I'm stable enough to do some pain management. They whip out the morphine to inject into the IV. I love my nurse. I wait about 30 minutes with no change. I love her significantly less now. I mention that it's just not working, and if they had any Imitrex, it might help. I'm a migraine sufferer and I know what works on my head pains. They decide to try Compazine first, a drug that has never, ever worked for me. At this point, the lovin' is gone, but they're doctors and nurses, and they have all the sharp things and good drugs, so I say very little. After that doesn't work, they move on to dilaudid. Sweet jesus, if you've ever had morphine or any kind of strong opiate before, this stuff is what morphine takes when it has a headache.

For the next...12 hours? I think? I was in and out of consciousness, and when I was awake, I wasn't really...there. I couldn't use my legs properly, couldn't lift my head without dizziness, couldn't do much more than roll over. Which was good, because that's how I had to pee: rolled over, into a portable urinal. They wanted to tell the difference between what went in and what went out. There's a Douglas Adams joke in there about it being vitally important to get a receipt whenever you use the lavatory, but I'm not clever enough to make it.

Anyway, once the drug wore off, I had another IV in my left arm, and several blood draws from the right. Honestly, the rest of Wednesday went by like a blur. Jess was there part of the time, but she had appointments to go to that couldn't be rescheduled (OB, VA, and others needed for the birth of our *next* child). Sid was being looked after by his grandmother Julie, who was an immense help in this time. Sometime during the afternoon, I got moved out of the ICU, and into a recovery room, which is a good sign, so I'm told. I ask if I can stop peeing in a plastic jug, as the novelty has sorta worn off. They say that no, I can't, because they want to see how much of the 15 liters they've put into my via IV is being retained. It only hits me later that they just told me I've had 4 gallons of saline shoved up my arms, and that's not even counting the potassium and magnesium they've been giving me to balance out my electrolytes.

Holy. Christ.

4 gallons! It turns out I ended up "retaining" roughly 2 gallons. I mean, I needed it as a result of the profuse vomiting and DKA, but still. Damn. That night, I watched an episode of Survivor, and coincidence or causative factor, my migraine came back. Nothing they gave me worked, so eventually, I just went to sleep. I told the nurses to wake me up every 30-60 minutes to test my blood sugar, which made for shitty sleep, but allowed me to leave the next day, as I was told that if I could keep my numbers good, I could leave. The only issues with my blood sugars was earlier in the day when they gave me lunch, but still hadn't told me to reattach my insulin pump. Left hand, meet right hand, talk, get back to me.

The upside from all of this is it's been a hell of a reality check. I know how bad it can be now, and I don't even think this was as bad as it gets. I could have lapsed into a coma if the vomiting had gone on a little bit longer. I've discovered that I am a huge fan of dilaudid. No, really. It's good stuff. And I got to meet my new endo and got a lead on a good GP/internal medicine doc. And...I smell fruity. No jokes, dammit - it's a side effect of DKA. It's weird.

I'll update this if I remember any other details that I've forgotten. Oh, and here's a few images of my arms (I'm puffy still from all the fluids):

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 20:32:30 GMT

I recently had the (mis)fortune to have my prescription company take their sweet time getting my Zoloft prescription filled, leaving me sans medication for 5 days straight.

Let me restate: I went off my SSRI anti-depressants for 5 days, cold turkey, against my will.

At the risk of sounding emo and melodramatic, it was moderately terrifying. I can't recommend it to anyone, really.

And Caremark can really go eat a whole bag of dicks.

I hate online quizzes

Mon, 06 Nov 2006 03:09:34 GMT

(Click here to post your own answers for this meme.)

✓ I miss somebody right now.	× I don't watch much TV these days. (Yeah, right.)	✓ I own lots of books.
✓ I wear glasses or contact lenses. (Used to, so it counts.)	✓ I love to play video games.	✓ I've tried marijuana.
✓ I've watched porn movies.	× I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.	× I believe honesty is usually the best policy.
✓ I curse sometimes.	✓ I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.	✓ I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.

