Not To Be Trusted With Knives

{August 31, 2007}   Allergic

Apparently I’m allergic to the antibiotic that the oral surgeon gave me. As evidenced by this nasty rash that appeared on my back and shoulders on Wednesday. Wednesday being the day I took the last dose of antibiotic. My doctor’s theory is that the glucocorticoid that I was also on was suppressing the allergic reaction and now that it (the glucocorticoid) is out of my system1,the allergic reaction to the antibiotic has shown up. So now I have to wait for this allergic reaction to run its course, and in the meantime I’m a hideously deformed freak. Fortunately, it seems to be just on my back and shoulders2 (but only on the untanned part, suggesting that sun exposure may have triggered it, with the tanned part being protected from the UV and thus not exhibiting the reaction) and it’s supposed to be cold and rainy for the long weekend, so I won’t be wearing any back & shoulder-exposing shirts. Hooray for Vancouver’s crappy long weekend weather!

1as it was a shorter course than the antibiotics – 5 days, vs. 7 days for the antibiotic
2knock on wood.

{August 30, 2007}   Cursed Trampoline

Just saw this ad in the “free” section of Craig’s List:

Hey everybody,

I am the unlucky owner of a brand new red trampoline which I now believe to be cursed. Due to a recent injury concerning the trampoline I will be giving it away for no charge. Warning : the trampoline is cursed.

Please contact me as soon as possible,

If only I wasn’t so superstitious, I would totally take that trampoline. But my experience with cursed chocolate bars taught me that you just don’t mess with curses. Also, my apartment has very low ceilings.

{August 30, 2007}   Much Ado About Nothing

So, if I were going to show off a new shirt to everyone I know, a shirt that pretty much looks exactly like a shirt I already had, but in a different colour, I probably wouldn’t first make them watch a 5 minute video showing all the many different kinds of shirts I’ve worn over the years, emphasizing how very, very different all the shirts I’ve worn throughout my history have been. Isn’t that just setting them up to expect something, oh, I don’t know… different?

Apparently, however, the Vancouver Canucks are not of the same mindset as I.

Today was that launch of the new Canucks sweater that I mentioned a while back and there was much hype and pomp and such. Much yammering about how all the players were so excited to be coming back to a new season. About how Vancouver has the greatest hockey fans in the world. About how this new sweater is going to celebrate our past and our present, and blah blah blah. And then 5 of the players skated out onto the ice wearing jerseys that look remarkably like the old ones. As in, with the identical logo, but in a different colour. Oh ya, and this time it says “VANCOUVER” on it.

Here’s a pic I snapped of team captain Marcus Naslund in his “new” uniform:


See! It’s just the stupid whale, but in the vintage colours! And it says “VANCOUVER” across the chest. And, apparently, they paid over a million dollars for this. Why doesn’t anyone pay me a million dollars to not design something new? I’m totally capable of not designing something new!

I did learn, however, that the blue and green colours were originally chosen to symbolize “BC’s natural landscape” – ocean and the forests. So that’s something.

Fortunately, before going to the launch of the Canucks so-called “new” jersey, I’d seen this leak, so I knew that there wasn’t actually going to be a new look. It helps to lessen the disappointment if you are pre-emptively disappointed. But I still think it was rather ridiculous of the Canucks organization to hype it like it was going to be a new look, when it’s really not. I mean, consider how this was presented on their website leading up to the launch:

Notice how each of the examples given actually have a different logo? The vintage “stick in a box”, the “flying V”, the “flying skate” and the “stupid orca” (as we true Canucks fans like to refer to each of these logos)…. doesn’t this lead one to expect that the question mark for 2007 will be filled in with a jersey with a different logo?

On the plus side, I got to see 5 Canucks players in this underwhelming new outfit:


And John Shorthouse. He does the Canucks radio broadcasts and, since I usually listen to the games on the radio (being the cable-less person that I am), I almost feel like I know him, I’ve heard his voice so many times.
I bet I’m the only girl in the blogosphere blogging about Shorty.

