Thursday, 12/20/18 Semi-update
If I have any readers left, the hives are still keeping me fairly miserable, which is why y’all haven’t heard from me in awhile — brain isn’t working well, itching with what Lille Sparven has deemed — “blistering hordes of fuckwads” — God, I love that description! Thank you, my friend, because that is exactly what I’m dealing with. Anyway, I’m doing a lot of sleeping because — BENEDRYL — the only thing that even remotely takes the edge off! I was recently diagnosed with Chronic Idiopathic Uticaria aka chronic hives, unknown cause. So I continue to wait on the devil insurance company to let me and my doctor know when I can begin the intensive and expensive treatment recommended, which is Xolair shots. They run something like close to $1,000 per shot. Is that not just fucking crazy? My doctor would like me to take shots twice a month. As if I had that kind of money. Ha! Treatment will either attempt to kill me through anaphylaxis or it will work wonders. At this point, anything is better than what I’m going through right now. Anyway, that’s a topic for a different post. I’m alive but barely kicking. Depression has set in. And I’m back to waiting.
As some of my readers who are also bloggers might have noticed, I still check in on your blogs as frequently as I can — still not frequently enough, I’m afraid. I’m not witty or on top of my game right now, which sucks, but I still read as I’m able and when I’m feeling especially productive, I try to comment — all of which leads me to this post today. I have been tagged by Sarah Silvey at Fresh Hell to answer the three questions below. I feel honored and totally freaked out at the same time, because — brain ain’t working so good right now, exhaustion, itchy, irritable, etc. But I promised I’d try and answer them to the best of my ability. Don’t expect much. Then I’m supposed to tag three other bloggers and give them three questions. Anyway, here goes nothing —
Questions
1. What was your worst public experience? Alternatively, what is your worst imaginable public experience?
I’m not sure I’ve had that yet. I may have and my mind has totally blocked it. That is a strong possibility. I’m sure I’ve spoken out of turn on many occasions, which would have gotten me in trouble, but that wouldn’t constitute worst public experience. I’ve blacked out and puked while I was blacked out and someone helped clean me up. However, I wasn’t really in “public” and I don’t remember any of it — having blacked out and all. I was just told about it. Ah, my teenage years; how I don’t miss them. In a more “public” experience — once, the slip I was wearing under my skirt fell down around my ankles outside a restaurant when I went to lunch with a friend. The elastic just gave way. The group of guys that witnessed this bought me and my friend a drink for my trouble. I was in my twenties and was all that and a box of chocolates, if you know what I mean — so I was slightly embarrassed, but it wasn’t completely mortifying. I got a drink out of the deal, a good reason to stop wearing slips, and a story out of it as well. Of course, I stopped wearing slips after that; and, of course, I tripped and fell this past fall and when I went down, my dress went above my waist and exposed my panties. Only one other person witnessed this though. I gotta admit, down on the floor, the thought did cross my mind that I wished I was wearing a slip. Probably my worst imaginable public experience would be that I was speaking in front of a group (terrifying enough on its own) and I sneeze really loudly and snot all over myself as well as pee my pants (or worse) all at the same time. Because my body is getting to that point where it’s not exactly trustworthy anymore, ya know? Ah, I’ve got it. Back in the 1990’s, I was very new at writing and I joined a weekly writers group that met at a Barnes and Noble. I’d read just a couple of times and had gotten some very positive feedback. The third time I read, however, this very angry and annoyed writer (he really was quite a good writer of fiction) expressed his vitriol towards me and wondered why I even bothered writing at all. He decided that I was wasting my time, his time and everyone else’s time because I wasn’t good at it. No one in the group came to my defense. My cheeks burned for hours. Later I was told that this writer was a “slash and burn artist.” He enjoyed tearing down other people in this group, but the “rules” of the writers group were that you simply had to sit and listen to what each person said without argument. You were not allowed to respond no matter what was said. I tried to not let his words get to me, but I was crushed and I didn’t write again for at least ten years. Yep, that was bad. Really bad.