* * * * *

× I have broken someone's bones.	× I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal.	× I hate the rain. (Rain rules.)
✓ I'm paranoid at times.	✓ I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free. (I'd get a third ear. I mean....who wouldn't?)	✓ I need/want money right now.
× I love sushi. (Only sushi without fish. Yes, they make it.)	✓ I talk really, really fast.	× I have fresh breath in the morning.
× I have long hair.	× I have lost money in Las Vegas.	✓ I have at least one sibling.
× I was born in a country outside of the U.S.	× I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past.	× I couldn't survive without Caller I.D.
✓ I like the way that I look. (Eh.)	× I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months.	× I am usually pessimistic.
✓ I have a lot of mood swings.	✓ I think prostitution should be legalized.	× I slept with a roommate.
✓ I have a hidden talent.	× I'm always hyper no matter how much sugar I have. (Sugar. snicker)	× I have a lot of friends.
× I have pecked someone of the same sex.	✓ I enjoy talking on the phone.	× I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants.
✓ I love to shop and/or window shop.	× I'm obsessed with my Xanga or Livejournal.	× I'm completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.
✓ I have a mobile phone.	× I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.	✓ I've rejected someone before.
✓ I currently like/love someone.	× I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.	✓ I want to have children in the future.
✓ I have changed a diaper before.	× I've called the cops on a friend before.	× I'm not allergic to anything.
✓ I have a lot to learn.	× I am shy around the opposite sex.	✓ I'm online 24/7, even as an away message.
× I have at least 5 away messages saved.	✓ I have tried alcohol or drugs before.	× I have made a move on a friend's significant other or crush in the past.
✓ I own the "South Park" movie.	× I have avoided assignments at work/school to be on Xanga or Livejournal.	× I enjoy some country music.
✓ I would die for my best friends.	× I'm obsessive, and often a perfectionist.	✓ I have used my sexuality to advance my career. (Does "in a negative direction" count?)
× I think Halloween is awesome because you get free candy.	✓ I have dated a close friend's ex.	✓ I am happy at this moment.
× I'm obsessed with guys.	× Democrat. (No, and...)	× Republican. (...HELL no.)
× I don't even know what I am.	× I am punk rockish.	× I go for older guys/girls, not younger.
× I study for tests most of the time.	× I tie my shoelaces differently from anyone I've ever met.	× I can work on a car.
✓ I love my job(s).	✓ I am comfortable with who I am right now.	× I have more than just my ears pierced.
× I walk barefoot wherever I can.	× I have jumped off a bridge.	× I love sea turtles. (WTF kind of quiz IS this?)
× I spend ridiculous amounts of money on makeup.	✓ I plan on achieving a major goal/dream.	× I am proficient on a musical instrument.
× I hate office jobs.	× I went to college out of state.	× I am adopted.
✓ I am a pyro.	× I have thrown up from crying too much.	✓ I have been intentionally hurt by people that I loved.
× I fall for the worst people. (I am* the worst people.)*	✓ I adore bright colours.	× I usually like covers better than originals.
× I hate chain theme restaurants like Applebees and TGIFridays.	✓ I can pick up things with my toes.	× I can't whistle.
× I have ridden/owned a horse.	× I still have every journal I've ever written in.	✓ I talk in my sleep.
✓ I've often thought that I was born in the wrong century.	✓ I try to forget things by drowning them out with loads of distractions.	× I wear a toe ring.
✓ I have a tattoo.	✓ I can't stand at LEAST one person that I work with.	× I am a caffeine junkie.
× I am completely tree-huggy spiritual, and I'm not ashamed at all.	✓ If I knew I would get away with it, I would commit at least one murder.	✓ I will collect anything, and the more nonsensical, the better.
× I enjoy a nice glass of wine with dinner.	× I'm an artist.	× I am ambidextrous.
× I sleep with so many stuffed animals, I can hardly fit on my bed.	× If it weren't for having to see other people naked, I'd live in a nudist colony.	× I have terrible teeth.
× I hate my toes.	× I did this meme even though I wasn't tagged by the person who took it before me.	✓ I have more friends on the internet than in real life. (sobs)
✓ I have lived in either three different states or countries.	× I am extremely flexible.	× I love hugs more than kisses.
✓ I want to own my own business.	× I smoke.	✓ I spend way too much time on the computer than on anything else.
✓ Nobody has ever said I'm normal.	× Sad movies, games, and the like can cause a trickle of tears every now and then.	✓ I am proficient in the use of many types of firearms and combat weapons. (I scored Marksman in the military, does that count?)
× I like the way women look in stylized men's suits.	✓ I don't like it when people are unpleased or seem unpleased with me. (Depends on the person, really. Some people, that's actually my goal.)	× I have been described as a dreamer or likely to have my head up in the clouds.