{August 29, 2007}   Scattered Thoughts
  • For the third time in as many weeks, I’ve managed to forget to put on my mascara while getting ready in the morning. I put on my eyeliner. I put on my eyeshadow. I blend the shadow. But at some point between the putting down of my shadow brush and the picking up my mascara, I get distracted somehow, and completely forget to pick up that mascara wand. I don’t know how I manage to do this on such a regular basis.
  • A geek-cute1 boy smiled at me when I got on the bus today. I sat down in the seat in front of him and when I looked out the window, I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was glancing my way. When I got up to get off the bus, he looked back at me not once, not twice, but three times – and looked away really quickly each time when he saw that I was watching. This is a good way to start the day.
  • I really shouldn’t have to wear a sweater to keep the chill off when going to work in August. I. just. shouldn’t. Why did you bypass us this year, summer, why?
  • I’m coming to the realization that open wounds in the jaw don’t like having coffee poured into them. I’m not going to do anything about that, but I have made the observation.
  • Speaking of coffee, my coffee maker may look like a spaceship, but it doesn’t make my coffee hot enough
  • Earlier, when writing a note, I wrote today’s date down as “28 July 2008”. wtf?
  • Despite being unable to get to sleep until 2 am (which may have had something to do with becoming distracted by a neat website that I was goofing off on until I seemed tired, combined with a general feeling of unwellness that kept me up thereafter) and despite what this posting (and its title) may lead you to believe, I was actually feeling really alert today. It’s the first day since getting my wisdom teeth out that I’ve felt like my brain was functioning at above 75% capacity, where I haven’t felt the overwhelming need to fall asleep at my desk all day and where I actually had the strength to walk the 4 blocks from the bus stop to my building and make it up the 6 flights of stairs to my office. This level of vim and vigor lasted until shortly after lunch.

1“geek-cute” is one of the many forms of boy cuteness of which I am fond. Other types include “young-cute,” “pretty boy-cute” and “smoking hot-cute”.

{August 28, 2007}  

In the space of twenty-four hours, three people have asked me for advice on whether they should make a major career change. Which I find a bit funny, seeing as I’m the one who was so recently unemployed and couldn’t even find a job for six months.

{August 27, 2007}   Weekend Update

Well, jaw is still a bit achy. The ache seems to travel – Friday it was in the right lower jaw, Saturday in the left lower jaw and today it seems to be where the top wisdom teeth were that ache the most. The swelling in my mouth has gone down enough that I can now reach the wounds with my tongue… I can feel the stitches in the bottom, but the top just feel like holes – I don’t feel any stitches there. It’s weird, and I’m really trying not to always tongue the holes in my gums, because that just seems like a great way to cause an infection. But, of course, it also seems impossible to keep myself from doing!

I’m still afraid to try anything more solid that scrambled eggs, because it does hurt to open my mouth wide enough and I’m sure it would hurt to chew. Which resulted in my paying $7.50 for a bowl of mashed potatoes at dinner last night (stupid Cactus Club, what a rip off). They charged me $7.50 for a bowl of mashed potatoes, but only $6 for a double Margarita. Go figure.

After dinner last night, I went to see Five Alarm Funk at the Commodore. According to their website:

Five Alarm Funk is a Vancouver-based, 12-piece rhythm machine that delivers a delirium-inducing live show fuelled by original funk and afro-beat grooves.

