Author Archives: Steph

About Steph

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I like words. I suspect I would like sanity, but I really have no way of knowing. I can be reasonable, but not often.
June 8, 2014

Bugs Are Giant Assholes.

By Steph

Ticks are dicks.  Seriously.

Commonly known as the Vampire Asshat of the insect world, ticks feed off the blood of their innocent victims.  If you are not lucky enough to live in an environment where ticks, chiggers, snakes, and other horrible slithery-crawly things abound, let me give you a visual.

Actual size may vary.  Generally the size of a freckle, not a baseball as depicted above.

This guy is the neighbor who comes over uninvited, unannounced, irritates your pets, and makes you uncomfortable and twitchy.  This little creep latches on and sucks your blood.  Hello?  How is that not a vampire?  It is.  Just because it doesn’t sparkle is no reason to write off this tiny killer.

I’ve bitched written about my allergy to meat before.  Well, this is the little bastard that caused the allergy:

viracor.com

viracor.com

The Lone Star Tick.  The cruelest and most evil insect of them all.  The one that turns you…VEGAN.  *gasp*  *pause for shock and awe*  *nods head wisely but with visible sadness.*  *looks stoic and perhaps a bit romantic*

Right?!  This shit is just effing ridiculous.  (That may be the first time I’ve ever typed effing.  It doesn’t feel right.)

But I digress.  Here are the facts about this bitch ass tick who stole my steak:

1.  Little motherfuckers are found everywhere.  It is all over the US and in Australia and other countries where ticks are known to live.  My yard is a popular gathering place for ticks.  I believe it may be the Cabo of creepy things I’d rather live without.

2.  Everyone who gets bit by a Lone Star tick is not gong to get this allergy.  And it comes in different levels, kind of.  Because I have always been an overachiever, I am not fucking around with this allergy.  If I have to be allergic to mammals, I’m taking that shit all the way.  Ye-ah, I will WIN at allergies.  Yep.

3.  The allergy is Alpha-Gal IgE — it’s a reaction to a sugar-protein called Galactose-alpha-1,3-galactose.  Some people have struggled with it for over 20 years, but research has only been done on this allergy for about the last 5 years.  (Basically, no one knows shit yet, except keep Benadryl and an Epi-Pen handy so you won’t die.)  Alpha-Gal.org has what little information there is on this allergy.

4.  The AG allergy made me allergic to anything that comes from a mammal, including milk and animal byproducts which are in EVERYTHING.  Yes, I am aware of how insane that sounds.  No, I am not making it up.

5.  Basically at this point the only things I can eat safely are fresh fruits and vegetables, along with chicken, turkey, and fish.  (I hate fish.)  (It’s growing on me.)

So, all this from a fucking tick?  The researchers think so.  Not many doctors even know about this yet, so it was hard to get the diagnosis until my blood tests came back positive for beef and pork allergies.

My doctor looked me square in the face after I described an allergic reaction with trouble breathing (anaphylaxis) and asked me if I knew that sometimes a “hard poop can make you break a sweat and feel like something is wrong.”

Oh no he didn’t.  (Yes, he actually did.  Fucker.)  I guess at 34 I know the difference between taking a shit and not being able to breathe.

Some days I handle it better than others.  Some doctors say it will go away in time (my allergist said possibly 5 to 7 years without any new bites) but some say it won’t.  I just got three new bites this weekend, while wearing bug spray and walking in a yard that had been treated for ticks.

And, I just realized, like right this second, that humans are mammals too so there goes any chance of survival if I were ever in some sort of situation where I had to eat a person to live.  Fuck.

Do you have any weird allergies?  Has your doctor ever treated you like you were a fucking five-year-old?  Do you think you could handle a diet like mine, or are you already a super healthy eater without being forced into it?  What are your thoughts on cannibalism?  (J/K, please don’t eat anybody.)

56 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, nature hates me, random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

June 3, 2014

Why #YesAllWomen?

By Steph

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Because I have two sons and a daughter.

I’ve been seeing all this #YesAllWomen stuff everywhere.  I’ve been reading lots of talk, a lot of opinions, and of course a lot of bullshit.  I’ve read some who think it should be #AllPeople or #AllMen or whatever.  But I think they are missing the point.

 I started thinking of what I have experienced in my 34 years as a woman, and I don’t think a man, any man, would have experienced those things the way that I did.  Not all the things that women are so used to that we just shrug or walk away or lock our doors.

