I seem to have become a stranger on LiveJournal. The past 2 years have been particulary busy and I just forgot to post. I'll try to be better; I promise. =)
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    tired tired

Ponderisms. . . borrowed from Barbie

Borrowed from a co-worker. . .
Things to Ponder.....

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people
die of natural causes.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing
a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the
ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a

Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

There are two kinds of pedestrians: the quick and the dead.

Life is sexually transmitted.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Some people are like Slinkies. Not really good for anything, but you
still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down stairs.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying
of nothing.

Have you noticed since everyone has a camcorder these days no one talks
about seeing UFOs like they used to?

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to

In the 60's, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is
weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a
whole box to start a campfire?

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze
these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?"

Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there? I'm gonna eat
the next thing that comes outta its butt."

If Jimmy cracks corn and no once cares, why is there a song about him?

Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't
point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?

Why does a OB-GYN leave the room when you get undressed if they are
going to look up there anyway?

If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at
you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the

Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?

Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

O Hyperborean Wanderer. . .

I’ve been reading again, since I finally finished some very lengthy reports at work. I picked up where I left off with the Dark Tower series by Stephen King. THE WASTELANDS: THE DARK TOWER BOOK III. I feel like I’ve metaphorically put on a very old pair of pajamas and slippers, the kind which put you completely at ease; the feeling that you’re in-tune with the entire universe for a few moments. It’s like snuggling up in my warm bed, with my favorite blanket pulled up to my nose, and my fluffy warm cat curled up next to me, purring quietly, easing me into my own personal Nirvana.

I started reading the Dark Tower series when I was a child. I was either 12 or 13 years old when I found THE GUNSLINGER: THE DARK TOWER BOOK I in the Magnolia City Library in Arkansas. It was one of my yearly summer visits with my mom, and my first trip to a public library. For most of my childhood, I thought that libraries were found exclusively in Elementary Schools. After all, who would want to read for fun? I always hated the selection at my school library!

Stephen King had already become a favorite author of mine, based mostly upon seeing movies that had been adapted from his novels. My dad and stepmother had a few Stephen King novels & short story collections in the house, so I had read some of his work before, but wasn’t really hooked on reading his works yet.

When my mom took me to the city library with my sisters and brother, I was awed by the grown-up selection of books. It was amazing to see such a collection of books that did NOT look like something I’d eventually have to write a book report on.

I stumbled through the rows of books, looking for something that “caught my eye.” Eventually, I found myself in the sci-fi area, browsing timidly, since I’d never read a “grown up” sci-fi book before. When I came across THE GUNSLINGER, I was shocked to find a book written by Stephen King in the sci-fi area rather than horror, so I just HAD to pick it up and read the cover.

Just to set the record straight, I have NEVER liked western novels. I don’t know why, but the sight of a western novel will scare me off as quickly as a romance novel. I have absolutely no interest in either. But, the fact that Stephen King had written a novel centered on a gunslinger piqued my curiosity.

So, as it turns out, THE GUNSLINGER became the very first book that I borrowed from a public library, and the first recreational book that I’d borrowed from any library.

I learned a valuable lesson on the way home from the library, too: reading in a moving car makes me sick. I always prided myself on being a good “rider,” since I’d never suffered from motion sickness before. However, throwing a book, magazine, note or even a map if I stare at it for too long into the situation just makes me flat out sick.

Once I regained a healthy color in my cheeks after arriving home, I began greedily reading my new book. Within two or three days, I had read the whole book! Granted, it was under 300 pages, (possibly less than 200), but it was the most enthralling story I’d ever read. I was hooked. I had to wait until our next trip to the library before I could search for the second book in the series.

Unfortunately, the second book, THE DRAWING OF THE THREE: THE DARK TOWER BOOK II was not at the library when we returned. I returned home to Houston about a week later, so I did not get to check the library a second time for that book.

The next summer, when I visited my mom again, the first thing I asked to do was return to that same library so I could borrow the book I’d been searching for. Hungering for.

SUCCESS! THE DRAWING OF THE THREE: THE DARK TOWER BOOK II was on the shelf right where I expected it. Right where it belonged. I eagerly picked up the book, and rushed to the librarian’s desk so she could check it out to me. I was afraid that if I waited even a few minutes, the book would simply vanish somehow, and I’d be left empty for another year, waiting to read more about Roland of Gilead. I had to know what happened to him after the first book. HAD TO.

