Friday, October 1, 2010

A Tale of Two Oceans

My long term disability claim was denied. The letter they sent me is so full of misinformation and discrepancies it isn't funny. I am definitely not laughing. The main reason they denied is because I haven't had sufficient evaluation to back up my claims that it is hindering my memory and concentration. Which is interesting because back about 2 months ago I told them I would be going to Occupational Medicine to get fully evaluated and they told me not to worry about it and that a letter from my doctor would be fine. They also state that "we were in disagreement with the part time work restriction provided by Dr. V based on the available medical data." Also interesting because the letter with the restrictions that Dr. V provided stated that she would refer me to Occupational Medicine if they needed more information. Isn't that odd?

More on that another time. The real reason I posted was to inform you that as I was on the phone talking about this with my mom, I mentioned the dream I had last night. She said she saw my post and was glad I mentioned it because she wanted to tell me about her dream. My mom dreamed she was in Denver and there was a large body of water in the middle of town that she kept calling an ocean.

Cue Twilight Zone music.

A Chris Themed Dream?

Tonight I had a really weird dream with 3 different Chris. I have not idea how to pluralize Chris right now as it is 5:30 in the morning and I am barely awake. Back to the dream. I don't use names on my blog, but I don't really see a way around this and it none of the people I mention are in contact with me now, so I guess it won't matter.

I was in a yellow 4-door sedan. It was old, from the seventies or something like that. Considering I am from the seventies, I would like to rephrase that to say it was middle aged. No, wait, it was, um in the prime of its life? Forget it. Anyway, my mom, dad and aunt were in the backseat. In the front seat was a girl-Kris, and a guy-Chris I used to make out with on occasion when I was about 19. I just reread that and would like to be clear; I only made out with the guy. It wasn't like I was having a threesome with Chris people. Wow, that got weird in a hurry.

The Kris and my parents were in town visiting. We were at some strip mall having just eaten at a restaurant. Kris was driving and decided to get out of the crowded parking lot by backing up onto the walkway in front of the strip mall to drive on the sidewalk around the cars back onto the parking lot. I questioned it and she said it was totally legal where she lives and started backing up. I was sitting in the passenger seat watching the cars beside us. She backed up but turned too soon and ran into the corner of the parked car sitting next to us. I saw this happening but couldn't tell her. Being a dream, I instead had a conversation with my father about how I didn't think she saw the parked cars like I did.

Instead of stopping when she took off the corner of the car, she kept backing up. The line of her trajectory had her scraping along the back of the next three cars in line. We finally yelled at her to stop. Which she did and got out to survey the mess. As we were sizing up the situation, a cop car pulled into the parking lot, flashed its lights once and stopped in front of us. I panicked because I realized I was suddenly sitting in the drivers' seat. There was a quick conversation in the car and we decided to tell the cop that Chris was the one driving. Apparently we came up with a dream-plausible reason for this, in case the cop asked.

The minute the cop walked up to the car, I started flirting. Not because he was attractive, but because I thought we could use all the help we could get. He was attractive though. Not hot exactly, but more my type. Yes, I know that sounds weird. I typically go for unorthodox looking guys. He was tall, with a round face a round middle, beefy upper body and kind eyes. (Yes, I like my guys with some middle, some squish to cuddle against. Six pack abs are hard and uncomfortable.) I must say I was totally on point. The cop was very taken with me and gave me his business card, in case I needed to contact him later with any questions. After he walked away, there was much discussion about my interaction. My father was telling my mom all about how that is how you have to act and gave a compliment akin to "That's my girl."

As we were getting out of the car, I looked at the card with the name Detective Chris Johnson. Mentally deciding that I would indeed have some questions later, I slipped the card into my pocket. Officer Chris came back and asked to speak to me and my father. He told us that in a few moments the officers who would be handling the case would be here and there would be a round of questioning for Make-Out-Chris. He was able to inform us as to the nature of the questioning with out really saying it. (There is a word for that whole phrase, but I am too tired to think of it.) Basically they were going to ask him a bunch of questions about pot. He liked us (me) and wanted to help us (me) out in any way possible, but since he was the first officer on the scene, he could not tell Make-Out-Chris himself.

My dad declined and sent me over to talk to him. Keep in mind that Make-Out-Chris was still 19 in this dream, so I was no longer attracted to him, he was more like a brother or cousin at this point. Before the other officers showed up, I was able to discuss this with him. I should mention that the reason for all this concern was that he was noticeably slow mentally. Not mentally challenged, just not quite quick witted enough to evade all the questioning without prepping.

This was only a dream aspect of Make-Out-Chris. When I was making out with him, he was in no way slow. Also I am not sure if he smoked pot back in the day, but given the crowd, it was highly likely. I am saying this because most people know my aversion to dating anyone who like the herb and understand that both of these things are pretty abnormal for me to be attracted to. Not that it mattered the dream because again, he was 19 and too young for me to be attracted to him.

So the secondary police officers arrive on the scene and Officer Chris drives away IN A WHITE 80s A-TEAM VAN! I kid you not. This van was the exact same, painted white with a blue strip diagonally down the side. To refresh your memory:

I recognized the shape because of the spoiler on top. (Why does a van need a spoiler? I guess since it is driven by Mr. T., I can understand and will not rant.) Sadly, I was suddenly very excited and decided I was definitely going to have some questions later for Officer Chris. Like how the freak he was allowed to have that van as a police car. It. Was. Awesome. Sadly, I am still excited.

The dream fast forwards to a day at the beach with my brothers and a few of their friends. (I don't remember exactly who.) For some reason we were soaked to the skin. Oddly we were still in Colorado. A section of beach and the highway leading away from it were just cut and pasted into the dream by my brain. We stop at a gas station to use the rest room and buy some snacks when they leave without me! Yup. They just totally forget about me and drive off. I am left standing outside.

All I have are the clothes on my back. I can't call my brother to tell him what a dumbass he is because I don't have my cell and don't have his number memorized. I have a minor philosophical conversation with myself about how times have changed and no one memorizes numbers anymore. But then, I reach into my pocket and find (fanfare) Officer Chris' card. It is dilapidated and soggy around the edges, but the number is intact.

I call. Seconds later the white, A-Team van drives up. With my heart all a-flutter at being rescued, I get into the van. We have an awesome, flirty conversation. Apparently I am looking for a job or considering going back to school. He tells me about a job and a school right next door to each other.

Then the dream cuts to me in a restaurant waiting for food. It is now nighttime I am still wet, I think I am now barefoot and a friend is waiting outside to take me home. I go out and tell him that I am still waiting on food, but am going to run next door to get applications for a job I heard about and look at the "school." We are waiting at yet another strip mall, so I have no idea what kind of school this is, but have the vague impression that it is a trade school of some sort. He tells me he is going to drive around the corner to run an errand but will be right back.

I get the applications go back to the restaurant and the lady behind the counter hands me a huge cellophane bag with hot dog buns in it. I take it and she explains that because she is sorry for the wait, she has given me 3 more hot dogs and extra buns, in case I want them later. I am now happy about the $2 hot dog that I purchased since it will give me leftovers for the week. Before that I was angry at the absurd price of $2. And I am elated that the hot dog buns appear to be whole wheat. There is so much wrong here that I can't even comment.

I go outside in time to see the the A-Team van drive off. I get into the car with the giant bag, prompting my friend to comment that I have, "Yet another week's worth of food." I ask him about Officer Chris and he tells me that Chris was checking up on me to make sure I had gotten home safely. My friend told him that I was getting a ride home with him and all was well. Chris then tells him how he also was checking to see if I needed help with the applications because he is certified in paperwork.

Hold on, I have to stop and laugh. Even in the dream we find that ludicrous and have a nice chuckle. I defend Officer Chris by saying that he is kind of a boy scout and really nice guy, so he is not really as goofy as he came off. We sit quietly for a few minutes driving up Broadway. I then turn to my friend and say, "I think I like Officer Chris, is it weird for me to tell you that?" (My friend is about 10 - 15 years older and is more of a fatherly type guy in my life which is why it would be weird to get all twitterpated with him. That is more of a girl to girl conversation in my head I guess.)

And then I wake up. With heartburn. Really, really bad heartburn. What that has to do with the dream, I don't know. Maybe it is all the $2 hotdogs I ate. But it did keep me from going back to sleep which in turn led me to write this all out. So you can thank the heartburn while I curse it.

As I think through my dream again, (I am not going to reread and edit, so just be happy you are getting a post as you judge all the errors.) I am noticing an "I am old" theme running through out along side the Chris theme. Let's not forget the real moral of this story. I would date anyone driving personalized A-Team van.

It is nice to know that nostalgic cheese is the real key to my heart. Like that was a huge secret.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Vacuum Headache

Dad: Oh and your vacuum may not have a headache for a while.
Me: Why?
Dad: I vacuumed up 3 motrin.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Two Conversations

My parents are going on day trips today and tomorrow to give me a couple of days to rest. Sadly, I cannot keep up with my newly retired father who also needs naps every afternoon. Yesterday I was so exhausted, I fell out of my bed trying to get up. Luckily, my bed is close to the floor because I fell pretty hard on the ankle I twisted last month falling off the bottom stair of an establishment onto the sidewalk. I am pretty sure I fell because I went back to sleep as I was rolling out of bed. It all happened very quickly.

