Wednesday, December 26, 2012

I HATE Snow!

A picture of a plastic snowman because I hate snow so much I don't even want a real snow image in my camera.
I just fucking hate snow. O.k., so I got sent home from work which is great, but I can't go anywhere which is bullshit. Here's the thing. I probably wouldn't have gone anywhere anyway. But when you CAN'T go anywhere it feels like you're recovering from surgery... Without Percocets! You're stuck. And that makes me depressed.

"Sharon, maybe you could use this time to make something?"

"I'm trying, but all I can think of is how much snow sucks and how I really, really hate when people say, 'Oh, I just love snow, it's SO beautiful!'"

Like sometimes we watch that living-in-Alaska reality show and I feel disgust. And don't get me started on people who go on Alaska cruises. OMG! What on earth could possibly be wonderful about ice and snow? Is it the polar bears? I'm sorry, but they look weird and act stupid.

"Seriously, you're capping on polar bears?"

"It's the snow! It makes me crazy!"

O.k., looking back on the last couple of days, perhaps the crazies COULD be from 99% of my calories coming from cookies. And here I thought Christmas cookies held magical powers.

Maybe that's what Satan wants you to believe.

And we just got weird.

O.k. before I alienate everyone, I leave you one more reason to hate snow. The creepy-ass Snow Miser. GROSS!

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Happy Holidays!

Below is a short cartoon that is simply delightful. Enjoy!

Thursday, December 13, 2012

The Real-Live Dirt on a First-Ever Mammogram

Fontainebleau school (late 16th century)
Presumed Portrait of Gabrielle d'Estrées and Her Sister, the Duchess of Villars

There was a light fog. I pulled into a mostly empty parking lot, parked my car, and took a deep breath. I didn't really know what to expect, and I guess I was more than a little nervous. As I got out and started walking toward the building I became aware that the facility looked a little bit like Whetstone Recreation Center, although this building was set farther back from the lot and it looked very old. I walked in and looked around for someone to acknowledge my scheduled presence and to tell me where to sit and to perhaps ask me to fill out a form of some kind. While seeking out a competent human I quickly noticed that the inside of the building looked a lot like a warehouse. So weird! Suddenly a person rounded the corner riding a forklift and proceeded to stack and unstack pallets of unidentified, shrink-wrapped items. Turning back toward the entrance I was startled by a woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere who I perceived to be the receptionist. She informed me that I would be called when it was my turn and to just be patient. It was then that I saw at the end of the receptionist's area small tables situated side-by-side with women leaning against each with their bare breasts on metal plates at each station. Apparently this was what I was here for. As I waited I walked around and wondered just how long until it would be my turn. Just then a large group of school children (over a hundred of them?) filed in and sat at long cafeteria tables and proceeded to eat their lunches. "Sharon Dorsey!" Oh, it's my turn! I was told that I should put my breasts on a plate at one of the stations. I told the receptionist that it was highly unacceptable to be asked to do this with the school children eating their lunches in the same area. She said that they had every right to be there, it was their cafeteria. I waited a very long time with my breasts on the table until I finally became frustrated and asked what was taking so long. The receptionist, becoming irritated with my attitude, snapped at me and said that the doctor had just left for lunch and would be back in about an hour.

And then I woke up.

Anxiety-filled dream much?

Here's the reality... OMG, SO easy! I really thought it would hurt, but it was not even CLOSE to a big deal. Zero pain, just generally weird. And while I'm sure men would do just fine as a mammogrammer (I think that should be the official job title), I don't know that I would want some dude doing the amount of bread kneading required to get all of my parts in the right place. And quick! Like in and out within 15 minutes. Booyah!

Ladies, PLEASE don't let this one go ignored. Succumbing to a tiny amount of annoyance can really save a life. No brainer? Let's say yes.