kdiddy.org

I was reading about photic sneeze reflex because I sneeze nearly every morning when I wake up and it’s been like that for as long as I can remember. Essentially, I am allergic to being awake and I think I need to parlay this into a doctor’s excuse from, like, life and stuff.

So, dude! I’m turning 30 in less than 48 hours. I feel like I should…I don’t know…squeeze in a couple ill-advised relationships and get some high-interest credit cards and binge drink in the next few days before all of that stuff magically switches from charming anecdotal material to outright stupidity.

I was thinking yesterday about how I’m pretty reserved on this blog. On my LJ, I used to rant often and extensively about anything that was on my mind. I really don’t do that here at all. There are a lot of circumstantial reasons for that, mostly me being busy with work and school and life and just not having the time or energy to sit down and write just for recreation.

I think it also has a lot to do with me just not really knowing who’s reading this and just feeling kind of protective of what I put out here. I will admit outright that I’m insecure and while I definitely feel myself giving less of a fuck about other people’s opinions of me as I get older, it’s a hard habit to break when you’ve been like that your whole life.

And, of course, I have my professional reputation and the reputation of the people close to me to think about. I’m probably even a little too careful about censoring myself in the fear of me doing something that I love to do, namely writing with an (mostly) interactive audience, affecting my life and career. I often worry that my profanity could cause problems, but I honestly don’t think so.

Anyway, I think the space on the internet that is most “me” these days is Google Reader. I subscribe to an obscene number of sites. I’m like Johnny 5 in Short Circuit. I need input. I would read or otherwise absorb information about almost anything all day if I could. One of my favorite things about Google Reader is sharing stuff that I find interesting and reading the stuff that my friends share. I’ve been thinking recently that it would be really fun to post just a list of stuff that I share in Reader on here once a day, since while I don’t always have time to update here, I’m always reading stuff.

In order to do that, I feel the need to sort of re-introduce myself to those of you that only know me from this space and didn’t interact with me on LJ. I’m sure it’s no surprise that I’m a registered Democrat, and I remain so despite having serious qualms with the party and their pussyfooting. I’m actually far more to the left and I wouldn’t bat away any accusations of being, ideologically, a socialist. It’s just how I get down. I will admit that my misanthropy seems to clash with a lot of my politics, but I don’t know. I dislike most people, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want them to have health care or an education or just to be able to live a good life.

I’m not exactly pro-Obama. I like the guy. I think he’ll make a decent president and I hope he wins. I do have serious qualms with his stance against gay marriage and the telecom immunity bullshit. My respect for his obvious intellect and compassion does not erase the fact that I know that he is a politician and is in it to win this thing. But I’m choosing to view his more questionable moves as tactical means to an end.

I really dislike McCain and Palin and just the whole MO of the GOP at this point in time. I know why millions of people will vote for them, but I’ll be frank and say that I think that’s a dumb move.

So, all of that is to serve as a sort of disclaimer that a lot of what I’ll be posting here from Reader will be anti-McCain/Palin and, you know, I’m sorry if you have a problem with that but please don’t see that as an invitation to hit me back with some anti-Obama stuff. Not only is most of that just plumb moronic, but it’s directed at the wrong person.

Besides, I’m turning 30 soon and I see that as my pass to start telling people to get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit.

So, to start off, here’s a selection of what I’ve shared this week so far:

As Abstinence Pledges Falter, A New “Middle Class Morality” Emerges

Economic miracle, environmental disaster

Domestic Violence Awareness Month and the Hudson family tragedy

Irony Overload: Hottie Reality Show Contestant Complains About Sexism

How Media Deregulation Kidnapped Natalee Holloway

Ancient mummy hair suggests drug use (aka ancient motherfuckers be trippin’)

Hooman gets in, goes away, returns with fishez

Excessive water consumption is b.s. My comment on reader: “word. i hate drinking water just to drink water and i’m glad i don’t have to feel “guilty” for not doing so anymore.”

Sandra Schultz Newman and some bullshit

Giant Candy Corn Still for Sale. My comment on reader: “they’re still for sale because that shit’s fucking stupid. then again…I’m actually surprised they haven’t shown up on my street yet.”

Sarah Palin, proud socialist

12 Abandoned Houses, Homes, and Ghost Towns

I should also point out that a LOT of what I share first comes to me via Angela who might possibly be a more voracious reader than I am. She finds the best stuff and she needs to be hired by someone who will pay her obscene amounts of money to do so.

I feel kind of stupid mentioning how tired I am today when my dad underwent a six-hour surgery yesterday and had parts of his body removed, but I am tired.