I have to say that they were pretty awesome. I’d never seen them before and knew absolutely nothing about them going into it (and neither did the people I was with), so it wasn’t until a few songs in that we even found out that the band that was playing at first wasn’t Five Alarm Funk. They were an opening band, whose name I never caught, and they were quite good. And then FAF came on and they were even more awesome! The show went on and on, some of the band members even came out in to the crowd and stuff… the crowd was full of all the Vancouver hippies that Dave couldn’t find when he came here to visit, which explains why some guy who could barely speak English, but seemed to keep speaking to me in Spanish as if I was supposed to know what he was saying, at the bar I ended up in at the end of the night, kept saying to me “You’re hair smell like weed. Marijuana. You have? Marijuana? I like smoke marijuana.” Ya, ‘cuz after the show I met up with my friend Rachel and she and I both wanted to go dancing, whereas the people we’d both been out with weren’t up for dancing. So Rachel and I had a drink at the Granville Room with Lianna before she headed home to check on her dog, who’d just been neutered, then headed to Ceili’s. Oddly, there was no line, no cover and no ID’ing at the GR or C’s, which I don’t think I’ve ever seen in Vancouver before. The music was good and Rachel and I had a great time dancing, which we haven’t had a chance to do in far too long! In addition to the guy who kept telling me that I smelled like weed (and I think, but am not sure because his English was pretty choppy, asked me to be his girlfriend), I was also amused by the guy that hit on me that I think I may have insulted by saying “Are you old enough to be in here?” and the charming Brit, who was saying all the charming things that Brits say (and, to be quite honest, I didn’t care if he actually meant a word of it, it was just nice to hear).

Long story short, I stayed up much too late and was totally exhausted today, so I figured that I could justifying doing pretty much nothing all day as “recovery from surgery.” And now I’m going to go to sleep because I have a tonne of work to get done for September and isn’t September like really, really soon?

So, I’m feeling much better today – my jaw is only a wee bit achy so I’m off the T3s which were making me all loopy and unable to type properly all day yesterday.

My adventure at the oral surgeon’s office started off with the unpleasant discovery that they lied to me about the cost. I was told that my insurance covered most of the cost, I just have to pay the specialist fees1 – they had gotten a pre-approval for the cost of what an extraction would be if I went to a regular dentist and for the deep sedation. They told me that since the sedation is through my extended health benefits, rather than dental benefits, I had to pay the $190 for that upfront (despite the insurance company pre-approving this, they said they “didn’t trust” that the insurance would actually pay for it), and then they would pay me it back once they got the money from my insurance company (as opposed to the rest of the cost, which is covered by the dental benefits and so they would just charge to my insurance directly, trusting insurance would cover it). But when I go to pay for my part of the fees, I notice on the receipt that they’ve charged me $375, not $190 as I’d been told. And when I asked them about it, they are like, “Oh no, the insurance covers all except $190, you have to pay that. But we charge you the full amount and then reimburse you the difference when we get it from them.” And so I’m like, “That’s not what I was told and, in fact, I have it written down on this piece of paper exactly what you guys told me and that was that sedation costs $190 and my insurance will cover it.” So they begrudging apologized that I “was given the wrong information” and so I told them that I supposed that it’s too late to do anything about it now, but they should make sure they aren’t giving people incorrect information like that, because $200 is a lot of money to suddenly be out of pocket.

Then I went and sat in the waiting room and caught up with Rachel, who I hadn’t seen in ages, and it was good that we had the chance to do that because I couldn’t talk much after the surgery (although the poor other guy in the waiting room sure got an earful about all my drama and our ensuing analysis of said drama). They finally called me to go into the surgery room and then I got to act like a big baby about the fact that they were going to be stabbing me with a needle. And putting a blood pressure cuff on me. I hate those, they make me feel so confined! And why, when you tell a nurse “I’m afraid of needles” do they always say “it’s not that bad. It’s just like a little bee sting”? Is this really supposed to make me feel better? I mean, seriously, am I supposed to say, “Oh good! Bee stings tickle!” So I say, “Um, I’m terrified of bee stings too. But thanks.” So she takes my blood pressure and that gets me all freaked out and then even putting the little heart rate monitor on my finger freaks me out, so they strap my arm with the blood pressure cuff on it to the arm of the chair “too keep the blood pressure cuff in place” (translation: “to keep you from flailing around, you big baby”) and by the time the surgeon comes in and puts the tourniquet on and tells me to open and close my hand to pump up my vein2, I’m literally curled up in a fetal-like position (except with one arm strapped to a chair and the other arm raised as I make feeble attempts to open and close my hand without totally passing out from the queasiness of it all and saying, “how long until I can be unconscious?” and “I promise I’ll be more compliant once I’m asleep!”