#YesAllWomen is not saying that ALL men are sexist, raping, murdering pigs.  I’m not saying all men are bad guys, or even not-great guys.  I’m saying that I do not know a man who has ever been afraid to walk to his car after dark because he might be shoved up against it and raped in the parking lot.  But every woman I know has felt that fear, or worse, the reality.

Lately I’ve been paying more attention to what people say to me when I’m out and about, and some of it is disturbing — mostly because I am so used to it, I guess, that it means nothing to me, and partly because I’ve caught myself thinking, “well, if you weren’t wearing this dress” or “you were bending over to buckle the car seat.”  Um, what was that?  Our rape culture has infected my brain, a woman’s brain, to the point that I excuse shouts of “DAYUM” or “I’d hit that!” because of WHAT I WAS WEARING OR DOING?

I’m ashamed of myself and that is why I’m writing this.  Because I don’t deserve to be spoken to like that and I don’t deserve to feel threatened because of my sex or my outfit.

When I was in kindergarten I only went to school half a day.  A little boy on my street went in the morning and I went in the afternoon, so we would pass each other walking to and from school.  One day on my way to school he stopped me by grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a short, wide tree in his yard and pulling up his shirt and down his pants.

When I was in the fifth grade I moved to a new school.  We sat in groups of four desks, two side by side and two facing.  For a couple of weeks I twisted my legs and shook my head and whispered fierce warnings to the little boy who sat across from me.  It didn’t stop him from taking his pencil and trying to insert it between my legs every day during class.  When I finally told the teacher, I thought I was in trouble.  The next day I got to pick a seat anywhere I wanted in class.

When I was 13 years old a boy on my bus stood up and when the bus hit a bump, pretended to fall, landing on top of me and not getting up for far too long.

When I was 18 years old and coming out of a big box store on my way to work, I found a note under the windshield wipers of my car.  The note said that if I just waved, the author would come over and do such vile things to me that I can’t even type them here.  Just wave, it said.  I was scared to even look up or move my hands even to lock the doors, but lock the doors I did, and drove away.  I went on to work and only told my parents about it later.

When I was 19-years-old I worked nights alone at a convenience store.  One man would come in every night and just watch me for hours.  I was so afraid of him that I wrote down his name and license plate number on a receipt book with the note, “if I disappear, he did it.”  Eventually my dad started coming to work with me every night until I got put back on the day shift.

When I was 20-something, a man tried to get into my car, chasing me around it and beating on the windows to be let in.  He was yelling the entire time.  This was at a convenience store in broad daylight and no one did anything.  I did not know the man and I locked myself in the car and drove away.  Later that day I reported the incident to the store owner, who basically laughed at me.

Last week two strangers yelled things at my rear end, indicating that they were enjoying the view and would like to see more.  I ignored it for the most part; thought that I shouldn’t have been bending over trying to hook up a car seat while wearing a dress and heels, even if the dress did come almost to my ankles.

I’m not saying that all women are all good.  I’m not saying that a woman would never harm another woman. But I think as women, we hurt each other in different ways.  A woman could threaten me with rape and worse, either as a joke or as a real threat, but it seems less likely to me simply because a woman understands that fear of having your body taken without your consent.  Also, generally they don’t have penises.  I said GENERALLY, calm the fuck down.  God.

I’m sure, I mean POSITIVELY sure that there have been more incidents like this throughout my life.  These are just the ones that stand out right now.  And I think it’s pretty sad that I can think of 7 instances off the top of my head where I was treated with at least total disrespect and at most threat of harm, invasion of my personal space, threat of rape, kidnapping, or murder.  And those were just the times strangers accosted me.  I’m not even mentioning the times when the perpetrator was someone I knew and trusted.  I’m not ready for that yet, or maybe ever.

So, men.  Think back.  How many times can you remember being catcalled by a woman, or where a woman has touched you inappropriately (without your consent), or sexually harassed you, or threatened you with rape?  That’s why it’s #YesAllWomen.

 

Now, for some lighter fare, go check out my new page Reviews, News, and Booze where I interviewed Brad Carter, author of Saturday Night of the Living Dead!

41 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Blogging, random bullshit, thoughts

May 27, 2014

Shit My Family Says To Me, Round Two

By Steph

My family is hilarious, as some of you know, and my memory is nonexistent.  So I have notebooks, journals, post-it notes, and random scraps of paper all over the house with quotes from my husband and kids.  I’m sharing their funny today, because my funny is still in recovery (but well on its way back).  Thing 1 is my oldest, a 15-year-old boy, Thing 2 is the middle child, an almost-12-year-old boy, and Thing 3 is the youngest, a 5-year-old girl.  They are all a mess.  Husband is old enough that his beard is turning gray but younger than me, which is why I get to be the boss.

