Random tangents

I spent the last week printing my guts out. Seriously. Over 4100 cardstock copies that had to be printed on one side and then sent through again to print on the other. I wanted to scream. It only took me six days.

Now I get to play catch up with my million other projects it took me away from. It's difficult to get anything done when you can only concentrate in bursts of seven minutes. Then you have to jump out of your chair, run to the printer, and fill the stack bypass with another stack of 50 sheets for it to slooooooooooooooooooooooowly spit out.

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I'm itching to go roller skating. My ankle is finally to the point where I don't think it would be a problem. I was also planning to join Leah for martial arts goodness this January, but my wrist is still giving me problems. I don't think I could do any push-ups or blocks right now, so what's the point of starting? My doc says it'll likely hurt for a couple more months. Yay. So maybe this spring I'll give it a try. In the meantime, I'll work on getting back into shape a bit. I haven't been able to do anything since the accident in early November.


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I've recently read a number of opinions of people who bitch about other people who blog. Mainly, they don't want to read our boring shit, so we shouldn't write it. My response:

Dear stuck-up cockfaces,

Nobody cares what you think. You believe you are so much better than everyone else for NOT jumping on the blog train, but many of us use it as a means to keep up with our friends and family. If you don't like it, turn off your intertubes and go die in a fire. No one is putting a gun to your head and forcing you to read this blog, or any other blog, you arrogant ass-eating jerk. I don't want you here. Go away.

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As further proof of my randomness:
Angel Dances

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And on another note. I've been thinking a lot about the past, which I hate. Nostalgia is generally unpleasant and a waste of time, as far as I'm concerned. But one of my coworkers found out her husband has advanced, aggressive, fast-growing lung cancer. Without chemo, they give him two months, tops. On the upside, this type of cancer responds well to chemo, so he could be successfully treated. I guess we'll see. I feel for her.

It's made me think of the time HWCBN's mom told him she had tumors in her urinary tract. He was a wreck. I had no comprehension of what he was going through, and at one point he YELLED at me, "I'm about to lose my last parent, and you just don't GET IT." No, I didn't get it. How could I possibly get it?

But what HE didn't get is that she didn't have tumors at all. She told me some time later that she really had an ectopic pregnancy by her then-boyfriend. Why that crazy bitch thought telling HWCBN that she had cancer, AGAIN, was going to be less stressful to him than saying, "Ooops, I thought I was menopausal and couldn't get pregnant but was wrong," is beyond me. She put him through absolute hell, and she had no idea how deeply he suffered worrying about it…for months. And in turn, I suffered for it.

She made me swear not to tell him, and I never did…along with various other things of that nature she made me swear to never tell him. I have a load of secrets that would blow his mind, including that his crazy aunt that he hated is really his grandma. Awesome.

Why am I sharing these charming examples of excellent parenting now? Well, I'm tired of carrying it around. I feel burdened by it, even 10 years later, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of that period of my life having any control over my life now. So here I am, vomiting it out for the rest of you. Enjoy!