Chicken Butt

Russel T. Davies is a Genius

It's quite possible I'm watching too much British television. I've been re-watching Doctor Who again, commentary, extras, the whole tamale. While I adore Doctors nine and ten and honestly can't pick a favorite, I think I may be in love with Russel T. Davies, writer and Exec Producer. He is brilliant like Aaron Sorkin, but geekier and Welsh. I've started using "Hooray" in conversation. Davies and his co-exec producers use it all the time in the commentaries and it has stuck in my brain. The thing is, I can't get any sort of fantasy from Davies because he is gay. It's not like that is anymore of a deterrent than living in the UK or being a famous television writer. It's not like I have a better shot with Eccelston or Tennant because they are straight (probably straight). It's just that adoring someone's mind isn't enough. A good fantasy requires a possibility, however minuscule, that if the person met you they just might find you attractive (and, because it is after all a fantasy, utterly irresistible). Gaa. Too much time spent in my head.

This weekend I will watch the first three DVDs of MI-5 series two. I'm finding all sorts of Anglo phrases and speech patterns in my self-dialog. I really do like the word flat instead of condo to describe my home. Condo feels so awkward and hard. Home is weird. House is incorrect. Apartment is also incorrect, but often slips out. Flat sounds right to me. I don't want to start getting all Anglophile though. I already have a MINI with a boot and bonnet. I must not get pretentious or silly. Maybe I should switch over to Buffy again, or Gilmore Girls. I could always try to rekindle my obsession with Vin Diesel or Andrew Lauer. (You probably know Lauer as Charlie from Caroline in the City, but I obsessed over him as Charlie in the short-live series, Going to Extremes.) Okay, enough exposing my crazy.

Is it spring yet?

Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there

It may only be 5 degrees F outside, but the sun shone for most of the day and at 5:05 PM the sun was still visible. I'm happy to see tangible proof that the days are getting longer again. Predictably I'm tired of winter and ready for spring. Every year I get stir-crazy in mid-February and start looking up last-minute cruise deals online. I almost planned one for this week in the fall but I didn't get a passport and I thought I'd rather spend the money on electrolysis. Laying on the table last night it did not seem like a fair trade.

Next time my electrolysis lady, Sharon, plans to turn the voltage up a bit. She had to go in multiple times to the same follicle many times. First stick isn't fun, but three or four into the same shaft fucking hurts! I was very sore and questioning whether it was worth it for about two hours after treatment. By bedtime it was fine. This morning you could barely see where she had worked. I think the semi-serious short term pain will be worth it never to shave my pits again. The process involves a lot of trust though. I won't have any idea how permanent the treatments are for at least six months.

Nothing new is happening in my life right now besides electrolysis. My sister's 36th birthday was Saturday. I bought her a Starbucks gift card per her request and made her a mix CD. I put 36 pennies on the jewel cover. One for each year of her life starting with 1972. I would have put a 2008 penny on there too as the "one to grow on" but could not find one. It looked pretty because I cleaned them first with vinegar and salt, then polished them with baking soda. I meant to take a picture of the case but I forgot. I used glue dots from scrapbooking to fasten them on. It worked pretty well.

Happy Valentine’s Day to me!

I wore a red sweater today, but decided my red heart underwear would be too much. I did however give myself a long-desired gift. I had my first electrolysis treatment last night. Weeeee!!!!!

I’ve having my armpits done. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it can take a very long time to achieve permanent hairlessness (could be 12 months of weekly treatments, most likely 18-24 months). Yes, it will be expensive over time. But all I can think of is that someday I will never have to shave my pits again.

I hate shaving. Most people I talk with don’t mind it much, but it is one of those maintenance tasks that seem endless, tedious and expensive. Yet I can’t just let it grow. I am neither a hippy nor European. I tend to grow a bit of a pelt in winter, but now that I do yoga it makes me self-conscience. Plus, if I let the pits go my anti-perspirant isn’t as effective. Long time readers might recall my fear of smelliness.

Did I mention the treated area still hurts eighteen hours later? That is unexpected. Maybe I’m ultra-sensitive? It could be friction from my bra band, she started at the bottom edge of my thatch. I go for a second treatment tonight to start the other side. I’ll ask whether it is normal to still feel it the next day.

