For those about to debate ...

I've been having weird dreams lately. Waking up briefly in the night over peculiar thoughts and possible auditory hallucinations of the cat harking up something (actually, those are kind of realistic, since Cleo has been sick for a couple of days - I jokingly tell him that bulimia is not cool, especially if he's trying to get onto the bag of Trader Joe's cat kibble) - or strange dreams of young kids standing around, singing along with The Dandy Warhols' "Not If You Were The Last Junkie". (Most definitely not a kids song ... that's for sure. But it would make for one hell of a KidzBop compliation, wouldn't it?... *evil thoughts*)


Anyways, speaking of animals, I'm indulging my geek and attention-deficit sides by reading both Watership Down by Richard Adams (never got to read it in high school ... that was reserved for the Honors kids) and a book on Epilepsy written by Orrin Devinsky, M.D. (I can't recall the exact title) pretty much at the same time.

Basically, it entails reading one book for a while, putting it down, then going onto the next book and reading it for a chapter or so, vacillating between the two until I'm finished with both books.

Okay, I've finally taken off the Bitchy Pants that turned me into a grumpy old man last week. And I even seemed to get past the sickness-induced haze that I was under as well.

Things are getting a little bit better around here. My neurologist took me off the Depakote, after I told him about the side effects and seizures. He was actually somewhat disappointed, since he'd hoped that Depakote would work for me. Instead, I'm starting on Keppra - and cutting back on the Depakote for a week, then going onto a full dosage of Keppra with no Depakote.

It does make me a little nervous - feeling like some great big "what if...?" hangs overhead. What if ... I have a seizure while transitioning? What if ... I have really bad side effects with this drug? So on and so forth.

I know, there's nothing that I can do about the hypothetical. Besides all they serve to do is turn my hair gray and make me panicky. Neither of which are good.

All I can do is hope for the best, and know that no matter what, my doctor and I are working together to find a medication - or combination of medications - that work well together, and that will hopefully, ideally, allow me to have a seizure-free existence.

FYI - the only real side effect that I seem to be experiencing with Keppra is drowsiness. But, part of me thinks that it might also be be from the Depakote still coursing through my veins. I'll see what happens next week.

Cut for some TMI and general grumpiness.

( I'm a grumpy old man, apparently )

Allergies are trying to slap me down - or so it feels.

I'm sitting here, dealing with the fact that it feels like one side of my face is okay ... and the other side is filled with slowly hardening concrete, or sludge. Or some other hard-to-breathe-through element.

Now, I seriously doubt that it'll devolve into anything beyond my allergic anarchy - although it has taken my mind off the daily Depakote headaches, and their feeling of being smacked in the head repeatedly with a ballpeen hammer, even occasionally being poked in the eyes.


Soon enough, I'll be going to lunch. Gotta pick up stamps at the post office, and maybe get some more American Cream conditioner from Lush (I *love* its scent, and it makes my hair feel spiffy).

Fo' all y'all Internet Beeyotches searchin and shiznit: Gizoogle is here

I miss having sex dreams about future ex-husbands. Instead, I have insurance dreams about them.

Yeah. I had a friggin' dream where I discussed insurance with Steven Page, of all people!! Actually, in the dream, he called me to ask about whether or not he should list a Burberry trench coat (??) on his policy - and I almost had a small-time freak-out over taking his phone number to call him back, afraid that I'd slip out of Insurance Professional^TM mode, and right into Fangirl^TM mode.

Well, in the dream, I remained professional, got the information, and called Steve back. Of course, right after I heard "Hello, this is Steven" in my ear, and almost swooning ... then trying to run across a busy intersection for whatever reason, I woke up.


{For the record, designer clothes *cannot* be listed on an insurance policy. Your jewelry, art work, sterling silverware, musical instruments and computers, on the other hand ... those can be listed on the policy. This is how FUBARed my mind can get sometimes.}

For those that questioned G*d's omnipotence, you can now also question His spelling ability ... or at least, that of His messenger.


"Your other religons were corney." God


I almost died laughing when I saw that going into work today.


And I won't even begin to discuss the the menu that Kellie and I laughed over at dinner last night. I'll just say that I always did prefer my beats stripped - and served in a nice balsamic reduction.

I know, it's Valentine's Day, and I should be happy. But, it's raining ... and I'm at work, dealing with the resident curmudgeons that only make my heartburn worse.
( raining on the parades )

To dpaul007 - are you going to share the "Shake Djibouti" icon or not?

*asks very nicely*

I. Hate. My. Skin.


I've been using a soap that is specifically for oily skin, and in the past, it has worked splendidly. (For the record, it's Lush's "Coalface" soap - sure it's black as night, but it works like a dream)

Now, the oiliness is still happening. And I'm breaking out - my skin looks quite splotchy and gross. :-/


Don't know if it's the meds - especially since Depabloat (errrm, Depakote) can fuck with the girlie cycle - or just my body going through an existential crisis of its own.