Oh, God. Oh, God. My hair. My hair! The government gave me bad hair!

Cordelia ,'The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco'


Spike's Bitches 34: They're All Slime and Antlers  

[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.


Steph L. - Mar 05, 2007 8:27:01 am PST #8900 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe

God, I know it's totally rude to just jump in and post a big memememe post without even responding to others' posts, but I'm doing it anyway. Mea culpa.

I just skipped over 300 messages (and I think I'm more than 1,000 behind in Natter).

The stress not only continues, but has been amped up in ways that would be comical if they were happening to a TV character.

(1) In addition to being on the PR committee of my group, I'm also on the membership committee (the group is so small that anyone who is willing to help out gets put on pretty much every committee, whether they want to be on them or not -- and so this means that jackhole!Group President is a part of every committee).

The long and the short of it is that there was a VERY tense, VERY uncomfortable 4-hour-long membership committee meeting on Saturday, one of the highlights of which was jackhole!Group President saying that "volunteering to help run the group [i.e., on committees, etc.] is a REQUIREMENT of membership." Someone else pointed out that if it's a requirement, then it's not exactly "volunteering." A shouting match ensued.

The Boy and I went out to dinner with another couple afterwards, and we spent another 4 hours just venting our frustration and anger, etc. The thing is, all that venting didn't help. I'm still stressed. And pissed that something which is supposed to be FUN (fun, goddamn it) has turned into the Death March of Bataan.

(2) I come into work this morning, with an already-unreasonable deadline breathing down my neck, and my computer is dead. Totally dead, as in will not even turn on.

Much flipping out ensues, as I am already stressed beyond normal limits this morning (see #3, below), and bitchy!co-worker snarks at me, calls me "helpless," and generally pisses me off so badly that I tell her to back off or I'd be whipping my bowl of oatmeal at her head.

And she even knew about reason #3, and still was a first-class cunt to me.

(3) Dad is in the hospital again. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no. Or maybe it's just that he WAITED 2 WEEKS TO SEE IF HIS CHEST PAIN WOULD GO AWAY before going to the hospital. And of course he drove himself (because the ambulance won't stop at Burger King t /Christopher Titus ) yesterday. They couldn't find an ICU room for him, so he had to stay in the ER for over 24 hours, where the staff didn't even give him all his meds last night. It's like he's in Goddamn Kabul General Hospital.

So while the chest pain itself isn't overly stressful (just *normal* stressful), the fact that my 4-heart-attacks-quadruple-bypass-heart-disease father is getting CRAP TREATMENT -- yeah, THAT stresses me right the fuck out.

Think about that -- bitchy!co-worker knew all of that and still acted like Satan's butthair to me.

However.

My computer is fixed (it needed an internal battery, which is an easy fix), and I only lost hours, not days. Of course, now I'm rushing to meet the deadline, because god forbid we push the deadline back due to, I don't know -- LACK OF A COMPUTER.

Dad finally got put in an ICU room about 2 hours ago, though he hasn't gotten all of his morning meds yet. So he's batting .500 in Kabul General. The EKG and blood tests showed negative for a heart attack, which -- yay, obviously. The cardiologist actually thinks that his chest pain isn't due to a blocked artery, but to the VERY high dose of Lipitor he's been on for the past 4-5 years. Apparently that's a common side effect. Now, to be fair, the high doses brought his cholesterol down from the mid-to-high 200s all the way to 109. But, given that 109 is quite quite QUITE good, maybe it would be okay to lower the dose.

So Dad's having a stress test (ha! embrace the irony) this afternoon, to rule out a blocked artery or anything else.

So, again, yay. This is good.

Still, I can't FUCKING HANDLE all this stressful shit being thrown at me all at once, damn it! Even though now 2 out of the 3 stressors seem well under control, my adrenaline is still way up in the "flip out like a (continued...)


Steph L. - Mar 05, 2007 8:27:08 am PST #8901 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe

( continues...) mammal" range. It's a little difficult to just tell my autonomic nervous system to chill.