I just talked to my dad a little bit ago. He’s on morphine, which is only kind of helping with the pain. The doctors have to hear back from pathology before they can tell us more, though they think he will need at least a little bit of chemotherapy.

I was at the hospital for about 12 hours yesterday, most of that spent in the waiting room watching soap operas and Oprah and the news and one of those dancing competition shows and Inside Edition and the news, all of which shared the screen with scrolling updates of the patients. I’m not sure how I got it in my head that his operation would only take an hour or two. That was stupid of me.

I did get some quality people-watching in, though it was obviously much more introspective and somber than my normal variety. A number of families were there waiting for loved ones who were also having cancer surgeries and throughout my long day there I got to hear the nurse on duty talk with each of them.

“He has a great family that cares about him. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

“He has a great family that cares about him. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

“She has a great family that cares about her. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

I began to dread hearing those words, especially since it was possible that she would rattle off her Yogi Berra/AA-hybrid speech to me, and especially since the cloud of that speech always settled like a hard mist on a family in shock. Newly devastated. Terrified.

I didn’t get to see my dad after surgery. He was in the recovery room for several hours while the nurses tried to get his pain under control. The husband and the baby had come after school and the baby needed to go to bed. I was feeling really raw this morning and flinched whenever someone spoke to me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at work, since it all seemed especially meaningless and stupid.

About a day after I found out about my dad’s cancer, one of the guys in my grad program found out that his mom has cancer. Her prognosis is very grim, though, so I guess in the sick arena of My Parent Has Cancer, I win this round. He and I have been checking in on each other, though. Sitting next to each other class. I keep wanting to ask him if he feels since the same disconnect that I do when our classmates joke with each other. It seems weird that this whole thing doesn’t make me feel completely vulnerable and childlike. I just want him to be okay.

Anyway. Onward. Thank you everyone for all of your kind words and encouragement yesterday. My dad has a lot of people rallying around him, but every positive thought helps.

This rough stuff that I mentioned the other day? My dad has a malignant, golf-ball-sized tumor on his small intestine. He’s in surgery right now. I’ve been hanging out at the hospital today. Prognosis is good so far.

Cancer can suck a dick.

Sometimes I think me and my family are being directed by some omnipotent force with a seriously sick sense of humor. God? I don’t know. Maybe if god is a drunken Woody Allen, then his direction for last night’s comedy of errors would be something like this:

Okay, Greedo (cat). You haven’t knocked anything off of any surface in months. Now stare deviously at the cactus on the mantle in the baby’s room. Lick your lips and jump onto the mantle. Tiptoe to the cactus. Now touch…touch…push! Now hide! They’re going to be pissed!

Kelly, grab Greedo, call him an asshole and give him to the husband, then carefully pick up the cactus with an oven mitt.

Cactus, stare up at Kelly with a “What did I do?” look. Great!

Husband, start your futile attempts to re-pot the cactus with the dry-ass soil. Wiggle the cactus to see if it will stay put. Once it starts to fall, grab it with your bare hand! Perfect! Now swear! Keep swearing! Tell the cat you’re going to kill him. Amazing. This is great stuff, guys.

Enter neighbors across the street! Alright, 3-year-old daughter, start screaming and crying! Keep going! Parents! Don’t make any attempts to comfort her. Repeat this process for the next two hours.

Okay, now we’re at the bar. Kelly, order a gimlet and some potstickers. Order another gimlet. Burn the roof of your mouth on the potstickers. Order another gimlet….aaaaaand one more. Great! Talk to Jwan about some stuff. Talk to Karen about vegetables. Show Maria your iPhone and then slur to her about graduate school.

Alright, let’s go home. Husband, curl up next to Kelly and attempt to make some moves. Kelly, be waaaaayyy too tired and breathe vodka breath into the husband’s face.

Oh, it’s 4:50 a.m.! Kelly, it’s time for your sneezing attack. And the baby, it’s time for you to get up and need some help turning the light on in the bathroom. Yeah, you guys do this every night. You know the drill.

Kelly, it’s 6 a.m. Your alarm is going off. Press the snooze button. Repeat this action 15 times. Alright, now it’s 7:15 and you really need to get out of bed. Note that your hangover seems to reside solely in your knees. Check the weather on your phone and wonder why you were reading the Wikipedia page for William F. Buckley, Jr.

We’re heading to Kelly’s in a little bit to wish the sister-in-law bon voyage. She’s being TOTALLY ORIGINAL and moving out of Pittsburgh now that she’s done with college. Gee, no one’s ever done that before. Yes, jump right into my diaspora, the water’s warm.

