Words of Loathing

I am truly, wickedly adoring reading this thread at The Toast – it’s all about books you HAAAAATE. Now, the problem is, while many of the hated books I agree with or have never read due to general apathy, many of the ones people are talking about hating are ones I LOVE – The Little Prince? 1984? HOW CAN YOU HATE JACOB HAVE I LOVED?

I feel so loved to know that I am not the only one who didn’t just dislike The Scarlet Letter, OTHER PEOPLE WANTED TO SHRIEK WITH RAGE AT IT TOO! It was written as a newspaper periodical, so dude got paid by the word –so even though i know WHY it takes him 13 paragraphs to describe someone answering the damn door, it does not mean that I have to ENJOY it. Other people understand and can articulate my hatred of The Mists of Avalon! Hated! When someone finds out they read fantasy they almost always ask me if I’ve read this! I read it as a teenager and it was terrible and then the christians made everything horrible the end! GAH. And THEN I found out the author was a child molester?! WHAT.

I also hate The Stranger. H.A.T.E Nothing happens, it doesn’t make a speck of sense, and I DON’T CARE BECAUSE I HATE IT. Ironically, I got the highest grade I had gotten on a paper in my AP English class for my essay on this book. Which is hilarious, because i didn’t understand the story or what the essay was supposed to be about, so it was all complete bullshit.

Tuesday’s with Morrie was a bookclub assignment for me, and everybody else talked about how they luuuuuuved it, and I was sitting there looking at them like they were made of vomit because i can still not get over how the author describes the “happy way” food fell out of Morrie’s mouth while Morrie was eating because no one had ever taught the dying asshole not to talk with his mouth full and it is the GROSSEST THING and UGH.

Mercedes Lackey and the Vanyel books SHOULD have been good – a gay protagonist in a fantasy novel? SIGN ME UP. But he was SO WHINY and all OH POOR ME, and I was GLAD when he died. GLAAAAAD.

The general hatred of anything and everything Cassie Clare thrills my little black heart, as I was in the Harry Potter fandom when her fanfic plagiarism first came to light and if you don’t think she hasn’t blatantly stolen material and stuck it in her crappy books you are WRONG.

The first book, though? My very very first deeply hated book?

Forever, by Judy Blume.

I read it in high school, probably, because I wanted to know why it was so controversial.

(keep in mind that I was a very precocious reader, and had previously read very enlightening things that featured much much of the sex, so while I knew the very basics, I was still very innocent about such things)

It’s controversial because it’s about teenagers, sex, and birth control. Alright, awesome, a book that deals with those things, good info to have, fabulous, let’s go.

I got about halfway through the book before whatsherface stops whatshisname from sexing her up, and you know what that douche does? He WHINES about how much it hurts to be turned on and then she doesn’t follow through.

I might have been innocent but that is still BULLSHIT and I threw that piece of shit across the room.

HATE.

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Things I Know

1. If I owe you money and you don’t want paypal, you will most likely never get your money, even if I know I wrote a check and put it in an envelope AND put it in the mailbox. What happens to these checks? They never clear the bank. They just..disappear.

2. Barnes and Noble not only carry absolutely no books about kids who like non-stereotypically gendered stuff, they also don’t have an LGBT+ section. They stick anything they have in the Women’s Studies section. I’m fairly sure gay men, trans-men, and those who identify as anything other than women would not be ok with this. I left a comment card and plan on irritated letters and tweets.

3. The husband went to Russia and got to pretend to be a cosmonaut and had a fabulous time and didn’t puke at 4Gs in the centerfuge.

4. The husband is now gone again.

5. The husband will return the day I leave for a writing retreat, and leave again FOR AN ENTIRE MINTH the day I come back.

6. I like peanut butter cookies.

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I’m Not Actually a Teacher

What I really do, as every kid knows, is exist ONLY TO FRUSTRATE CHILDREN. And DAMN do I enjoy it!

Example 1, conversation between myself (ME) and a highly gifted three year old (SH):
SH: Ms. A, why isn’t Joey here today?
ME: Oh, she went to the moon instead.
SH: She can’t go to the moon! She doesn’t have any way to get there!
ME: Sure she does, she keeps a rocketship in her backyard.
SH: No, she doesn’t!
ME: Yes, she does. She told me all about it yesterday.
SH: No! I’ve been over there for her birthday party and she didn’t have a rocketship in her backyard.
ME: She got it as a birthday present after you left. She just forgot to tell you.
SH: SHE DOES NOT HAVE A ROCKETSHIP, MS A!

Example 2, a conversation between myself (ME) and a princess obsessed four year old who has very set ideas about gender and stuff (PR), complete with drawings!:

IMG_0704
PR: Oh, Ms A! You drew a beautiful princess!
ME: Nope. She’s a queen.
PR: A queen? *look of confusion*
ME: Yep. *draws dragon* This is her best friend – he keeps all of those nasty princes away.
PR: No, the dragon kidnaps the princess and a handsome prince rescues her.
ME: Nope. This is a queen and her best friend, the dragon.
PR: But, Ms A, there HAS to be a princess!
ME: Ok.