I went to this lady because she has been at the same location forever, 23 years, and I don’t know anyone who has had electrolysis done so I can’t get recommendations. Maybe I should try a few places out to get a basis for comparison of skill and machinery. The problem is that the growth cycle for the hair in that area is six months. It will take at least one growing cycle to see how strong my follicles are. There is the distorted follicle element as well. If the follicle is not straight the needle doesn’t get down to the base so it can take many more attempts to actually kill the hair. Plus, many follicles have multiple hairs in them. It is much more complicated than I thought. Everything I’ve read says a lot depends on the skill of the technician.

This could be the start of something beautiful. Or it could be the start of a life-long quest for hairlessness. I can see moving from one area to the next to the next. I would do my legs starting at the ankle next. We’ll see.

Update: The second session went better. Apparently I have more sensitive skin than she thought. Last night she turned down the current a bit (from 65 to 60, whatever that means) and used Benadryl cream before and after to reduce skin reaction. Two hours later the patch was barely pink. This morning yesterday's work was practically invisible and the patch from the day before is still irritated. I was worried, but looks like the side effects are manageable.

Do I offend?

My anti-perspirant is crapping out on me. I used the same brand throughout my late teens and twenties. I used Mitchum unscented roll-on because it’s what my parents used. It worked great, until suddenly it didn’t. It just stopped working. I played around with a lot of other brands.  The actual duration of effectiveness has been about 1.5 sticks before I have to switch to a new brand. So I just switch with each purchase.

Is this a fluke? Am I just particularly stinky yesterday and today? I really don’t want to go to prescription strength and I’m also not comfortable with the natural methods of deodorant. Somehow I don’t think rubbing a rock in my pits would give me much confidence. As much as I hate rubbing chemicals on everyday, I hate stinking worse. I don’t think I’m eating more onions or other odiferous foods than usual.

Cast out

I’ve been cast out of my favorite part of Christmas. Since my mom died I’ve been sleeping at my sister’s home on Christmas Eve. I help put out the gifts and fill the stockings and then BugBoy wakes me up Christmas morning to participate in opening the stockings. This morning sis called to ask if I’d mind not sleeping over.

She told me she loves having me there but that with the baby her stress level is already high. She said that it is too much to have three adults shower there and get the kids ready for the day. She mentioned that I never sleep very well there anyway. Then she said the thing that struck me as being the real reason. She wanted to have time with just her family for a brief time in the morning.

Ouch. Now I couldn’t sleep there even if she changed her mind because I have been put in my place as outsider. Nothing like getting kicked out of a holiday tradition to remind me I’m single, childless and alone. I don’t plan to have children of my own and thought that was okay because I’m a devoted aunt. I figured eventually I’d opt out of the morning ritual if/when I find love and do couple-y things (oh, that sounds medieval). So do I have to get a man to be part of a close family Christmas morning again? What do I do in the meantime? I’m not even looking for love. I’m busy getting myself pulled together.

I’m trying to be a grown up and see my sister’s point of view, but I’m hurt and feeling alone.

December 21 Update: This morning my sis called me at work to re-invite me. When she told her husband what she'd done he got pissed and told her to re-invite me. I plan to go, but make my own plans for next year. I told me she had hurt me. She said she didn't mean to and couldn't I see it from her side? Um yeah, sure. I explained that uninviting me was mean. She apologized. I accepted. I'm relieved it wasn't my BIL's idea. I'm not convinced she wants me there, but I want to be there with the kids so I'm taking the high road and going. I have an emotional hangover from yesterday and I slept badly. Such drama.

Happy Birthday to me!

I’ve had bad abdominal cramps for two days now. I’m usually not cramp-prone and when they do happen Pamprin usually take care of it. Yesterday morning I took my yogi Sarah’s advice and did some ab work to ease the cramps. It didn’t seem to work and now my ab muscles are sort from exercise in addition to the cramping. I didn’t count  how many elbow-to-knee and straddle-lifting-through reps I did, but it was fewer than half what I do in yoga practice. Did I do too many? Not enough? Do I need to keep doing them? It feels a bit like hitting my thumb with a hammer to distract me from a cut on my pointer finger. Also, it could be related to an increase in one of my meds, so if I’m still cramping tomorrow I’ll call my shrink, Dr. L.

Anyone still reading? My birthday was nice this year. Soon after I woke up I got a call from my sister and listened to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday. Then Monkey got on the line and said, “happy.” It was sweet. It was a mellow day. I hung three paintings, read, tidied up my office a bit and washed some dishes. At some point Sasha and her kids serenaded me over the phone. I then went shopping for perfume, attended an OA meeting, had dinner at my sister’s house and then went shopping again.