The thing with me and needles is that I have to watch the needle go in. My imagination of how big the needle is, and my terror at not knowing the exact moment they are going to stab me, make me more of a basketcase than just watching it happen. So when I say, “I have to watch” and the surgeon literally turns my face away, saying “look at this lady over here,” I wanted to scream “you paternalistic bastard, I know myself and I have to watch”… but I restrained myself and left out the part about him being a paternalistic bastard. So the needle goes in fine and doesn’t hurt too bad and then he says, “This will feel like a cold drink being poured into your hand when I put the medicine in,” and I say, “Yup, that feels cold”, followed shortly by, “that feels really uncomfortable” and then the next thing I know is some vague feeling that something is going on in the bottom left side of my jaw and then they are telling me to wake up, it’s all over, get the hell out. OK, maybe they didn’t say “get the hell out.” It was more like, “we are taking you to the recovery area, be careful, you’ll be pretty wobbly.” So I stumble to the “recovery area,” which is literally a bench, and they bring Rachel in and she’s like “I can see why they insist on an escort, they really rush you out of here. You were only in there for 20 minutes.” And that had to include 10 minutes of blood pressure taking, needle stabbing and my being a big wussy baby. Then the nurse proceeds to explain a bunch of instructions to us and thank god Rachel was there for that because I was so doped up, I totally felt like I was extremely drunk and the only thing I remember was some vague comment about not having caffeine. Of course, even in a drug addled state, I pick up on the caffeine comment. At this point, I can’t feel my face, because of the local, but I notice that my hand, where they IV had been, was killing me and, despite the Dora the Explorer band-aid, is covered in dried blood. So I put some pressure on it with my opposite hand to try to lessen the pain a bit and that takes about all the brain power I have at the time.

We get a cab to the Shopper’s Drug Mart by my place so we can pick up my prescriptions and the pharmacist is like “There are several people ahead of you, it will be at least 15 minutes and Rachel is like, “She just had her wisdom teeth out, can’t you possible let us jump the line” and the pharmacist is like, “No. Besides you have 3 prescriptions.” And why the hell does it take so long to fill prescriptions? I mean, you have to count 8, 15 and 18 pills out big bottles and put them into little bottles. My 2 year old niece could do that! So anyway, Rachel decides to bring me home and she’ll come back for the drugs, ‘cuz it’s just a few blocks. I decide to buy some juice in Shopper’s ‘cuz the nurse said to try to get some sugar in me as soon as possible, since I wasn’t allowed to eat since midnight the night before. And as I take the change back from the cashier, I realize that my hand, with which I’d handed over my Shopper’s card and my cash to the cashier is covered in dried blood, from having used it to put pressure on my IV wound. It takes a minute for this to register as my brain is still all messed up on the sedation and I feel really bad for the poor cashier, and a bit surprised she didn’t say anything like, oh I don’t know, “Um, you are covered in blood.”

Anyway, Rachel gets me home and gets my drugs and I take my Tylenol 3, which was quite challenging because they said to take it when the local starts to wear off, which you will know is happening because your nose will feel tingly, but at this point your mouth and tongue are still frozen and I have trouble swallowing pills at the best of time. But, after several attempts, I manage to get the pill down somehow and spend the rest of the day in the following routine: take a T3, try to email or chat or read blogs but go all loopy, then get all drowsy and fall asleep on couch with laptop on lap, wake up when someone calls/texts/pings me on msn/google talk to see how I’m doing, feel better, watch something on the internets, notice my jaw is sore, realize that I was supposed to take another dose of T3 an hour ago, so then take another T3. And repeat. Always repeat. Oh yes, and rotating ice packs on my face – take one out of the freezer, strap it to my face, replace it with an alternate when it loses it’s coldness. For the entire day. During one of my less loopy phases, where I could actually figure out how to send an email, I emailed Rachel to find out what exactly they had said about caffeine, and it turned out that they said to just not have caffeine in my first drink. Which is a relief, since I was afraid they were going to have said, “don’t have caffeine for the next week”. Or something equally insane.