I just wanted to pop up really quick and let you all know that The Search for the World’s Most Useless Hospital Gown is now over. I found it at Magee. It features 9 straps, none of which are able to meet and tie at any point. Four of these straps are, bafflingly, around the neck and the rest dangle like undercooked fringe around the waist. I also wowed the nurse with my prowess when I backed into and nearly knocked over that flashlight that they shine in your vag. See, if they had just let me have my appointment yesterday none of this would have happened.

Later.

With my 30th birthday quickly approaching (17 days!), I find myself in some sort of nesting mode. Sure, 30 is just a number but if all things go according to the loose plans that we have for life, this next year is going to be a pretty big one. So, in a way, I’m preparing to give birth to a new phase in life…to be all corny and new age about it.

I’m taking baby steps in getting our house in order. I’m taking care of long-overdue tasks, like getting new glasses (which I’m going to go pick up in a little bit eeee!). I’m trying to dig myself out of a stress and depression induced slump in which I totally let myself look like I was stressed and depressed. I bought some new clothes and shrugged my shoulders at the larger size and am also subscribing to the philosophy that a little lipstick can make you feel a lot better. I’m still no big fan of makeup but I’ll indulge it more often.

Am I sounding like a Cosmopolitan issue yet?

Anyway, another big thing is that I’m actually keeping a calendar. I have a pile of abandoned day planners and good intentions. But the calendar on my iPhone is actually the right tool for me. I make note of any event that I need to remember, thereby lessening the strain on my poor brain.

I knew that I had my annual gyno appointment today at 9 a.m. and got myself all prepared. The baby slept at the mother-in-law’s house last night since he is off school today, making our departure much more streamlined. I got to the doctor’s office a good five minutes before my appointment and went to check in, but the receptionist couldn’t find me on the books. That’s because my appointment is TOMORROW at 9 a.m.

I really, really had to restrain myself from asking if I could just have my appointment then anyway, since I was there and ready to face the stirrups. But I guess they don’t cushion the schedule for nitwits who show up 24 hours early.

No matter. I went to CVS and bought Claritin in the hopes of reclaiming my head from the depths of these horrendous allergies. I keep hoping that they’ll just go away but I’ve been hoping that since, like, February.

By the way, if you’re in Pittsburgh and looking for a haunted house to visit, you can go ahead and skip ScareHouse. The wait to get in ranges between 1 and 4 hours and it really is not that scary or even very interesting. There were some parts that were alright, but I really don’t know how it got all of the accolades it did. Tom Savini’s various haunted houses were much better and you’re probably better off going to whatever cheap local thing you have near you.

Oh, dudes. Rough, ROUGH day yesterday. There was the mid-term and that really didn’t go very well, and then some other stuff happened that I don’t want to get into just yet, but suffice it to say that you may find me more morose than usual for awhile. I’m okay, but I really have to hike my big girl pants up and…well, honestly…I know that the strength needed is in me somewhere, but it’s hard to remember where I put it.

Sigh.

For right now, I’m trying to be all serene and accept the things I cannot change and looking forward to spending the weekend at home. I think the husband and the sister-in-law and I are going to a haunted house tonight.

Last night, I was seriously in need of some quality TV and we finally finished catching up on our Sunday night shows, namely True Blood and Mad Men. I am just completely ga-ga over Mad Men, but True Blood has been slow to grow on me. Whenever we watch it, I always enjoy it, but I never really look forward to it and am never DYING to know what’s going to happen. Plus, I honestly find Anna Paquin’s character to be really annoying. I think her dialect coach needs to work with her a bit more. Her vowels are too round or something. And they need to tone down the color of her hair. Poor thing. Her vowels and her hair dye make her the object of my ridicule. Truly, everyone should tremble in the face of my judgment.

ANYWAY, this week’s episode of True Blood really and truly blew me away. It was so great. Lots of really funny moments and just a fantastic rush of development in the story. Also, Lafayette, who up until now has been mostly a side character, got some more screen time and had the honor of delivering one of the best smackdowns I’ve ever seen. Behold:

I am brimming with excitement because after nearly ten years I am finally getting new glasses! I went to the eye doctor on Saturday and ordered new contacts, which I am also in dire need of since I had been in my last pair for way too long and they were all cruddy. I also picked out a cheap-ish pair of frames that will house new lenses that are actually my current prescription. And I promise not to fall asleep in them this time, since that was part of the downfall of my current pair, seen here in a rather bizarre picture of me eating birthday cake with my hands while dressed as Carrie at a Halloween party in an abandoned store in the South Side in 2000:

That’s just how I roll sometimes. Those glasses were something of a trademark of mine and I heard howls of protest from both the husband and our friend Jwan when I announced that they needed to be retired. But, the new glasses are very similar. Fear not.