IMG_0703

ME: Here’s my princess!
PR: Where’s her beautiful dress? And why is she circles?
ME: She isn’t wearing a dress. She’s wearing pants. And she’s circles because princess comes in all shapes and sizes.
PR: But she has to have a beautiful dress!
ME: This princess doesn’t wear dresses – she wears pants, because she likes to climb trees and play on the monkeybars.
PR: Princesses wear beautiful dresses!
ME: Not this one!
PR: BUT SHE NEEDS A BEAUTIFUL DRESS.
ME: My princesses wear pants.
PR: But…but..

I know. I’m a terrible person. But it is just so much fun!

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Daffy-Down-Dillies

It is Spring Break.

I have accomplished…both nothing and many things, bizarrely.

Brandus and I saw Divergent, which I enjoyed but wouldn’t write home about..or bother reviewing. I love a good dystopian movie, basically, but this felt too simplified in some ways. I also saw the preview for The Giver, which made me throw things at the screen in irritation, because I really don’t think there is any way possible they will do the book justice. The whole feel of it is wrong to me.

Otherwise, by some bizarre stroke of insanity, I’ve decided to teach myself to quilt. I’ve pieced a tiny crib-size quilt, quilted it successfully (although dont look at the back, it’s a mess), and am currently scowling at directions for how to bind it. Then somewhere in there, I pieced a twin size quilt. It’s upstairs awaiting my husband’s ability to figure out spatial problems so he can help me determine how to cut and turn the pieces of the backing to actually..you know, back the quilt.

I think I might be slightly addicted already, which isn’t good, because fabric takes over your life and we just redid the spare bedroom into a shared office/sewing room/family game room, so Brandus will notice if fabric starts piling up.

I have 4 more days of break, and (other than a dr appt on Friday to determine why I am sleeping like crap) I plan to continue to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. It is AMAZING.

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With My Mouth Shut

I feel…wordless. Which is strange, because Percocet usually makes me chatty, and wow, am I on a lot of Percocet. And antibiotics. And..some other thing or two that I can’t remember, which is probably also due to the Percocet.

See, that whole UTI thing I was stressed about? Or maybe I didn’t mention it here. Regardless, I had what seemed to be 3 different UTIs in less than a month. But turns out they weren’t UTIs, because the initial dip came back showing issues, but the actual culture showed nothing.

So, with great reluctance, my GP set me up an appointment with a urologist, and gave me a bunch of information on cystitis, which is basically a bladder issue that means it will always feel like you have to pee and it sucks to be you, because while there are things they can try, they have no idea if any of them will work or why any of them work.

Awesome.

They also set me up with an ultrasound of my kidneys/bladder, to make sure there weren’t any other issues.

As luck would have it, I woke up the day of the ultrasound in extreme pain. It’s called flank pain, which means that one side of your lower back hurts like a bitch and leaves you, if you’re anything like me, trying desperately not to puke.

The man called the doctor to see if the ultrasound could be moved up from the afternoon, as I needed it NOW, and the doc sent us to the ER.

HEY GUESS WHAT? I HAD A KIDNEY STONE. You remember the one I had right after Christmas? THIS WAS THE SAME ONE! IT WAS CAUSING ALL OF THE ISSUES AND EVERYTHING SUCKED UNTIL THEY GAVE ME LOTS OF DRUGS! I’d like to point out that this was the end of January. But wait, we aren’t done yet!

On to the urologist, who wanted so little to do with me that he barely even let me finish a sentence, much less the whole story. Verdict: Surgery! They were going to shove a scope up my urethra and blast that kidney stone with a laser and then I’d be back on my feet and fully recovered in 24 hours!

Oh, how I laugh at that thought now..

Surgery happened on Feb 14, which made for an awesome Valentine’s day for both myself and Brandus. Nothing like being taken to the hospital for a romantic gesture!

When I woke, I was..uncomfortable.

Come to find out that the doctor, who had originally told me I would have a stent for 2 days, discovered the kidney stone was much more implanted in the lining of my ureter than originally thought.

I would need the stent for TWO WEEKS. And while it was in, I was to expect pain, blood in my pee, increased urge to pee, and general irritation. And if I resumed my normal activities, it would make all of those things worse.

Awesome. But I’d already missed a week of work due to pain and then surgery, so back to work I went.

It was fine for a week. Kind of irritating, and not exactly comfortable, but I didn’t need the percocet often, just when I overdid things – like doing my job or wrestling with the 3 year old who had just smacked a kid in the face with a block.

But then, of course, something went wrong. Things..hurt. Badly. I’ll let you use your imagination to decide exactly what hurt, but it lead to me calling the doctor in the middle of the day. And being told that some pain was normal with a stent.

Brandus called, as he was at home and I was at work, and at this point we were just trying to get the stent removal moved up a few days, as I didn’t think I could last another 5 days. They kept blowing us off. So when I got home from work that day, Brandus asked me how I felt. I said, “Shitty,” and he said, “Get your stuff. We’re going to the ER.”

After 5 hours, 4 vials of bloods, an injection of the good drugs, and peeing in a few more cups, the doctor came in and told me he was going to personally call my urologist. As my stent was infected, and needed to come out sooner rather than later.

That was Tuesday. The stent finally comes out tomorrow. And if, after two months of being in pain, the removal of the damn thing doesn’t finally make it stop hurting, I’m planning on crying at the urologist until someone does something to make me feel better. And then maybe quitting my job and spending the rest of 2014 in bed, because clearly, this year hates me.

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