Yesterday was my birthday. Birthday requires someone else cooking for me. I tried to go out for sushi last night. I wound up getting no dragon on my dragon roll. My waitress refused to make eye contact with me...as in not even walk by my table, so I hobbled up to the sushi chef counter, plate in hand:
"Hey buddy, you wanna slap some dragon on here? This is not what I ordered."
"Is too dragon roll, IS TOO, see green on top and happy face and dragon shape?"
"There is supposed to be DRAGON (smoked eel) in a dragon roll ...PUT SOME ON IT." (I caught myself speaking louder, as English was not his first language, nor was it Japanese. I realized my subtle nuance in English was lost on the poor F-er, but I cannot seem to stop it from coming out of my mouth. I was hoping my accompanying facial expressions would carry the day.)
"No... see (he points with a stick) dragon INSIDE roll, see little line of black under cucumber?
"That, my friend, is a sheet of seaweed paper, (I dig the little blackish rectangle out of the roll with my own set of sticks.) trust me, I know seaweed from eel. Would you like me to come back there and roll my own? I can roll up a big fattie like nobody's bidness! Where is the manager?"
He stamped his little foot and stalked off. Then things got worse. There was much hissing, spitting and scratching, but in the end, the uneaten rice, avocado, cucumber,and seaweed paper roll went unpaid for, good thing too, since it was an exorbitant price for what was essentially a VEGAN sushi roll. How dare they try to pass that crap off on me? It was a mistake upon which I called the tiny douchbag, and dared to insult his sushi chefiness, which he had so richly earned. I insulted him again by refusing to tip him..The manager tried to "make it better" by constantly rubbing my arm. Tsk, how slimy! No, you silly twat, you make it better by chastising that sushi asshole, you make it better by explaining his own menu to him and what each item means. You make it better by not making me pay for this plate of shit you just served me and that I didn't eat! UGH. And a good time was had by all. Sheesh. Thumbs down for Fuji.
If I see them on the street, I shall insult them a second time!
If I have another birthday, I will order a whole cake just for me, and eat it by myself at home. I have the worst luck ever when it comes to restaurants.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
OWW MY SCREAMY ::INSERT RANDOM PART::
I am a rigid weapons specialist. I have firearms and a crap load of tactical training. I have the peculiar talent of being able to pick up almost anything and use it as a weapon. My house is fully alarmed as well as guarded by two beasts who have the innate ability to pick out a bad guy at 40 paces, but not bite him until told to do so. None of these things are any help at all when I'm lying on my back in the dark at 1:00 AM.
A couple weeks ago while letting the dogs out, I fell. I was exactly half in and half out of the door, my upper body on the floor inside, and my legs stuck under the screen door to the patio outside. I absolutely could not get up. Rue came inside, through the Rue-sized crack in the screen door...I am glad I fell in such a way so the door did not completely shut. I was scared. She sat by my my head for about 15 minutes and scrubbed the side of my face with her nose the whole time I was blubbering. When I finally regained my wits, I stuck my right hand in her collar and she was able to drag me inside enough so the door closed. I was finally able to get my feet on the floor and push myself inside--sliding on my back while I pushed with my feet. I made it to the rug where I had enough traction to roll over and get on all-fours, crawl to a chair and eventually stand by climbing up the chair, although bent over at the waist, The time spent wallowing around was about an hour in total. I was not terribly hurt, just bruised and breathless.
The following day I realized what Rue had been doing. In the past, when she has wanted me up, awake and out of bed for various reasons, she will touch her nose to my cheek, then scrub vigorously back and forth. To Rue, face-scrubbing means "GET UP!" It has always worked for her in the past, why wouldn't it work this time? She was trying to help me get up in the only way she knew how, the way that has worked best for her in the past. If I have nothing else, at least I have a smart dog.
The latest on my screamy heart is I have a major (80%) blockage in the right coronary artery. I have grown a collateral vessel that is the only supplier of blood to the right side of my heart, and now it too has a blockage. Because of that I have near constant heart-type chest pain (over and above the chest pain caused by nerve damage). I am gasping for breath with even the slightest bit of movement. They can't fix the new blockage with surgery, and definitely not with stents, since it is too far down in the vessel. They can only give me drugs and hope that they work. In the meantime, I feel so bad that I am actually surprised when I wake up in the morning. I open my eyes and look around and think, "DAMMIT! I survived another night."
I haven't published since March. The biggest event in that missing time period was a car crash in early May, about which I am not allowed to speak per my lawyer. Gah. Suffice it to say I am still broken and seeking people to put me back together in the correct order.
My heart sucks more than usual, in that it has actually become an obstacle in treating my various wounds. Because I have metal in my chest, I cannot have an MRI. One guy said, "I can't fix anything I can't see. Without an MRI I can't see any of the parts." I shouted at him, "What the hell did people do before the MRI was invented? DO THAT, FFS!" This coming Thursday, I see a bone doctor. Oh joy, oh rapture, more pain...I can hardly wait.
