Kitten a Go-Go

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

The Boy and I LOVE The Big Bang Theory.  Every time Soft Kitty is on, we are happy about it.  Here are two versions for my kitties.

For Tiki
Mean Kitty
Spiteful Kitty
Wants to kill Elmo

Sweet Kitty
Wrinkled Kitty
Chirp Chirp Chirp

For Elmo
White Kitty
Pink Kitty
When he licks it hurts

Dumb Kitty
Sweet Kitty
Sphynx with too much fur

That Woman Again

Dear Chelsea Handler,

On your show, you have referenced your disdain for Samantha Harris.  I have mentioned it in a few blog posts.  Now, I get at least one google search per day asking why does Chelsea Handler hate Samantha Harris.  If you could get back to me, that would be great.  Since only six people regularly read this blog, it won't be a big press release or anything.

Thanks,
Danielle

On Privacy

Anyone who has read my blog can tell that I am very open and public about most things in my life.  You all know that I'm in debt.  You all know that I have significant health problems.  You all know that I'm still grieving over my grandmother's death.  You know that I generally want to be a good person.  You know that I am like most people, trying to get over life's struggles.

There is a part of me that wants to delete this blog at least once a week because I've said too much.  There are posts that I don't know if I should have written.  There are definitely people who I hope don't know this blog exists because I don't want them to have access to me in any way.  Simply because I don't want them to know a damn detail of my life.  I've certainly censored myself on numerous occasions, just in case. 

I keep this blog up because it helps to write things down.  It helps to talk about things.  I also like the public forum.  I've made friends because of this random public space.  Friends who are dear to me.  Friends from whom I seek advice. 

I've also talked so openly about my health struggles because if I can help just one person with Fibro find some sense of relief or community, then I've done some good in the world. 

But there are still those days when I want to take it down.  When I think I've said too much.  When I think I've let the world in and I feel like I've let my guard down.  When I feel vulnerable that people think less of me for who I am or what I've said. 

Status Update: Yuppie Whining, Kicking and Screaming

Everyone, including me, has had enough of my yuppie whining.  Yes, I have a ton of debt.  Yes, I can't figure out how to pay it off.  Yes, my mortgage increased because the asses at Indymac didn't calculate the escrow properly last year and now the mortgage has increased by $300 a month for the next year.  Yes, I desperately needed spring clothes for work (thanks again to my thyroid for the weight gain) and did go shopping yesterday, all of which went onto a credit card because I had no other way to pay for it.  (The trip also included getting "practical shoes".)  Yes, I still have tarsal tunnel.  Yes, I am still a whiny little baby. 

Today, I did something extremely painful.  Painful to the point that I have been pouting about it all day.  I listed 18 pairs of shoes on ebay.  (If you want to see them, do a seller search for Captdogslilgirl.  there are 18, but it often only shows 12, which is a lie.)  Some of them are very beautiful shoes, like my purple Jimmy Choo peep toes or my Kenneth Cole Diamond Girls.  Some suck and they hurt and I don't really care (i.e., the Calvin Kleins, the Aldos, the giraffe via spiga, etc.). 

It was a painful experience for various reasons.  1.  I love my shoes and they are my little sculpture garden.  2.  I don't like admitting that my financial state is so bad that I have to sell my crap.  3.  I am pissed that I have tarsal tunnel and can't wear those shoes.  4.  I am pissed that I had to spend money on ugly shoes at Naturalizer yesterday.  Shoes with small heels or ugly heels.  Shoes that weren't beautiful.  Stupid stupid ugly shoes.  Grumble. 

Hopefully, at a bare minimum, the sale of the existing collection of shoes will at least pay off the shopping from yesterday.  There is one bid on a pair of Jimmy Choo, so that means I will get at least $150.  If I manage to sell them all for decent prices, then I might be able to pay for yesterday's shopping, pay my car registration (which I estimate will be around $350) and make a significant dent in the escrow shortage too. 