✓ I have played strip poker with someone else before.	✓ I have had emotional problems for which I have sought professional help.	× I believe in ghosts and the paranormal.
× I can't stand being alone.	✓ I have at least one obsession at any given time.	× I weigh myself, pee/poo, and then weigh myself again.
✓ I consistently spend way too much money on obsessions-of-the-moment.	✓ I'm a judgmental asshole. (...and fuck you for asking.)	× I'm a HUGE drama-queen.
× I have travelled on more than one continent.	× I sometimes wish my father would just disappear.	× I need people to tell me I'm good at something in order to feel that I am.
× I am a Libertarian.	✓ I can speak more than one language.	✓ I can fall asleep even if the whole room is as noisy as it can be.
✓ I would rather read than watch TV. (Eh. I can go either way.)	× I like reading fact more than fiction.	✓ I have pulled an all-nighter on an assignment I was given a month to do.
✓ I have no piercings.	× I have spent the night in a train station or other public place.	× I have been so upset over my physical gender that I cried.
× I once spent Christmas completely alone because there was a miscommunication on which parent was supposed to have me that night.	✓ There have been times when I have wondered "Why was I born?" and may/may not have cried over it. (And I called that "high school")	× I like most animals better than most people.
× I own a collection of retro games consoles.	× The thought of physical exercise makes me shiver.	× I have hit someone with a dead fish.
× I am compulsively honest.	× I was born with a congenital birth defect that has never been repaired.	× I have danced topless in front of dozens of complete strangers.
× I have gone from wishing I was a girl to revelling in being a boy to feeling like a girl again in the span of five minutes, and not cared a whit for my actual sex.	× I am unashamedly bisexual, and have different motivations for my desires for different genders.	× I sometimes won't sleep a whole night or eat a whole day because I forget to.
× I find it impossible to get to sleep without some kind of music on.	× I dislike milk.	× I obsessively wash my hands.
✓ I always carry something significant around with me.	× Sometimes I'd rather wear a wig in day-to-day life than use my own hair.	× I've pushed myself to become more self-aware and thereby more aware of others.
× Even though I live on my own I still cry sometimes because I miss my mother.	× I hand wrote all the HTML tags in this document. (Can't only ONE person actually answer that TRUE?)	✓ I've liked something which a majority of people claimed was either bad or weird.
× I have been clinically dead for a brief period of time.	× Instead of feeling sympathy/empathy with people and their problems, I simply become annoyed.	× I participate/have participated in auto drag races and won.
× I do not 'get' most comedy acts.	✓ I don't think strippers are money-greedy or slutty for dancing.	× I don't like to chew gum.
× I am obsessed with history/historical things and can't wait for someone to build a time machine so I can be the first to use it.	× I can never remember for the life of me where I parked the car.	✓ I had the TEEN ANGST thing going for at least 2-3 years.
✓ I wish people would be more empathic and honest with each other.	× I play Dungeons and Dragons weekly.	× I love to sing.
× I want to live in my mother's basement when I grow up.	✓ I have a custom-built computer.	× I want to create a certain someone's babies, even though there's a 0% possiblity of ever achieving it.
× I would be in a relationship with one of my pets if they were human.	✓ I've gone skinny-dipping.	✓ I've performed in three plays.
✓ I enjoy burritos.	× I'm Irish and loving it.	✓ I have a thing for redheads. (Who doesn't?)
× I am a twin!	✓ Most of the times, I'd rather do something intellectual instead of doing something generically 'fun'.	× Once I set out to finish something, I always stay at it until it is completed before I move on to something else.
✓ I wish there were a way to erase past mistakes.	× I sleep more than 12 hours a day.	× I wish I could be prouder of what I've accomplished, but it's never enough.
× I need more time to myself.	× I wish I was more open-minded.	× I hope that I go really prematurely grey.
✓ I download songs from the internet.	× I've just reenacted chapter 58 of Death Note with my best friend. (WTF is this Death Note crap?)	✓ I say random things to freak people out.
× I'm still a little mad about the ending of Death Note.	× I love playing Truth or Dare.	× I love listening to slow music, but I hate singing to it.
× Music helps me remember that I am not alone.	× Playing my favorite sport makes me temporarily forget my problems.	✓ I think this survey is particularly long.
× I prefer my LJ friends to my real-life ones.	× I can only hate someone that I love.	× I've ordered an extra two shots of espresso to an Americano at Starbucks.