So I'm wired, practically vibrating from tension, and I can't calm down. Swell.

I officially hate today. Today sucks donckey dick.

And how is everyone *else* today?

(Apologies for the self-absorbed memememe rant.)


Deena - Mar 05, 2007 8:32:43 am PST #8902 of 10001
How are you me? You need to stop that. Only I can be me. ~Kara

Oh Tep. I'm sorry. That sucks. Bitch!Cow needs a slapping.


sj - Mar 05, 2007 8:33:38 am PST #8903 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."

{{{{{Teppy}}}}} That's too much stress for one person in one day. Don't apologize. ~ma to you and your dad.


DavidS - Mar 05, 2007 8:35:32 am PST #8904 of 10001
"Look, son, if it's good enough for Shirley Bassey, it's good enough for you."

I officially hate today. Today sucks donkey dick.

Yes it does.

You need to stop doing volunteer stuff for the group. They're being ass-hats. Go to the parties; skip the committees. That's my advice.

You need to beat your dad around the head with a cluestick once he's healthy enough to endure that.

Bitchy!Coworker will be getting a visit this afternoon from Kneecaps O'Neal.


Topic!Cindy - Mar 05, 2007 8:37:54 am PST #8905 of 10001
What is even happening?

Oh Teppy, my love. You poor sweetie. I hope your dad is okay, and that there is a simple fix. He really IS my f-i-l, in so many ways.

I'm sorry your group is getting so frustrating, when it's supposed to be fun, and that venting with the other couple didn't help.

eta...

Your co-worker was way out of line and I hope your PC gets better, right away.


Steph L. - Mar 05, 2007 8:41:08 am PST #8906 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe

I officially hate today. Today sucks donkey dick.

Yes it does.

You need to stop doing volunteer stuff for the group. They're being ass-hats. Go to the parties; skip the committees. That's my advice.

You're not wrong. Because I like to think I'm a person with integrity, I have a few loose ends to tie up (pun intended) and then I'm off any and all committees.

Problem is, asshat!President's basic feeling is that anyone who doesn't volunteer isn't welcome to be a part of the group. (Which is bullshit, because there are about 40 active members, another 40 sporadic members, and *maybe* 10 consistent volunteers. So if he wants to kick out everyone except the Gang of 10, and just party with them, then I say do it and enjoy your sad little group, you enormous douchebag.)

You need to beat your dad around the head with a cluestick once he's healthy enough to endure that.

Nothing gets through to him. NOTHING.

The only good about today so far is that the song stuck in my head, rather than being Todd Rundgren or Journey, is Tom Waits.

So there's that.


Laura - Mar 05, 2007 8:43:29 am PST #8907 of 10001
Our wings are not tired.

{{Teppy}} Much ~ma of many kinds sent your way.


Connie Neil - Mar 05, 2007 8:43:40 am PST #8908 of 10001
brillig

Hugs Teppy, and ~ma to her dad.

Hubby had higher cholesterol than your dad, and he went on major drugs to bring it down. Which then made all the gunk that had been clogging up his arteries break loose so it could go where gunk goes to be dealt with. Which made all the gunk start catching on things and clogging stuff up. Gross, but true. I wish there were a Liquid Plumber for hearts.


Steph L. - Mar 05, 2007 8:46:16 am PST #8909 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe

Oh Teppy, my love. You poor sweetie. I hope your dad is okay, and that there is a simple fix. He really IS my f-i-l, in so many ways.

And I was so preoccupied with stress stress stress over the weekend that I missed your birthday, dang it. So --

Happy (Belated) Birthday, Cindy!!!

I'm sorry your group is getting so frustrating, when it's supposed to be fun, and that venting with the other couple didn't help.

There are tenuous plans afoot for some very casual, unofficial gatherings of people who are disgusted with the status quo. Although the term "splinter group" might well describe it, no one wants to call ourselves that at this point. Because that will set off a shitstorm that will make the worst of the Bureaucracy kerfluffles look like a polite disagreement.