[On Friday, I was declined for my second attempt to apply for a personal loan to consolidate my credit cards.  They said I don't have the ability to pay.  Now, that's incorrect because I can pay them.  It would be a whole lot easier to make progress if they were all together at a reasonable interest rate, which they are not.  But I'm making payments just fine, over the minimums.  I'm just really really really worried that things are going to get worse and I cannot forbear my student loans past February of next year, which is the main cause of my stress.  There has to be at least one card paid off by February or I do not know how I will be able to stretch my budget to include the addition $330 for the student loan payments.]

Harry & David Are Responsible For This

Dear Mommom,

It's been a very crazy 36 hours.   Work related.  Nothing major.  Just busting my ass to get a project finished on a very, very tight deadline.  I got home from work around 9 last night.  Since the project was filed this afternoon, I left right at 5 today because I am pretty brain dead.

When I got home, I stopped at the mailbox to pick up the mail.  Along with an array of people wanting my money and/or trying to sell me things, there was a Harry & David catalog (which technically falls into the category of people wanting to sell me things).  On the cover, there were lovely gifts available for Mother's Day.  At the mailbox (which is in a big locked cluster out in identity theft country, not like what you are used to), I immediately burst into tears.  That catalog was this slap in the face that this would be my first Mother's Day in which I don't get to send you a card and be thankful that you are in my life.  It was a painful realization.  Just as I'm sure I will have similar feelings on your birthday.  Just as I have similar feelings every time I see an orchid.  (This week was Administrative Professional's Day and I strongly considered getting my assistant an orchid, but I wasn't sure how I would handle that sort of reminder at her desk every day.  Sometimes, it is hard enough having you watch over me from the picture with Paul and Theresa and Poppop.  So I went with a different flower arrangement that was quite lovely, but didn't have the sentiment attached to it that an orchid would have had.) 

I miss you deeply and think of you every day.

Love,
Danielle

I will make this stop

I'm getting caught in my own yuppie whining trap again.  The constant worrying about money.  The job stress and the long hours.  Enough is enough. 

1.  I am damn lucky to have a job in this economy.  Especially the one that I have.  No whining about job stress allowed.  No matter how tired I am after 12 hours in the office.

2.  Money stress is not allowed either because I am an adult and I have a job.  I just have to figure out how to make it work.  Although some days, I think I need to apply to be the stock girl at CVS at night.  Except that I never would know when I can work because I might have to work at the other job late.

3.  Health stress.  I am doing better with this.  I have successfully stomached my valtrex for a week.  This is a record for me.  So hopefully this means I can start making progress on the Epstein Barr.  We'll see. 

4.  General mental well being.  I had a full fledged panic attack at work this afternoon.  I had an intense pain in my upper back, near my neck.  Somehow, I convinced myself that I was having a heart attack.  So, of course, other heart attack like symptoms started.  I know it was panic.  But, you know, it was damn inconvenient.  It is also a little hard to disguise when you are sitting in a chair in a partner's office trying to take notes on an assignment.  I calmed myself down, but this is absurd.  No more of that. 

I need to get through tomorrow (which is going to be a rough day at the office, but I'll get it all done).  Then I need to relax over the weekend.  I need to get some sort of quality rest because I swear I am losing it.  I need to read, clean and laugh with brian and the wee petri dishes.  I need to go get some spring clothes.  I need to prioritize myself onto my important things to take care of.

So incredibly exhausted.  I really feel like I could start crying any second.  It's just been one of those days...

Yes, It Is Like Carpal for Feet.

As you may recall, I've recently enlisted the services of the very outstanding Dr. Gubler for my constant foot pain.  Last week, I had to go see another nice doctor who stabbed me with needles and electrocuted me.  (I don't recall seeing that in the torture memo, but it hurts and I would have confessed to make it stop...)

Today, I went back to Dr. Gubler so that he could cure me.  [It is important for you to remember that I am a fibro patient and actually receiving a diagnosis of any sort is a good thing.  When you've been told that you are crazy and there is nothing wrong with you for years, it is nice to know you aren't making shit up in your head.]  My NCV came back abnormal. 