Yoinked from Daddypopp (dunno how to do a LJ link)

Wed, 04 Oct 2006 01:27:48 GMT

1 Grab the nearest book.
2 Open the book to page 123.
3 Find the fifth sentence.
4 Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5 Don't you dare dig for that cool or intellectual book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6 Do it if you like, or not, whatevah.

"application. Conversely, System Preferences is not a document-based application.
You will learn more about document architecture in the next chapter.

The object diagram for this application is shown in Figure 6.3. The table columns"

The worst thing you'll ever read...

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 08:06:07 GMT

...and it just happened to me. Like, 30 minutes ago.

I don't know how to do an LJ cut, so you're all getting subjected to it.

So as some of you may know, I've been given a prescription for valium for anxiety attacks. And, as some of you may know, valium can be taken recreationally. So, it being Friday, and me not having anything to do, I decided to take one at 11pm. I know, that's not why they've given to me, but screw it, I don't ever do that, really, and just felt like it.

So, around 12am (I think), I started getting drowsy while watching TV, so I zoned out. Around 1:30am, I wake up with a weird ear sensation. You know that feeling when you have an earache, but you know if you pop your ears, it'll feel better? That feeling you get right before it pops is what I was feeling. Quite peculiar. So I'm sorta pulling on my earlobe, moving my ear around, trying to get get the sensation to go away. After about 10 minutes, I decide to get up and see how my dad's computer rebuild is going.

As I get to the table where he's working, my ear starts hurting. It's similar to the pain that happens when you have an ear infection flare up. So I'm still fiddling with my ear, trying to get it to pop or drain, just to release the pressure, when it hits. Pain like nothing I've felt before hits me in my ear. Touching it does nothing. NOT touching it does nothing. It comes and goes, and it seems independent of whether or not I'm standing, sitting, or moving. It's a weird sort of....fluttering or something, which can happen easily if something's touching the eardrum intermittently. Figure I just have an earwax buildup that's come loose or something.

So I'm gripping this chair by where my dad's working on his PC, with my right ear downward, with me sorta hopping up and down, trying to dislodge whatever's there. It feels like water or something, like when you've been swimming, and it gets way up in your ear. The only problem is that the pain is getting worse and worse, and less dependent on ANYTHING that I'm doing. I simply cannot make the pain abate with any degree of success. Naturally, my dad's getting increasingly worried about me, as my pain level is growing exponentially.

Pretty soon, I'm lying on the couch, curled into a painful fetal position, with a handful of the couch that I don't think will ever regain its natural shape again. He's telling me that we have to go to the hospital, as there's something that's obviously very wrong with me. I tell him to go get Jess, in a very pathetic "I want my mommy" sort of way. She's passed out, but apparently hit full wakefulness in what I hear is record time.

So both my wife and my father have a flashlight (we don't own an otoscope) and are looking in my ear, trying to see just what the hell is going on with me. Dad says he can't see much, but thinks it looks like there's some sort of thread in there. Sounds weird to me, as there's no way I just crammed a spool of thread in my ear and forgot it. Jess tells me that it's possible that it's some sort of sequin-like thing from a shirt of hers, which I disagree with, as that particular shirt is nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, I'm actually yelling, screaming, and writhing on the couch, because - as I mentioned - I'm in the worst pain of my life. Dad's trying to hold me still, as Jess is still investigating my ear. At this point, all three of us have come to a sickening realization - there's something alive in my ear. That fluttering sensation I was talking about before? It was apparently actual fluttering.

So Jess decides to get a pair of tweezers and some alcohol. We figure the alcohol can kill whatever is in there, and the tweezers can remove it. She gets me to lie on my side which is no small feat, as at this point, I should be recruited by the Olympic Writhing Team - I'd be their captain. Remember when I said this was the worst pain of my life? Yeah, well once the alcohol filled up my ear, step THAT shit up a notch. I think they actually had to hold me down. And to add insult to injury, it didn't kill whatever it was immediately. It took about 5 minutes for that thing to die, all the while, it's more or less thrashing around in my ear. Right up against my eardrum.

After that passed, it was still sore, but it just felt like I had about 3 cotton balls stuffed in my ear. Jess is fiddling (very carefully and considerately, I must say) in my ear with the tweezers, and manages to move something in there. I gasp, so she stops, but resumes whenever I say I'm ready. She has me lie down again (as I had sat up) and asks "Ready?" I say that I am, and she reaches in there, grabs whatever it is, and pulls.

