Updated Glasses Prescription!

Had my pupils dilated for the first time ever this morning. It was ... different. That seems like an appropriate word for it. Apparently- wait, first: I had an eye exam this morning because of the breaking-my-glasses thing that occurred like two weeks ago. I finally made an appointment. Okay, back: apparently the doctor saw a super teeny tiny freckle at the back of my eye. Then he asked if I've ever had my pupils dilated before. I was like, certainly not! Wait, why is something wrong?

It's no big deal, the freckle I mean (literally the smallest one he's ever seen (that's what she said)), but my eyes are still sore and it's been like, since 9:45-ish this morning. So... those many hours. I wore shades inside the drugstore and library, and then my house. My actual house. Where the dog sees me and I watch TV and sometimes do the dishes. Of all the humiliations.

Anyway, the pupils are still enormous but not the level of cartoon-drug-trip they were earlier. The doctor told me I wouldn't be able to read for about two hours afterwards, then asked if that would be a problem. I said no, but internally I was trying not to punch him the face. Two hours! Eff you pupils and tiny freckle! Eff, you!

My brother's wife was texting me before the exam so after, when she sent another text, I responded again because my vision hadn't gotten blurry and sort of painful. This continued for like 15 minutes. Then she sent me one that said: Sorry I am texting you Scotty just told me you had your eyes diluted!

I thought about it for a moment, and didn't correct her auto-correct. (I assume it was auto correct. She's like, anti-social smart so she obviously knows the difference between the two words.) Because my vision had been diluted. So she was technically correct.

Then Jeremy told me pistachios were on sale on deals.woot.com, $5 for a pound. And I was like, you buy the hell out of those right this minute. And I think he did. I stopped reading texts for a while after that. Ya know. Cause of the eye thing. The diluted eyes. The dilated eyes. That stuff.

So I basically spent my morning and early afternoon wearing sunglasses in my house, cause I'm a bad motha, and not reading, cause I was rendered intermediate blind.

Intermediate blind is not a thing. I totes made that up.

Also, my eyes are pretty much the same except the 'script is written differently because the nearsightedness changed in one eye, but so did the Astigmatism. So it balanced out, sort of.

Thoughts While Evaluating My Thighs in Shorty-Shorts

Yeah these are a real smooth fit over the thighs.

This is the waist? Seriously?

Sweet muffin top, girl.

How do girls get these to button?

And there's a zipper. Like, a legit zipper.

Oh god, really?

Ugh.

Why did I even put these on?

I looked at them, knew they would be awful, yet I brought them to the fitting room anyway.

Why are my legs so pasty?

They're actually pasty. Like, if you held glue next to my legs, they would be the exact same shade. This is worse than pale.

Pale could be sexy.

But this is pasty.

Are those my stretch marks?

They look so angry.

Why are they angry?

I should be angry. They are making it impossible to compete with other women.

That's the point of clothes this small, right? Just to know you look better in them than other women? Even that size 2 who won't quit bragging about her charity walks?

Shut up bitch, no one's interested.

Do these effectively hide my thunder?

Try jogging in place.

Now try it and ignore the disturbing way your stomach jiggles.

That's not too bad.

What about from the side-OH GOD NO!

Fuck these shorts.

Glasses Are Stupid

I broke my glasses yesterday, while they were on my face. By running into a door frame. It was the most idiotic thing I remember doing ever. I had clothes hanging up to dry on hangers, the hangers were on the top of the door frame to our closet, and they took up the entire entrance.

To get into my closet, I duck under the clothes. I did this yesterday, except I was getting a shoe box from the shelf, and I guess I thought I was being cool cause when I ducked in I went in one swift motion, reached for the box, retrieved it, and ducked back out without moving my feet. I did this for two other boxes prior to the fatal box and I thought it was bad ass (because I'm a loser and also have low standards). So naturally, just when I think I've got a groove going and I'm feeling like Daisy handing the coat check girl everyone's coats, crack! I hit my glasses right on the edge of the frame. They smashed into my face, which felt awesome, and then clattered to the floor. They actually clattered, and that needs to be mentioned twice because our apartment is carpeted. The impact was so severe that my glasses clattered onto a soft surface.

I hate things about my life.