Thing 1, trying to use an old school calculator:

Me:  I know this is ancient technology, but….

Thing 1:  I’m not an anthropologist, mom! I also don’t know how to work a trebuchet or a Game Cube.

Husband:  He doesn’t know how to use a catapult either.

Overheard:  Thing 2 convincing his sister that he was magic and he had turned her invisible.  She was amazed, and I was just glad he was speaking to her.  A few minutes later:

Thing 2: Now, if you want to be magic like me, all you have to do is smell my feet.  Yep. Just sniff.  HAHAHAHA!  YOU’RE MAGIC!

Thing 3:  I think I got a rash. Do I? Do I got a rash?

Me: What? No. But why are you all wet? Did you spill your milk?

Thing 3: No. I been at the pool.

Me: We do not have a pool.

Thing 3: It’s my new pool. I just got it.

Me:  I’m not going in the living room. I’m afraid of what I might find.

Thing 3 refuses to eat her vegetables.  She just came up to me, as sweet as can be, and said she could not eat her dinner because it “makes her boring.”

Me:  Haha.  Eat it anyway.

Thing 3:  I really need something else to eat, so I can like you.

Dammit. She’s only 5 and she already doesn’t like me. It took the other ones a bit longer.

You know you’re raising your child right when you tell her “not right now” and she says, “Fine. Then I guess monsters will just eat your brain and face.”

Thing 2:  MOM!  MOM!  I think I’m catching the puberty!

My cousin, about 15 years ago. His dad was in the house getting ready to take him squirrel hunting. Matt just went out in the yard and caught one.

My cousin, about 15 years ago. His dad was in the house getting ready to take him squirrel hunting. Matt just went out in the yard and caught one.

Me: Listen you, I have to have those invoices from last month. Or else.

Husband: I don’t think most secretaries are this indignant.

Me:  So they won’t put me to sleep, but I guess I’ll be sedated enough that I won’t know they are putting a camera down my throat, and I won’t remember anything.

Husband:  Let me get this straight.  You’re not going to be able to tell what’s going in your mouth, and you won’t remember anything?  I’ll drive you.

Me, getting ready to take a nap: Ok, so behave and don’t answer the door and if someone calls take a message but be polite, it could be my boss or something.

Thing 2, very seriously:  Oh, I know what your boss sounds like, I’ve hung up on her before.

Me: What are you doing?

Thing 2 (from inside a box):  Now, mom, don’t just jump to conclusions.

Husband:  Well, Laura said-

Me:  Wait, wait, wait.  You call the weather lady by her first name?  What are you guys, friends?

Husband:  There’s Laura, and Drew, and-

Me:  That is so weird, please stop talking.

Thing 3, to her teacher:  My mommy is making me a little brother so I can have a prince in my game.

Husband, embarrassed:  Um, no, she’s not.

Thing 3:  I NEED A PRINCE.  If the baby turns into a girl we will give it to another family, but if it is a boy who is nice and doesn’t eat his boogers, then we’ll keep him.

Written in one of my notebooks, don’t know why:

This shit is reasonable.

Poison mice with Tylenol!  (I’m a little worried about how excited I apparently was with this idea.)

Husband:  I’m not going to ask you to do anything today that you can’t do lying down.

Thing 3:  Momma, what’s your favorite thing for Mother’s Day?
Me:  Going fishing with my kids.
Thing 3:  I don’t believe you. You always say, “Just a minute” and that is NOT spending time with your kids. What do you really want?

Thank you, child, for calling me out on my parenting skills on Mother’s Day.  Awesome.

Oh, how I love those little smartasses.

37 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in parenting, random bullshit, shit my family says, small humans

May 20, 2014

Pt. 1: Is This Really My Life? Pt. 2: Yes. And that’s okay.

By Steph

I wrote part of this yesterday and was so ashamed of it that I password protected the draft.

Last night was a better night; my kids have an amazing ability to  cut straight through to my core and remind me how love feels.  I guess they pull me out of my own head, and I need that, cause my head is not always nice to me.

I wrote the second part this morning.  I am hoping that by sharing this post, maybe someone who is in the dark might see how quickly the clouds can pass. Alternately, I hope that those of you who do not suffer from depression and anxiety may get a little bit better understanding of the intensity of feeling, the fear, the anger, and the self-disgust that some of us deal with all too often.

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*** MILD TRIGGER WARNING — TALK OF SUICIDE***

Alternate title:  I’m fucking broken. 

