Farewell to the Doctor

Finally have the last of the David Tennant Doctor Whos on the DVR, so with special programming that's about 10 hours I have left to watch. But I'm having a hard time starting because as long as I haven't watched it yet, nothing changes.

I will say that I caught scenes from the coming season with the 11th Doctor, and it doesn't look like it will suck, but I'm not ready yet.

Of course the S/O remindes me that I was crushed when Christopher Eccleston left and hated David Tennant for roughly an episode and half. So I'm trying to keep an open mind. I think I better stock up on vodka and lime juice though.

I am so pathetic. Sniff.

I hate sundays

Really, the people around me are most useless, unless you count finding ways to be both irresponsible and pointlessly annoying useful in some way.

The end of the Saints regular season was really blah, and reminded me why I don't really care for the football so much.

To call Brit Hume a douchebag would be an insult to douchebags everywhere. Seriously, if there was ever a time for the big Monty Python foot to come down and shut someone up, it would already have come down on the Fox "News" channel so many times that they would never be able to peel themselves up and reinflate.

The fact that these people have not been sealed in a soundproof box and dropped into the deepest depths of the ocean so that no one would ever have to hear another pointless and achingly stupid utterance is proof enough that there IS NO GOD. Unless you're counting the elder gods, because then that would make perfect sense, because they're all into torturing humans and stuff like that. So maybe Fox News and the teabaggers and all their horrendously idotic ilk are actually proof of the existance of the elder gods. All hail Cthulhu!!!

Pah.

New Year

Wow, I have been a terrible blogger. But foolishly I will make a resolution to post everyday as an exercise, since I'm chained to my desk 20 hours out of the day anyway.

Thoughts: the Winter Classic is cool. They should have more outdoor hockey games. People have been bugging me about posting on the Facebook, so I'll add that to the list of things I don't seem to have time to do. And, yes, I said, The Facebook, it's like The Twitter, because old people preface any new technology with a THE.

So, yay, happy new year.

Speaking of Idiots

I would call the administrators of the kids' school Nazis, but the Nazis were organized.

I'll have to console myself with calling them petty little fascists.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Publisher's needed a rewrite -- so that's consuming most of the day. Plus work, plus having to deal with the fact that the 28% of the country that is batshit insane and will just not SHUT UP. Been test driving anti-anxiety medication so that the seams don't actually start to unravel, and giving up on carbs is helping.

10 more chapters to rewrite....

Yow

The earache exploded sometime in the night, and the S/O tells me I woke him up several times, althought I can't quite recall. I get up this morning and half my face was puffy, my ear was swollen shut, I couldn't close my jaw all the way from the swelling, and my submandibular lymphnodes felt like freshly shelled walnuts.

Fast forward through 4.5 hours sitting in a rural emergency room, replete with two "heart attacks" -- one of the "I'm coming, Elizabeth" variety, and another where a couple just looked heartbreakingly frightened, and a woman wearing shoes that were three sizes too big -- it's the little things you notice.

Amazing what a corticosteriod shot and some horse pills will do. It's a few hours later, and I'm feeling almost human again. So I salute you, rural health professionals.

Of course this was a day where I did no work at all, the paying kind or the other kind. It's kind of thrown a spanner into my works. Sigh. I guess I'll just try to make it up tomorrow. I told the S/O I was going to find Karma and kick its ass, to which he replied, "If you're looking for Karma, I think it's busy kicking your ass."

So, note to self: must stop delighting in misfortune of others, even when they really, really, reallly deserve it and make it nearly impossible not to overdose on delicious shaudenfreude. I'm looking at you, Mark Sanford. I'll write a thousand times "I Will Not Think Evil Thoughts" on my imaginary blackboard. I'll try to remember to water the plants before they get crispy.

So, Karma, truce?

Nothing Ever Quiet on the Western Front

The earache is better -- although whether that's due to the medicated drops, laying down with an icebag wrapped to my head ala Marley's ghost, or walking around with with a peeled garlic clove shoved my ear like a hillbilly hearing aid, I am uncertain.

At least it doesn't quite feel like I have a steak knife shoved in the side of my skull any more. Not quite.

But while I was laying down with the icebag desperately trying biofeedback, my mom called and left a voicemail, child #3 called three times, child #1 called three times, the S/O called four times, and the strange old woman who always calls asking, "Is Mary there?" called twice. Turns out that the S/O and child #1 were both calling to tell me to get hold of child #3, who is hysterical about something, but not hysterical enough to relate the cause to them and can only speak to me. Oh, and child #1 called once more to relate that my mother wanted to know why she couldn't get a hold of me.

Child #3 is now not answering the phone, and I am too old to understand how to use the newfangled text messaging. Sigh.