I end up watching 2.5 movies and a bunch of clips of Stephen Colbert, catching up on most of my blogs and even watching an episode of good ole Young & the Restless. My friend Clayton brought me pudding in the evening, because I discovered that the pudding mix I bought to make for myself had gelatin3 in it and I’d somehow missed that when I read the ingredient list when I bought it and somehow noticed when I took it out of the cupboard to make it. I had taken a T3 just before Clayton got here and apparently I was in my loopy phase, but didn’t know it. I totally thought I was acting normal until he said, “You are on T3, aren’t you?” And I was like “Why? I am acting weird?” and he laughed “Yes.” But I really, totally didn’t think I was! The T3 seemed to make me act like I had ADHD or something – I’d be like “I really should write down that I just took that T3… hey, what is that shiny thing?” And I also didn’t notice that there was blood on the hand towel in my bathroom, which may have been from my IV wound, or possibly from when blood was dripping out of my mouth, but most certainly was not appropriate to have hanging on my towel rack when someone was over!

I took my other meds with my dinner (mango pudding), which is what the nurse had said to do. My other meds are an antibiotic, which apparently “should only be used for serious infections because infrequently there are severe, rarely fatal, intestinal problems,” (which seem like an odd choice for a prophylactic antibiotic) and a corticosteroid, which may decrease my immune response (which seems like an odd choice for someone who is trying not to get an infection) and may stunt my growth (which is an odd choice for someone who is clearly due for a growth spurt any day now). And I followed Ann-Oni Mouse’s advice and sprayed my gauze with Chloraseptic, which seemed to work well for killing pain and I’m hoping will contribute to infection prevention.
I took my last dose of T3 just before I headed to bed with Stephen Colbert, at about 12:30 am, figuring I would wake up about 5 hours later in need of another dose, but I slept right straight through until 11:30 am. And my jaw only had a dull ache, which seems to be the most prominent in my lower left side of my jaw, which is appropriate because that’s the only place I remember feeling anything happen during the surgery, so I’m guessing that was the most difficult one to get out. Anyway, since the pain is fairly minor, I haven’t even taken a single T3 today. I figure I’ll be careful about taking my other meds as scheduled (I set the alarm in my Palm Pilot to remind me when to take it and then record that I took it… I’m kind of like that guy in Memento), gently clean my teeth as my surgeon recommends and keep my fingers crossed that I don’t get any infections. My mother thinks I have inherited my father’s propensity to heal really fast. I think that time I accidentally stabbed myself with that needle contaminated with rat blood in the lab, I took on the rat’s super immune system capabilities4. Because we all know that super powers are gained by science lab mishaps.

I spent most of today sitting in the sun, either goofing around on the internet or talking on the phone (and then having my landlord make fun of the amount of times I used the word “like” in my conversation with Sarah… “not that I was listening in on your conversation, ” he says, “but I counted that you used the work “like” 75 times since you came outside on your phone. Stupid, really, that everyone uses the word “like” so much.”) Went for Frappuccinos with Kalev, who came to hang out a bit after he finished work and before the movie he was going to.

And to top off my crappy week, I did some laundry, during which I pulled the genius move of putting my bluetooth headset through the wash. Like I said, genius. I’m going to give it a few days to completely dry out before I try turning it on again. Which I’ve heard works for when you dump an entire bottle of water into your purse and soak the hell out of your cell phone5. But August 2007 Crapweek started last Saturday, so I figure that it’s scheduled to be over in 7 minutes6. And, so long as I still feel as good tomorrow as I do right now, I’m hitting the town with some friends tomorrow night. ‘cuz I so need a night on the town right now!

OK, probably time for little Bethy to take her med (need to check my notes to remember which one!) and hit the hay. Beth sleepy. Beth has comfy bed with soft, freshly laundered sheets in which to sleep.

OK, I just went to take my night time meds and discovered that I took the wrong med earlier today. I’m supposed to take my antibiotic three times a day (like morning, midway through the day, and night), and my steriod twice day (morning and night). But, for some unknown reason, I took my steroid in the middle of the day instead of my antibiotic. I think I can kiss that growth spurt goodbye.