My exhaustion has very little to do with my parents being here, other than I find it hard to remain reclined when I am visiting with them. It just feels rude. I am exhausted because I am going through an insomnia spell which happens a lot since I've been sick. I crashed in my hammock chair yesterday afternoon for 3 hours when my mom took my dad back to their hotel for his nap. I woke up feeling refreshed and rested for the first time in a week. Well, first I woke up in a panic because my phone was ringing and I forgot where I was. Which made the whole cocooned in a bunch of rope less comforting and more bondage-y. And not in a good way.

Today my folks went up into Golden and beyond just to check out the little towns. My mom called this afternoon to let me know they would not be back to have dinner with me. She was very excited and asked me to guess what they found out there. I was stumped for a few seconds until I remembered that the route they were taking went right through Black Hawk, our local gambling getaway. I can't believe I forgot about Black Hawk when I was trying to think of places to send them for the day. Anyway here is a snippit of the conversation.

Mom: Your dad won $150 on a penny machine!
Me (glumly): Well don't come back then. Keep going and see if you can win back the $XXX I borrowed from you yesterday.
Mom: That's what I was thinking!

God bless her pea pickin' heart. Seriously. It would make me feel much less guilty.

My second conversation took place after I played a little phone tag with my boss today, when he finally answered my call it went a little something like this:

Me: Hey! How are you?
Boss: I'm doing better than you!
Me: Niiice. Real nice.

I miss him!

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Random Classification of My Current Wardrobe

A couple years ago I got the coolest t-shirt from a guy at work who was my Secret Santa that year. He refused to tell me where he bought it; I didn't care because I am awesome at Google. Unfortunately I never looked it up. Now the shirt is getting old and I can't find a new one. Granted I haven't even looked yet. Instead of researching it I spent two hours writing this letter yesterday to my co-worker. I am bored and for some reason this was very entertaining to me. Don't judge.

Also, one day I decided that a shirt I was wearing looked vaguely like it was from the 1920s, so I added a bunch of glass and crystal jewelry. The look was very subtle especially considering I was wearing corduroy pants instead of a dress. I do stuff like that a lot, and frankly I do it to entertain myself. I don't expect anyone to get it. He took one look at me and said, "Wow J, you are looking very Great Gatsby today." So I knew this letter wouldn't totally be out of place to him. Oh and he is straight. Very straight. And also married. Not that it matters, I am so not his type. You know, normal. As evidenced by the email below:

I wrote up this little ditty for you. Please remember I am very bored, which makes me very weird.

Jem & The Holograms - I like to wear this grocery shopping; the store employees tend to talk to me more and give me free samples. People are generally more helpful. I even got a free cab. True Story. I was sitting at a bus stop and a non-creepy cabbie stopped and said he was going down that route anyway, so he would give me a free ride. Of course the ride ended with him giving me his phone number. I am hot, but I prefer to credit the sheer awesomenss of the shirt for all of these free goodies.

Oddly Drawn, Slightly Creepy Monster - This shirt allows me to be grumpy. It scares off the people I probably don’t want to talk to. The people who are amused by it are dark and cynical so they prefer to simply nod in appreciation. If I am feeling like I don’t want to be totally unapproachable, I wear it with a huge vintage turquoise crystal necklace. Then people who like my style will talk to me, but I don’t mind because they probably have a similar sense of amusement and won’t irritate me.

Paris Hilton and Scott Baio - For my ironic look. Both of these shirts pair nicely with my pink NASCAR ball cap. I like to wear my Member’s Only knock off for the full white trash effect. I wear these to gauge people’s reactions. Do they understand I am making a hilarious joke, or are they not worth my time because they think I am serious?

Debbie Harry and Pepsi Challenge - They are non-confrontational and great conversation starters. Nobody hates Debbie or soda. Plus, I have multiple jewelry sets for each to match whatever mood I may be in. Oddly, they also pair nicely with all the plaid shorts I own.

Talk Derby to Me – My favorite T-shirt. I have photographed it with the hat I like to pair it with. The side patches resemble armed forces badges. This allows me to publicly support derby while giving silent props to the Green Barrettes, my favorite team who made me fall in love with the sport. It has been worn and washed so often that it is now faded into a dingy grey. It has also started losing its shape. I was recently distraught to find a stain on the front and panicked thinking it was time to retire the shirt. Thanks to a combination of Spray & Wash, my tears and frantic prayers to the Powers That Be to please give the shirt a reprieve, the stain was removed.

Unfortunately the realization that this shirt is not going to last forever has brought a shadow to my once bright joy. I find myself hesitating to wear the shirt. I pull it from my closet along with my black, pinstriped capris. But as I don the shirt and smooth the stretched fabric into place I think, "Perhaps I should wear something else. I do not plan on leaving the house today. It would be a shame to waste one more day of its life in the quite solitude of my home." And then I put the shirt back in the closet with a sigh. I reach for Scott Baio bolstered in the knowledge that I am strong enough not to squander the happiness of Talk Derby to Me on myself alone.

If only I knew where I could purchase a replacement for this shirt. But alas,
despite numerous attempts to Google the shirt, I have yet to find the answer to my quandary.

This was his response:

Wow Ms., I am impressed. I must say, that was one of the better Secret Santa gifts I have found (well, the remote controlled rat was pretty sweet, especially when we used it to scare the sh!t out of S). I did a quick search of my own and came up with a few results. One suggestion, look up the name of the company on the tag and Google search that along with Talk derby to me.

I still can't find the shirt. Although I still haven't looked. What? I had to reformat all of this to share with you. That took another couple of hours. The good news is that I am getting better with MS Paint so you can probably look forward to more visual aids.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Dr. House Without The Constant Threat of Dying

That is what a friend of mine said my life is like. I think it is the funniest thing I have heard in a while so I am using it for my title in case you missed the post on Facebook.

I am about to give you another update. Before I do, I want to share this with you. This is how my brain works. Most of you are already aware of the random twists and turns and don't even flinch anymore when I blurt out utter nonsense. Even better though is what he said he would do with his body if he was dying from a long chronic illness.

Now for the update. I went to the doctor today. Because Infectious Diseases ruled out an active virus, she is focusing on treating me for Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. They are both treated the same way. This is a very long process in itself. We have to try different medications to see what works. Right now that means I will take another Lyrica in the morning in addition to the two I take before bed. She is hoping this will alleviate the pain during the day and that the Adderall will counteract any drowsiness the medicine will cause. If this works, we move on to antidepressants.

I really have no idea why antidepressants are used. I need to do some research into this. My guess would be that it fights the fatigue. This isn't really a physical ailment according to what I've read. They Lyrica stops my nerves from sending false pain messages to my brain. So maybe the antidepressant kick starts my adrenals. I don't know. It doesn't really matter yet so I didn't ask. That's just how I roll.

On the acupuncture front, I am on day two of my no-food diet. That is what I am choosing to call it. I cannot have gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, beans, corn, tomatoes or chocolate. I feel like I left something out. Oh yeah, peanuts. I can't have those, but as my father was fond of repeatedly telling me throughout my childhood, peanuts are not a nut, they are a legume which puts them in the bean family. I can have rice, meat, vegetables and fruit.

Granted it is only day two, but I have to say I think this is going to be way easier than I thought it would be. I am quickly realizing that I have a hard time eating because I have too many choices. Now I walk into the kitchen get some rice, get some lunch meat, steam some vegetables and eat. Before it was always trying to figure out what I wanted to eat, waiting too long and then devouring the easiest thing I could find. My diet had started consisting of pepperoni and goldfish crackers. I prefer a 3 to 1 goldfish:pepperoni ratio. My roommate prefers 2 to 1, so it is all personal preference.

Now that I have limited choices, I am less stressed out. I am wondering if this is a personality flaw. Perhaps if I apply this to other areas of my life, I will be more successful. Like I can take away boredom by declaring, you can read a book or you can play a game. Then I don't have to endlessly cycle through all the options of what I can and can't do for an hour before freaking out and taking a nap because I can't stand thinking about it anymore. I need structure.

I need to go back to work. I need to kill the headache I currently have. What is up with that? I never get headaches. Well I get headaches, but they are always sinus or shoulder related. I never just get a straight up headache in the front of my brain. I guess I wore myself out with laundry yesterday and an outing to the doctor today.

Holy crap, where did this post go? I totally forgot what I was writing about. Well guess what, you can suck it! That sounded mean, but it would be a lot funnier if you could see me making an "x" with my arms over my crotch like my wrestling obsessed brothers used to do.

All that to say, I am not editing this post either. If you made it to the end of this rambling mess, give yourself a gold star. Then eat some chocolate for me. Sadly out of all of this, that is going to be the hardest habit to break.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Why I Should Be Blogging

Yeah, I don't know if you will be able to read all of that. I tried to make it big enough, but I suck at this sort of thing. If you look at the time posted, it was 17 minutes ago. That is a really long time for such a crappy, simple cut and paste. I just wanted to post this because I really should be blogging again. Otherwise, one person bears the brunt of my randomness. That is just too much for a single person to be responsible for.

My biggest issue is that I haven't been reading blogs. Usually I read another blog and then I start to see the world through their eyes. Then I want to post my world because I am seeing it differently and want to share. Maybe I just won't blog in the summer. I really had no desire to even read blogs until Thursday. That was when the weather suddenly shifted.

In Denver there is this weird thing that happens in September. The air suddenly gets its chill back. We will still have hot days. It is supposed to be 90 today. But from this point forward the wind will carry that tiny bit of freezing with it. I believe it is just to remind us that it could now snow at any minute. As a matter of fact, it is a big mistake to give us that little hint. We know it is going to snow the next day when it is 80 degrees and there is not a hint of chill in the air. I call it a temperature tsunami. All the cold gets sucked out of the air and then blows back in carrying massive amounts of snow.

