BALLS!!

Two major complaints about Harvard Square:

1. You can't go outside to get a sandwich without being accosted by somebody asking you to give money or sign a petition. While I agree with many of the causes these people represent, I am so frigging tired of being stopped multiple times when I try to walk from my office to wherever I'm going for lunch, every SINGLE DAY, today I just snapped. The poor Greenpeace kid...I hope he realizes it wasn't personal. But I just want to be left alone. Is that SO WRONG?

2. On-line shopping and ridiculous rents have meant that three major record stores, and Wordsworth, my favorite bookstore, have all gone tits up in the last two years. Now if you want to buy a disc on your lunch break, you have to go to Newbury Comics - who are usually pretty good, but today? No love. I wanted to buy Nick Lowe's latest little treasure, "At My Age," and they only had two Nick discs in the shop. "The Convincer" and "Greatest Hits." I'm VERY disappointed. Nick deserves more shelf space than THAT! Respect the Basher! (Hint to SPOUSE - my Amazon wish list has been updated.) Also, at Newbury Comics, they tend to play industrial rock, at deafening levels. I may be getting old, but I'm pretty sure even in my younger days I'd have thought, "Dang. This music sucks."

Which reminds me of that old joke about what a deadhead says when he runs out of weed.

Remember, Dear ... wish list. Nick. You know the drill.

Tell me the truth...

Am I crosseyed?

Doesn't matter. Dis here bebe? Cute as a mothefucking button. It was only later, when I learned the use of the middle finger, how to do an Indian sunburn, and that other female children are often afraid of spiders, that I really came into my own.

Bad Album Covers

You just be grateful I don't have Photoshop.

7AM

4:30AM = birds beginning their noisy day = cats awake = cats restless and fucking around, making noise = me, up, considering grilled cat for dinner.

Used the time wisely, though. Just finished my first elliptical workout in over two months, and typing this as I ice my poor footie and cool down before I take my shower and go to work.

Doing the workout was strategic on my part as well, because it drew Olive away from the other two cats (she IS the instigator and if she weren't so cute she'd have been glove liners a LONG time ago) because she always has to be where Mommy is. This allows other two cats to be quiet and go back to sleep, allowing SPOUSE to sleep a little while longer.

See? The SACRIFICES I MAKE?

Just also want to say - bugger this. I want to work a four day week and have Mondays off. Two day weekends are simply not enough. I don't even start to relax until Sunday, and then I only get two or three hours before I start getting the Sunday Blues thinking about Monday.

I know what you're saying, you're saying, "Oh, get off the cross." And you'd be right. I KNOW.

This is what I sound like when I'm up a good hour and a half before I should be. The whine of a broken engine belt and breath from the grave. Ugh.

Serendipity and other shite.

I've been so quiet this week, and didn't really have anything to post about today, that I googled "Silence" and got this:

.................."Silence of the Forest" - Arnold Böcklin (1827 - 1901)

I like how the unicorn is not your average white, pure, cartoon unicorn, but looks more naturalistic, like a spotty, shaggy wee donkey, and an ill-tempered one at that. Like he's getting irritated with his rider, and is beginning to twitch and show signs that his woodland master is about to be bucked. Yessss....ees velly niiiice.

So...a random search to come up with something to write about introduced me to yet another painter with whom I was unfamiliar, and will now have to explore in depth. How did he escape my notice until now, I wonder? I love the Preraphaelite painters, and it seems his subject matter tends toward the mythical - which should have grabbed my attention long before now.

I just spent a lot of time HERE, looking at various pieces. I think that one called "War" would look great over the mantle piece in some great huge hall. Sadly, I have neither a great huge hall, nor a fireplace. But maybe in miniature, on the wall next to the toilet? And by that I mean absolutely no disrespect whatsoever. It would get a lot of viewing time there, lots of dedicated contemplation.

Oh well. Huzzah! It is Friday, and a beautiful one at that. If not for the constant jack-hammering outside my office window, it would be perfect.

Detox is still going well. I still miss the coffee, but it's more the ritual and taste that I miss, more than the physical effects. Which begs the question: Why not try decaf? Well, I put decaf in a category with non-alcoholic beer. Why bother? The booze I don't really miss all that much at all, though if I find myself in a pub or restaurant tonight, I may well reward myself for my three week abstinence with a glass of wine or a pint of something dark and luscious. I have to say, I'm giving serious thought to continuing the abstinence longer than the prescribed three weeks. Here's why:

1. My complexion looks better than it has since before puberty. Seriously. Clean, clear, smooth as a baby's arse - no blotches, no zits...I think even some wrinkles and laugh lines have gone into remission. And my jowls haven't looked this tight in a long, long time. Jowls, people - it's a facial feature, so no dirty jokes in the comments, if you please.

2. I may be losing weight. There's no way to quantify it, because I don't own a scale, but there have been subtle changes in the way my jeans fit, my stomach is flattening to pre-mid-life levels, and I think...yes...I THINK I am noticing less cellulite in the thigh area. Now - given that I haven't been able to do much working out because of the heel spur (just a few minutes on an exercise bike a few times a week), this is a huge, and unexpected bonus.

3. Yes, I know you were all waiting for the poo update. I don't want to gross anyone out, so I won't go into graphic detail. Let's just say - HEALTHY - and leave it at that.