The good news is I can still wear them. The bad news is that the way I had to adjust them makes the right side of my head hurt, like it's being pinched. Which it probably is. Also, I keep adjusting them like they're crooked. They actually aren't. So good job on my part on the fixing thing.

Oh, also glasses are super expensive even with insurance. I was going to Wal-Mart before and it was pricey, but I really hoped insurance would make a difference. Not so much. So until I can find an affordable doctor, I'm alternating between my busted glasses (which pinch my head and make it feel explodey) and my contacts (which I'm positive will one day make my eyes explode).

Yay.

The Daisy bit should be around like 2:24 I think.

A Wee Little Storm OR You're Welcome, World

I don't think there are any pictures of me from the age of Born to the age of Five where I am not trying to put things in my mouth. Seriously. My mom has a bunch of pictures of me where I'm either stuffing my face, about to stuff my face, hovering over my food like an animal, or trying to put toys in my mouth. In a very few, I appear to be offering food, but I know that can only be a cruel trick I'm about to play on someone because Storm does not offer her food to anyone.

Around the time mom was finding all these awesome pictures of me my parents remembered a fun game they used to love to play when they were drunk-slash-high-slash-both where they would put my pacifier in upside down and I would flip it right side up in my mouth without using my hands. Apparently they thought it was the neatest thing ever and they would entertain themselves and their friends for long periods of time. They would show me off like a dog who's just discovered a laser pointer and chases it relentlessly in circles. "No seriously, check this out. She does it every time!"


This is the environment I grew up in folks. Praise and attention for doing things with my mouth. It's lucky I turned out as awesome and psychologically stable as I did. (Side note: My parents are amazing, and this is me joking.)

So here's a little sampling of adorable tiny Storm, and her oral fixation (I so wish I had a copy of the one where I'm walking out of a public restroom in Alabama, toddling after mom, in my cut-off jean shorts and messy hair, a toy in each hand cause I fucking can, and no shoes. It's priceless.):

 This one is called "Linoleum and Bread Crumbs"

P.S. check that stance.

This is the trick I mentioned. Look how pleased my face is. Someone is clearly going to fall for this. 

The action figure Sleeping Storm now comes with pacifier accessory and safety harness. 

This is my very personal favorite. I call it: Sleepy Old Man Storm... with pacifier.

There's a picture of my mom's parents on their 25th wedding anniversary, where they both look like they're trying to reach California from Oklahoma (that's a Grapes of Wrath joke for you well-read types, and consequently a Depression Era/Dust Bowl joke). They look absolutely miserable, and nobody knows why. Anyway, I look exactly like my grandfather in the last picture here, except a little sleepy. And I have a pacifier. Not even kidding.

Written Word

I've recently been informed that I've offended/upset some people with a few of my posts. My intention of keeping this blog in particular was never to offend or insult anyone. It's basically a train of thought, or a few trains, whatever happens to be on my mind at the time, and I stop only to fix a punctuation or spelling error. Then I hit the Publish button. And I don't go back to it again.

I don't write drafts, or proof-read (aside from the punctuation or spelling, which are errors that I see as I go), or have someone else tell me if they think I should change anything here or there. I just write it.

So I absolutely guarantee that I've said some things that are rude, inconsiderate, impolite, crass, insulting, completely offensive, etc., etc., etc., about family, friends, people I don't know at all, family, people I do know but not that well, family, that asshole who passed me on my way home from work and laid on the horn because I guess the speed limit just isn't fucking good enough (I will cut his face if I ever see him again. Straight up. His face.), family.

There are many things I could say to excuse my behavior. I won't say those things. I could easily just start filtering what I say, and plan out my posts so as not to offend people. I won't start doing that. I could apologize for the things I've written, but to do that feels hollow to me. It feels insincere. These are my thoughts and opinions, and it's important to remember that they are constantly changing. My opinion of you as a person doesn't stay the same from one moment to the next. I never completely make up my mind about a person. (ED NOTE: I just went back to put in the word 'say' in the first sentence of this paragraph, and in the time it took me to do that, I got distracted by the TV for like, ever. (I just did it again.) )

I will say that, since I'm not apologizing for my thoughts or opinions, I would like to apologize for the way in which I expressed those thoughts or opinions. Maybe I could have been more direct, and discussed the issue personally, or maybe I could have been more polite, because I'm often quite bitchy. But I didn't. And unless the issue is something that is sincerely bothering me, I probably won't in the future.