1I figure if someone is going to be messing with my face, it’s really worth the extra money to go to the best of the best.
2For the record, just typing that out made me queasy.
3Since I’m a vegetarian, I don’t eat gelatin, which is made from horse hooves and cow bones. Ick.
4Lab rats seems to have ridiculous awesome immune systems.
5For the record, this was
not me.
6It was 11:53 pm on Friday night when I typed that.

{August 24, 2007}   Stephen Colbert In My Bed

I’m sitting in my bed as I type this. I recently bought some new sheets and they are sooooo soft. Sooooo comfy.

And since I have my laptop with me, I can watch Stephen Colbert clips in my warm, soft, comfy bed.

And recently there have been two clips in which Colbert refers to Canada. And, as all Canadians know, while we pretty much define our national identity as “hey, we aren’t Americans!”, we somehow still love it when American pop culture acknowledges our existence. “Hey, that character in that movie said ‘Montreal’!” “Hey, Wolverine is in Alberta!” So, as a good Canadian citizen, I now share with you two clips of Stephen Colbert talking about his northernly neighbour.

First up, “Smoking Pole: The Fight for Arctic Riches“:

Secondly, we have “Nailed ‘Em: Northern Border“:

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch some more of Stephen Colbert in my bed until the drowsy stage of my latest dose of Tylenol 3 kicks in. Oh ya, I suppose I should mentioned that I did, in fact, survive my surgery and I’ve now been freed of four teeth and a heck of a lot of blood. I’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow – I kept meaning to blog about it earlier, but I’m all loopy on the meds and would forget that I meant to do it in the time it took me to open a new browser tab to open up Blogger. Or I’d fall asleep. Which I think I might do soon now, the drowsiness seems to be setting in.

{August 23, 2007}  

This could quite possibly be the last photo of my pretty jawline while said jaw still contains all its teeth! Unless, of course, I take pics in the morning at the oral surgeon’s office. Which, knowing me, is quite possible.

For the record, in this photo I am reading websites about wisdom teeth extraction on my laptop. And I’m drinking wine out of a Canucks glass. Two things: (1) I’m drinking wine because I was also making risotto, which requires wine, and thus I believe it is a crime to make risotto without drinking some of the wine, and (2) if Santa reads this blog, I sure could use some nice wine glasses so I don’t have to drink my wine out of Canucks beer steins!

OK, Beth need sleep now. Peace out.

{August 23, 2007}   Going Under the Knife

Tomorrow at 8:30 a.m., I’m getting my wisdom teeth out. And I’m really not looking forward to it, because I don’t like the following:

  • needles
  • pain
  • getting up early

I’ve needed to get my wisdom teeth out for a while now, but never had the dental coverage for it. UBC claims to have medical and dental for their students (they make you pay for medical and dental at any rate), but it pretty much doesn’t actually cover anything. But now that I have a big girl job, with actual benefits and suchlike, I can do such things as have parts of my body taken out, for the low, low price of $5001.

I’m going to be knocked out by IV sedation – I talked about it extensively with the surgeon at the consultation but, of course, don’t quite remember all the drugs included in the cocktail2 – I think it was some combo of benzos and opioids. I’ll have to remember to ask him again tomorrow. Apparently this will cause me to sleep through the whole procedure3, but is nowhere near as risky as general anesthetic (i.e., unlike a general, the risk of dying from sedation is pretty much nil)4. And when I get out of surgery, I’ll feel like I’m drunk. Thankfully, Rachel is coming with me to make sure I actually make it home in my altered state – she has experience in this realm, so I’m confident that I’ll be fine.

On the way home from work I figure I’ll stop at work for frozen fruit (for smoothies) and ice packs. Anything else you recommend?

1My insurance doesn’t pay the specialists fees which, apparently, aren’t cheap.
2because I did ask him for all the details.
3Why does “procedure” sounds worse than “surgery” to me?

