Sunday, April 15, 2012

I'm sorry calamari

What part of this is labeled FOOD?
If you follow this blog at all, or know me in real life, you know how much I hate fish. It' snot food. It smells like garbage.  And don't give me the patented "fresh fish doesn't stink" speech, it ALL stinks.  Fish are lovely friendly cute PETS they aren't FOOD.  I spent yesterday helping my friend dig one of her two new ponds and I'm going to be excited to go over there and play with her outside fish.  But not to eat them.
Last night, after the digging was done, we went to a Chinese buffet.  This buffet has sushi. It's my compromise with my husband.  He can have his sushi there and I have other things I can eat.
I had a nice plate of veggie lo mein with some sweet and sour chicken pieces mixed in.  I picked up a piece of chicken, put it in my mouth and was about to bite down when the taste hit me.  OMG. It was a piece of fish.  I wanted to scream, cry, throw up AND faint all at once.  I projectile spit it out into my napkin and couldn't eat again. I just didn't trust any of the chicken after that. I went over to the chicken area and checked it out.  Right behind the metal bin of chicken was a metal bin of calamari, same color breading.  No doubt some jerk used the same spoon or carelessly strew calamari throughout the chicken. No way. I might never eat there again, that's how grossed out I am.  FISH was in my MOUTH.  If you can't understand how upsetting that was to me, imagine eating food out of the trash (if you're not one of those nasty freegans) or a piece of poop.  That's about equal to how I view fish-as-food.
We got out to the car and I started eating menthol cough drops trying to get the taste out of my mouth.  Lots of Listerine when I got home & brushed my teeth and I still felt like I could taste it.  I thought about swishing around some soap in there but I figured that would make me vomit.
I want to cry thinking about it.
Fish.
In my mouth.
Gag.
(image source)

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Friday, April 13, 2012

the knees of a fat lady

I was invited to be in a knee arthritis study. I do have it in my left knee, but not my right. I had to get new xrays for the study and I thought I'd share. I'm not really in pain (my regular doctor was quite concerned that I don't get any treatment)--sometimes it hurts, mostly it doesn't. So the diagnose is that I have bone spurs and thinned cartilage.  Which of these makes my knee click when I walk, and makes it sound like broken glass when I bend it a certain way, I don't know.  Even my doctor was grossed out by the broken glass noise.
What I find most interesting is that you can clearly see how much edema my left leg has and how much larger it is than my right. I assume the very dark part around the bones is my muscle, and there's twice as much "not muscle" (fat, edema, who knows) on the left side than the right. In fact on the right leg, except at the very top of the inside calf, the muscle and skin layer are the same.


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Monday, April 02, 2012

Rosie is a threat to national security

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to meet one of my Internet friends in person.  My husband's company sent him to a conference that just happened to be in her town.  I could stay free in his hotel room.  I just had to pay my air fare.
We ended up flying separately due to booking separately (his flights got changed, mine didn't.  And I'm the one who used Expedia; he used his corporate travel office).  I've flown alone many times.  I don't much care about being alone except when I have to pee and there's no one to watch my bags so I have to lug them into the airport bathroom.
It's also not the first time I've flown with my legs wrapped (although it's the first time I've flown with them wrapped PROPERLY in Comprilan rather than in Ace-style bandages).  In the past they've swabbed my bandages or just touched them.  I don't have a problem with that. 
I wore full-length 4" bandages ankles to knees on both legs (usually I wear 1/2 length 3" bandages just on my ankles for every day use).
I endured the full naked body x-ray thing in Hartford.  They waved me through.  Didn't care.
Went on my trip, saw my friend for a couple of days, hung out with my husband at night, came home alone (he had more days to his conference but I missed my pets).
Get to the airport at my friend's city.  Do the full-body naked x-ray.  And get pulled out of line.  "I have to inspect your lower legs."  I said, very calmly, "I have lymph edema, it is a medical condition involving the swelling of the lower extremities and it is exacerbated by flying.  I have long bandages on each leg, attached by 2 safety pins and some tape."  I did not say "I have a bomb!"  I did not say "If you touch my legs I'll kick you in the nuts!"  I would have willingly rolled up my pants legs. Instead the TSA bitch grabbed my legs and started yanking on the bandages through my pants.  I said, still calmly "You'll pulling off my bandages."  She said, uncontritely, "Sorry," and continued to yank them free. Never LOOKED at them, just pulled them off.
I walked away from Security with 20 yards of half-secured Comprilan flopping around my ankles.  Wrapping that much bandage tightly and securely is really difficult when I'm in a proper set-up with help.  Doing it alone in an airport bathroom is pretty much impossible (I tried, in the handicap stall).  I ended up balling them up and sticking them into my carry-on and doing the 7 hours of flying with naked legs.
I can't remember the last time my legs were so fat and misshapen and discolored and painful.  Honestly my left leg (the bad one) looked like someone had swapped my leg for a sheer bag of purple potatoes.  My right ankle was red and the skin all stretched and gnarly looking.
I had no food all day and by the time I got back to Hartford I was starving, in horrible pain, and exhausted.  I still had to get the car from the valet place where we left it, drive somewhere to eat, and go home.
And spend a while contemplating how exactly a fat lady wearing an 20+ year old jacket with a band logo (guess which one), a basically middle-aged (almost), white lady with reddish blond hair and swollen legs is in any way any type of security threat.  The only thing I threatened, honestly, was the integrity of those damn tiny airplane seats.  (No seat belt extender anymore!  Whoo-hoo!).  I was even wearing CROCS on my feet, c'mon people.  There is no way a terrorist could construct such an outfit and make it work.
I'm flying out of the country this fall on our first real vacation in about 5 years.  I don't know what to do now.  Can I staple my bandages onto my legs? I had them taped up in every direction and pinned and she still pulled them off.
I don't want to be viewed as a threat.  Hell, I'm not a threat.  But this isn't the first time I've been singled out and mistreated by the TSA.  Maybe they profile fat white women with cheap shoes now.  Maybe there is a brigade of us, pale and bloated, bombs and illegal liquids hidden in all of our soft fat folds, just waiting to take down another skyscraper.  Somehow I don't think so.  If TLC can find me to offer me places on all their frightening shows, I think I would have been recruited by now by the bombers if such was the case.
And with this post, BAM, now Rosie has an FBI file.  Hell, I've got one in real life, most likely, because I have consorted with, given money to, and taken money from, people considered to be running a cult (and who have been investigated by the FBI).  They can use their Homeland Security magic to trace my real name and combine the two files.  Cultist and terrorist.  I rock.
(image source)

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