4. Sleep. Just...pure, simple, restful, rejuvenating sleep. No getting up to pee in the middle of the night, no cotton mouth in the morning. I wake up, hit the snooze button ONCE, and I'm up without ANY self pity. Well, maybe a little, because this foot thing hurts worst in the morning, but once I do my stretches (as prescribed by the orthopedic doctor at the sports medicine office) and get in the shower, I'm laughing, and carrying on a full conversation with Olive, the cat who loves to talk to me while I'm in there. As if she's saying "Mommy!....MOMMMMMMYYYYY!!! - DON'T DROWN!!!! I'll be GOOD, I SWEAR!"

Detox update

Day 14 no booze.

Day 7 no coffee.
Give or take, of course. I have no caffeine in my system and I was never good at numbers, but you get the point.

Here's what me without caffeine looks like:
I have about half the IQ I normally have, several coworkers and students are in danger of being glarked - if I can just work up the energy to lift...this...axe, and I think I may be shrinking.

Tune in next week when I'll tell you all about how all this cleansing has changed the rate, volume, and consistency of my poos.

...Oh dear. There's another poo joke. I can't stop myself. Oh, shut it, it's funny.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................

What's yer poison?

Mine, evidently, is more along the caffeinated lines than the boozy ones, I'm surprised to learn.

First, the background: In an effort to clean out my liver, so that it may absorb more healthy, healing nutrients (vitamin D being of top importance here, according to my BRUTHA the DOCTAH) I've determined to be alcohol and caffeine free for a little while. (He advises three weeks - EGAD! - but the health benefits and how I feel right now, after only 6 days with no hooch, will be well worth it - and it should go by fairly quickly. I realize this is where hope triumphs over experience, but...don't discourage me, you fuckers.)

I'm sure most of the readers who come here with regularity know that I do enjoy a drink or several dozen now and again. The world is a veritable wonderland of yummy beer flavors, lovely wines, mixed drinks, liqueurs, cordials, and sweet, sweet Guinness. It's a smorgasbord of flavor and fun!

Which is why, for the past week, I have been surprised to learn that it is much EASIER to give up alcohol than it has been to give up coffee. In fact, today is day 6 without a drop of alcohol of any kind, and I'm feeling pretty friggin' good. The trick to giving up alcohol, and more importantly, not MISSING it, is to be busy, productive, get things done. Which is why giving up caffeine at the same time is almost...nay, it has shown itself to be...im-bleedin'-possible.

In order to give up caffeine, one must take a couple of days in which one can be lazy, unproductive, and irritable. The caffeine headache is a nightmare, and trying to move forward on work and household projects is ill-advised. So, it is best, if giving up caffeine is the objective, to stay home, sleep as much as you need to, and keep the Excedrin Migraine close by.

Well, any fool can see the Catch-22 here.

If you're home, lazy, unproductive, not really doing anything important - seems like the right time to have a drink! RIGHT?

Anyway, I've been too busy at work this week to give up coffee - we shall see how tomorrow morning looks. I'm actually hoping for a good, rainy Saturday morning, to match my ugly, decaffeinated mood. If I can sleep through the headache and resist Spouse's influence (he's already talking about going to the Mad Raven for afternoon drinks and nibblies, damn his fun-loving, boozy soul), Saturday won't be too rough. And when I get the Sunday Blues, as I do, I can blame it on the lack of caffeine and alcohol, rather than the overabundance of it.

Wish me luck.

How about you guys? What would be easier for you to give up: Caffeine or alcohol? Come on, I know my readers - you're just as much a bunch of excuse making, self-medicators as I am.

EDIT: Just got home to a note from my doctor's office, and though the girl on the phone told me yesterday the Xray of my foot showed nothing, the letter I just received says HEEL SPUR. What the fuck do I do with one of those? Surgery? Pain meds? Amputation?

I GIVE, already.

Okay, I give up - I'm seeing my doctor today about this stupid foot pain. I usually avoid going to the doctor for what I consider minor pains, colds, coughs, etc. In general, most of what is wrong with me is usually easily treatable with rest and asprin, sometimes a blast of vitamins and Motrin.

But this thing has gone on too long. It was gradually getting better, a little bit a day, and I thought for sure by the weekend it would be fine. Then I twisted the bastard on my way to work and I've run out of patience with my supposedly 'self-correcting' body. Seems it wants more attention than I've been willing to admit.

Is this the kind of shite that's supposed to happen when you hit your 40's? Well....no sir, I don't like it. I want my 25 year old body back. You know, the one that could drink all night, grab a shower and go to work without actually dying by noon? The one that could lose 10 pounds just by switching to light beer for a couple of weeks? The one with the energy to work full time, go to school full time, drink like a fish, and manage to graduate Cum Laude? THAT ONE?

Fuckity fuck.

The previous may lead readers to believe I'm in a worse mood than I am. I just tend to focus on the one little thing that sucks right now. Yeah, the ankle thing sucks, but lookit! It's Friday, Payday, the sun is out, we're looking at a full weekend of good baseball (Sox/Yankees, at Fenway, and the crowd is going to be RELENTLESS on A-Rod's most recent bush league jackassery. Which will be HILARIOUS. Fun, fun, fun), and despite the ankle, the rest of these old bones are just fine. Maybe I'll even get some high-powered painkillers out of my doctor, and spend my evening in a shimmering psychedelic puddle. Park the truck, open a nice little Rioja, and let the fun begin, dahlings.

Rockit!