2. If you were made the dictator of your country, what would you try to change first, and how?
So, the first thing I would do is sit down because I’d be having a heart attack; promptly followed by my abdication because that just isn’t my thing and I refuse to be a dick dictator. I have enough trouble running me. Who the fuck wants to run a whole country? And be blamed for every fucking thing that goes wrong? Or to have to be beholden to others because that is what is expected of you? The idea makes me cringe. I’m more about trying to stay under the radar. When you speak of change, though, I’m also all about being “the change you wish to see in the world” as trite as that may be. How else ya gonna be genuine if you don’t? The way I look at it, you can’t change minds unless hearts change first. And the best way to change hearts is just to be the best you that you can be and maybe that might touch someone’s heart enough so they at least reconsider something unhealthy for something healthier. And yeah, some people just don’t have a heart or a mind or either to change. Or they’re extremely complicated aka a pain in the ass. Also, truly, no one else can actually change another as hard as they might try, unless drugs and torture are involved. Again, not interested in any of that, so I’ll leave that sort of thing to people who don’t have consciences and are into that kind of thing. But for the torture/drugs thing, you really can only change yourself and hopefully influence others in a positive way. And that’s pretty damned hard most of the time. So there’s that. I have known to be extremely good at guilting and shaming others in past years. I’ve given that up…mostly. Things usually go awry when you’re manipulating others using guilt or shame. I know how to do it well, though, and if there comes a time that I have to put it back into my arsenal as a strategy, it’s good to know it’s there. Otherwise, it’s all headache-inducing nonsense as far as I’m concerned! So everyone be free or go dictate yourself! WooHoo!
3. What kind of monster is hiding under your bed?
Usually, the one who has four legs, a tail, and often answers to the name Buddy. He’s been known to eat things that don’t belong to him and also tear things up that don’t belong to him. I know he’s a monster because only a monster can create the smells that waft up around us at night as we try to sleep while he’s under the bed and won’t come out because he doesn’t want to go to his crate. Still, he’s kinda cute and I wuvs him — stupid damned dog!
The three questions I have for those I’ve tagged are not all that original, but —
- If you could go back to a moment in time to re-experience it just as it was, fix something or change something, when and what would that be? It can be a time during your life or a time before you were born. It can be something personal or something like preventing Lincoln’s assassination.
- In a fire, what possession would you grab on your way out and why?
- Who is your favorite writer/author and why? What would you recommend others read from this author?
Okay, technically, that’s probably more than three questions. Oh well. Answer what you want and if there’s a better question you’d rather answer than one of the three I provided, you can substitute it with your own if you want.
Per Fresh Hell, here are the rules —
The Rules
♦ Answer the questions you receive (straight, funny, absurd…up to you)
♦ Create three questions of your own (for those you tag)
♦ Tag three people
So, now, Tag, you’re it —
Lille Sparven and
Can’t wait to read what y’all write!
I’m sorry, I was about to write something about being tagged and how I will totally work on this the next couple of days, and some other things I was going to say, but then I saw that Sarah said “Sparkles in My Asscrack” and all of those other thoughts went away and now I can only think Sparkles in the Asscrack and no other thoughts, because of its sheer, dominating awesomeness in all time and space. That is all.
Lille,
I completely understand what you mean and I think we should take a moment to reflect on just how awesome this is. Mona
That dude in your old writer group sounds like a piece of work. And by work, I mean shit. He’s a piece of shit.
Thanks for the tag! I will post this on Friday!