At Von Maur, I couldn’t decide between four scents. I splurged and bought two of them, Calvin Klein’s Euphoria and Lolita Lempicka. I’m not sure I really like Lolita Lempicka on me, I was swayed by the bottle, it’s really lovely. The stem is the sprayer. I also picked up samples of Chanel’s Allure and Allure Sensuelle to try at home. I haven’t worn perfume for a while; I think the last bottle I bought and actually wore was Poison. Yeah, it was that long ago. I wore a custom blend of essential oils from The Soap Opera in Madison, WI for a few years. It was light amber and light musk blend. I quite like the Euphoria. It seems to last but not precede me into rooms. I feel self-conscience if I think a scent is extending beyond my aura.

After my OA meeting I went to my sister’s house for dinner. My dad provided filet mignon, which he had marinated for 24 hours in Italian dressing, and my sister baked sweet potatoes. There was also salad and home-made salsa. It was all very good. No cake.

I got cash from dad and Barnes & Noble gift certificate from sis and family. So I went directly from her house to B&N Sunday night. I bought a stack of DVDs. This is what I got:

• The Best of the Electric Company
• Apocalypse Now - The Complete Dossier (Two-Disc Special Collector's Edition)
• The Station Agent
• Beverly Hills Cop
• Like Water for Chocolate

I came very close to spending the cash from dad on the latest DVD version of Lord of the Rings – Limited Edition, until I realized I’d be spending $80 for about five hours of behind-the -scenes footage. I already have both theatrical and extended versions. I can Netflix it to watch the new stuff.

On Monday I spent my dad’s gift (with a little bit extra from me) on an All-Clad Stainless Steel 4 quart sauté pan with lid and splatter guard at William-Sonoma. It’s pretty, sparkly and heavy. It was also cheaper than the 3 quart because it was on sale. Now you may be thinking, “But Dodi, you don’t even cook!” and you are correct. I’m more of a re-heater than cook. But I adore William-Sonoma. Read the catalogs from cover to cover (Except now I skip the seasonal candy pages).

Related to non-cooking, I haven’t used my grill at all this summer because I’m afraid it will blow up. The user manual said spiders like to build nests in the gas lines if not used regularly. Now I’m paranoid, but I don’t want to take it all apart to make sure all the lines are clear. I’m also pretty sure wasps have taken up residence. I do intend to cook more in the future and now I have a lovely pan, hopefully the last sauté pan I’ll ever buy. It is a frivolous, but it was mostly a birthday gift and I adore it.

Thirty-seven doesn’t seem to be a significant birthday for me. Last year I freaked a bit because at 36 I found myself scarily close to forty. This year I feel pretty neutral. It feels good.

Dumped

My life coach dumped me last night. She is ending her individual therapy practice to focus on reconciliation counseling* and corporate consulting. While she hasn’t singled me out, it feels like a break up. I’ve been seeing her for at least ten years, since my mom told me I had to lose weight to be in my sister’s wedding. (In case you were wondering, I put on at least 40 pounds between that pronouncement and the wedding.)

Over the years she helped me deal with a lot of baggage, change and pain. At times I visited her once a week, sometimes monthly depending on my state of mind. She knows me. She knows my history. When I get discouraged she can list all my accomplishments since she’s known me. It’s like talking with a close friend because I don’t have to go into all the background, I can tell her the newest thing and she can put it into context. She also tells me when I’m full of shit. Once in a while I’ll come in with a new theory or idea and she never hesitates to call “Bullshit!” on me.

She suggests I find a new therapist through my insurance company. I’m doing fine right now, but that can change very quickly. I need to establish a relationship with someone so they have a base-line for my sanity. I hate this. I’m just getting my shit together and now I’ve got to break in someone new. I’d be really screwed if I didn’t have a whole team of people helping me. I’ve still got the OA fellowship, my OA sponsor, my yogi, and my shrink (Rx only).

I hate change. I’m not good at it. She is extending the end date for me, but I want to ask if she could just keep seeing me on the side. Just don’t leave me, and you can see whoever you want. Pathetic aren’t I?

*I told her this sounds like hell to me. She said it is hell, but it’s challenging too.

Do I smell tan to you?