True Story.

Update: You can't read it. But it really isn't important. If you truly think you need to read it, it is on my Facebook page right now. Or you can click on the picture and it will open in another web page. It is a little clearer and you can at least zoom in on the browser to read it. Experiment = Failed. Oh well.

If you would like to see a funny blog where the author doesn't fail go here. It is the blog mentioned in the Facebook post above. Except she has the cajones to cuss in her blog. A lot. So don't go there if that offends you. I would cuss, but I write this mainly for my mom and I don't want to piss off my target group.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Yes, I Am Still Alive

I am still here. Just hanging out waiting to find out what is wrong with me. When last you heard from me I was waiting for blood tests. Those blood tests had my primary doctor thinking I had an active virus and was contagious. She referred me to Infectious Diseases where I met the worst doctor yet. After he made me cry, he agreed to run the blood tests that he wasn't going to run because there weren't any treatments for the viruses, so he figured it didn't matter.

As it turns out, he was wrong. Those tests revealed that I did not have an active virus. Now it is back to the doctors office. Except this time I think Chronic mono can be ruled out and it is now narrowed down to Chronic Fatigue and Fibromyalgia. (Go Chronic Fatigue! It may take years to recover from, but at least you recover.) In the mean time, I still haven't had my disability reinstated. Apparently the paperwork they send to the doctor is virtually impossible to fill out. When the insurance company called, I politely explained this to them. I then told them I had been referred to occupational medicine for a full evaluation because my doctor wanted the paperwork filled out correctly. The agent immediately told me that wasn't necessary I could simply have my doctor submit a letter stating that I had been limited to part time work. This seemed unusual and after talking to the manager of my primary doctor's office, I found out why.

She told me that the evaluation would require a specialized office that had some machines they could hook me up to to fill out the paperwork correctly. She also told me it appeared the insurance company was making it as difficult as possible for me to follow through with my claim. She also said that I probably scared the insurance rep because if I actually get evaluated by occupational medicine, I will be given a disability rating. The insurance company may then be required to pay me for the rest of my life based on that little number.

I suddenly feel that it is important that the insurance paperwork be filled out correctly. I have no desire to be on disability for the rest of my life. I simply have a desire to pay my mortgage while I am unable to work. Is that so wrong? I didn't think so.

Needless to say, things around here are basically just getting through each day with the minimal of frustration. Luckily I have never been an active person and have always loved video games. Plus, I just got reading glasses, so I am finally able to read printed material again, so I am on my 3rd book in as many weeks. And I finally finished the book I have been working on since I got sick. Yay me! My prescription didn't change, I have always had a slight astigmatism, but have always been able to compensate. Apparently, I am so tired, my eye muscles don't even want to do that much.

I am not editing this you can read it as is, so take THAT! I will try to remember to update this with any news that may come up. However as you can see in this email, I really didn't have anything new to report.

Except the glasses. They are cute and I have always wanted glasses but never really needed them. So I guess that's new.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

My New Motto

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.
It's about learning to dance in the rain.

I decided this week to stop waiting for my life to go back to normal. I have been in this holding pattern for months. Now I have answers and it is time to put a new life together. It may go back to what it was, but I can't keep waiting on that. It is time to pursue new paths and live in the moment, not the future.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Lemon Juice

Helping find those little cuts you just don't know are there.

Legion of Infectious Diseased

One of my lovely friends told me that my illness is probably just the catalyst for my super powers and that I need to ask about it when the Legion of Infectious Diseases contacts me via my doctor referral. I have absolutely decided to use my powers for anarchy. Pretty much because I have been given the roller derby name that is awesome and won't work for good. Just call me Contagion. Those who know me might find a different spelling option.

The doctor visit went well. I really liked her. She didn't even give me a physical examination. It sounds weird for that to be a good thing but for me it meant she believed me when I told her what my symptoms were. That and she is so awesome, she had it figured out in about 15 minutes. She thought it was still Mono. If the tests came back negative, it was probably Fibromyalgia or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). Then she ran all kinds of tests on me because in order to diagnose the two latter illness, you have to rule everything out.

She called me this week with the results and asked if I had time to talk. That should have been a warning to me. She said not only do I still have Mono, but the antibody counts are actually higher than they were in January which makes me a Carrier. It also sounds like an awesome origin for a Super Being. Because this is outside of her experience and knowledge base, she had to refer me to Infectious Diseases. They would contact me and be able to tell me if this was Chronic or I will be a Carrier for the rest of my life.

Let me explain Chronic and Carrier. Chronic means that the Mono will go into remission and I will be subjected to random relapses for up to 16 years. Carrier means that I always exhibit symptoms and I am always contagious. Hence the roller derby name. Now God love everybody who says that this is a relief and at least I don't have Fibromyalgia or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. While I appreciate the sentiment because they know someone with these diseases and are relieved that I don't have to go through this mess, I am wondering why I am seeing it differently.

Did they all miss the phrase "for the rest of my life?" Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome can be treated. They know people who's lives are not easy, but they have lives. If I am a carrier, I will always exhibit symptoms, meaning I will always be sick. The only article I could find on this rarity basically said that some people just get stuck in this one phase of Mono. Even if I can somehow manage to find a way to suppress the symptoms and actually be on my feet for longer than two hours a day, I will still be contagious. Sure, it is only passed through saliva, but I am pretty sure that no company will employ someone who is a walking viral infection waiting to happen. The liability is just too great.

Don't misunderstand. I am not panicking or freaking out. I have this strange sense of peace. Maybe it's because I have been helpless to control my circumstances for almost eight months. I just figure whatever is going to happen is going to happen. I am not upset but I am not relieved or happy by any means. Although I am finding much humor in the situation. I heard the absolute best encouragement from my coworker yesterday who said, "Look at it this way. You're probably going to be forced to become a recluse and out of that you will become some great artist that everyone will just be in awe of." I think the reason this is the best thing I've heard is because she took in what was happening; looked at my future; and found the best possible outcome based on reality. (It doesn't hurt that my daydream response to this situation is to believe the exact same thing. In my version, I write the great American novel.)

It was grounding to have someone look at my life for what it is and still find something inspiring to say. I've begun to wonder if I am a cynic. I have never really thought about it before. I am usually all about finding silver linings and such that it never seemed possible that I could be. I think I am though. And I don't think it is a bad thing. I can look at what is before me without fear. I don't need to hope for my circumstances to change. I can't change what is going on. I can change me. I can adjust to my surroundings. But I can't do that and wish for things to change. What is the point of changing yourself if you are expecting you won't have to? These thoughts aren't really cynical in my opinion. I believe that is being a realist. I have always thought of myself as a realist.

What makes me think I am a cynic is the feeling I get when I talk to people who try to make me think that my circumstances are going to magically revert back to where they were. This feeling was not always there. I think I crossed a line about four months ago that turned me from realist to cynic. Something existential snapped and changed my innate reactions to people good intentions. I can't tell you what caused it, I only know that I have converted. My inner response is no longer a wistful longing to believe what the are saying.

My inner response is to picture me wearing big black boots and kicking them in the shins.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Back In The Saddle Again

OK, I am back from my visit to Hell. Whew, what a journey. As a summary of the latest events, I ran out of a few things that I had been taking regularly. (Astragalus, Vitamin D and Vitamin B) I kept deteriorating physically but because of everything that was going on, I thought it was due to stress. I reordered all my pills and am feeling much better now, thank you. Turns out that I am not so depressed when I am not in constant pain. Who knew?

I am off to a new doctor this Friday. Right now I am putting together a booklet of all my symptoms and medications/vitamins. I will also include copies of all of my blood work. Which shouldn't be hard since they only ran tests twice.

The bottom line is I am feeling much better. Well, I am back to not being laid out on the couch in pain. The timing is excellent. There really is a silver lining to everything. Because the stopping of treatments caused me to revert back to where I had been initially, I can see that I am not getting better. What I am learning to do is control my pain and fatigue.

A) I get to regain a small feeling of control in my life by taking care of myself.

B) I can go to my new doctor and say with confidence, I am not getting better, something is wrong. This is not mono.

Hopefully she will help me. My office friends have diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia. I have to disagree since I have all the symptoms EXCEPT the tender spots. That is the only symptom they use to diagnose. Typically a patient has to have 11/18 points. As far as I can tell I have 0/18. But there are plenty of other treatable things that it could be. I am purely elated at the idea that I might be able to go back to work. It just sucks that for the last 7 months, all I have been told is to stay in bed and rest when I could have been treated this whole time.

I don't understand how doctors can get away with this sort of thing. This guy's laziness and incompetence has cost me seven months of my life including loss of income. There should be something I can do to get compensated for his refusal to do his job. If it were any other type of business, he would be required to issue me a refund. Why are doctors so much above the rest of society? Maybe if they weren't and were held a bit more accountable, this never would have happened to me.

I hate being the little guy.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

How a Joke Is Born

Mom: Did you look up the symptoms for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome?

Me: I started to but I got tired.

Mom: Laughing hysterically.

Me: ???

Mom: Did you even hear yourself?

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Without Reson or Explaination, She Returns

Howdy ho neighbors. Here is an update for the few of you out there who are still checking my blog. My mom came for a week and a half. We cleaned out my place, it looks awesome. Thanks mom! Then we decided that she hadn't been here long enough so we bought her another ticket and she stayed another week.

I cried for about 24 hours after she left. I didn't realize how lonely the last seven months have been until she was gone. Then came a rash of crappy news.