I’m excited at the prospect of actually being able to wear glasses from time to time since my old ones were only good for seeing me from the bathroom to my bed without walking into walls.

I also had my massage on Saturday and I told the masseuse about my problems with sleeping weird and waking up immobile. When she initially ran her hand down the left side of my back, she said, “Ew.” She found and worked on nine knots and strongly suggested that I buy a new pillow. I repaid her good advice by drooling on her shoes through the face hole thingy.

The baby spent the night with my mom and the husband and I went to see Choke. It was only alright. Palahniuk’s novels are, I imagine, a tough thing to translate to the screen and Clark Gregg just didn’t…get it. Plus, there’s a lot of stuff going on in that book and he tried to fit all of it in and just present it as it is. It didn’t work.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I hate it and really wish we had just waited until it was on DVD. We should have gone to see Blindness, but that’s another book that I love and if they fuck that up, too, I may go ballistic.

But to remedy that, the husband and I are going to see the premiere of Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Kevin Smith is doing a special screening at The Oaks and I’m really excited about this new movie.

To veer off into another direction in this already scattered post, I am very happy that the Steelers won but these late Sunday night games are totally messing up the one night that I have shows to watch. True Blood, Entourage, Californication, and Mad Men are all on Sundays and I missed all of them to watch the Steelers. I recorded them, of course, but I hate waiting. I need to know the latest on Betty and Don and I want to hear more about Joan and her fiance! God!

“The Husband.”

“Mmph?”

“Turn the light off.”

“What?”

“Turn the light off!”

“What light?”

“The light! Turn it off!”

“What?”

“Your lamp! Turn it off!”

“What lamp? What the hell are you talking about?”

“YOUR BEDSIDE LAMP! THE ONE THAT’S ON EVEN THOUGH IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! TURN IT OFF!”

“*snore*”

“DUDE!”

“WHAT?!?!?”

“TURN. YOUR. LAMP. OFF.”

“YOU ARE SUCH A PAIN IN MY ASS!”

Or something along those lines. That was the argument that we had ’round about 3:30 or 4 a.m. The husband fell asleep with the light on and I woke up to help the baby to the bathroom and then had that infuriating exchange. What light? Give me a goddamned break. The light that is replacing the darkness that I should be seeing right now, you ass. God. It’s not like I asked him what newspapers he reads.

Anyway, I used to have this big old Toshiba laptop that I bought with some of my college graduation money. It turned out to be a bit of a lemon and a few years ago I brought it into work so that the computing people here could at least get it to function a little bit and I could get my pictures off of it. I put all of the pictures onto a bunch of zip discs. Yes, zip discs. I intended to take them home and transfer them to a functioning computer, but just never got around to it.

Yesterday, I was poking around in my office and came across both the discs and a zip drive. So I spent a little bit of time transferring them to my computer and uploading the pictures to flickr. They go back to 2003 and it’s really neat to see so many pictures of the baby being all little that I had totally forgotten about.

I have another big post in me about how looking back at these pictures has also been very upsetting, because in a lot of them I’m very thin. It’s been drudging up a lot of stuff that I really want to get off my chest, but I can’t do it right now.

Meh. In the meantime, my kid is cute as HELL.

We are jam PACKED this weekend. Tomorrow at noon, the baby is going to hang out with the husband at the record store while I go to the eye doctor, then after that I’m getting a massage! I’m in dire need, really. My neck and back have been totally messed up. Then we have a kid’s birthday party to go to and the baby is going to some Magic Tree House show with my mom.

30 days until I turn 30.

It really doesn’t occur to me to feel old until I mention that I’m turning 30 and someone suggests that I should feel old. I’m not insulted by it, per se, but isn’t that attitude a little…dated? Like if this were, say, Medieval Britain…sure. I would fully expect the, “Christ, you’re ancient. Watch out for that wave of plague!” treatment.

There’s a great scene from an episode of Roseanne, when Jackie and Roseanne had spent the day looking at a retirement community for their mom and were overwhelmed to say the least. Roseanne asked Jackie how old she felt. Jackie thought for a second before responding.

“Thirty-…Twelve on a good day. Eight most of the time.”

That’s pretty much where I’m at. I can’t possibly feel old because I’m so obviously a pre-teen.

Of course, I do start to feel weary when I think about the fact that, deep down, everyone feels the same and we’re out here just…doing shit and affecting people’s lives and messing everything up.

I wish I was old enough to drink.