There's actually a "pop" as it's pulled out of my ear. I know this both because I can hear it (obviously) and because my father says he could hear it.

It was a roach. An inch-long motherfucking roach. In my ear. Sweet jesus.

It turns out that the movement of my jaw and the pulling on the earlobe only served to open the ear canal and allowed it to burrow further. Yes, the fact that I had something BURROWING in my fucking EAR is making me shudder even as I type it.

After irrigating my ear with some more alcohol (which was painful as well), they put the roach in alcohol, so I can show it to the doctor on Monday.

You know...when I was a kid, the two fears I had were needles and roaches. So I end up a diabetic and get a roach stuck in my ear. I must have REALLY pissed someone off in a previous life or something.

Good god, I'm going to sleep now.

sigh

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 15:40:48 GMT

Our datacener went down yesterday at 1:30pm.

If you know who I work for, this should come as a VERY large surprise.

Damn it

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 21:33:02 GMT

Today, Jess took one of our cats to the vet for the third time in about 2 weeks. Poor thing's not been eating, and keeps vomiting all over the place. Which is a neat trick when you don't eat.

The first few times, we thought she had a UTI, and the doc gave her antibiotics and a pain killer. Well, last night, I found 2 largish puddles of a pink liquid. Jess gathered it up in a syringe, and it turns out that yeah, it was blood.

Let me repeat that: my cat is puking blood. I'm not happy about this.

They run some tests on her, and it turns out that her kidneys aren't working as well as they should, partially because she's dehydrated. Which is weird because, even though it's hotter than hell here in Florida, they've ALWAYS got water. The doc said her platelet count is low as well, which is what's really worrying Jess. Kidney problems can be resolved just because she's a young cat, and hydration could fix the issue, but a low platelet count points to one thing right now: feline leukemia. We had her screened for that when we got her, but as the doc said (and we already knew), screening can't catch EVERY strain. If you don't know, there isn't a damned thing you can do with a cat that has feline leukemia, other than make her comfortable. They could live a few more years or a few more months, and it is, in Jess' words, "a horrible way for a cat to go."

I don't want my cat to die.

Out of all four of them, she's the one that's NOT overweight, and shouldn't be having this issue. We should have more information tomorrow.

Two posts, one day? What the hell?

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 01:15:40 GMT

Yeah, I know, I never update. Must be the Zoloft.

Yeah...for those of you who didn't know, I'm on Zoloft now. Have been for about a month. Gotta be honest, I haven't felt this good in 10 years. Maybe longer. It's hard to describe to people who don't need it, because you people feel this way normally. If you've ever had MDMA, it functions by dumping all the serotonin in your brain at once, inducing a euphoric state. Well, Zoloft is considered a Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitor (SSRI) - much like Prozac and Paxil and such. It does just what its name implies - it keeps the serotonin in my brain for longer than it normally would. This induces a feeling that is VERY similar to a low dose of MDMA (or so I'm told, *cough*). In other words, it keeps me in a good mood.

It's so great. =)

Doc also gave me a prescription of Xanax for the times when stress gets too great and I feel an anxiety attack coming on. They're not often, but they really suck when they happen. Well, I took one at work about 2 weeks ago. Knocked me out. Almost completely. As in, I was passed out at my desk. So, while it did the job of neutralizing the anxiety attack, it did so too effectively.

So, I called the doctor's office, and told them. They were completely unsurprised, as drugs that affect the brain are really a kind of experiment on what works for you. There's no hard and fast rule, really. So they said they'd switch me to Valium, lowest dose they have. Well, yesterday, I had cause to take one. Things at work were just freaking intense, which is great, because it gives me focus, but not so great, as it was just a touch TOO intense. So, as per the doc's orders, I took a Valium. 15 minutes later, in the middle of a conversation, I sorta stopped being able to think. My co-worker knew what was up and just started laughing at me. So after a few minutes, the feeling's just getting more and more intense, and in the middle of it, I realized I was thirsty. So I get up and start walking to the break room, and can't stop giggling because the simple act of walking is such a Herculean effort.