1. I have finally crossed the time limit at work and while they are continuing to employ me, I will have to switch to Cobra. This means another $500 a month that I don't have.

2. Went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and he told me I just need to be patient and get through this mono thing and then life will be back to normal.

3. My disability claim went through. However, they can only pay me through last Thursday because my doctor informed them that I was fine to go back to work full time.


Um, well, I am glad I called to check on my disability otherwise I wouldn't have known I was suppose to be at work. It's funny how he never mentioned that to me during my exam. WHAT THE CRAP? So basically, he hasn't done anything for me but tell me to rest and I will get better. Oh, and cancel any means of income I might possibly have. What a guy. I can't even fathom what is going on in his head, or what he expects me to do. I mean does he think I am lying about not feeling good? Cuz if so, I think I would have to be pretty stupid to be relying on mono. Especially since they can do blood tests to determine if it is true.

The funny thing is that the insurance company believes I am sick. They specifically told me that they will pay me up until the day they talked to my doctor, but because I don't have a doctor telling me I can't work, there is nothing more they can do. If I do get a doctor to say it, then they can reverse the decision.

So my employer knows I am sick and has been holding my job for seven months. My mom knows I am sick and waited on me hand and foot while I was whiny and grouchy. And my insurance company knows I am sick and wants to pay me. But my doctor, who can physically see my symptoms has decided I am not sick.

My life is so weird right now. It's like a bad movie that I can't turn off. Who has this kind of crap happen to them? Who comes down with mono for seven months? Who gets diagnosed by a doctor who just decides you are better without an exam or testing? Does he have a magic wand? Because it isn't working.

Anyway, I have included for your viewing pleasure a copy of the letter I will be sending him. Seriously, what did he think was going to happen? I can't go to work and I can't pay my bills. I haven't had any income this whole time. Did he really think I was going to shrug and say, "Oh well."

The good news is I am getting a check for 60% of my salary from March 22nd to June 17th. So that should at least hold me over. However, since I am already supposed to be better, I am not sure how long that money is supposed to last.

Dr. Jackass,

I would like to voice my utter disappointment with your lack of care. When you diagnosed me with mono in January, you told me rest was the only treatment and I should be better in a couple of weeks. You admitted later that you were incorrect and it was taking longer than anticipated for me to recover.

When my office initially contacted you with FMLA paperwork, you completed it saying I would be able to return to work in two weeks. When I was not better in two weeks, my office asked you to update your prognosis. Instead of giving them an answer, your office called me to ask when I thought I would feel better. When I panicked at the idea that my doctor was simply guessing at my recovery time, you had me come in for a five minute exam. You said I could go back to work in two weeks. At your direction I attempted to go back to work. I pushed through the pain and the fatigue for two days. On the third day, I could not get out of bed and felt worse than I had my entire illness.

When you were contacted with the long term disability insurance, there was no exam or further testing. You simply signed off on the paperwork. When I came into your office for a check-up a month later, you did not tell me when I would recover, but that I would have to be patient and wait. You did a basic examination, but no further testing on what might be causing such an extended recovery.

Two weeks later, without examining me, you arbitrarily decided that I was cleared for work. You informed my disability insurance company without notifying me. Yet again, you assumed that two weeks had passed so I must be healed. I have lost six months of my life because you don’t know how to deal with my illness. You have betrayed my trust. If you couldn’t or wouldn’t help me, you should have told me that from the beginning. I could have found a doctor who would try to help me get my health and life back. You did nothing. I had told you I had been feeling sick since last September. I have had a sore throat and been fatigued for ten months. Ten months of my life are gone. Six months were your responsibility. You failed me and then, because you couldn’t exert yourself to do any more, you cut off my disability insurance without a word or an exam. I don’t know how you can possibly explain that. But I expect you to try.

It is unacceptable and unethical to deny disability without testing or examination, while refusing to treat a patient in order that they may return to work. You have left me in a very vulnerable position and I will not tolerate any further dismissive behavior on your part. Please be aware that I will find a resolution to this. If need be, I will take this issue to Cigna for mediation. I am sorry that it has come to this, but you have left me with no other alternative.

Sincerely Yours,


PS, Seeing as how you are a true believer in magic, may I please have a lock of your hair for my voodoo doll? Don't worry, after I stick the doll, I'll tell it to feel fine. So there is nothing for you to fear.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Please Do Not Fall Down Dead

I know that two posts in one day after weeks of inattention may actually cause mental harm to those of you who follow me. Writing that sentence is really funny to me because even at my slowest, I still wrote every four or five days which is pretty average for the blogs I read. Anyway, I had an epiphany this week about my posting. I was writing more often in the beginning because I was just blogging whatever came into my head. After I started in with the childhood and work stories, I somehow began to think that if I didn't have a story to write, I shouldn't blog anything. Then I was so pleased with my hide and seek stories I began to think I couldn't write a story unless I thought it was going to be as entertaining. Of course we also had the fiction spurt and which led me to feeling guilty about posting anything other than the end of that story.

All in all, I kind of forgot that this blog is really only here to entertain myself. I guess I got intimidated when I found out others actually enjoyed my writing as well. I wanted people to read my blog but I guess I didn't actually expect more than the obligatory glance. Also, I sort of have a problem finishing things. Someone once said I had a fear of failure, but that isn't really it. I am afraid of not finishing something. My personality type is a dreamer. I come up with tons of ideas that I get really excited about, but once the project is started and it becomes time to focus on the details, I get bored and abandon whatever I am working on.

This is not a problem for me. I am all about immediate gratification. When I do something it is to enjoy the process. I don't actually care about the finished product, I just want to have some fun for the moment. This has been a problem for countless friends in my life who get frustrated with my lack of success. They don't see the fun in just doing something. They are all about goals and achievement. That has never been my way.

Take school. I love learning. I always have. When I was in elementary school the goal was to learn and grades revolved more around tests than homework. Homework was pretty much short and sweet. I still never did it and that was what my grades reflected all of my academic career. The more homework was assigned and valued, the lower my grades dropped. I was lucky to graduate with a barely C average. This frustrated my parents and teachers because they knew I was smart enough and aced all my tests. It frustrated me that they didn't see how unfair their grading was. If the point was to learn the subject matter, then I should have been able to take the tests and leave the homework be. In the fifth grade, I remember getting into an argument with my math teacher that changed my opinion of school forever.

I asked him what the point of homework was. I wasn't being insolent, I was seriously confused about the whole concept. Fifth grade is when I stopped getting straight A's and school became a reason I got grounded instead of a fun place to learn. We had just been given review homework which was always triple the normal homework as it contained problems from the everything we had studied up to that stage. He told me that the point was to practice what we learned so we could pass the upcoming test. I got excited thinking about the idea and suggested that if I was able to learn it, I shouldn't have to do the homework to practice. He, of course, disagreed and laughed saying there was no way that I could have remembered everything. This pissed me off.

I was one of the best in class. Math was always my best subject. It just makes sense to me. I didn't just memorize math problems and shortcuts, I understood the concepts. So, I challenged him and told him to give me the test right then and if I even got one wrong, I would do the homework, but if I got 100% then I could be let off the hook. He immediately looked nervous. I assume it was at this point that he remembered that I never did homework which meant I always took the tests without practice and rarely missed a problem. That conversation ended quickly and I was given some sort of "because I said so" answer. From that point forward I looked at homework as a joke.

Wow, that took a meandering bend. I can't even follow my own train of thought except to say when I am doing something as a distraction or to entertain myself I have no problems. When I see that there is a goal to be reached I get nervous. I focus so much on the distance between me and the end, I start to worry that I will even want to finish. I add up all the pieces that will have to be completed and instead of looking at next step I worry about the one thing in the distance future that I may not be able to do. Then I decide to give up before I even start. For me it is easier to give up in the beginning rather than be ashamed of one more goal that I didn't accomplish.

We all have these voices in our heads. They say different things, but the end result is the same. We start trying to look at ourselves from other people's perspectives and expectations. Instead of just being ourselves, we worry about appearing foolish and ignore the different, unique parts of ourselves that drew people to us in the first place. It is natural and easy to make this mistake. I think I got my perspective back, but I can't say I won't lose it again. In the meantime it is back to me prattling inanely about whatever I feel like.

Oh, I remember my point. I spent about five or six hours on some of my better pieces. Which led me to think I needed to spend that much time on all of my posts. So when I would think about sitting down to write, instead of sitting at the computer and just throwing out whatever was on my mind, I would look at the clock. Having mono and being tired I would get exhausted thinking about spending that much time on one project and watch a movie instead. It may seem silly, but people do it all the time. We get caught in our habits and routines and start doing things because we should, forgetting that reading or writing or whatever fun thing we have planned isn't a task to be done. It is a hobby to be enjoyed.

The human being is an odd little duck that way.

PS, I mentioned before that I have a stat counter to let me see who is reading my blog. That may have been what commandeered my focus and made me feel like I had to perform. However it also kept me going at a point when I would have normally given up. I kept thinking that I should just give up writing because I couldn't keep up with my imaginary expectations. But I have a reader in Virginia who checks my blog every day. I can tell they are a stranger who stumbled onto my blog and kept coming back. Every time I started feeling insecure, I thought about Virgina and remembered that my writing couldn't suck that badly. So thank you, whoever you are! Please don't let my stat stalking frighten you away, I just wanted to send you a little message of appreciation.

Do You Dream in Color? Because I Dream in Cartoon.

