Survival of the Fittest Isn't Working...

...and all I have to say is THANK GOODNESS!

      Seriously, the dumb shit I do on an almost daily basis should have killed me off long ago, but hey, I'm still here.  AND, I haven't had any major scares that resulted in or even required hospitalization.  Except for that one time, well actually it was two times that I went in for an allergic reaction to sulfates, but the first time my grandparents brought me in rather than an ambulance and the second time I kinda figured out what it was based on the first time.  Ignored red flag number one was when my grandpa told me that the pills weren't marketed anymore and that they were officially used for something else but they also worked on leg cramps.  I had a really bad case of them after hiking too much and probably not warming up. (and by not warming up I mean not being in shape)  

     Ignored red flag number two only applies to the second time.  You see, this was back when I was young and not hip to how so many medical "professionals" are complete douches with god complexes who will say shit like "that's just how it is for some women" (I've heard that one twice, from 2 different doctors!), or "you work in retail? your job isn't important enough for me to write you a note for work (so you will have to continue to spread bronchitis on top of having to lift heavy shit and stand for 8 hours while completely exhausted and coughing uncontrollably)."  I think he was just too busy being godlike and all so I added in the unspoken part for him; being godlike is hard, people!  (Actually, he was probably thinking "Retail? Hell yeah she has to go to work; I need more money, bitches!  Go forth and cough freely!")

     Anyhow, the first time I went in to the hospital they just put in an IV while I sat and they did blood work but said there wasn't much they could do to help me.  Then when I got the results they were inconclusive, awesome!  So of course I shouldn't have taken the pills a second time, but I had placed my trust in my grandpa and the doctors.  I'm being kind when I think back in hindsight to the lady at the second hospital and I choose to think maybe the reason she refused to help me get up and go pee when I had an EKG machine hooked up and an IV in me and had been sleeping for hours was because she was trying to show me that it's no fun for anyone when someone has an allergic reaction to something and I should NEVER take those pills again. 

     The best parts?  Afterwards, my grandparents basically said "yeah, your mom had an allergy to sulfates as well."  Thanks guys, would have been good to know before all of this happened!  AND, remember the doctor who said my job didn't merit a note for work?  Well, after having discovered my allergy when younger I always made sure to include it on every medical form that asks for allergies and it WAS on the form he had when he prescribed me what he called an "albuterol inhaler, it's used for asthmatics but it should help you breathe" and I later discovered the full name was albuterol SULFATE.  I fondly recall dubbing him Dr. Kevorkian McFly, but with my newer more improved vocabulary I should add Douche-Canoe to his name too. 

     In my "old age" and learned mistrust of medical "professionals," I've gotten a lot better about not doing seriously dangerous shit...well, depending on your definition of serious.  Today's almost mishap is a common one for me.  While holding a fork with tines up and a bottle of rootbeer "mmmm, that looks so good I can't wait, must drink now" *drink* "ummm, that came unsettlingly close to my eyeball."  As one of my professors once said, "It's really more like 'survival of the marginally fit'."

Righting a Wrong

     It wasn't until well after I had published my last post that I realized I really shouldn't have called the part I wrote that was addressed to The Bloggess a "love letter" because frankly, it was mainly about me and not about how awesomely funny I think she is and how she makes me laugh several times a day.  Forgive me, I'm apparently not adept at writing praise of others, especially when a majority of their day consists of receiving all kinds of praise (yes, I know it's not all sunshine and puppies, but I hope it's a majority) and so I would have to be pretty damn close to their level of awesomeness in order to come up with the right words that would make me stand out in the crowd. 

     For anyone who would say I am being silly because praise is for the recipient and not the giver I call bullshit.  Let he/she who has posted a positive comment with ZERO hopes that it would garner them the attention of the person they were praising be named "Most Selfless Person on the Internet"...and then let's all check their background because we may have just discovered Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.

     How about this: I have spent so much of my free time catching up on The Bloggess posts that I just realized it's been quite some time since I looked through the Tivo suggestions and rather than bemoan the fact that it took me so long to go through and rate and save the things I wanted to see I just thought "totally worth it", is that "love lettery" enough?