Once I get to the break room, I get some water, and two other co-workers ask me if I'm ok. My response, if I remember correctly was (giggling all the while), "I'm high as a kite. How are you?" That got me some strange looks. =)

Luckily the effects reach peak efficacy after an hour, then start to recede. Did a little investigating after that, because it was just nuts. Turns out the lowest dose they give for Valium is 2.5mg. I had 10mg pills.

Well. That explains some things.

Anyway...that's my life in a nutshell right about now. Sidney's crawling all over the place and is about to start cruising. We're so screwed. =) Check out the pics and videos here.

w00t!

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 00:53:58 GMT

Got my first kimora today. And for once, I got someone in an armbar rather than getting caught in one. Of course, he escaped, but it's a first step, right?

I, unfortunately, got picked up and slammed because as teach says, "all you newbies are retarded. If you're being picked up, LET GO. Don't try to hold on!" So...yeah. The best lessons are the ones you feel for days afterwards. I learned a few lessons tonight.

I must be a masochist, because getting my ass thoroughly handed to me every other day is actually fun. =)

Fuck yeah

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 23:17:11 GMT

Bloody nose? Check.
Kick to the eye? Check.
Drilled in the groin about 3 times? Check.
Fell on my (fucked up) shoulders a few times? Check.

Massive amounts of enjoyment? Abso-fucking-lutely CHECK.

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 05:08:12 GMT

Sweet jesus, we're all going to die.

Mon, 05 Dec 2005 21:04:37 GMT

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

This year I've been busy!

In March I turned wesa in for tearing the tag off a mattress (3 points). In November I ruled Canada as a kind and benevolent dictator (700 points). In October I gave brother_blaze a kidney (1000 points). Last month I gave crossbelt a life-saving blood transfusion (50 points). In January I set kandangel's puppy on fire (-66 points).

Overall, I've been nice (1687 points). For Christmas I deserve a new bike!

Sincerely,
Spazholio

Hrmph. I don't even LIKE bikes....

Fridge Magnets + Camera Phone = Poetry Porn

Wed, 21 Sep 2005 17:46:12 GMT

In other news, 2 posts in a day, what the fuck?

Despair, Inc > everything

Wed, 21 Sep 2005 15:22:21 GMT

They just released 4 more. Check 'em out here.

It's a boy!

Fri, 16 Sep 2005 13:56:38 GMT

Well, yesterday, Jess and I had our first ultrasound, and as you probably guessed from the title, it's a boy! Pics here!

We've decided to name him Sidney Collen (Colin? We never discussed spelling...) Martin. Sidney is the name of my grandfather, a man who died a few years ago who was very special to me, and Collen is very close to Jess' maiden name.

We'll be doing a baby registry in the near future at Babies'R'Us, which is hosted by Amazon, which means you can browse the registry online! Lucky you, now you have no excuse to not buy us stuff! =)

I hate my government more and more each day...

Sun, 11 Sep 2005 05:07:57 GMT

From this article:

"Sales of over-the-counter cold remedies used to make methamphetamine would be restricted under a measure approved by the Senate on Friday.

The bill would require stores to sell Sudafed, Nyquil and other medicines only from behind the pharmacy counter.

Consumers would have to show a photo ID, sign a log, and be limited to 7.5 grams — or about 250 30-milligram pills — in a 30-day period. Computer tracking would prevent customers from exceeding the limit at other stores, according to the bipartisan bill."

This has only passed the Senate, but it's inevitable that it's going to pass into federal law soon. Apparently, it's already a state law in a lot of the midwest states, like Oklahoma. Many of those states keep ALL cold medecines behind the counter, not just the ones that have pseudoephedrine in it. So, if you get a case of the sniffles and the pharmacist has gone home, tough shit.

I'd consider moving to Canada, but it appears the US has had enough of an influence on it that it'll be just like us in a decade. Great.

Sorry I haven't updated...

Tue, 06 Sep 2005 02:05:38 GMT

Life's just been chaotic. The usual.

I love the fact, however, that I only tend to update whenever I'm in a bad mood. Downright morose today, in fact.

So, a friend of mine (T) calls me about noon, and asks if we (Jess and I) want to go out to grab a bite to eat. No problem, we're hungry, so we go out to Perkins. On the way there, I was going to suggest that all three of us go see The Transporter 2, as I've been looking forward to it as a stupid, escapist action movie. But, right before I mention it, my friend tells me that a guy that we work (F) with invited him over to another co-worker's house (S) to watch movies today. Now, this wouldn't normally bother me, except for the fact that both F and S are what I had considered friends.

