Back to my regular reprogramming

So after that last post I’ve taken quite a bit of time but I’ve also been oddly busy. Busy in my head. I’ve written as much as these migraines allow. Its exciting and tiring. Turns out my brain likes to do all the writing around three am. I feel like there are so many stories and characters rattling around in here I can hardly get them out fast enough. If you jiggle my head little people and bits of scenery will fall out of my ears.

As far as the last post goes, I’m well back into my usual mindset of “doctors aren’t gods”. One of my good friends reminded me of that when it all happened. Even though I’ve held to that reminder for a few years, my brain just needed time to shed the load that doctor had dumped on it before it could absorb or even process anything.

The only lasting frustration is that I can’t exactly post a yelp review about that doctor. I’m fairly certain she would lash out at me and it would be awful.

Sorry this isn’t funny or super interesting. But at least I’ve updated. Maybe I should’ve titled this “I’m not dead”.

Heres a picture of Studly to make up for all the bleh:

The boss of me

                                                           The boss of me

PS: Oh yeah, I also rebuilt my site! I forgot about that. What do you think??

Vicodin doesn’t exist

I’m just going to type up a quick conversation I’m having with my brain. It’s also 2:40 am, there’s your context.

Me: “I should sleep. Why am I not sleepy? Stupid theoatmeal.com, if it wasn’t so interesting I wouldn’t be awake.”

Brain: “I don’t want to sleep. Put on another episode of Angel and read more of theoatmeal.com. How’s your jaw and tooth area feeling?”

Me: “I really should sleep. Its late. I think I’m tired, I might even yawn. My jaw and tooth still hurt. And I keep finding miscellaneous mouth and dentistry garbage in my mouth. Should I take something for the pain? I’ve already taken 4 Vicodin today, and lots of other things.”

Brain: “You really should take more Vicodin. I might consider sleep then, but only if you take Ambien or Sonata too. Maybe some ibuprofen just in case. And a muscle relaxer. Wait, all of that will make Stomach upset. Take a zofran too.”

Me: “That’s a ton of pills. I took most of those earlier. Vicodin and sleeping pills? Who am I now, Elvis? Plus, I think all of these eventually will do damage to my liver, or was it my kidneys…”

Brain: “Shhhh. It’s ok. If you can’t feel the effects of the drugs, then the drugs don’t exist. It’s basically like they just decided not to digest and enter your bloodstream. You’re just going to poop them out later. It’ll be ok. Who has been telling you these lies about your organs? Was it Gall Bladder, that bitch, where’s my shovel.”

Me: “You know, this chat is a bit insane. Maybe we should give each other some space…”

random internets

Dance Your Ass Off

If you don’t know this movie, I’m sorry for you

I’m inventing a new workout. Maybe it’s not new, I don’t know. I’m not researching it or anything, but I do already have a name picked out. It’s called Dance Your Ass Off (from now on referred to as DYAO). Basically, it’s just fucking dancing. All kinds of dancing, for around thirty minutes to an hour, basically whatever I can handle that day. I’m going to make a playlist of music that sounds good right before I do it, and then just dance around in my tiny ass house.

How do you start your own DYAO routine? Fuck, I don’t know, do the same thing. Hopefully you have a bigger living room. The main point here is to dance. Dance motherfucker dance! We’re not dancing to look cool, or get our cardio up, or impress someone. No, we’re fucking moving around crazy and shit because we’re fucking DANCING. You want to just do air kicks and high-five invisible friends? Awesome! Ballet, and you don’t even know ballet? Fuck yeah. Go do it, just do some Footloose movie kick dancing, then maybe some sprinkler moves, get a good bra on and do the running man for a while. Spin around as much as you can but not so much you puke.

Maybe this is a crazy persons version of sweating to the oldies. I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along. If you are trying to work out certain parts of your body, or you go to a gym, or you actually give a fuck what people think when they see you prancing around your living room, this is not the workout for you. Also, don’t dance on furniture. I have an Ikea couch, that shit looks like it will break when I sit on it, don’t stand on the fucking Ikea furniture. Probably any furniture really. That leads to concussions, twisted ankles, having to buy a new coffee table, and not being able to fucking dance.

I read somewhere that exercising helps people with Fibromyalgia feel a little better, or maybe a lot better. When I say read an article, I mean skimmed an article at 3am because I couldn’t sleep. Seriously, if they said “dying your skin purple makes people with Fibromyalgia feel better” I would be soaking in a big ass vat of purple dye right now. I do not care anymore. Fuck being sick, I’m gonna go fucking dance.

PS: Why was the use of the word fuck so important? Because we’re fucking EXCITED fucker.

PPS: Spell check suggested instead of Fibromyalgia I use the word fibroblast, which would be a much more kick ass name for a shitty ass illness.

PPPS: I haven’t slept. This may all end in tears later.

Yeeeeaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!