Ah, here we go.

Betsy: The building with the cookies is having a fire evacuation.

No cookie for me.

I went for a walk around the lagoon.

A walk is not a cookie.

I returned to the vending machine. They were out of Peanut M&Ms, so I got Plain. Then I went upstairs.

We don't have any unflavored fizzy water. We only have artificial berry-flavored.

My plans for the remainder of the afternoon: Sulk.

Allyson: So in third world speak, it'd be all:

I went out to get an egg this morning but some sort of beast ate my hen, so I had to suck on the same root I had yesterday.

Then I decided to walk to the watering hole to get a bucket of water to start boiling leaves for that friggin' whooping cough that won't let up, and tripped over my 8th youngest kid, who succumbed to the ebola.

It's just not my day.

bon bon: Did I tell you all about my rich neighbor who has a chicken and seven kids? She's really got it made. Me, I'm a spinster. I WISH I had some root and a husband. At least I have one leg to take me past my daily stoning.

I thought it was Betsy for some reason.

Because Betsy's so witty? That's a good reason. But it was definitely bon. It is bon's own "eat a muffin whitey" - applicable in so many situations.

eta: With able assists from Betsy and Allyson!

Yay! Thanks for finding the quote. I had a vague memory but no specifics. Hee.

I'm sorry for the head ouchy, vw. Toto will forgive and forget.

always get a carpal tunnel flare up when I take levaquin

The quinolone antibiotics are excellent in terms of being big-gun antibiotics for resistant infections or, you know, ANTHRAX. (Not the band.) (Though they might need some antibiotics, I don't know.)

However, they wreak merry hell on your joints. Cipro fucked my joints big time when a dumb-ass associate of my regular doctor gave it to me for an ear infection.

AFAIK, there's not much to combat the joint issues, other than taking your painkiller/antiinflammatory of choice.

(And yes, I could have quoted the root and husband verbatim, but I was too slow.)

Ventured out into the single-digit temperature last night to go to Target for knifey goodness. Now I need to chop things.

My plan for today's exceedingly ass-cold-ness (high of 13) is to go work out very soon, while the sun is out (not that it really helps much, but it's a psychological comfort), and then stay inside for the rest of the day, baking and reading and watching the Puppy Bowl.

I live on the edge.

Quinolone antibiotics are evil to me. Muscle weakness, joint pain, dizziness; and the doctor that prescribed the last one told me that the side effects were all in my head and I shouldn't have read the fact sheet from the pharmacy because I'd just scared myself. @@

However, they wreak merry hell on your joints.

Huh. In college, I had nearly a month when I pretty much couldn't do anything, due to first the sinus infection from hell that didn't respond to a few antibiotics, then they gave me Cipro, which got rid of the infection, and then I had what felt like an arthritis flare-up that left me pretty much unable to do anything but lie in bed for another week. I hadn't known there was any link there.

Your bio is fun and my wish is that you find a mate that appreciates fun.

Me too. I imagine the first thing out of her mouth will be something like, "Well, it was good enough for your cousin and your aunt and your uncle etc. etc. etc. Aren't they happy? Don't they have good families? Do you think you're better than them? I only met your dad a week before I married him, and I had to walk uphill both ways in the snow just to do that."

Man, P-C, I just wish your mom could see that there's room for what she wants -- i.e., that you marry a Gujarati (I hope I spelled that right) woman in an arranged manner -- as well as for what you want, which is just to offer up as complete a picture of yourself as possible for your future Mrs. P-C.

The two aren't mutually exclusive, and I hate that she can't see that. And I hate that she also can't see that her behavior is exactly the kind of behavior that pushes kids to do the exact opposite of what their parents want.

You're a parents' dream, P-C -- I mean that -- and I hate that she can't see that. You're smart and funny and kind and awfully good-looking, and you're *you* -- all multilayered and quirky (in the good-quirky way, not the Unibomber way), and none of that is incompatible with an arranged marriage.

If it's at all possible for you to do this, I think you should put your foot down on this matter and point out to your mom that you're absolutely willing to have your marriage arranged, but you want your potential wife to get a full view of who you are.

But I know that it's really damn hard for you to do that.

It's really hard, but I'm going to try. I have to. I really can't see what the fucking problem is, honestly. All the information she wants is there. I just added some other stuff. Which makes it BETTER, for Christ's sake. Why the hell wouldn't you want all those awesome testimonials about how great I am?

Do you think you're better than them?

"No, I think I'm different than them. I'm pretty sure you and Dad both understand that I'm different, and I need my 'biodata' to reflect that. Because the kind of woman I could be happy with is the kind of woman who would respond to the way this is written."