And yet, no phone call. No invite. Nothing.

I'm certain I'm making too much out of this, but goddam it, this is a sticking point with me. This is like high school all over again. I get to find out from other people that a good time was had by all. It actually ruined my entire day, as I've been sitting here, sullen, watching retarded TV shows, and reading mindless websites. And, lucky me! I get to go to work tomorrow, and try not to snipe at them because I'm pissed off at the entire situation.

I'm 28, thin skinned, and pissy over overblown, possibly-imagined slights. Fucking great.

Pregnancy update

Wed, 20 Jul 2005 13:13:24 GMT

So...yesterday, my wife and I went to see her girlie-stuff doctor for a regular pregnancy checkup. Everything was good, and everything was normal...or so they say.

Then they decide to check the heartbeat of the baby by putting a microphone down her pants. I'm only 10% joking here, that's how they did it, with a speaker resting on her stomach, and a mic mostly down her pants. It took them a remarkably short amount of time to find the baby's heartbeat, but when they did, that's when it hit me: the kid isn't mine. Apparently, behind my back, my wife has been having an affair with a hummingbird or a rabbit. Despite the doctor's protestations that 170BPM is normal, I have begun a strict regimen of eating carrots and sucking sweet liquids through a straw, in the hopes that I can be more like what she likes.

*sigh*

Mon, 18 Jul 2005 21:49:02 GMT

Ok, so I had to go see my VA doctor today. Not my regular doctor, mind you, but this was what they call a Diabetic Wellness class. From what I'd heard, it was basically a forum for several diabetic specialists to yell at you for about an hour as to how poorly you've been managing your diabetes.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

First off, my main VA doctor is an idiot. Every time I go to see him, he tells me I'm going to die. I'm not exaggerating, this isn't a joke, there's no punchline. All 3 times, he's said that I'll be lucky to live more than 10 years. Admittedly, my hemoglobin A1C test is pretty high, but still. (For those of you lucky non-diabetics out there, the A1C test basically measures how well I've been managing my blood sugar for the past 3 months. They want me at a 6.5. 2 years ago, I was at 11.8. This year, I'm at 9.3) But regardless, I'm going to die. So naturally, we don't get along well. Which could contribute to my not being as diligent as I should be about going to the doctor.

So, last month, I went to go see him. He proceeds to advise me of my impending demise, despite my 2.5 point improvement over last year. After the usual doom and gloom, he decided to assign me to Maureen, the diabetic-wellness-person. Long story short, she and I seem to get along well, mostly because she has a clue about diabetes, and he doesn't.

A perfect example of that: when I went to go see him, I asked about 2 things: Ultralente and the diabetic pump. Both of these things he said I couldn't get for a while, like 2 years. Said I had to prove to be non-responsive to other forms of insulin therapy for that long before they could try something different. Meanwhile, I'm slowly killing myself with my inability to manage my disease properly. When I ask HER about both of these things, she tells me about something that's even better than the Ultralente called Lantis, but it's expensive, so she's seeing what she can do to get me some. The other thing is, she WANTS me on the pump! She's given it to patients since '86, and feels I would be an excellent candidate for it. With the pump, I get insulin all day, which provides a baseline, then a little extra whenever I eat. It's great.

Also, she showed me some basic math I can do to determine how much insulin to take to bring my blood sugar levels down to normal. I've asked for these for quite some time, and been told that I need to feel how my body works, and that there's no quick and easy way to determine that. Bullshit. Goddam liar. The equation is retardedly simple: I take the blood sugar I have, subtract the blood sugar I WANT to have, and divide by how much blood sugar can be removed by 1 unit of insulin. BAM! That's what I have to take. Simple, no? So, she's going to see what we can do about getting me a pump. It's a total lifestyle change, but from what I hear, people on the pump more or less don't HAVE diabetes anymore. It's THAT well regulated. God, what I wouldn't give....

And then she saw my glucometer and mentioned that there might be a better one. Then she went to another office and got it for me. I now have a pretty new glucometer, which requires MUCH less blood, allows me to take a reading from my arm, and is WAY faster. Those of you who are diabetics out there can appreciate that. Those who can't....well, I can't really liken it to anything right off the top of my head.

