Friday, February 22, 2013

Toxic Waste Dump

I kill electronics.

Here is proof.

I was using a light box to trace an embroidery pattern, when suddenly FSZZZZTT! the wire sparked and immediately broke off from the thingey.

Unrelated Tangent:

There is this very cool website called The Dialectizer where you can put in your sentence or phrase and it will spit out a dialectized version. Your choices include Redneck, Jive, Cockney, Elmer Fudd, Swedish Chef, Moron, Pig Latin, and Hacker. Go follow that link. Have fun. Or as the Swedish Chef would say, "Gu fulloo thet leenk. Hefe-a foon. Bork bork bork!" I think that The Dialectizer should add "Mom." Everything would be translated to sound like, "Go find that thingey that's in the thing by the thingey!" Whenever I say something like that to my children, I completely expect them to understand what I'm saying. About THE THINGEY THAT'S IN THE THING BY THE THINGEY. What is terrifying is that they often do know exactly what I mean.

End of Unrelated Tangent. 

So, I kill electronics. If I put on a watch, it will stop working after 20 minutes. If I take if off and put it on the counter, it will start working again. I put it on. It stops. I take it off. It works. For the last year or so my iPad will suddenly go MEH, I'm tired. Good night. And then shut itself off. This happens approximately thirty times a day. My brain does the exact same thing thirty times a day, so I don't really blame my iPad. Often when I wave my hands in front of a television or a computer monitor, I can get it to completely shut off. Or at the very least, have static. And ever since I have started working in a coffee shack, the electronics have been unpredictable and wonky. The blender repeatedly turns itself on. OR maybe the shack has a poltergeist. Both of those are fun options.

After being married to me for a zillion years, my husband completely believes me. Anytime he is working on something electrical, whether he is downloading a music album or rewiring the thingey under the thing, he has me take three steps back. The chance for successfully executing whatever electronic thing he was doing, greatly improves the farther away I am from THE THINGEY. 

Tell me why I am this way, good people. But don't tell me that I am so radioactive that I gave my mom cancer because I am, AND I QUOTE, "a toxic waste dump."

Yes, that really happened last April. A frenemy (one of only one person I have ever unfriended on Facebook) told me that because my mom lived close to me, well, duh! of course she got cancer. Basically, my mom is a downwinder of me.

I am so over being hurt by this. I finally told my mom this story over lunch yesterday and she shrugged, reminding me that I cried every time I got home from hanging out with this person. My mother's color was not surprised.

I have known this frenemy since I was a kid, and man, it feels good to no longer have her in my life. But still! Maybe Ms. Frenemy Turd was right! I break thingeys with my wonky magnetic thingeys! Like watches and iPads. And mothers?

I really really hope I don't give people cancer with my radioactivity. 

I really really hope I give people super powers instead.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Aspartame is Poison, Delicious, Delicious Poison

Because I am extraordinarily boring, I haven't ever dabbled in illicit substances. Why even bother, when the best drug of all is aspartame.

Thanks to my lovely assistant, Geoffrey, the mime with the butterfly tattoo on his butt, you can see that already this Coke Zero is one-third gone. I was not the one who drank it though. It was Mr. Floozy. Because guess what! I haven't had Diet Coke or Coke Zero for three whole danged weeks! I know! Crazy.

Here is why. I think I might have an intolerance to aspartame. In fact, I think that it has been doing all sorts of screwy things to my delicate-flower system. Off and on for the past six months, I get really low potassium levels. I did not know I had this problem until I went to the ER last summer for my legendary head injury and the doctor was concerned about my head, sure, but also my low potassium. He wrote down on a little note pad "hypokalemia" and prescribed me potassium horse pills. I noticed within a few days that my legs no longer ached and that I wasn't passing out and puking as much. Now, I know what you are going to say next, "Go and eat some bananas, Sister Floozy, for they are high in potassium and are good for your soul." But guess what. I am allergic to bananas. They make me puke and puke and puke, and sometimes, just for fun, I pass out sometime between the puking. I can't even open a banana for my kids without feeling sick. I have to use gloves. 

Let us meander meaninglessly through the daisies for a moment.

I have a food sensitivity to so many foods. So many. Bananas, avocados, raspberries, broccoli, cauliflower, and recently I discovered, pistachios. There are more than that, but why bore you (more than you already are). When I tell people this, they look at me and say, uh huh. I know that this list is extremely suspect. Fruits and vegetables. Suuuuurrrreee you're allergic. I don't think that any of these are allergies per se, except for the avocados one, because that one makes my throat swell. The other foods just bring on Xtreme PukeFestPallooza. Do you think that I don't want to eat raspberries? Raspberries are amazing. What I remember of them. And avocados! Guacamole is poo-green heaven. These food problems make me sad. Mostly, because so many of the things I am sensitive to are wonderful in desserts. And as a proud Dessertitarian, this is a blow to my dessert lifestyle.

Back to aspartame.

So! Here is what I have noticed since I gave up Diet Coke. My hair does better and doesn't shed like a cat confronted by a canoe-sized spray bottle. My potassium doesn't dip to levels so low that my hands go numb and I pass out so much that I need to get new glasses because of all the scratches from face-planting on the bathroom floor. In general, much less puking. And weirdest of all, is that my blood pressure, which has been crazy awful for years, went from an average high of 160/98 to 120/72. WHAT THE HELL.