4*knocks on wood*

Note: That pic is not me, but that’s pretty much what my bottom wisdom teeth look like. The pic was stolen from the interwebs, but not really stolen ‘cuz it’s under a Creative Commons license that says I may “copy, distribute, display, and perform the work”… and look ma, I’m even linking to the license.

{August 21, 2007}   He’s Back!


Vancouver, B.C. – Vancouver Canucks Senior Vice-President and General Manager Dave Nonis announced today that the Canucks have re-signed forward Trevor Linden to a new contract.

All I can say is: it’s about damn time!

In other Canucks news, I have four tickets to the launch of the new Canucks sweater at GM Place next Wednesday, but no one seems willing and able to skip work1 to join me. Any one out there in the blogodome interested?

1For the record, I’m not *actually* skipping work. I only work 4 days a week anyway, so I’ll take Wed off instead of my usual Friday.

{August 20, 2007}   Name My Gadgets

Anthropomorphizing1 my iPod and my Palm Treo in yesterday’s blog posting got me to thinking… I really should name them. My iPod and my Palm Treo, I mean.

Do you have any good ideas for what I should call them? The only rule is that you can’t use Vancouver Canucks player names. I have some other, um, electronics that I’ve named after Canucks.

1or would that be technopomorphizing?

{August 20, 2007}  

I’m pretty sure my iPod is sentient. I usually play it on “shuffle songs” and, having an eclectic mix of artists, you never know what crazy song is going to come out next. But when I’m in an emotionally heightened state, it seems to play songs that are totally appropo to the situation. Like the day that Dani moved out, when I was really dreading going home to our apartment, which was suddenly my apartment, my iPod played a string of songs, most of which I can’t remember, save one which epitomized the lot – Lonely Day by System of a Down

And now today, just now, waiting for the bus, my iPod spits out The Dresden Dolls’ The Jeep Song and then Elvis Presley’s Fools Rush In. The former with lyrics which are appropriate to the point of hilarity, the latter with a title that sums up my sentiments.

OK, so I’m typing this on my Palm Treo1 and now I think my iPod is on to the fact that I’m onto it2. Because it’s starting to play songs that don’t even remotely apply at all to the situation at hand. The Authority Song by Jimmy Eat World. Bonecracker by Shocore. OK, now it’s really gone too far – Van Morrison’s Brown-Eyed Girl?? To a girl so arrogant about her blue eyes that she wears eyelash bling? Very funny, iPod, very funny.

Yes, this is actually how my thought process works. My head is a fun place to live.

Update: I’m in the middle of writing tomorrow’s blog posting and my iPod chooses to play Heart’s What About Love. Which could only be more appropriate if it was my other favourite Heart song – Alone. Bastard3.

1Very slowly, due to the tiny-ness of the keyboard.
2I think my Treo may have sent it a text message.
3That “bastard” was in reference to my iPod. Mostly.

{August 17, 2007}  

A while back I posted some cool T-shirts that I wanted from the site T-Shirt Hell. Well, the other day I received their e-newsletter saying that some shirts were on sale, like a warehouse clearance thing, so I decided to take a gander and ended up finding one of the ones I liked (although not one of the one I’d posted in my previous posting). And so I bought it and, in the process, discovered that their checkout process, much like their products, their newsletter and their T-shirt Whore of the Month page, is quite amusing.

I first noticed something was odd on the page where I had to pick what payment type I wanted to make:

Then, on the confirmation page, there’s a sweet little message from the site telling you how very much they enjoyed you purchasing their wares:

Now, of course, you are wondering what T-shirt I ordered, aren’t you? 25 points to the first person who correctly guesses which one!

With all the weddings I’ve been going to lately, and the ensuing discussions about removing “obey” from the old wedding vows, I’ve decided that, should I ever get married again, this post’s title is the vow I would want my partner to make.

In other news, I’ve nearly recovered from the trauma of discovering a wolf spider crawling amongst my dishware. I’m no longer completely terrified1 to enter the kitchen and have even progressed to being able to open up the cupboard in which said monster was found with only minor heart palpitations.

1my terror has been downgraded to merely “severe”.

et cetera