This Blog is Brought to You by the Letter J

     Actually, to be more specific, it's due to the letters J, e, and n.  You see, I was recently introduced to The Bloggess (Jenny) by Cake Wrecks (Jen) and as they say "the rest is history" now I am feeling kinda obsessed/stalkerish because I have been reading through her entire blog starting at the very beginning.  (I also did this when I first discovered Cake Wrecks and Hyperbole and a Half because I'm a sucker for well written and humorous blogs.)  It was when I hit a Bloggess post in August of 2007 that I saw something that made me want to write; her post about naked blogging.  It's totally not what you think, unless maybe you're an asexual therapist or something and you're used to referring to the unguarded sharing of thoughts and feelings as "naked."

     Now, I am sure that, especially with a brand new blog like my own, any longs posts will almost immediately turn off anyone who stumbles upon it. (TLDR)  But, this is actually a shortened version of what I wrote with the thought that maybe I should send it to The Bloggess, until I realized that her solicitation for stories back then was something she could relatively easily handle yet now it wouldn't be much more effective than farting in a windstorm.  (I can mention farting because I'm classy and shit.) 

Here is my "love letter" to the Bloggess:

     I know this is something you asked for in a long ago blog and likely have little time and or interest in such a thing anymore. Right now you’re basically at a point where to me you’re Amy Sedaris and I’m not even where you were back when you wrote her that love letter and then blogged about it.  I haven’t worked up the courage to try a blog of my own.  I tell myself that I don’t have the time and patience to build it up and that I have never been the type to get people interested and excited about anything I do, so any time I put in would be wasted anyhow. Then I swing back the other way and rather than letting my fear of failure get to me I remind myself that there are people whom I would rather not let know anything about how my life is going, as if I would be guaranteed at least a modicum of success were I to even try my hand at making people laugh on a much grander scale than the few people I currently allow into my world. 

      

     Then I remember that most of my husband’s family is at least semi-religious and several of them are very devout and could I really risk them seeing something I posted and finding out it was me that wrote it and still be able to look them in the face?  Yeah, I’m one of those wussies who has no problem walking around the house practically shouting “vagina” all apropos of nothing (mostly for their own amusement even though the hubby sometimes gets a kick out of it as well) but then blushes and tries to cover it up when caught swearing in front of her in-laws.  But, there is just something so compelling about the naked blogging idea.  I was introduced to your blog through another Jen (Cake Wrecks & Epbot) linking to your post about Beyoncé.  When I find something I like enough I go back and start at the beginning to satisfy my OCD nature and because I like to see how people grow and change and come into their own.  I like to think that someday it could be me, much akin to how I like to figure out what I would do with lottery winnings even though I rarely ever buy lotto tickets.  (rare = 1 in 10 yrs.)

(I edited out nearly 500 words here, you're welcome...and no, it's not because I ramble too much when writing, I just didn't want to waste Jenny's time should she magically end up reading this somehow and be all like "Damn, this bitch needs to learn how to tell a story without going on and on, lady, who gives a fuck?")

     I’m good at starting things, terrible at finishing them.  I have an associate’s degree, but when I started in at bachelor’s level courses I decided it wasn’t for me and dropped out.  There are so many hobbies and interests I hold that I haven’t done much with in a long time because I am just too afraid to do poorly at them and thus “waste my time.”  Instead I spend time online searching, for what I don’t even really know.  I’m like a fountain pen that has been slowly filling up for years…being held by a writer who is scared to just stop for a minute and start writing already.

I'm guessing by this point you're not so sure I should have finally grown a pair and started writing; congratulations, I'm not so sure either!  

See, we totally have something in common!

Something to Aim For?

   Barely started and I've already hit a snag...I can't follow Hyperbole and a Half since she already has the maximum 50,000 followers that are allowed.  I can hear your eyebrows raising, and frankly your skepticism only fuels me on; plus, the fact that I can hear your eyebrows either means my imagination is making me hear things or you should really go to a doctor to have that checked out.  Now, I may be going bananas, but it maybe probably most certainly isn't is me.  Ask me again in several months when I will in all likelihood have a big fat 0 followers, I still won't concede to you, but my enthusiasm will most certainly have flagged by then.

     

     Or will it have?

(insert some motivational quote about beginnings here, your choice, I got indecisive when I looked them up...likely because it's a really cheesy and overdone idea that probably deserves to be killed off already)