No really. I always think my dreams can't get crazier but then they do. When I woke up, I tore out of bed and wrote this down because I was already starting to forget it. Did I get coffee first? Did I check my email? Did I even pause for a drink of water to quench my insane thirst? No. Why? Because I love you, my peeps. And letting you peek at my insanity is way more important than my welfare.

Your welcome. Just so you get the complete picture, the characters in my dream were 1980's cartoon characters running around in the real world. Only they were in cartoon format, everything else was "real." Megatron was not the new live-action version, but the old grey and black version from the Saturday morning cartoons. Got that? Good. Here we go.

The dream started with Megatron in a car chase with Barney Rubble. Barney was able to escape because he assumed Megatron was looking for one of the balls that he had shadily obtained and collected into bags in his car. Barney threw one of the bags into the street causing the balls to scatter in every direction. While Megatron stopped to collect all the balls, Barney was able to escape.

Fred came looking for Barney because he knew that Megatron was looking for a globe. A globe Fred had in his possession. Fred found Barney in the house and told him what was going on. Barney looked at Fred and said, "Well why didn't you say so? I know how we can escape." Apparently Barney had been collecting balls for some time. They went to grab all the remaining balls out of Barney’s car and hidden throughout the house.

Then the dream cut away to Megatron flying over the city. Using his sensors he was able to find Fred and Barney. When he got there, they both ran out of the house in different directions. Megatron started chasing Barney. That is when Barney opened the duffle bag he was carrying and swung it around him in a circle. Out of his bag came flying hundreds of medium size globe printed playground balls that ricochet in every direction. Megatron drove in and grabbed one but immediately dropped it. Suddenly the view zoomed in on his hand and to see it dripping with paint. Barney and Fred had taken Barney’s collection of balls and painted them all to look like globes.

Incensed Megatron went after Barney, but hearing a noise turned to see another globe rolling down the street. He picked up that globe, which was heavier than the others, and flew off into the night. Barney ran down a few blocks and jumped into Fred’s car (Which was the same car he drives in the cartoon so this time the car was a cartoon, but the previous cars were not.) As they drove off into the night, one more globe popped out of Fred’s exhaust pipe. Fred had been driving around town shooting painted bowling balls out of his tail pipe to distract Megatron. Unfortunately Megatron realized what was going on and flew over to chase the two down in Fred’s car.

In a panic, Barney reached into the glove box; pulled out a small, marble-sized globe; and threw it out the car behind him. Fred screamed, "No!" and slammed on the breaks but not before Megatron saw the globe and grabbed it. Then his fist, holding the globe, disappeared into his arm only to reappear empty. Megatron laughed and flew away as Fred jumped on to his leg. Just as he was about to fly off with Fred attached, Barney threw a bag of globe painted bouncy balls the same shape onto the street. They bounced in every direction and Megatron hurried to grab them all.

Barney, feeling responsible for the whole mess, summoned his courage and ran up Megatron’s arm and disappeared inside his body when Megatron inserted his hand to store another globe. Because the dream was now taking place inside Megatron's body, the internal scene was in cartoon. He ran around inside Megatron and found the real globe. He grabbed it and started looking for an exit. Just as he was slipping back outside he saw Ravage (Soundwave’s dog) starting to transform from a tape into a dog. He grabbed a crowbar and threw it into the transforming robot jamming it in mid transformation. Unfortunately he saw the robot adjust and start to transform into Laserbeak (the bird) instead to maneuver out from under the crow bar. After Barney makes it out, he takes off down the street but Megatron shoots at Barney’s back. Fred screamed, “No!” in the distance and then I woke up.

My theory on where this dream comes from is that my poor brain was forced to repay me for the massive headache I got yesterday. Well, not for the headache, but the means I took to get rid of the headache. At about 1:00 am, I couldn't stand it anymore and finally took some aspirin. Knowing that it has caffeine and would probably keep me up all night, I also took it with some PMS medication that always relaxes me. Then I was suddenly starving so I got up and ate a piece of toast with Nutella. Once I finished that, I realized I was still hungry so I had another piece of toast with twice the Nutella. Then I tried to go to sleep. I was relaxed enough lay in bed and doze, but my brain was too awake to sleep until about 4:30 this morning. There was a lot more to the beginning of the dream, but it was one of those where you start to forget everything the minute you wake up. The only thing I can remember was being teamed up with someone else for some sort of contest presentation and then Megatron.

This is how movies like Space Jam get created. Don't look for this to be a movie any time soon as I am pretty sure Hannah Barbara still owns the rights to The Flinstones while someone else owns Transformers. I am too tired right now to look up who. I usually look up the specific items in an online dream dictionary to see what it all means. I think I'll pass on this one. I don't think I really want to know.

When I was editing this I realized I accidentally wrote, "Using his censors he was able to find Fred and Barney." All of a sudden I got a vision of Megatron flying over the city hearing a series of bleeping and then seeing a house covered in little black out bars. Maybe I am still asleep.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Ack! and Am I the Only Person of My Generation That Likes MASH?

OK, folks here is the new procrastination deal. My internet has been screwy. And when I say "my" internet, I mean the person whose signal I borrow from has been screwy. So I have access and then I don't. Being that I haven't got a steady income, I have yet to fork over the money for my own connection. I never need it when I am working, and can't afford it when I am not.

Since this person is so technically unsavvy as to have an unsecured wireless signal in the heart of downtown Denver, I don't know when the situation will be righted. It usually takes a few days. Right now I have somehow managed to slip around the provider's website log in page. I have never been able to do that before and am not sure how I am doing it now. My computer is showing that I only have local access, meaning I am connected to their access point but not to the internet. And yet here I am.

This really is just another excuse. Multiple times I have thought to myself that I could just write up my blog entries and post them as I have access. But then the credits roll from the episode of MASH I am watching and I key up the next episode instead of opening Word. Why is it that everyone my age hates MASH? The most common answer I get is that their parents watched it relentlessly when they were kids which forced them to hate the show. That doesn't really make sense to me since my parents watched the show relentlessly and I love it as in I own the entire series on DVD love it. My brothers are the same way.

Hawkeye Pierce had an intense influence over how I see the world today. As I watch the shows again, I learn a lot from Colonel Potter. I don't know. I just don't see what is to hate. I still think it is the only show that actually portrays real human characters. The good guys aren't all good and the bad guys aren't all bad. It is just a bunch of people trying to get by in a crappy situation. They fail and succeed and sometimes their failures are intentional while their successes are are accidental. It is the only show where "no good deed goes unpunished." Life isn't about us or what we do. Crap happens on a regular basis regardless of how good we are or what choices we make. Often it is the best of us who get hurt the worst and the villains who end up in charge.

As humans we tend to think the world revolves around us when in reality we are hanging on by a slim thread as it rotates on its own axis. In life I don't get a pat on the head every time I do the right thing. If being good to others was easy everyone would do it. But it isn't easy, it entails unheralded sacrifices that we make because we know what is right. Sometimes we have to set our shoulders; take a deep breath; and brace ourselves for the repercussions of standing up with integrity. Mostly we just stumble along tripping over others while trying not to make too much of a mess.

The important thing is to grab hold of those others and help them along while we try to make our way. And if all else fails, laugh. I have yet to see another show where the characters laugh so hard you can't tell if it is great acting or the actors themselves unable to control their hilarity. They have the same gunshot burst of guffaws that I often embarrass myself with. Maybe that's where I learned to laugh loud and let the unexpected levity break through. Life is weird. There is always something inane to discover and revel in if you just look. These are the things I learned from MASH.

Why would you hate that? I just don't get it. But I plan on doing as much research as possible to figure it out. So please forgive me for a while longer. I have come to see that I am exhausted from trying to do too much and need to recharge. I seem to keep forgetting that I am sick and am allowed to lie about. I am going to shut down for a while; watch all 11 seasons of MASH; and try to recuperate. It has been kind of nice not being tied to my computer 16 hours a day just because it is within reach. My mom is going to be here next Thursday for almost two weeks and I have no idea what my posting will be like at that time either.

Since we get a little goofy and drunk off of each other's company, it could mean more posts than usual. I can't count how many times on the phone she has told me to post about something. Since I can't post and talk on the phone at the same time, I usually get distracted and forget to write. Or later it just doesn't seem as funny. I can totally see her dictating over my shoulder while she is here. I imagine my peeps giving many raised eyebrows to their screens as they try to figure out what is so funny about whatever random insanity we decide to share. Or we will be gallivanting around town in a rented wheelchair, spending too much time decorating my ride to even consider getting on line.

I'd give even odds so we'll all just have to wait and see.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Mono Is Better Than Dating. True Story.

This came in today and made me chuckle. I am hoping to finish that story up. The weather was bleak last week. It has been mostly overcast and we even had some snow. I think. Anyway, I have not been in a writing mood. I have been in a crawl-in-a-hole-type mood. I was tired and crabby and no matter how often I remind myself the weather makes me blue, I can't seem to accept it. Then the sun comes out, it is beautiful and I feel happy. Only then can I see that life isn't any different and the clouds were the only thing keeping me down.

I did have a dream last night. I only remember pieces of it, and it is the type that randomly switches reality so it may not make much sense.

I was hanging out with my mom in Denver waiting for somebody to come out of a building. I started noticing that my nails were all ragged and my clothes were looking dumpy. We had been hanging out all day, but we were supposed to have a coffee date at that time. I told my mom I wanted to go home and "freshen up" and would meet her at the coffee shop, which was only a couple of blocks away. Going home meant that I was going to make myself late when I was already there. And even though she said it was ok, I wondered if that would irritate her as it was irritating me.