So, hopefully, within a few months, I'll have my blood sugar under control. Which, I believe, will assist me with my mood swings. I'm finding that my moods are closely tied to my blood sugar levels. I don't know how much of that is a panacea, hoping that fixing this will fix ME, but dammit, it's a step in the right directions. And you know what, sometimes placebos work for a reason. I'm willing to take a leap of faith on this...

Old writings I found

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 05:11:34 GMT

Apparently, I had a bit of pent up agression a while ago.

Aw, who am I kidding? I still have it. It was just more focused before. =)

+-+-+-+

    Imagine you're back in elementary school, second-grade let's say. Remember all the children that used to make fun of you because you were a little different? Maybe you were a bit more academically inclined, or maybe you wore glasses. Or maybe, even at that age, you realized how vacuous most of the "popular" people, and even some of the adults, were and chose not to be like them. But you were too young. While you endured endless degradation at the hands of future drop-outs and McDonald's employees, adults would look on and repeat a litany of mindless phrases, such as, "They're just horsing around," or "Boys will be boys." Meanwhile, you suffer emotional, psychological, and quite possibly physical assaults from some lump whose IQ runs a close second to a can of Alpo.

    And when the physical beating stage begins, and your parents take notice, they are historically ineffectual. "Stand up to a bully and they'll back down," they say. "Deep down, bullies are cowards!" Only, you're not concerned with deep-down. Your concerns lie pretty much on the surface, where the superiority complex that fuels the bully's animosity exist. And when you've finally had enough, and decide you have nothing to lose, you take a swing. From there, one of two things will happen: you miss completely, causing laughter all around which only serves to fuel the bully's fire and the beating begins again, only this time in earnest. Or maybe you get lucky and clip him what you think is a good one square on the chin. Not only does it not hurt the cretinous bastard, but it serves to anger him, pushing his sadistic tendencies to levels no amount of laughter could have ever reached.

    And when your ever-vigilant parents eventually take notice of the bruises on your arms and back and your slow but steady reclusion from the world around you, they make the cardinal sin that all parent make: they tell. They tell the principal or teacher that their child can't defend themself worth a shit, and could they please look into it? They involve an outside party in what was becoming an increasingly personal experience. Now, we shouldn't blame them too much - they're simply trying to rectify a situation they could have taken care of weeks, possibly months ago. And make no mistake, when you're a parent, you'll do the same. After all, who raised you?

    Jump ahead several years to the gloriously awkward times known as high school. You've forgotten all the hell you endured so many years hence; that is to say your concious mind has forgotten - the unconcious mind is a wonderful storage tool for memories and experiences that are usually best left in the dust. It quite possibly affects the physiological development of a person. Why else would most intelligent adolescents develop later than most others, voices cracking and changing long after everyone else's has done so. There must be a reason for most people with high IQs to have some sort of ailment. What do you think of when you picture an extremely smart person in high school? You visualize an ectomorphic, rail-thin kid with braces and glasses. It's not a hard-and-fast rule, but it certainly is a viable stereotype.

    But I digress. We were talking about high school. An era when teens fall into two categories: those in some sort of clique, and those that look at cliques with a mixture of envy and revulsion. If you don't fit into a certain demographic mold - in other words, if you're not rich, popular, or athletic - then you're relegated to lower class status. But an odd thing happens then. All those that look at cliques with a "sour grapes" attitude tend to gravitate towards one another, to congregate and communicate. And before you know it, there's a clique of clique-haters. But because of their oft-shared experiences, such as grade-school traumatization, they view the other cliques with pity, not superiority. They are not capable of feeling superior to anyone. Social, moral, and emotional outcasts to the core.

    Occasionally you run across a person who seems to have it all together - someone who hates no one, and is hated by no one. These people are an unnatural mix of popularity, intelligence, and an tremendous amount of tolerance to vapidity. In nature, creatures like these tend to rise to the top of the food chain; likewise in the human world. These poeple are NO different than you or I, other than the fact that they can tolerate all the bullshit that comes along with dealing with 90% of the world's population.

+-+-+-+

It seems like there should be more, but I can't find it.

And to think, looking back...I miss high school. Go figure, eh?

Time moves faster than I'm comfortable with...

Mon, 11 Jul 2005 20:28:53 GMT

I get in these moods every once in a while. It's bizarre...I feel as though I'm a child playing at adult games sometimes. It feels like two weeks ago, I was in high school. Last week, I was in the military. Now, I'm going to have a kid soon, and I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up.