The second book was written with more imagery than the first, and enthralled me even more than the first one had. I think I matured a few years within the days it took me to read that book. I found that Stephen King has a way of using foul language and sexual imagery to stir up something primal inside of me. I’m sure that his writing has the same (or at least similar) effect upon other readers, too, though at my young age, I was still discovering a lot about myself.

Roland’s world opened up a dark passageway to my soul. One where I could almost see my inner self. No other story has made me believe in magic and truth more than the Dark Tower series has, and I still have no idea why.

In the years that followed, I waited eagerly the arrival of each new book in the series. THE WASTE LANDS: THE DARK TOWER BOOK III came out in 1992; years after I’d read the first two books. YEARS.

The first book, THE GUNSLINGER: THE DARK TOWER BOOK I was written in the late 1970’s or very early in the 1980’s. The final book in the series, THE DARK TOWER: THE DARK TOWER BOOK VII did not come out until 2004.

I have faithfully re-read each book in the series before reading each new installment, (much like I’ve done with the equally-as-addictive HARRY POTTER series by J. K. Rowling), which means I’ve read, and re-read each book over 5 times by now. Obsessive/Compulsive much?

How is it a story can bring such peace to someone? I truly don’t understand the magic it holds, but I yield to it nonetheless.


I am 3/4 of the way to reaching my goal on World of Warcraft! =) Woo Hoo!

That's really all that's going on. I still work 2 jobs, and spend most of my free time on WoW. (Not that I have much free time to speak of, between the 2 jobs and trying to sleep!)

I'm still trying to find a night to take Jason & Holly out for dinner to thank them for helping me move in April. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to find a day that works. At this rate, I'll be moved again before I see them. =(

Yes - I'm serious. I'm moving again in July. At the rate we're going, it'll be at least then before I can get them to committ to a "dinner date" with me.

Man, I didn't know it was this hard to give friends a free dinner! ;)

It's Raining, It's Pouring

It flooded in Houston. Big surprise. We get it quite often here, even without the aide of a bona fide hurricane. The big surprise is that even though Houston floods fairly often (at least once every 2-3 years), every time it floods, people act as if they do not know how to handle the situation.

Here are some tips for surviving a flood in Houston:

1. If there is water in the street, do not drive through the water. This is especially true if the water covers both sides of the street. If you do not see dry street, do not drive on it!

2. If there is water in the street, do not walk through it. Flood waters are known to swipe people off of their feet. Also, the manhole covers sometimes float off of their respective holes, leaving a nice place for someone to disappear into, and never be seen alive again. If you absolutely must walk through the water, do so with a group of people.

3. Even though it may look like fun, do not allow your children to go out and play in the flooded streets. Children are known to get swept off by flood waters, and sucked into drainage ditches and under the street. If you love your child, keep it inside and safe.

4. Let your animals come inside. Cats and dogs are not meant to swim around in your back yard. Let them inside, where they are less likely to die.

5. Flood waters tend to stir up snakes. See #2, #3 and #4. Do not go into the water. Do not let your children and/or pets go into the water. Snakes can and will bite when agitated. Flood waters tend to get snakes agitated.

I know this all sounds like common sense, and you probably think I’m stupid for posting this, but every time it floods, people forget the rules, and someone gets hurt or dies.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot – I think I’m finally getting over the bronchitis I’ve had for the past six weeks. I’m still coughing up “lung butter,” (thank you Ray, for that analogy. It’s been nearly 10 years, and I still call it “lung butter!”) but I don’t feel sick and light headed anymore. That’s definitely put me into a better mood!

Political Science for Dummies

Thanks to Ray for pointing this out:

You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.

You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.

You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.

You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.

You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.

You have two cows.
Under the new farm program the government pays you to shoot one, milk the other, and then pours the milk down the drain.

You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are surprised when one cow drops dead.
You spin an announcement to the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing expenses.
Your stock goes up.

You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch and drink wine.
Life is good.

You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.
Most are at the top of their class at cow school.

You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer, give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.

You have two cows but you don't know where they are.
While ambling around, you see a beautiful woman.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.

You have two cows.
You have some vodka.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.

You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don't milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
You get a $40 million grant from the US government to find alternatives to milk production but use the money to buy weapons.

You have two cows.
They go into hiding.
They send radio tapes of their mooing.

You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.

You have one cow.
The cow is schizophrenic.
Sometimes the cow thinks he's French, other times he's Flemish.
The Flemish cow won't share with the French cow.
The French cow wants control of the Flemish cow's milk.
The cow asks permission to be cut in half.
The cow dies happy.