The next thing I knew I was in a car at a stoplight waiting to turn right. The line was crazy long and as I waited, I noticed that Kyra Sedgwick was in the middle of the intersection on a stage standing behind a podium. Actually it was Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, her character from The Closer. She was talking to the cop in the car in front of me. I knew he was a cop because of his uniform even though he was not in a police car. She was asking him a bunch of needless questions which was causing him and everyone else to get irritated because she was holding up traffic. Somehow she got him to announce his name. All of a sudden there were lights and he was being pulled over. I seemed to understand that she tricked him into announcing his name because a warrant for arrest couldn't be served until a perpetrator had been ID'd. (How do you spell ID'd?) Finally the traffic started to move and she apologized to everyone gathered. Everyone included the traffic and a bunch of obviously rich and famous people seated behind a table that ran the length of the block I was turning on to.

As I turned, I found myself no longer in my car but sliding along the white tablecloth bumping into everything on the table. As I was sliding by I heard Brenda say, "I apologize especially to you nice folks who are here for the ceremony, which is made evident by your beautiful and well made dresses. Like you there in your beautifully colored, um, black dress. Would ya'll mind telling me where you got your lovely dresses? I have an event to attend next week and I can't seem to find a gown anywhere."

And then I woke up. I made my bed and discovered another woman's ring between the mattresses. Which you would think would ruin my day, but it just reminded me how much better off I am without my lying, cheating ex-boyfriend. Even being dead on a couch with mono is better than life with him. So that cheered me up.

How was your day?

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Hiding Isn't Passive When You Are a Ninja - Part II

Part I is here.

Trying to keep from berating herself for being an idiot, she reminded her inner critic that this was the first night the air conditioning had been on in the building. She had not lived there the previous summer and had no way of knowing that the air would cause the paper to rustle like that.

Wanting to blame someone she stirred up some fake righteous indignation against the paperboy. Or man. Or woman. As she made coffee, she imagined calling the paper and demanding that her subscription be canceled and a refund issued immediately. After the first few slugs of coffee entered her system, she realized she probably did not need to add caffeine to the adrenaline.

As she started to see the humor of the situation, her coping mechanism kicked in with a few self-mocking observations. She began to laugh at herself. Maybe she did have every right to be afraid of an unknown noise. But that could not account for her total lack of clarity that caused her to fling the door open with only her wits to defend herself. Considering her witless behavior, she calculated the odds of her intelligence against an attacker and estimated them to be a gazillion to one. She thought no more about it as she went about getting ready for work. On her way to the bus stop, she started to feel the creeping paranoia, but was able to dismiss it immediately because of the lingering embarrassment. Besides the sun was bright enough to shoo away any negative thoughts.

During her twenty minute bus ride, she decided the story was too funny not to share. One of her coworkers an older friend who couldn't help playing mother would be upset. But she was positive she could spin the tale well enough that mocking herself would ease any lectures by showing she realized how stupid she had been. Riding the wave of inspired fact twisting, she got excited as she rehearsed retelling the adventure in her head. It all went according to plan.

She made it sound courageous and idiotic at the same time; everyone was too busy laughing to think much about it. Starting the work day off with a good laugh, made the rest of the day breeze by without incident. At 4:45 the office rustled with the sound of everyone gathering their things in preparation for the coming of 5:00. Giving in to her motherly concern, her coworker asked if her key chain with mace was quickly accessible. She also managed to hint about hanging one next to the door so she would always have a weapon next to the door. Jane said it was a great idea and knew that there would be a can of mace on her desk the next morning that her friend “just happened to come across.” Feeling comfortably warmed by the concern, she headed home again.

The warmth waned as she started thinking about what to prepare for dinner. She enjoyed cooking, but cooking for one was more difficult than cooking for four. Again, she felt a softening to the idea of searching for a mate. It wasn't that she was against dating or marriage. She just didn't want to be someone who went looking for a relationship out of desperation. Determined to not let such a little thing as cooking push her towards a marriage of convenience, she decided on tilapia. She could whip that up in a matter of minutes. She had made the recipe many times and had written out the calculations for a serving of one. Turning the corner onto her street, she felt again like she was being watched. Deciding she had better learn to control her crazy before crazy controlled her; she banished the unwanted thoughts from her consciousness and headed home for a much needed, uneventful evening.

Again waking in a panic to the sound of her newspaper, she laughed at her body's response to something that had already been identified as harmless. Enjoying a personal consideration about the conscious verses unconscious, she was able to get ready in a good mood. At least the adrenaline was good for getting going. She wondered if she could find an alarm clock that would play spooky sounds instead of soothing sounds to recreate the effect every morning. Dismissing it as pointless because invariably she would become used to being scared awake and therefore no longer scared awake, she left for work.

As she approached the creeptastic corner, she decided to own her fear and rename the intersection. Her internal monologue voice switched to a deeper more authoritative sound and decreed to all personalities residing within the boundaries of Jane's physical being that the intersection would now be addressed as the corner where paranoia meets fear. Or CWPMF for short. Trying to decide how that anagram would be pronounced, she forgot she was waiting for the bus and jumped when it pulled up in front of her. Grinning sheepishly at the driver, she showed her bus pass and headed toward her section on the bus.

I have a massive headache today but wanted to post this in hopes that it will pressure me to finish the story. I hope I am not delusional when remembering I have already proof read and edited this.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Establishing Context for Plan B

My cousin sent me an email today asking how the interview went, which reminded me that there are people on here who are actually reading this and might want to know. She also told me that if my mom, her aunt, was going to be driving me around in a wheelchair, I should probably get a helmet. And seriously consider a safety belt as well.

The benefits meeting went really well. My claims agent said it was going smoothly, they just needed more information from my doctor. They try to finish the approval process within 30 days of the request being submitted. That would have been two weeks ago. It will all depend on how quickly my doctor responds.

The good news is that they pay 60% of my what I was making before I got sick. Also, they have an incentive program to encourage me to work as much as I can. I had been told that I could only receive a total of 60% of my salary and they would subtract whatever part time hours I worked from the total benefits I received. In actuality, I can get paid up to 40% of my previous salary with part time hours before it affects my benefits. Basically, they just don't want me getting over 100% of what I was making before with benefits and paychecks combined. This is awesome. It totally means I will be able to pay my bills and not have to sell my condo.

On a side note, the interview was totally random and insane. Since it went over my 20 minute limit of being able to hold normal together, she probably got more information than she bargained for. I'll give you a couple of highlights. She asked me about my medications and what I was taking them for. Then she asked if I was being treated for any other illnesses. I told her no. Later when she asked how much I weighed, I hemmed and hawed for a minute before I guessed. I told her I had lost a few pounds with the mono and wasn't really sure. This started a whole other line of questioning about my eating habits and lack of appetite. I explained to her that I had hypoglycemia so I was pretty careful about eating whether I wanted to or not.

Suddenly alarm bells went off in my head and I blurted out that I hadn't mentioned I had hypoglycemia earlier when she asked about other illnesses because I wasn't actually being treated for it. I wasn't trying to hide it or anything. Then I felt weird and told her I had been watching a ton of crime dramas since I had been sick. So I was feeling pressured to make sure she had all the details and it didn't look like I had been hiding anything. She laughed and said that she loved watching those too and totally understood.

Later in the conversation I started rambling about my current doctor and how he is new and only has seen me since I've had mono. She said she would pull all my records from my old doctor as well as my new one. I got strangely excited and my response was overly enthusiastic. Hearing her pause, I explained that I never get sick and if they had all my old records they would be able to see that as well. That's when I started giving full disclosure about my relationship with my current doctor. Realizing I might be sounding suspicious, I decided to jokingly remind her about the crime drama influence. So I lowered my voice and loudly whispered, "The voices from all the crime shows are insisting I tell you everything." She giggled nervously and soon after the interview was over.

I'm betting if the whole mono claim gets denied, I can probably try again on the grounds of insanity.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

I May Legally Be Disabled by Mono

Seriously! My employer is helping me apply for long term disability. It is one of my benefits so I don't feel bad about that. Also, I have been sick for 4 1/2 months and have bills to pay. It was just weird to put on the application Mononucleosis in answer to my diagnosis. I have to admit I am not all that confident in getting approved. The insurance company called me on Friday to set up an interview on Monday, so we'll see. I am really lucky that my employer is so supportive. My HR Director not only sent me all the information and signed me up before she even notified me, she also wrote a letter to the insurance company explaining the entire situation to ensure I receive benefits. So yeah, I might be collecting disability.

On top of that, my mom announced that I needed to find a wheelchair for her visit. Her favorite thing about coming to visit me is that we walk everywhere. I don't have a car, so my favorite thing about her visiting is that she walks with me everywhere to run errands. This means I have a whole other person to help me transport groceries and other items. Up until now, I just assumed that I would be better by then. Now, I am pretty sure that isn't going to happen. Even if it does, I am so out of shape from being on bedrest for so long, I won't be able to keep up with her. But a wheelchair?

She says if it is too embarrassing, that I don't have to do it. The sad thing is that is the only thing that would keep me from doing it. I hate to admit it but I am worried about what other people will think. She said we should look at it as a learning experience. We'll be able to see the world from a different perspective. I totally think she is right. I am also worried about depending on my mom pushing me around. I have talked before about my inability to ask for and accept help from others. This would be the ultimate blow to my independence. Which isn't necessarily bad. I think I am too proud and it gets me into trouble. My final comment was that if I find a wheelchair before she gets here then I will do it.