Adie,
I like to think that he was a frustrated soul with poor coping skills, but piece of shit works just as well! I look forward to reading your post tomorrow! Mona
Ah, Mona! I was laughing so hard, and then I was filled with impotent rage at the douchebag scumbucket fuckwad in the writer’s group, and then I was laughing again! I’m so pleased and confused! The skirt thing, what a dumb moment. This is only vaguely related to poor clothing and public humiliation, because I thought it was pretty funny at the time, and it was only in retrospect that I got embarrassed…
Once in seventh grade, all I wore were ill-fitting hand-me-down blue jeans. Now, big calves run the the family. None of us girls can wear any kind of boot but slouchy ones. So for some reason, my friends and I were probably comparing leg hair or something, I pulled my 90’s jeans leg up over my calf. And that is where it stayed. I could NOT get it back down. My English teacher noticed the commotion, and I’m not sure I remember the exact sequence of events, but I remember ending up with my legs over the top of my desk, and Mrs. Butler forcing her thumbs under my pants leg at the knee and really using her bodyweight, trying to pull it back down past my calf. It took a hell of a lot of struggling! It will always be a very fond memory.
Also, KYAA Lille and Mona like my stupid asscrack sparkles joke! I hope I haven’t peaked!
God, I hope you figure out something that makes your cursed pestilence go away, soon! Are you sure you haven’t been cursed? You don’t happen to have Job-like devotion to a god, do you? If that’s the case your god may have placed a bet on whether or not you’ll crack.
I’ll kill a goat for you just in case! My very finest!
Sarah, I’m in stitches because I’ve got this visual in my head of your teacher trying to help you out! I don’t suppose a teacher could do that today. Also, save the goat, I don’t think God’s screwing with me. I hope. Or maybe that’s what’s going on. Whatever. Hopefully, in the next couple of hours, I will have some news to report…or I may be in worst crisis, in which case I won’t be reporting anything. It remains to be seen how well I’ll tolerate it, but I’m about to get my first Xolair shot and I’m waiting for them to call my name. Fingers crossed. Mona
I’m sorry I took so long to comment here, frand! I’m a bad, bad, bad blog buddy! Regardless of my suckitude, I step up to your challenge. Look for my answers on Das Goose Monday!
Also, I’m with Adie. That bastard in that writing group sounds like a first-rate cunt monkey (pardon). Even if your writing did suck (which I doubt), there’s a way to convey that someone needs to improve without tearing them down to the point of near tears. So, regardless of the quality of your work, he’s still a big pile of dicks. I’m sorry he kept you from writing for so long!
Love and Hugs this Christmas, frand!
Ah, Allen, you always know just the right thing to say! Also, you are not a bad blog buddy at all! I’m the one who’s remiss and behind! Trying to feel better though. At this moment, I’m at the allergist’s office about to get THE SHOT! Nervous as hell! I’ll fill everyone in later if I survive it. If not, I wish you, JoJo and Jolene a very merry Christmas! Mona
Oh, my friend. I think we’ve talked about that douchebag in your old writing group before. I had a similar experience with a creative writing class that focused on poetry. After the comments given by the class on a poem I wrote, I didn’t write another poem for nearly 20 years and I still don’t feel like I have the chops for it.
People can just eat a bag of dicks sometimes, ya know?
Kat, exactly! About eating a bag of dicks, I mean. Not that you can’t write poetry because I think you can. So I think you should write a poem about dusty bitches who eat bags of dicks! I think it would be amazing! Mona
Ah, Louis C-K, in spite of your fuckwittery … we had some pre-trimmed chicken thighs that we put in Ziploc bags and froze back in the fall, and I wrote “BAG OF DICKS” on each of them with a Sharpie.
Answered this tag, but again, you’re going to have to give me some names because I don’t know anybody else! LOL
Lille,
Sorry. In the midst of trying to play catch up and it’s 2 a.m. and I still have a lot to do. Got the tree trimmed around midnight. Let me catch you on the flip side of Christmas and I’ll have names for you, I promise. Also, I ‘ve been having problems being able to comment on your blog site for some reason. Again, I’ll revisit after Christmas is over. Have a very merry Christmas, my friend. Also, in case I can’t get on your site soon, I loved what you wrote on blog tag! Check out Lille Sparven, y’all!
Hugs, Mona