I have tarsal tunnel.  Dr. Gubler gave me a shot of Kenalog right in the tattoo.  [Okay, I think it was in the tattoo.  It is covered with a band aid.  I advised them of my propensity for fainting, so i was sort of hanging upside down while I got the shot, which was neat.]

I am to treat it with ice and anti-inflammatory meds.  This was a kick in the ass because I typically treat my sore feet and ankles with a warm soak in epsom salt.  Oops. 

As part of my treatment, along with the shot of Kenalog, I have to wear practical "structured" shoes.  The full extent of this order has not remotely hit me yet.  I'll be weeping in the closet with all of my babies this weekend, I'm sure.  I never even got to premiere the most beautiful addition to the spring collection...  It is a sad day indeed.  (Look, I'm going to wear them, but it might be freaking summer and it was already 92 degrees here today, so it's already just like summer.  I wanted to wear them in SPRING.)

My foot feels better from the shot.  It's like my heel is a shock absorbing cloud.  That may be because it's numb.  I can't be trusted to tell the difference.  I guess if the shot works, I will go and get it in my stupid left foot too. 

I was trying to start a yeast detox today (again) because of the antibiotics and steroids over the past couple of months, so my body got to deal with diflucan and kenalog.  Good times.  Not to mention restarting valtrex a few days ago. (Look, Ma, no vomiting in four days - it must be a record!)  [For the three of you who now think I have stuff going on down there, I have Epstein Barr, which is a herpes virus (HHV-4) and is sometimes treated with Valtrex or its evil cousin, Valcyte.

I will do my best to heal my stupid heels.  (heh.  heal/heel.  that amused me.  must be the Kenalog.)  But I cannot say that it will keep me away from my beloved shoes forever...  (i.e., Kellie, don't get your hopes up yet.  You'll have to pry them from my dead hands before you get my sculpture garden that easily.)

[Enjoy all of the links.  I work hard for you, Internet.]

Spent by Dr. Frank Lipman

About a month ago, I was reading Goop.  (Shut up, I look at it from time to time.  She is not running my damn life or anything.)  There was an interview with the doctor who wrote Spent.  The book seemed interesting enough and it obviously had Paltrow's seal of approval, so I bought it.

I've got some issues with this book.  Here's the thing, I can't believe this book about exhaustion and chronic pain and digestive issues was possibly written without a single mention of fibromyalgia or candida.  See, Dr. Lipman seems to be making a brand new illness called Spent.  I don't mind how he wants to treat it holistically or any of that.  Dr. Lipman ignores a lot.  I've read most books on fibro at this point.  I've also read all of Dr. Crook's books on candida.  It seems like Dr. Lipman uses the symptoms of both issues and refuses to label it as what it is.  Instead, let's create something new. 

Simply put, I'm returning the book.  This is the kind of shit that irritates me about views on fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue.  They are both very real illnesses. Yet, instead of taking his work on an approach to healing, and applying it to an illness for an illness for which so many are searching for answers, he calls it something else.  Sigh.  Fibro is finally starting to gain acceptance that it's "not just in your head" and now we have to call it something new because he has high profile clients?  Oh, wouldn't I love to see a celebrity spokesperson for fibro so that people might actually believe it is real. 

The book's methods weren't objectionable.  I am simply not supporting someone who refuses to call it what it is.  It's fibromyalgia.  It's chronic fatigue.  It's Epstein Barr.  It's candida.  It's Leaky Gut Syndrome.  It's not Spent, Dr. Lipman.  As someone who has been "Spent" for years, I had years of doctors not believing me until I went to the FFC.  I'm sure as hell not going into my doctor and saying, Yeah, I think I've got Spent, see, it's in this book that Gywneth Paltrow recommended...  I think you could have done something great for people who suffer from these illnesses.  Instead, you try to make something new.  It's not new and it sucks. 

He May Have Voted for Obama, but The Boy Still Hates Clinton

The Boy:  Don't I have a book about Washington somewhere?

Me:  I think so.  Hey, I think you should read a book about each of the presidents in order.  [Completely biting off of Kat.  But she's an awesome person to bite off of.]

The Boy:  That's a good idea. 

Me:  But don't read Clinton.  I liked him and that book is in the Goodwill pile.  It sucked bad.