My life is so surreal these days. Like I am living in a dream. I can't even really describe it to people because it seems I am observing me from the outside. The good news is that it makes me see everything differently. I did suddenly have an idea to rent out my place instead of selling it. That way I could get someone else to pay the mortgage, I could move to a smaller place and pay less rent. Then, when I am back on my feet and able to take the responsibility back on, I could just move back into my condo. I don't know how that will work. I am really hoping the disability will give me some breathing room to put off making any decisions. The sad thing is either way, I would have to move. I have no idea how to make that happen considering I can barely move from my bed to the couch and back everyday. So the solution is a problem in itself. I'm just not going to think about it now.

First things first, get disability and find a wheelchair. When did I turn 90?

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Fiction Is Not My Preferred Style

The last fiction story I wrote was about thirteen years ago. I haven't yet found my voice, but I feel like I am getting close. It is harder for me to write fiction because I am more telling the story to myself. I am so curious to see where the train of thought is leading, I don't pay attention to the peripherals and leave out important transitions. I understand what I am trying to say so I forget to look for things that might confuse the average person who is not inside my head. I prefer to jump from action to action rather than spend time in description.

Also something people might find annoying is that I like reading books where descriptions are intentionally vague to allow the reader to create their own image. It allows me to fill in the holes with my experiences and images and makes the characters more identifiable and situations more believable. I tend to emulate this.

Normally I am trying to share a story with you, the reader, and am more contentious of making sure I explain all the details so you can get a clear picture of what I saw. All this means is that I am totally open to any suggestions or comments you may have and understand if you don't like this side of my writing. Don't worry about hurting my feelings. I am an ego maniac and if I don't like what you have to say, I will think you are wrong and ignore you rather than take offense. It is how I roll.

I actually have Part II written, but there is very little action in it. So I am holding back printing it in case I don't get to Part III. Then, I can throw it up to keep you busy until I do. This shouldn't be a very long series. I am only planning three parts. It was originally only supposed to be one story. But when I write fiction I usually only know the ending. So I start where I think the beginning should be and follow the tangents until I end up where I planned. Sometimes I start too early. If I have any dreams or memories in the mean time, I will continue to post those.

I have been very tired the last few days and again, I have been using my limited energy reserves to keep up with life. This story works well right now simply because I can write it in the evening when I am not feeling "up" and it should still flow. As I have mentioned before, if I try to write when I have no energy, I sound very terse and bitter. Since I write about real memories, I want to make sure I do my best to portray them in a positive light to keep anyone's feelings from getting hurt. Dreams, however, are fair game.

Thanks for letting me indulge in a walk outside my comfort zone. I think you will be entertained and pleasantly surprised at the very least.

Now can someone please tell me why I have suddenly started smelling lilacs in the afternoon? It happened yesterday and I was intrigued, today it is a little weird.

Hiding Isn't Passive When You Are a Ninja - Part I

Jane shivered as she turned the final corner on her walk home. Lately she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. It was making her paranoid and grumpy. Living downtown was exciting and energizing for the most part. But it did have its downsides. Being single and living alone fit her independent nature. Until evenings like this when she wondered if maybe there wasn't something to be said for actively finding a guy to settle down with.

"Grrrrrr," she said making a rumbling sound low in her throat. It didn't sound very intimidating to anyone who may have heard it; it was more like a purr than a growl. The sound reverberated more loudly in her head, making her feel more like ninja than a damsel. Except that ninjas are stealthy and quiet. Noises were more for pirates. She threw her shoulders back and slowed her naturally quick gait to a bouncing jaunt. She hoped she looked confident, pleasantly comfortable in her neighborhood as she strolled home. Failing that, she hoped it at least made her look mentally disabled.

She started to giggle as she remembered the story her friend, a fellow public transportation fan, once told her. Every day on her way to work Kaybee would share the bus with a gorgeous girl who was well put together. This girl always had a wide circle of empty seats surrounding her. Apparently her rocking back and forth while muttering to herself intimidated even the shadiest looking character on the scariest bus route. Kaybee always theorized that the girl was actually fine, but acted like that on the bus to discourage attention. Single women have ways of looking scarier than they could ever possibly be. Like the king snake, hoping appearances will fool predators into thinking they are the deadly coral snake instead of a harmless fake. Thankfully there are no magic rhymes to allow people to distinguish between someone who is mentally unstable from someone who just wants to keep people at bay. Jane became completely distracted from any fears by composing rhymes. "Rock and then sing, death she might bring. Sing before rock, she will freeze in shock." "Laughing at the unknown, your mind will be blown. Knowingly laughing, safe for attacking." By the time she reached her apartment building, she had forgotten her sixth sense had been acting up. In the safety of her snug studio she laughed off her suspicions as silly and unrealistic. Still she checked her deadbolt three times before retiring for the night which was twice more than she normally would. But she had lived so long on her own, she had become and expert at compartmentalizing her fears in favor of sleep.

Bolting upright at 5:00 am with a gasp, she awoke from a deep slumber. Every hair was standing on end and her skin prickled with the rush of adrenaline that pushed through her veins. Catching her breath, she tried to remember her dream so she could confront the fictional fear and calm her subconscious. She able to vaguely recall a TV chef conducting a contest in her Aunt's kitchen, but nothing seemed scary about that.

The whispering, rustling sound was barely audible, but horribly out of place. Suddenly she knew it wasn't her dream that had awakened her in a state of panic. Not being able to identify what it was, her logical side tried to preach reason. Unfortunately it was trying to debate against intuition that seemed to scream at her when she realized it was emanating from just outside her door. She froze, unable decide whether the sound was harmless or threatening. Forcing her breathing to slow so she could hear over her heart thumping in her chest, she recognized the sound. This did nothing to soothe her fears as she realized it was the sound of paper rustling. Someone was standing outside her door reading her newspaper. Were they waiting for her?

It was only another thirty minutes before her alarm went off starting her morning routine. After putting on a robe, the first thing she did every morning was open her door and grab her paper. She reached for her cell phone, wanting to call someone. Anyone. But the terror of being heard cautioned against it. Summoning up her courage, she silently crept up past the kitchen area to the entryway being careful to avoid making shadows under the door in case the mystery person was looking. Suddenly she realized that now she was acting like a ninja and her mind wandered into thinking about how comfortable it would be to sleep in one of those suits. The non sequitur nearly forced a hysterical laugh. Stopping, she mentally shook herself into focus before continuing forward. Her previous perception of the almost too small studio was altered forever. The eight feet to the door felt like a mile. She tried to sink into the wall next to her door and almost fell trying to look through the peephole from an awkward side approach. No one was there. Still the rustling continued. Deciding she would rather face her horrible fate than spend one more minute in suspense she unlocked the deadbolt and flung the door open. The very second the door was unlocked, she wondered why she didn't grab a knife from the counter on her journey to the door. Defenseless, she stood looking. At nothing. As her eyes drifted downward, she watched the top few pages of the paper rise and fall to the current of the hallway air conditioner.

Coming EVENTUALLY, Part 2

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Anticipation Mounts

I have must have a twelve year old boy living inside me. Why do I find the word mount to be so snicker inducing?

I have been horribly absent from my blog these days. However, I promise to make it up to you soon. I am working on a story that will probably take you five days to read and allowing me to slack off, er, decide what direction I want to take from there. I am working on it tonight, but it ended up being much longer than I anticipated and I will probably have to forgo writing the ending and go to bed.

To give you a taste, it includes references to ninjas, pirates and maces, OH BOY!

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Coping with Laughter Runs in the Family

This memory popped into my head today. My dad's father was living in a nursing home after having his leg amputated. One day, while my aunt was visiting, a nurse came in and told him it was time for her to clip his toenails. He looked at her while pointing to his prosthetic leg and said, "All right. But be careful. Look what happened the last time." The nurse was visibly shocked, but my aunt burst out laughing.

I miss that man!

On another note, my mom will be out here this month to visit me. She is going to help me clean the condo and do minor repairs to help get it ready in case I do decide to sell. One of the things we had talked about was turning my guest bedroom into a craft room/office. I hate how the queen size mattress takes up most of the room when it is only used four or five times a year. She has offered to build me a murphy bed type structure to house it in during non-visiting times. When we were talking about it earlier, I realized that will solve one of my pending dilemmas in selling my home.

I wanted to rent an apartment to save money and pay off my debt. However, since I don't want to leave downtown, it was becoming apparent that rent was not going to be much cheaper than a mortgage. I have lived in a studio sized place before and hated the bed being out in the open. Plus, now that I have graduated to a grown-up sized bed (queen instead of twin), I was worried about it taking up the whole room so I was stuck looking at pricey, ugly one-bedrooms. With this new contraption, I wouldn't have to worry about it and can start looking again at all the cute, urban studios I had to reject out of hand simply because of their size.

It is amazing to me how one little thing can change my outlook on everything. All of a sudden, I am excited and looking forward to selling. It isn't that I don't want to own, but I am looking forward to losing this financial burden right now. Also, it does reopen the possibility of still owning, but just downsizing. I can probably buy a place for half of what I own now. I was so depressed by what I thought I was facing, it was kind of bringing me down. Now I am can't wait to get out there and see what I can find.

That is all for today!

Friday, April 30, 2010

Game Delay Due to Rain

Sorry folks. The weather has been hit or miss. My finances have been hit or miss. My mood has been hit or miss. My symptoms have been hit or miss.