You know, there is not much in life that I'm afraid of--I've been in a number of life-threatening scrapes. I have physically been unable to run for many years, so anything that calls for the flight or fight adrenalin surge, will always make me choose to stand and fight, out of sheer necessity. I developed skills that the ordinary person does not have just because my one fear is that of being helpless. Well, helpless is coming at me like a steam train, and there's nothing I can do about it. Skills mean nothing when I'm lying on my back in the dark at 1:00 AM.
A couple weeks ago while letting the dogs out, I fell. I was exactly half in and half out of the door, my upper body on the floor inside, and my legs stuck under the screen door to the patio outside. I absolutely could not get up. Rue came inside, through the Rue-sized crack in the screen door...I am glad I fell in such a way so the door did not completely shut. I was scared. She sat by my my head for about 15 minutes and scrubbed the side of my face with her nose the whole time I was blubbering. When I finally regained my wits, I stuck my right hand in her collar and she was able to drag me inside enough so the door closed. I was finally able to get my feet on the floor and push myself inside--sliding on my back while I pushed with my feet. I made it to the rug where I had enough traction to roll over and get on all-fours, crawl to a chair and eventually stand by climbing up the chair, although bent over at the waist, The time spent wallowing around was about an hour in total. I was not terribly hurt, just bruised and breathless.
The following day I realized what Rue had been doing. In the past, when she has wanted me up, awake and out of bed for various reasons, she will touch her nose to my cheek, then scrub vigorously back and forth. To Rue, face-scrubbing means "GET UP!" It has always worked for her in the past, why wouldn't it work this time? She was trying to help me get up in the only way she knew how, the way that has worked best for her in the past. If I have nothing else, at least I have a smart dog.
The latest on my screamy heart is I have a major (80%) blockage in the right coronary artery. I have grown a collateral vessel that is the only supplier of blood to the right side of my heart, and now it too has a blockage. Because of that I have near constant heart-type chest pain (over and above the chest pain caused by nerve damage). I am gasping for breath with even the slightest bit of movement. They can't fix the new blockage with surgery, and definitely not with stents, since it is too far down in the vessel. They can only give me drugs and hope that they work. In the meantime, I feel so bad that I am actually surprised when I wake up in the morning. I open my eyes and look around and think, "DAMMIT! I survived another night."
I haven't published since March. The biggest event in that missing time period was a car crash in early May, about which I am not allowed to speak per my lawyer. Gah. Suffice it to say I am still broken and seeking people to put me back together in the correct order.
My heart sucks more than usual, in that it has actually become an obstacle in treating my various wounds. Because I have metal in my chest, I cannot have an MRI. One guy said, "I can't fix anything I can't see. Without an MRI I can't see any of the parts." I shouted at him, "What the hell did people do before the MRI was invented? DO THAT, FFS!" This coming Thursday, I see a bone doctor. Oh joy, oh rapture, more pain...I can hardly wait.
You know, there is not much in life that I'm afraid of--I've been in a number of life-threatening scrapes. I have physically been unable to run for many years, so anything that calls for the flight or fight adrenalin surge, will always make me choose to stand and fight, out of sheer necessity. I developed skills that the ordinary person does not have just because my one fear is that of being helpless. Well, helpless is coming at me like a steam train, and there's nothing I can do about it. Skills mean nothing when I'm lying on my back in the dark at 1:00 AM.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Bad Luck o' the Irish
Throughout history, the Irish have had some of the worst luck ever. People should think this through before wishing it on anyone.
St. Patrick's day became popular because it was the only feast day that always fell during Lent.
This meant Catholics were allowed to eat meat and butter on this day and this day only, then not again until Easter Sunday. The Catholic Church used to suck with its rules and rituals. It still sucks, just not as hard.
I give to you today my favorite Irish saying/toast/prayer:
May those that love us continue to love us
May those that hate us turn to love us, and
Dear Lord, if you cannot turn their hearts, turn their ankles
so that we may know them by their limps.
St. Patrick's day became popular because it was the only feast day that always fell during Lent.
This meant Catholics were allowed to eat meat and butter on this day and this day only, then not again until Easter Sunday. The Catholic Church used to suck with its rules and rituals. It still sucks, just not as hard.
I give to you today my favorite Irish saying/toast/prayer:
May those that love us continue to love us
May those that hate us turn to love us, and
Dear Lord, if you cannot turn their hearts, turn their ankles
so that we may know them by their limps.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
OWW MY SCREAMY HEART
Spent all day with the Heart doc. Left feeling crushed. They'll be calling me tomorrow to make test appointments. He suspects blockage in additional vessels. I can't breathe. I can't breathe because all the air has suddenly been sucked out of my world by the enormous vacuum called *bad news.* I have the misfortune of having shitty genes and an abundance of lipoprotein-a. I am about to crawl under the porch, taking my nitro pills with me. Nobody better get a stick and poke at me, because by God I just might snap.
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