Deaths not an option

but it should be. Ok, I’m only saying this because I am in very extreme migraine pain. When this happens I take medications. Then a few hours later I have to take more medications. If that doesn’t help, then I have to go to the ER and have them inject me with even more medications. The migraines are daily, so the ER trips are at least once a month.

I’m very very tired of being in pain. I still cannot mentally grasp the idea that I can be in this much pain and not die. This much pain should equal death. The stupid chart at the ER even lies about this. It goes all the way to 10 for pain, at that point, shouldn’t death be likely? In so much pain that you die, that is the amount for 10. Yet, I am often in the ER, trying to explain my pain is eleven billion, when they refuse that and say I can’t go over 10, so I say ten, then I still don’t die.

This is not a “oh I’m so miserable I’ll commit suicide” thing. I don’t believe in suicide. This is a non sensicle pain thing. I’ve tried to explain to my girlfriend the advantages and disadvantages to my being dead. Here they are:


  1. No longer having to pay for health insurance
  2. No longer having to pay doctor and ER bills
  3. Cheaper groceries
  4. Satisfying ghost sex
  5. More closet space
  6. Less awkward family gatherings
  7. More space in bed
  8. Keeping the thermostat above 70
  9. No more dancing movies


  1. No more chocolate chip cookies that I make
  2. No one here to let the dogs out to pee during the day
  3. No more pajama movie night
  4. No more satisfying corporeal sex
  5. I can’t cut her hair anymore
  6. No more fish face- silly face I make that made her fall in love with me

    This Fish Face

  7. I won’t be here to attempt to put the cats in boxes they can’t fit in for amusement
  8. My super sniffer can’t detect cat poop the moment it happens- possibly an advantage.
  9. The laundry wouldn’t get done properly anymore

For the moment, I will just take another dose of medicine and watch some more Buffy the Vampire Slayer until I’m either feeling better or too tired to care, or just give up and go to the ER.

Mutant Ants

The following is an email conversation my girlfriend and I had about a gigantic ant pile in our back yard. Normally we wouldn’t care, but these assholes are biting the dogs, so they have to go.

We’ve used Sevin Dust which is like this not as horrible but just as effective pesticide powder. I made Dianne do it since I’m a jerk and didn’t want the souls of hundreds of ants on my karmic meter.

Then I thought maybe we could just put baby powder on them so they would get confused and wander away and make a new home somewhere not in our yard. Most people don’t know that talc powder confuses ants and they lose their scent trail. It doesn’t kill them.

evil mutated ants

Me: These are really sturdy ants. The pesticide didn’t kill them, the baby powder doesn’t seem to have confused them at all. Its like they’re super ants that were developed in a secret lab and unleashed on the world to taunt me with their non dying. I wish the army would come take them. They could put them into combat or something, make them take over a town or a group of enemy troops cause they just don’t die. They just run around no matter how much you try to kill them all “la la la I’m having such a nice time running all over this fragrant powder you attempted to dust me with”

Dianne: At least they are powdery fresh…

Me: I haven’t taken a xyrtec yet so I didn’t sniff them. They look like it. If I get close enough to sniff them one will probably bite me.

What if that pesticide company that just sent us a flyer secretly planted them in our yard to drum up business? They’re probably capable of developing super ants, and since they made them, they’re the only ones that know their weaknesses.

Dianne: I bet that’s what happened…

Me: I want to work at the dictionary. They decide what words are real. I wonder how you apply. I could just send my resume with a cover letter that says “I like words. A lot.” I’m picturing a group of old librarians with stacks of papers with words and a giant red stamp that says APPROVED.

That’s pretty much how the conversation ended. The ants are still in the yard. I can’t be a big bully and just go out there and stomp on them. Dianne suggested we capture a few and break their kneecaps then put them back, to send a message, like the mob. I told her no because it would be time consuming with the tweezers and I don’t even know if ants have kneecaps.

*Ants do have souls, so I would feel bad killing them. The only things without souls that are ok to kill are ticks, fleas, republicans, cockroaches, mosquitos, and misogynists.

To My Friend

To my friend, Dina Salvatore:

Dina and Nina 2004

You were pretty and funny. The picture on my night table of Studly and I, our first christmas together, was taken by you. We worked the graveyard shift in a call center together. You were crazy, and we went to Starbucks on our breaks sometimes. We joked that our names sounded like a comedy duo, Dina and Nina. When you were dating or whatever that was with a friend of ours, I didn’t talk about it with anyone else, because it wasn’t my place, even when it made some people mad. We looked great at the christmas party. We gossiped about work people, and stupid things we heard on the phone. I hate that time we went and played golf with a friend of ours, it was hot, I sucked at it, and felt like a third wheel. You always talked about your crappy dates, and the hot italian man of your dreams you hoped someday to find. You told me about going to Greece and Italy, and I was jealous, but not in a bad way, just that you were that lucky. We both exhausted each other shopping, and it was a pain to get you away from the MAC counter. You, Kim, and I all called off work one night, and drove to Seattle at 4am just to try Krispy Kremes, and all agreed Tim Hortons was better. You made me mad when you bought the same skirt I did, and I still don’t remember why. We ate strawberry ice cream and you put vodka in it, and it still tasted good. I called you when my girlfriend was leaving me and I was falling apart. We celebrated my 24th birthday, and I don’t even remember most of it. We went out to breakfast the day before I left, at some crappy diner. I still have those pictures, I looked at them yesterday. We stopped talking for a while after I moved to back to Arizona. I was annoyed that you never asked about me, and only talked about yourself. A few years later you found me on facebook and we were friends again. We said we were sending each other cookies but never did. I found out you had a daughter and thought you were amazing for it, and saw how happy it made you. I laughed when you told me her name, because it was not surprising at all. We didn’t talk all the time, but I knew you were busy with school and her, and I was busy with whatever I was doing. I was glad we were in touch again. I didn’t know you died until 6 months after. I felt like someone punched me in my gut and I wanted to vomit. I became obsessed with what I was doing on that day, and it was nothing. I was doing nothing, and you died. I feel like I should have known, even from this far away. We weren’t best friends, sometimes good friends, in the end we were just friends. I’m still crying, and I told that friend of ours, who didn’t know either. We talked about you a little, but no one knows what to say. This is all I know to say. I wish I was there, that I could say goodbye in some way that felt proper and final and gave me closure, but I don’t know what that way is.

Dina and Nina Christmas 2003