The Boy:  [conservative stuff I don't remember.]  And HE'S A LIAR.  I don't care what you think.  LIAR.  They don't call him Slick Willy for nothing.

Me:  They call him Slick Willy?  That's funny.  Did Fox News start that?

The Boy:  [sigh]  You do realize Fox News began [poisoning the airwaves] the same year Clinton was elected.  You may not realize this, but people hated him before he was elected.  Regardless of what you think, Fox News does have some good... [zoned out]

[passage of time while I start blogging this because it amused me]

Me:  Is Slick Willy spelled W-I-L-L-Y? 

The Boy:  Yes.  It's funny for the double entendre and it's just funny.

Me:  Oh [laughter].  I didn't get the double entendre.  That is funny.

Dreaming Has Definitely Tasted Better

Due to the strength of my nighty night cocktail, I infrequently remember my dreams.  I'm usually knocked unconscious and I begrudgingly wake up to the sound of Mark and Mercedes in the Morning.  Last night, however, was different. 

I vividly recall having a dream in which I was eating something.  Sadly I don't recall what I was eating in the dream.  That's where my memory gets a bit hazy.  As I continued to nibble on the dream delicacy, my palette was troubled.  Something didn't taste right.  Whatever I was eating was too chewy.  [This little Chelsea Lately fan almost wrote Chuy.  How embarrassing.] 

This section of the dream went on for a notable period.  Due to my particular gift of waking myself from dreams that get too annoying, I woke myself up. 

Here's the thing.  I was chewing.  The object in my mouth was definitely too chewy, just like in my dream.  In my hazy, still medicated state, I opened my mouth to see what was inside. 

It was one of my earplugs.  I tossed it aside and went back to sleep.  This morning, I found it on the floor.  When I told The Boy, he mentioned the choking hazards.  I'm still more concerned about the fact that I am such an active dreamer that I popped my ear plug into my mouth. 

Don't worry.  I didn't eat it and I didn't choke.  Fortunately, I fell asleep immediately after.  Gotta love that Ambien.  I wonder if eating earplugs falls under the night binging side effect...

Live: It's Dancing with the Stars with Brian and Danielle

As most of you know, on Friday, I got an email from On Camera Audiences that I had come up on the waiting list again for DWTS tickets for Monday or Tuesday of this week.  After some haggling, Brian (who gets to not be The Boy in this entry) and I decided to spend the night on Sunday night since the wee petri dishes were spending Easter elsewhere. 

Our journey started on Sunday around 1:30, and we intended to go to Santa Monica so that I could see the ocean and then check-in at the hotel.  Wanna know what you get on Sunday afternoon on the way to California?  Traffic.  Lots of it.  In Barstow, I stopped, as usual, at In N Out.  Imagine my disappointment when they were closed for Easter.  I hadto have El Pollo Loco instead.  My day was not going well.  My day continued to not go well when it got dark before we got there and I didn't get to see the ocean.  (I have no interest when it is dark.)  We finally got checked in around 7:45.  That's right - long ass car ride.

We ate dinner at Sushi Roku since it was close to our hotel, Elan.  Yeah, overpriced and mediocre.  Wouldn't really recommend it.  Plus, the prick took my plate before I could have that last bit of ginger, which is my favorite part. 

When we got up on Monday, I called On Camera Audiences and discussed what happened last year when we got turned away.  More haggling.  They agreed to put us on the priority ticket list even though it was last season. 

We walked to the theater.  I wore practical shoes for the walk and held my beloved Stuart Weitzmans in my hand.  (I later attempted to wear the shoes and that didn't work out, but it didn't matter, as you will see.) 

We got in and were seated on benches.  I got to use a star wagon.  Regardless of the use of the word star, it was a generic portapotty.  [Kat, do you get to use Star Wagons on set??]

While we were sitting (and frequently lectured on gum chewing), Tony, Lacey and Shawn Johnson came out to the crowd.  We talked to Tony and he apparently likes Vegas.  He sat on the lap of the woman next to me.  (If there is any chance that we will be on camera, I suspect it would be in this footage.)