I think that it is Mental Health Awareness month.  Or maybe it’s Fibromyalgia Awareness Month.  Or maybe it’s none of those things and I am just behind on my months the way I’m behind on everything else in life.  Who knows.

Anyway.  Things are not good in the brain here lately.  I’ve noticed that a lot of the bloggers I follow seem similarly out of order.  Seems like a good time for a Canvas of the Minds post, even though my head is telling me that it will be stupid, it won’t help me or anyone else, and I should probably just stop writing altogether.  Fuck you, head.  We are obviously not on the same team right now, so you can just shut up.

Without further ado, I present a day in the life of me, my chronic pain, depression, anxiety, and potty mouth.

Monday, May 19, 2014

6:06 a.m.  Wake up.  Hobble to living room.  Want to cry because everything hurts and there’s no coffee.  Make coffee.  Wake up kids.  Take meds.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not take my meds and now today is going to suck really badly.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not do any laundry and this morning is going to suck badly.  Try to find clothes for children.  SUCCESS! Kind of.  At least they are not naked.  Comb daughter’s hair even though it hurts and I can hardly hold the comb.  Get hugs.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday we did not do her project and I am a failure.  Write note to teacher that likely does not even make sense.  Realize that teacher probably already knows that I am a fuckup and send note even though it doesn’t make sense.  Realize that I don’t have any cash, so kids have no lunch money.  Think about all the things I had planned on doing yesterday and feel like a failure because I was sick and didn’t do any of them.

7:00 a.m.  Everyone leaves.  Drink coffee, smoke cigarette, curse at self.  Think about what I need to do today.  Get overwhelmed and cry.  Try to get someone to take lunch money to kids.  Get irrationally angry at doctor’s office for making me get up to answer an automated message.  Pee about 15 times.  Hold head in hands.  Stare at wall.  Feed cat.  Play Candy Crush. Watch video on Facebook that makes me cry.  Go outside, sit in shade, think that I should spend more time in the sun.  Go inside.

8:00 a.m. Check email, various messages, read blogs, prepare for phone call.  Do some other stuff which I can’t remember but I’m sure I did.

9:00 a.m.  Make stressful phone call.  Shake so hard I almost drop phone.  Cry.  Decide I should lay back down because everything hurts and I am sad.  Lay down.  Everything still hurts and I am still sad.  Clench teeth and try to go to sleep.  Get up because I have to pee.  Again.  Lay down under electric blanket even though I’m hot.  Cry.  Feel nauseous and worried.  Think about a million things that I should not think about if I want to fall asleep.  Bills, kids, failure, bad mother, bad mother, bad wife, bad person, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.  Pee again.  Curse at self because I can’t even sleep right.

10:30 a.m.  Get up.  Make more coffee.  Put on bra.  This doesn’t help.   Take medicine.  Everything hurts.  Ponder how I can live the rest of my life feeling this shitty.  Think about doing laundry.  Drink more coffee.  Look at bills.  Read blogs.  Get feelings hurt for no reason.  Get irrationally angry at cat toy.  Worry how I will be able to act happy when the kids get home.  Feel bad because I know they know I am sad.  Practice smiling.  Cry.

1:00 p.m.  Decide to write this stupid blog.  Arms hurt so bad that I can’t type after first paragraph.  Curse myself, silently this time because I think I’ve been upsetting my cat with all the yelling.  Wonder how the fuck I am supposed to get anything accomplished when I feel so shitty.  Think if I was going to kill myself, I would eat a lot of meat first.  Read article about stupid meat allergy.  Eat a cup of peaches.  Smell a funny smell in kitchen and think I should clean the kitchen so it looks like it did Saturday, but then I got sick Sunday so maybe I should rest.  I hate resting.  Wonder how come I only feel like a worthwhile human being if I have accomplished something.  Wonder if just existing is this hard for anyone else?

1:30 p.m.  Realize kids will be home in three hours.  Think I should listen to some music or go for a walk to cheer me up.  Don’t do either of those things.  Think about calling my dad but know I will just cry.  Mom calls, points out that I haven’t eaten anything but one cup of peaches in the last two days.  Eat another cup of peaches.

That is as far as I’ve made it today, and looking back over that, it’s disgusting.  I don’t know what I expect to accomplish with this.  I think my initial thought was that maybe someone who didn’t have depression, anxiety, or pain could read it and get an idea of what it is like, but now that just sounds like the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.  I’m pretty sure I told myself I was going to post it anyway, because my brain can’t be trusted right now, but what if the bad idea was writing this in the first place?  This is just so stupid.

