Stick that in your pipe and smoke it

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This is how I handle pain that I can do nothing about.  I amuse myself by making a comically big deal about it.

OOWWWWOWW OUCH! OUCHY-WOO! HELP! HELP! I'M DYIIIING!

(Imagine much gnashing of teeth and batting of eyelashes and ridiculous gestures of helplessness.)

My back teased me yesterday- played like it was getting allll better.  I knew I was getting off too easy.  It did a 180 on me.  Why is it that whenever my back is fine, I forget how much it sucks when it's not?

I am in the bargaining stage.  "OK back, I get it, you're pissed.  If you'll just ease up on me now, I swear I'll go back to the gym and exercise those nice back and stomach muscles some more.  Really.  I'll do the six-pack abs thing if I have to, just BE NICE!  Please Mr. Back!"

My back sneers at my empty promises.
My cries for help echo in the empty hollow of the Aleve bottle.
My giant two-headed vibrator of a back massager feels used.  Every fifteen minutes it shuts itself off to spite me.

So we're down to self-amusing dramadrama- OuchyOuchyOwWooWoo!
(The cats want to put me out of my misery anyway)
and then there's always liquor.

To your health!  ;)

OK, I suck.  I'm shirking the buzzing a bit. 

I squished a nerve in my lower back, and sitting at this computer sucks.  I will go take a hot bath instead if I want to.  It doesn't mean I don't love you anymore.

All of my work published online is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.      

Thanks all for viewing!
TQ1 

-Toasted Marshmallows that are the color of a double-shot latte on the outside, and the consistency of warm buttercream icing on the inside.

-The squeaky-pinch of cold Autumn air on my cheekbones.  Flannel.

-Two squares more chocolate in the bar than I can eat.

-Kundalini shivers

-Paddy's Irish Whiskey

-The smell of hay and the way the end of a horse's nose feels in my hand.

-The warmth of my cheeks when I am "mildly inebriated."

-Verbal sparring

-Reading the Dean & Deluca catalog. Yes, reading it.

-Sucking the milk back out of the cookie

-Laughing until I cry (or snort) Singing.  Howling.

-Being underwater.

-Being scared.

-Being petted.

-Music that makes me cry not because it has sad lyrics, but because the music is so beautiful that it makes me cry.

-Having a cat parked on my chest, purring like a vibrator.

-Gingersnaps

-Snaggle-y teeth

-Peeling off a bathing suit in the shower.

-The smell of pipe tobacco

-Making random choices about where to put periods. and where not to

-Silk ties

-Fully-realized nerd moments

-Strong coffee with cream and sugar

-Necking

-Sex

-Being tickled 'til I beg for mercy

-Going to the movies alone.  Popcorn with toxic butter-substitute.

-Pork barbeque. Steak fries.

-Listening to music on the car stereo because I have no wish to go anyplace besides my car.

-Vintage aurora-borealis rhinestones

-Tooled leather

-Shisha embroidery

-Black and white houndstooth wool

-Pipe dreams

-Rose colored glasses

-Turquoise

-The smell of shampoo.  The feel and the taste of toothpaste.

-Vintage typewriters

-Heated car seats on a cold night.  Cruise control.

-Hiking all day.  Sleeping bags under the stars.

-Bark burns

-The word tintinnabulation

-Having a wet dog shake on me.

-Knowing the answer when a question is posed

-Not knowing the answer when a better question is posed


-Eating the last two squares of chocolate.



...to be continued?

My Unitarian Jihad name is:  Sister Flamethrower of Non-Dualism.

Go here to find out yours:  http://www.elsewhere.org/cgi-bin/jihad


From Unitarian Jihad:
Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.

Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression!

People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.

Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons.

We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone.

Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.

People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution.

---

I am behind I suppose on trying this feature.  I am also behind on posting and commenting, so this should come as no surprise to anyone.

Right now I have a massive toothache.  I have almost made it through the weekend.  Tomorrow there will be painkillers and antibiotics and probably much poking and prodding of the offending molar.  Tonight there is the fever and the milkshake-as-a-meal.

Maybe I have my first cavity?  Blegh.  Sucks balls, man.