Yesterday I got a spray-on tan. It took longer to get ready and step into the booth than it did for the spray part. I had to watch an instructional video first. I thought of Ross Gellar from Friends the whole time. The video demonstrated how to use the barrier cream (provided), footies (provided), hair net (provided), eye protection (not provided) and optional nose plugs (available for purchase). Then showed where to stand, how to position arms, how to start the sprayer (push glowing green button) and when to turn around.

This was a lot of information. It was fine until I was standing in the room naked and trying to remember exactly where to put the barrier cream. They stressed to be generous on finger nails and cuticles. I made sure to put extra on my palms.

The spray was cold and seemed to last longer than 14 seconds. As I turned around in the ten seconds between sprays I had plenty of time to get situated, but had visions of Ross's super-sprayed face got me turned around faster than I needed to move. Then it was over. There was a thick cloud of mist in the booth and it followed me out. I'm sure this is the point I got spray all over my hands. The instructions said to use a paper towel to remove booties and hair net, but I forgot at first.

They said not to shower for at least four hours afterward. I intended to shower at 11:30, but decided it would be better to obey my bedtime. Besides, I didn't want to stop the potential tan too early. So my white sheets are tan in the middle. I hope it comes out.

The smell is pretty much the same as with self-tan creams. I had heard it wasn't as strong, but I think it is. My legs aren't as tan as I had hoped and there is a definite line on my right foot where the bootie was. I may do a bit of touch up tonight with some cream. I scrubbed throughly this morning, but I still smell that weird smell. This could be because I got a big noseful of the spray. Does the interior of ones nose contain the pigment that causes tans? Or I'm a walking stench bomb today. I don't think I want to know.

So, the tan is as advertised but expensive. Thirty USD to stand in a booth for 38 seconds in a cold mist. I'm not sure I'll ever do it again.

And yet I'm smiling

**Warning - If the mere mention of piss, poop or puke make you ill. Stop reading this post immediately.**

Today is overflowing with tiny annoyances. I’m in a good mood, but I’m distracted by this external stuff:

1. Walked into a stall at On the Border's restroom after lunch. It looked like explosive diarrhea everywhere. I caught a glimpse of chunky liquid on the seat, the floor and the walls. I would have left immediately except I had to pee. I went two stalls down before being hit with the unmistakable stench of vomit. Awful. I informed the staff on my way out.
2. Was preoccupied by visions and smells of puke until a friend I ran into at the water cooler started quoting Monty Python at me. Say no more. Say no more. A nudge’s as good as a wink. Know what I mean? Huh? Huh?
3. I was cheerfully babbling Monty Python gibberish in my head, thinking the puke-fest was ended. But as soon as I got back to my desk the “I need a bucket” projecting vomit/exploding man scene unfolded in my brain.
4. I got my second cup with a leak in the bottom in two weeks. I’ve worked here for over 9 years now and can’t recall any other leaking cups until last week. It soaked a document with notes on it before I noticed.
5. Talked to the head EA here and learned that the paper recycling bins at everyone’s desks and by each printer are a fake. The paper and the garbage end up in the same place. And they always have. For 9 years I’ve been anal about recycling all my documents to no purpose! Not only am I polluting the environment by using the provided Styrofoam cups (because I’m too lazy to wash a glass), I’m killing trees by the gross.
6. I walked in on chunks in the office bathroom. Does no one flush anymore? Then walked in on major spray-age. Seriously gross coworkers. There is no need for any sprinkling on seats. There are seat protectors people!!!
7. The annoying clicking noise is coming from the hallway lamp outside my cell entrance again. There is nothing to be done about it. I can hear it even with my headphones on.
8. I think I have a big zit developing on the tip of my nose. I’m already sunburned, maybe no one will notice.

And yet, disgusted and disillusioned as I am, I’m still in a good mood, amazing. My anti-depressants must really be working.

Beyond wrong

Should you ever open a sushi bar and steak house, and should you ever need to replace the elongated toilet seat in the women's restroom, do not, I beg of you, replace it with a regular sized padded seat.

This is so wrong and disgusting. Four hours later I'm still shuddering. Padded seats do not belong in public bathrooms. Padded seats four inches shorter than the porcelain should be a crime.

It's possible that only my sister and I have this dread of padded seats. My Grandparents had a blue padded seat that had a crack in it. That crack was there for at least ten years. Aside from the pinch, was the horror of germs. Since our chores always included cleaning the toilets we were aware from an early age what evils lurched there.