You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who actually like the brown one best accidentally vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how to vote at all.
Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which one you think is the best-looking cow.

You have millions of cows.
They make real California cheese.
Only five speak English.
Most are illegals.
Arnold likes the ones with the big udders.


I wrote the following sometime over the weekend, but did not have a chance to post it:

Lately, I’ve been feeling pretty “blah.” It’s a combination of things – getting over bronchitis, and dealing with craziness at work.

I am so tired of being held to a different standard that other people. Why is it some people can get away with not doing their own job, or following orders from the chain of commands, and nothing bad ever happens to them, while others are not only expected to do their own job to the highest level of proficiency, but then they are also given work that is theoretically “over” their level? GRRRR.

That is so unfair!!!! Why do I have to do more than my fair share of the work around here? Why is my load always heavier? Why not make the other peons do their own jobs so the work is evenly distributed?

I AM NOT a miracle worker, or machine. Please let me rest.
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    sick sick

Bad Blogger

I haven't written in ages - it's just been too crazy for me lately.

Actually, there is a lot going on in my life right now. . .but most of
it is shadowed by the fact that I've been sick for 3-4 weeks straight
now. .

I went to my doctor two Mondays ago, and was diagnosed
with bronchitis.  After a week of Keflex and Tussin, I started
getting a little better.  Then, this past Monday night at work, I
got MUCH WORSE again.  Sore, dry throat; hacking cough; sneezing;
wheezing; congested chest and sinuses.

So, I got an
appointment to see the doctor again on Thursday, and low & behold,
I have BRONCHITIS AGAIN.  *boggle*  WTF?

Okay, now
I'm on another week of (different) antibiotics, plus this other
allergy/antihistimine regimine that has 2 different pills - a yellow
day pill & blue night pill.  Oh, yeah - and I had the pleasure
of receiving my first "hip shot" since I was a child with an ear

Nurse walked in, said "drop your drawers," and I was so sick, I just weakly said "Yes Ma'am."

The really scary part is that the doctor said my lungs sound like
smokers' lungs.  umm. . . .I have NEVER been a smoker, nor am I in
an environment where I breathe smoke on a regular basis.

fact, I probably only get exposed to smoke at restaurants or bars,
which limits the exposure to about once or twice a month at most. 

So, yeah.  I'm kinda freaked about that.

When I
started seeing an Allergist about 3 years ago, she told me that I had
the beginnings of allergy-induced asthma.  That made sence, since
I'd been diagnosed with excersize-induced asthma while in the Border
Patrol Academy.  After all, I'd never been diagnosed with asthma
before. . .

I guess that's what this all comes down to. 

I've lived a smoke-free life, and tried to be fairly healthy. 
Now, I wheeze and cough a lot, and I'm prone to get bronchitis. 

Most people like to say "well, at least I have my
health."  I can't really say that anymore, can I?  Maybe my
little happy thought should be something like, "I guess it would have
been worse if I DID smoke?"

Anyway - that went way off target.

I'll try to blog more regularly. . . starting . . .soon?

  • Current Mood
    discontent discontent

All the Small Things

Sometimes, you can’t see the forest for the trees. I am guilty of this, I’m afraid.

Lately, I’ve been feeling very frustrated and restless, mostly at work. My schedule can really get me down at times, and lately I’ve been really wishing I had a nice, normal Monday – Friday schedule, because I hate working every single weekend of the year.

My regular schedule is basically Sat/Sun 8am-6pm and Mon/Tues 8pm-6am. I work at a part time job, a few hours Monday – Friday as well, which basically means I don’t get many days off from work. Although I’ve been working the split schedule for over six months, my body still has a difficult time adjusting to the day/night swap every week.

Over the past two weeks or so, I’ve been sick – it started with a tickle in my throat and progressed into horrible coughing spells that left me wracked with internal pain. Finally, I’d had enough, so I went to see my doctor Monday afternoon, and found out that I am in the early stages of bronchitis. The doctor prescribed keflex and tussin for me.

Basically, between my frustration with my work schedule and being sick, I’ve been down right bitchy over the past week or so. I was extremely unhappy and cranky in general.

But then, tonight, my guys reminded me why I love my job so much – they brought me warm oatmeal for breakfast at 4am, because it would help soothe my throat.

No matter how insignificant that may sound, it meant the world to me, and it forced me to admit that although I hate my schedule, I still do love my job, and the people I work with. We’re like one big, dysfunctional family when you get right down to it.