They let the first row in. They were all seat fillers on the first floor.  My favorite threesome (hereinafter "the JC Penney Models and their mom") were seated behind the judges.  Our bleacher was seated in the first row of the balcony where Tom and Samantha don't usually announce from (i.e., why my shoes didn't matter).  I was content with our seats.  First, we could see.  Second, if a VIP showed up, we still had decent seats. 

Then there was some waiting while the crowd filled in.  We got to see a "pre-tape" of the West Side Story dance.  IT WAS FANTASTIC.  I would love to go see that show now.  Although America is my favorite song and I don't really like the play or the other songs...  Except I feel pretty.  That was my favorite audition song for high school theater. 

Celebs started to drift in.  Woz was directly below us.  So was Queen Latifah.  I believe she was escorted by her "trainer."  The Jackass crew was there.  I have to say that Gilles' Marini's wife is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in real life.  Seriously, stunning.  Brian agrees, but only with the caveat that I am the most beautiful.  (Jewel was also really pretty too, hobbling in on her crutch.)

We were seated directly across the aisle from Phyllis Diller.  Dude, PHYLLIS DILLER.  That shit was so cool.  She looks just like I remember her from Scooby Doo.

The show got started with the annoying warm up guy.  He made audience members dance.  I need to stress that I DO NOT LIKE HIM.  BRIAN DID NOT LIKE HIM.  HE SUCKED.  (and he never gave me a prize, so he didn't win any favor points that way.)

Judge introduction time.  Carrie Anne.  Didn't like her dress.  Felt a sense of smug satisfaction when she tripped on it. 

Len.  Charming, british and orange skinned.  At least he wasn't wearing yellow. 

Bruno.  Sparkling in black.  Did some pelvic thrusts and went in-say-yay-yay-yay-ane.

Next, my arch nemesis, Samantha Harris.  Internet, it pains me to write these words, but I have to be honest.  I did not hate her as much in person as I do all of the rest of the time.  She was barely in my sight and I wasn't paying attention much when she was doing her backstage stuff.  First, her arms.  Holy shit, Samantha Harris's arms rival Linda Hamilton in the Terminator 2.  She could kick my ass even though I outweigh her by at least three hundred lbs.  Second, she was wearing a really pretty red dress.  Third, she was dancing like a white girl at the prom the whole time she wasn't on camera. (Having been a white girl at a prom on numerous occasions, I can say this with authority.)  She seriously started to walk like an Egyptian past the camera at one point.  Fortunately, when she spoke, the audience usually had to cheer and I couldn't hear her.  So she was exactly what I want from her:  mute.  I'm sure we will watch the show and I will be enraged, like usual. 

Show starts.  Ty and Chelsie first.  I love Chelsie Hightower and have made that clear since she was on So You Think You Can Dance.  She was adorable and I don't think Ty was quite as bad as it seemed.  She definitely talks him through parts of it.  Plus, Chelsie looked cute as hell in her flag shirt.

After they danced and they went to commercial break, the annoying audience warm up guy talked to Chelsie's grandfather and it was very cute.  One of her many younger siblings was there.  A wee bitty Chelsie Hightower.  [Speaking of dancer family members, Buddy Schwimmer, King of West Coast Swing, was wearing track pants.  I am pissed that I tried to look nice.  Clearly I could have worn my PJs.]

I don't know if i am going to get the rest of dances in order.  But I'll do my best. 

Melissa and Tony.  Liked them a lot and thought their scores should have been higher.  Now, she clearly has a lower back tattoo.  Do they really glitter that thing up every week?  I wish my tattoo would sparkle.  Only issue:  I hate that stupid beyonce song if i were a boy.  HATE it.  Almost as much as I hate the rumba.

LT and Edyta.  I was extremely curious to see Edyta.  I thought she was going to be alarmingly thin in person.  She wasn't.  She was like one giant muscle that is tan as leather.  I thought her leg curtains were weird.  She is great and I really hope they give her a good partner so that she can win someday.  LT sucked.  I don't think he deserved the praise that he got.