The above paragraph also pertains to this post, and all future posts.

Things Learned

My body is pear-shaped.

Cranberry juice is delicious.

I am a feminist.

Rooms with books in them don't smell the same in winter as they do in summer, or in spring as they do in autumn.

When you cover furniture with sheets, it makes the room look way smaller. (If you're trying to minimize space, cause I guess some people might.)

I should have far more responsibility at work but I don't, and that's my fault cause when it was first offered to me I backed away like a scared kitten, howling and mewling for my very life.

I totally want to raise a child. Like, totally. Teach him/her stuff that people don't teach anymore, like how to make a crane out of the paper that some napkins come wrapped in at restaurants. Or how to make a bubble from gum without it popping so you can put Pixie Stix powder in the hollow. Ya know, important stuff.

I don't care how old I am, young adult novels will always be interesting to me.

I own enough spoons to serve a party of nearly two-dozen, but only enough forks for a party of ten. So... soup party.

My dog is well-conditioned. She took off out of the house today because I forgot to close the door all the way, and when I finally chased her down it occurred to me that she was walking/running the same path we take when we go for walks. She even cut that one corner the same. If I hadn't worked up such a dude-sweat I would've been way more impressed. I'm impressed now, but at the time... super pissed off.

I'll Get Back in the Kitchen Only Because That's Where My Food Is

Today is International Women's Day, and this day is very important for women the world over because sometimes we forget how great we are and we need that one day a year to be reminded of it. Just for one day though. And that is all I'm going to say on the subject for now. Suffice to say, I am saddened that the world we live in still requires a day for races, sexes, religions, etc. to be singled out and recognized when really we should all recognize ourselves as equals. Yeah yeah, I'm a gray-area hippy.
Also, I would like to note that I am so angered by men who say it's pathetic for a guy to hit a woman if she's attacking him.

I find it infuriating when I hear things like that, that a man shouldn't defend himself against a female assailant. Why? Because he might be bigger, or stronger, than her? That's no excuse. Setting aside the hypothetical situation where the woman might actually be bigger than the man, let's consider for a minute what a person is actually implying by saying that: They're saying that the woman is weak and the man will do more damage to her than she will to him because we're the more delicate of the species.

In some instances we are more delicate. But that's no reason to treat us like us we're less than, or even more than, equal to men. Calling a man pathetic for hitting a woman, if she's attacking him, does not make you a superior male in my eyes. It makes you sexist. And do not say that a woman couldn't do that much harm to a man. I may not have the physical strength to break your neck, a lot of women don't, but I can absolutely hurt you. And without using a weapon.

I would like to also state hear that my husband bought me a vacuum cleaner for my birthday. And I do not feel like less of a feminist for saying that I am really fucking psyched about this vacuum cleaner. Nor do I feel he is being in any way sexist for buying me one. I wanted the vacuum cleaner and I didn't have the money myself to buy it, so my husband, my partner, the man I see as my equal and who sees me as his, bought it for me.

It's a Dyson. This one. It didn't cost that much though.

Now that I'm done ranting and bragging about my sweet new vacuum (it's not here yet, but I'm totes sweeping the entire house like, five times when it gets here), on to other things.

Yesterday was my birthday! I is 24!

In addition to the vacuum, Jeremy bought me a book (The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which I adore), a music box (it's glass and it plays Tale As Old As Time), and a Penny Arcade print (this one, one of my favorites which I quote a lot). I also got some Lego snails getting their bang on (because I once said there was no way snails having sex could ever be entertaining, and I was wrong), and a gift card to have my own children's book published. Once I write it. I have a concept, I just need to, ya know... write it. And get some illustrations.

Mom and Cody took me to lunch and we gorged on soup and salad and I got a delightful piece of lemon cream cake (mmm, lemony). Then later Jeremy and I and some friends went out to Friendly's (I get the name now!) where we had pretty rough service but tasty, tasty ice cream. That's also where I decided the whole issue from above was sexist and that it angered me. So, all in all a tasty birthday full of lovely and humorous gifts where I learned some things about myself.

Hoo-ray for 24!