All in all, it has been a roller coaster week and I have had to focus my energies elsewhere. In case you didn't know, I have about 2 - 4 hours worth of energy a day. Usually that comes to me in the morning. This week I have helped a friend out by babysitting her six month old for a few hours. The kid sleeps as much as I do so it worked out pretty well. My job sent me an application for Long Term Disability. I spent a few hours filling that out. I pouted a bit and cried on the phone to my mom which ate up a few more hours. Sadly, you, my dear peeps, have been neglected. I have story ideas and keep sitting down to start posting, but I get overwhelmed at the idea of writing out a story. I start to write a bunch of nonsense, but when I am not in a whimsical mood, they don't really come out well.

It is the same in real life. I have a very dry, sarcastic wit. When I am full of life and energy, I can pull it off because I am careful to watch everyone's responses and make sure they are getting that I am telling a joke. When I am tired or moody, I just piss people off and hurt their feelings. I forget to smile and they think I am just being mean. I don't know why. I can't remember a time in my adulthood when I have actually made fun of someone else. It goes against my nature to build people up. Why people would ever think I would say something intentionally degrading is beyond me.

Ah well, the point is I have learned my lesson. Which means you get stories or nothing at all! (I write as I totally negate the statement with this entire post.) I did make mini apple pies this week. I have been craving them, but I make them from scratch. I finally decided to try making the crust in my food processor. I figured it didn't matter if it turned out too badly, it would still be pie. And I like pie! As it works out, minus the cooking time, I made a pie in 15 minutes. This is not good. It cannot be that easy for me to make pie! And it gets worse.

After I devoured the first one I made, I was still craving more. This time the crust was already made. So, I made another one in about 10 minutes and ate it too. I cannot have that kind of temptation sitting around! Unfortunately in my pie craving madness, I bought a 5 lb bag of Granny Smith apples. Each pie takes one apple. I have six apples left. Plus, I still have crust in the refrigerator! Hmmm, I think I have to go now. To make pie. Because pie is 4th on my list of true loves after Goldie, Bacon and Batman. I wonder what Bacon Pot Pie would taste like?

Yeah, I gotta go. Now.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Men love to play with kitchen utensils

Another pay per blog. This one I have "guest" blogger write the ad and then I copy and paste. I'll probably update this later with a real blog. Or delete it and start over. You never know. I have received one offer to write a post about a website that doesn't actually work. I'm not so confident about the reputability. However, knowing the type of readers I have, we might have fun reading the *ahem* marketing ideas of others!

Edit: This is not for an ad. It is a test post to prove I own this blog so that I can get set up to receive ads. Also, I keep forgetting to say that in case you haven't noticed, I removed Google ads from my pages. They were ugly. They lied when they said I would get paid for traffic as well as clicks. I felt no need to let them advertise for free on my blog if they weren't going to pay me. In short, I felt used and icky.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Silver Tongued Devil

Today is Brother R's birthday. I don't have a lot of money these days, so I thought I would use this blog to pay tribute to him. When I first started writing this blog, I made him read it so that I could get his approval before circulating it among the masses. He loves to write. He even published his own magazine.

This magazine, The Trucktacular, was a huge success. He only stopped doing it because it became too much work to do on his own. It was pretty much a blog in paper form. He filled it with stories about people he knew. He had a question and answer section with his dwarf character from World of Warcraft whose answer to everything included use of an axe. There were interviews with random people in his life including his 7 year old daughter. There was a recount of his weekly basketball game that was retold in a way that even I, a total sportsophobe, looked forward to reading. The best was a monthly in depth account of a local gang war titled, "The Corporation Vs. The Working Man." He allowed us a rare insight into the gritty rivalry that had pitted his box store warehouse co-workers against his brother and wife's office coworkers. There were beat downs, kidnappings and turf invasions as each gang tried to establish their superiority. There are not many published authors who can make me laugh as hard as I did reading those accounts.

I just can't sit here and describe his writing. I am going to reprint my favorite episode for the rest of you. Please note that his style is to use everyone's real names as well as nicknames making the stories are more personal. I do the opposite in my blog so I will just use nicknames wherever possible and initials when they are not. Mostly because I haven't even met some of these people and don't particularly want to get sued. Without further ado today's surprise (as much to him as anyone else) guest writer Brother R.

The Corporation Vs. The Working Man
Tales of a Secret War
Episode 2 (In Episode 1, The Lockbox Corporation had gone to Bullseye Mart and was attacked with various products by The Truckabee gang.)

Disclaimer: Corporation names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The Truckabees knew that they had started an all out war with The Lockbox Corporation and knew they were always going to be in danger. The day would come where a bloody unneeded battle would take place and people would die. Cobra could not let this happen. He knew that if he went alone to the Lockbox Corporation headquarters he might be able to reach some kind of truce with his brother. He also thought that since it was during business hours it would be less likely to get a beat down.

As he waited in the lobby for MF to come down, he was noticeably nervous. Ding. The elevator doors opened and the younger F brother stood inside. But he was not alone. His "friend" MC was with him along with a man called EB. EB was a man that had a past with Cobra. Once friends, they turned into bitter enemies over a questionable homerun call at a whiffle ball tournament. EB swore it cleared the fence and was in fair territory while Cobra thought it was the opposite. Needless to say this was an explosive relationship.

"I thought maybe we could reach a truce, so that none of your people would have to miss any work time." Cobra spoke with an arrogant smile.

"How bout this?" EB leaped across the room and slapped a figure four leg lock on him instead. MF ran over and dropped an elbow right on top of his head for good measure. Cobra looked up at the receptionist, hoping that she was on the phone with the police so that a little justice might prevail. He was quite shocked to see her laughing and pointing as the Lockbox employees imposed their will on him. Finally, MC ran over and said that they should stop before they went too far. Then he laughed, kicked Cobra in his rock hard abs and slapped him in his face.

"You guys wanna throw soup cans at people?" Matt asked as he opened a thermos and began to dump it out on a now semi-conscious Cobra. "Well, here is some soup. And it's split pea. HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I guess it was clear in the mind of Cobra that there was going to be no truce. This thing had already become more explosive than even he had thought. As he crawled out the doors of the enormous office building, he had but one thing on his mind. Revenge!

Cobra struggled to get to his car, but finally did make it. He grabbed out his cell, and placed a call to his colleague, The Incredible Bulk. The Bulk couldn't believe his ears. A three on one beat down? That was more Truckabee style than anything. "Don't worry chief, I got the payback taken care of."

"Hello," Bulk said on one end of the phone. "Yeah, we have a bit of a situation. Yeah, they got cobra. Three on one. I know, that's more our style. OK I am on my way to pick you up."

4:55 PM Lockbox corporation Headquarters

Work was over for MF and he was on his way out of the building headed to his car. It was dark now and there was a weird feeling in the air. Unfortunately for MF he didn't park in the parking garage. No, it was too full, so he parked down the road. This had the mark of trouble written all over it.

"Hello MF." A dark and mysterious voice came out of the bushes. "I hear you like to fight unfair wars against solid citizens of this country. Well I am here to even the score up."

A tasty guitar riff began to play. The Elbow jumped out of the bushes with guitar in tow. Behind him, tripping while exiting the bushes was TruckaD. He had some hot bacon in his hand. "These odds look a little bit better." Cobra was speaking with The Bulk at his side.

"You think I didn't know you Truckalosers would be out here?" MF snapped his fingers. MC and EB jumped out from behind the bushes on the other side of the street. (Man, there are a lot of bushes in Salem.) Then he whistled and two women jumped out of the backseat of MF's car. It was Cobra's wife, EF and her BFFL SM.

The line in the sand was drawn and each group was trying to stare a hole right through the other. Just then The Elbow started a solo on his sweet musical instrument of choice. The Truckabees seemed almost possessed now. Their eyes were red and they didn't look like themselves. TruckaD threw his hot greasy bacon and hit MC right in the face. "My eyes!" MC screamed. "You got bacon grease in my eyes."

EB was now looking right at The Elbow and started playing air guitar to some KISS song he had in his head. The Elbow stopped to check out how frickin' sweet EB's moves were. That was all the chance EF and SM needed. EF pulled The Elbow's hair and SM tried to scratch out his eyeballs.

Seeing his opportunity Cobra grabbed MF and held him as The Bulk was about to take a vicious swing. But then a voice was heard by a man passing by. "Hey guys, what you up to?"

It was DM, SM's husband. "Yes!" Both SM and Cobra yelled at the same time. "What do you mean yes?" SM asked. "He is my husband and he will fight on our side."

"Your crazy." Cobra told the delusional Mrs. M. "He is my best friend and a former Bullseye Mart employee, he is obviously going to fight on our side."

"Well?" SM asked as she peered into his soul. "You have to decide."

"Yeah buddy," Cobra pleaded. "You are going to have to pick a side."


(OK, I will at least resolve the major cliff hanger with the first bit of Episode 3, "Danny's Decision" since none of you probably have access. As for the battle, no one ever really wins a fight.)

Episode 3

DM was deemed The Franchise by Cobra back in the late nineties because of the promise he showed right from the beginning. These two kids became the best of friends right from day one. They spent countless hours playing PlayStation and running plays down on the Courthouse basketball floor. But his life was now with his wife, SM. How could friendship compete with love? I mean sure Cobra and The Franchise just stood there between the proverbial rock and a hard place. What could he do? He had to break someone's heart. So he did the only logical thing. He turned and ran as fast as he could and he didn't stop until he got home. And even then he went straight into his bedroom and hid under the bed.


So, that is my brother. I am going to send him this link for his birthday. Please take some time to make a comment below to wish him a Happy Birthday and tell him how awesome you think he is.

I love you bro!