Lil Kim and Derek definitely brought down the house.  Everyone was screaming and cheering.  I don't know if i would go with tens, but they were good. 

Shawn and Mark.  Very cute.  I loved the prom theme.

Gilles and Cheryl - they are freaking fantastic and I was pissed that their scores weren't higher.  That dance was crazy fast and good.  When he came out before the dance (while the video was playing), he was really friendly and I love that he kisses his wife, the hottest woman alive. 

Steve O and Lacey.  Lacey is hot as hell.  She was adorable when they were out working the crowd.  I loved her little boy shorts.  I liked their routine.  I want Steve O to do well.  He was so cute sitting there with his fingers in his ears while they played the video about him farting.  But let's be honest, he can't dance. 

Julianne and Chuck.  I know, I know.  Support him because he is from DE.  Here's my issue:  Julianne is scrawny.  Way too thin.  Didn't like that.  A coworker wants to know if she is still on the virgin train or if she has succumbed to Chuck's charms.  I can say for sure that I do not know if Julianne Hough is a virgin or not.  They don't reveal their deepest secrets during commercial break.

The band is really impressive.  I wish I could have talked to the lady with the stuff on her head and the extremely ample cleavage.  i also wish that I could have met Tom.  Frankly, he looks tired between takes.  Perhaps it is because Bruno is seriously a pain in the ass the entire time, from the looks of it. 

After the show, we got an astroburger on Melrose and got home around 11:30.  Wish fulfilled.  don't think I'll do it again because the drive is just too much.  But it was very cool. 

Dr. Doom, You've Been Fired.

Dear Dr. Doom,

Quite simply, YOU SUCK.  I went to you with an exhaustive list of issues and you told me my symptoms were "too vague."  You did almost nothing for my trick ankle, which was the source of great pain.  Your stupid tape fell off really quickly and then your office didn't give a rat's ass because you were going to a conference.  Needless to say, when I canceled that follow-up appointment, I was firing you.  Because you suck. 

Today, I went to see Dr. Randy Gubler.  HE IS A GOOD FOOT DOCTOR AND I WON'T MAKE UP ANY MEAN NAMES ABOUT HIM.  You see, he acknowledged that I sprained my ankle in the shower last week.  He LISTENED to my vast list of symptoms and figured out, DUE TO HIS MEDICAL AWESOMENESS, that these things are related and probably have something to do with my fibro.  He wasn't concerned with selling me shit off his website. 

Instead, he wrapped up my foot with something that can't get wet, so my wounded right foot can heal.  When that is done, I get to go back and have needles poke me and send shocks into my legs so we can determine if there is any sort of neuropathy.  You never even said that word sprain, let alone considered my other problems.  Why?  Say it again, YOU SUCK.  DR. GUBLER DOES NOT SUCK.  HE ROCKS.  HE IS GOING TO FIX MY DAMN FEET. 

Dr. Doom, I do not hate you as much as Samantha Harris, but that is simply because we only interacted once.  But I do not like you.  Not one little bit.  Perhaps you should not brush off your patient's concerns because you can't fit them into a snug little box on your sheet.  Oh, and FIX THE FREAKING TYPO ON YOUR INTAKE FORM.  I don't have Ebstein Barr.  And for some of us, EPSTEIN BARR isn't "just mono."  It is the demon that keeps us from functioning like a normal person because it is reactivated, jackass.  Don't act like I don't know what i'm talking about.  I've been to way too many shitty doctors to not be able to get my point across at this stage.  Plus, people pay me to make points all freaking day.  I'm sort of trained for this type of thing, I suppose.

In conclusion, all of the doctors near my house generally suck and you are one of them.  If anyone needs an outstanding podiatrist in Las Vegas, call Dr. Randy Gubler.  He's near Summerlin Hospital and he doesn't suck like Dr. Doom.  (As usual, due to the litigious nature of the average bear, I will not name Dr. Doom in this forum.  Something about defamation keeps me from doing it.  Plus, I can't remember his name since I've been calling him Dr. Doom for two days.)

With hate and disdain (and a virtual kick to the curb as soon as my foot is healed),
Danielle