After I wrote that, I proceeded to have a full-blown, hunker down in the floor, shaking, heart pounding, terrifying panic attack.  Laid in floor and practiced breathing exercises until I could get meds, then laid in bed and focused on breathing in the good, out the bad.

***************************************************************************

Part 2

When the kids got home yesterday, things got considerably better.  Thing 2 came home from school not feeling well and after a big hug, he went straight to bed.  I hope he is not feeling the same way I’m feeling.  My mom made us dinner and talked to me for a while and also gave me a big hug.  Thing 3 fell asleep on my lap watching the Bachelorette, after we chose some pictures of her to send to school and picked a favorite book for her to take.  Thing 1 is so funny.  He cracks me up all the time.  We made some jokes about the guys on the Bachelorette, and he offered to carry Thing 3 to bed; so sweet, always watching out for me.  Husband came home and I filled him in on the Bachelorette and then we watched Jimmy Kimmel.  Godzilla, people?  Really?  Oh, that was hilarious.  Then I went to bed and it only took me probably an hour to fall asleep.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

6:25 a.m.  Husband wakes me up.  I don’t speak to him.  Go get coffee and meds.  Everything hurts.  Get Thing 3 dressed and brush her hair, wake up Things 1 and 2, and am happy to tell them they have clean clothes in the dryer.  I am happy that we did Thing 3’s homework last night.  Husband shares video of movie trailer — I will watch anything with a talking raccoon, especially one who has to adjust his balls.  (I’ve got issues.)

7:15 a.m. Everyone leaves. It was a good morning.  I drink coffee, look at email and Facebook and messages.  Get sleepy.

8:00 a.m.  Go back to bed and sleep like a baby for 2 hours, even though the phone woke me up midway.

10:00 a.m.  Drink coffee.  Think about stuff I need to talk to the doctor about.  Think about making a list.  Play Candy Crush.  Think that maybe it’s okay that my brain is so fucked up sometimes, since a lot of highly creative, talented people struggle with mental illness.  Decide to add this to my post from yesterday that I never posted and even password protected because I was so ashamed of it.  Marvel at the difference a day makes.  Feel thankful that the tide turned once again and that I am still here on the beach.  Think about trying to build something stronger to hold onto for next time.

43 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Blogging, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

May 15, 2014

Wild Things and Some Animals Too.

By Steph

A couple of weeks ago I agreed to go with the Pre-K on their field trip to a drive-thru safari.

I know.  I’m insane.

Anyway.  Parents weren’t allowed on the bus (thank god), so I had to drive myself.  Since it was about a two-hour trip, I told the teacher I’d have to stop and stretch a few times.  Luckily for me, it turned out to be a big craft fair weekend, so my stretches took place at little yard sales along the way.

After that, I got lost once and had to wait for a train twice, so I ended up missing the bus tour of the drive-thru part of the safari.  I made it just in time for lunch and walking around what basically amounted to a huge farm with one bathroom and about 500 kids under 5 years old.

The kids had an absolute blast, the animals seemed used to all the fuss, and I learned a few valuable lessons.

 

Pinterest

Pinterest

 

1.  If a monkey has a pacifier in its mouth, there is probably a good reason for it.  We thought this little guy was so cute…until he started pulling on his monkey penis right in front of all the little kids.  Try explaining that to a 5-year-0ld girl.  I think I said something like, “What the — oh, look, a giraffe!”

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Degenerate Monkey.

 

2.  Giraffes have the longest, prettiest eyelashes I have ever seen.  Also, they seem very dainty for something 20 feet tall.

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Also, I think she’s British. We were feeding her lettuce, but I feel like she really wanted a cup o’ tea.

 

3.  This tiny monkey is wearing a diaper (and I guess we all know why).  I think generally he gets to be held and petted, but much like the kangaroos, was not up for the horde of little people who descended that day.

 

A baby monkey, tearing your heart out with his tiny sad face.

A baby monkey, tearing your heart out with his tiny sad face.

 

*Note:  I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.  When we went to a different zoo-like place about a month ago, I asked my husband if he noticed that a particular ape-creature had gigantic balls.  He was horrified and claimed not to have “been looking.”  I don’t know how you could have missed them.  Also, have you seen a rhinoceros up close?  Jesus Christ.

 

4.  Goats can be very judgmental.  This goat is judging me right now.

 

The fuck is wrong with you, lady, walking around looking at monkey privates?

What the fuck is wrong with you, lady, walking around looking at monkey privates?

 

All in all, it was a fun day, even if I did learn a bit too much about animal anatomy.

45 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, parenting, small humans, total chaos