Now stop. I know that you think I am going to take away your Diet Coke. And I'm not. We have all heard the mythical horror stories about aspartame. A woman who was having seizures was miraculously healed when she banished aspartame. A man who had tried every possible tactic finally lost his third, extraneous nipple when he gave up Diet Dr. Pepper. There are so many stories. I think that many of these stories are true (except maybe that nipple one), but I don't think that this applies to everyone. So don't panic and freak out. Mr. Floozy drinks Coke Zero all day long and it doesn't seem to affect him a whit. He rarely gets sick. He is a healthy, strapping young man. Okay, not so young. He's forty. But still. STRAPPING.

If I could drink Diet Coke or anything else delicious with aspartame like Crystal Lite or Danimals drinkable yogurt, I would. Oh, I would. Breaking up with Diet Coke was one of the hardest breakups I have ever had.

I will love you forever Diet Coke. Au revoir.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Synesthesia, Bye Bye!

Ever since my head injury last summer, I have noticed a serious drop in my memory retention. Like, someone says something and POOF. Is gone. I used to have an awesome memory. I was excellent at memorizing numbers, especially phone numbers. And if I saw someone's name in print, I could usually recall it pretty well. Faces were always a different matter. You white people all look the same! But anything that I could visually lock on in the form of the alphabet or numbers? I was golden. Now that ability is gone. I can't hold onto numbers or names or my grocery list (which I always accidentally leave at home). This kind of sucks. I cannot for the mother-effing life of me memorize my new cell phone number and I have to look at it every time I give it to someone. A year ago, I would have looked at it once and have it mentally stamped forever. Those days are over. 

I finally realized why.


When I used to look at numbers or letters they each had a mildly colored tint. Because of my memory gaps, I can't even totally remember exactly what those color correlations were. I'm pretty sure that 7 was green and 3 was red, but that's about it. 

This photo is somewhat similar to how I saw things ( although considerably brighter), but alas and alack, no more. Words and numbers were so much easier to remember this way!

I told my son about this and he sympathetically said, 'It's like you lost your superpower!' Sad, huh? Thankfully, I still have the superpower where I can do a single dance move and embarrass my children into puddles of shame.

After thoroughly investigoogling the situation, I learned that you can either gain or lose synesthesia after a head injury. 

Because I was totally bummed this morning, I applied my cheerful, new vinyl wall lettering.

Just kidding! That's not my wall!

Here is my wall.

Ennui, Malaise, Jejune
That's better. Maybe these words no longer have color to me, but they are still beautiful and fancy and I'm sure that they mean really inspirational things if I took the time to look them up in the dictionary!

Friday, February 1, 2013

Lena, The Beautiful Wound

You're the wound.

It is no secret fact that I like television. I think that I like tv shows more than movies. I feel a little lost that there will be no more 30 Rock. (Sob.) I am ecstatic about the return of Arrested Development on Netflix. And there is no woman as funny and as gorgeous as Kaitlin Olson in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. SO MANY FUNNY PEOPLE.

One of my newest favorite television shows is Girls.  It is funny in a cringetastic way. The leading ladies are entitled and effed-up and make the most glorious of mistakes, but somehow I am completely drawn to them. The main character (the Carrie Bradshaw of the ensemble) Hannah Horvath makes me feel better about my body. Yes, this show has a lot of nudity and much of it is of Lena Dunham, the actress. It is so damned refreshing to have a woman who is real and unconventional and free in her body. And that does not say much at all about the fictional character, but everything about the actress. 

Go ahead and let someone
 draw clown eyebrows all over your face, Lena. 

I know that some people feel uncomfortable when actresses like Rebel Wilson and Melissa McCarthy use their fatness for the sake of hilarity. To me, when a woman uses the god-or-twinkie-given resources she has to be funny, SHE WINS. I never had any problem laughing at (RIP) Chris Farley in that Chippendale's skit he did with (RIP) Patrick Swayze. To be truly equal, I believe that women should be able to use their bodies for humor the same way that men have been doing for years. Not many actresses have been brave enough to step up and do it. If we all continue to appreciate the wit and bravery and talent of unconventional beauties, then think of all of the future sitcoms we will have where the main married couple are not composed of a fat man and a skinny wife. Moar fat women with skinny husbands please! 

Damn, I miss them both.

Do I think that women who are unabashedly open with their curvacious or boobless or unconventional bodies are less sexy? No. They are more sexy. That's just how it is. Rebel Wilson in Pitch Perfect was sexy because she was the funniest. And sure, she is legitimately pretty. But funny and smart win every time! In case you think I discriminate, I appreciate the hilarity of Kristen Wiig and Kaitlin Olson who are skinny little mofos. When they let go, manipulate their faces into unattractive scrunches and scream, "I WILL EAT YOUR BABIES, BITCH!" or whine, "OooooOooh, Helen knows the owner," mirror, mirror, they are the funniest of them all.

OoooOoh, Helen knows the owner.

Some come on, women. Let loose. Embrace your gorgeous flaws and be funny. AMEN. Or should I say AWOMEN.