Recovery
or
"The Otorrhea" Is Not The Title of An Italian Opera

For those of you who didn't know, I've been very sick lately.

The illness struck Greg first, who developed ear pressure and pain on first one, then both sides. That was about two weeks ago.

I left for Vegas on the 16th, feeling shaky and nauseous. I slept almost constantly once I arrived. I chalked it up to nerves. After all, I had no appetite. I began to have feverish dreams, waking every hour or two to wander the house disoriented, before dropping onto the bed again.

Somehow I scraped myself off the carpet long enough to make it to The Pirate's Ball across the street from my house - in costume, no less. Nerves, just nerves, I told myself. A few drinks into the night, my senses were dulled enough to dance and frolic with the other pirates. See, I was going to be fine!

When I awoke from nightmares on the 19th, my lymph nodes in my neck were enormous. I could barely turn my head. I had pain inside my left ear, and couldn't walk around without bumping into walls. I had body chills. I had visual and auditory hallucinations. I'd never had a bug quite like it before.

Naturally I went to the doctor. My good friend Sam took me, as I was broke, and in no condition to drive. I had the equilibrium of a drunk. (Bless you, Sam. You saved my biscuits.)

The doctor was unsure which microbes were ailing me. After looking into all of my cranial orifices, I believe her exact words were: "I have no idea what it is, but let's give you some kickass antibiotics to knock it out of you." We began with an injection of Rocephin. She then prescribed me Doxycycline - 100 mg capsules, 2 of them a day. No kiddie stuff, here.

Rocephin is the antibiotic of choice for preventing infection after major surgery. It's also effective against meningitis, septicemia (blood poisoning), Necrotizing fasciitis (flesh-eating bacteria), bone infections, as well as typhoid fever. Among many other things. They administer it by injection or IV. I got mine shoved into my flank, which hurt like a bitch, but I didn't care too much. Injections work swiftly. I wanted to feel better as soon as possible.

Doxycycline will take just about any bacteria (and some parasites) out of commission. It's often used to prevent resistant strains of malaria. It'll help you if you've been exposed to aerosolized anthrax. If the Europeans of the Middle Ages had access to doxycycline, they wouldn't have known the scourges of black plague or cholera.

Either one of the two will take out every bacterial STI known to man.

I felt somewhat better the next day. Enough to go to the firing range with Sam. He's the one who took that freaking wonderful photo of me with the m249 SAW.

Don't tell the range master, but (guns + girl) = SEX^r , where r is how many rounds I shot on full-auto.

We also had a lovely luncheon at the Red Velvet Cafe. I recommend it for all vegetarian, vegan, and cake-loving types. They make the world's best desserts. All of them VEGAN. (Are the tears of angels vegan? I suppose they must be.)

By the next day, I had devolved into a bed-ridden amoeba. I was so weak and woozy, I could not stand of my own volition. I lay limp under the sheets, sticky and wan like a poorly made waxwork.

Arturo moved the spare bed into the living room, so I could watch movies with him and use the computer while I rested. I stayed in the same spot for nearly a week.

I'm unsure whether it was the illness or the medication, but while I lay that week, I endured strange symptoms, even as my throat and ears began to heal. Great purple contusions appeared mysteriously on my body. (Editor's note: as of 10/07/2010, the original bruises are still green shadows, and later ones are yet purple.) Nausea and vomiting kept me from eating or drinking for hours at a time. And the fatigue was smothering. Never in my life have I been so tired. Yet when I closed my eyes, demonic technicolor faces leered at me in the darkness, mutating into hideous crustaceans that smushed and garbled into one another until I begged Arturo to turn on the lamp and we slept in the light.

I recovered slowly. By the time I finished my antibiotics, I felt no more physical symptoms, and my appetite has returned, but the fatigue remains. How long it will be until it fully lifts? I don't know.

All I know is that Greg never had the bulk of my symptoms. Instead, his illness concentrated in his ears, dampening his hearing and causing him pain in both sides of his head. He also experienced the nightmares and feverish thoughts that made my illness so hellish. He also has otorrhea. Which in layman's terms means:

Kermit green goo coming out of your earhole.

Don't let the photo deceive you, kids. This stuff is Kermit the frog frickin' green.

Would someone like to tell us what on earth we had?

UPDATE 10/7/2010: We've both been given the clean bill of health. I'm still really tired, pale, and shakey. Greg is too strong to admit it, but he looks kinda sick still, too. Ears still leaking green fluid. Doctor says this is not worrisome. Whatever.

But it's not Lupus. It's NEVER Lupus.

P.S. Here's some articles on my antibiotics in case you guys think I'm making everything up. Copy and paste, you lazy bastards.


http://www.drugs.com/pro/doxycycline-hyclate.html

http://www.rxlist.com/doryx-drug.htm

http://www.webmd.com/drugs/drug-7012-Rocephin+Inj.aspx?drugid=7012&drugname=Rocephin+Inj&source=0&pagenumber=4


http://antibiotics.emedtv.com/rocephin/what-is-rocephin-used-for.html

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0000848

Oh did you, now?

I Love Japan
or
Vaganus of The Sea

The Japanese are so friggin WEIRD. I love it. I'm pretty tough to shock, and they manage to get me quite a bit. I just had to share this video with you. I warn you, it's gross and freakish, but it's also incredibly funny. Well, it's funny if you have a sick sense of humor like me.

I will do you all a favor and tell you straight off that the video is fake. It's an SFX puppet. Things like that DO live in the sea, but they don't react to soda the way the puppet does.

Without further ado:





The first time I watched this, I couldn't stop cracking up for about 20 minutes. It just took me so off-guard. Ever so disgusting. Pure insanity. Someone in the comments said it best: "Is it more disturbing that these people prodded a sea-vaganus until it splooged and exploded, or that they FAKED A VIDEO of prodding a sea-vaganus until it splooged and exploded?" That's Japan, for you. God bless you, you crazy bastards! Where would the internet be without you?!

You know what it looks like? It kind of looks like a sea pig.







The ocean is a strange and slimy place.

Heartbreak
or
Way Out In The Water See Her Swimming

It hurts me viscerally that a girl can't be effected (yes, because it had an effect) by a song these days without being picked apart.


If I so much as comment on a song, that labels me "wannabe emo," or worse, "emo."


Human Nature so often disgusts me so much that I am loathe to write. You hear that, dissenters?

No, of course you don't.

Against your wishes I will post this:






I was there for their - for Placebo's - concert in Minnesota. In Minneapolis, to be exact. I thank them so deeply for even coming to the states in the first place. I was lucky to have a friend who was going to college there.

It changed my life.




I think I might have been born 50 years too late.

Burles-que'st que c'est?
or
My Big Debut

Great news, gentle readers! I will be starring in a burlesque show on August 12 at Daddy Mac's! Look, I'm even on the flier! (Albeit, with my old platinum hair. But never mind that.)



I'm soooooo excited. I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get my acts ready. I'm going to fill two numbers. The first will be a classic burlesque dance to "Stray Cat Strut" by the Stray Cats. Bet you can't guess what I'll be dressed as. Meow.

The second act is a bit more modern. I'm going to turn myself into a human ice cream sundae. It's going to be super sexy, and a hell of a mess. I need to buy a tarp for the stage . . . As for music, I shall dance to "Ice Cream" by New Young Pony Club.

What a wonderful opportunity this is! I've wanted to do burlesque for ages, and now I finally have my chance! It's so classic. So retrosexual.

No, it's not nude. It's pasties and full back underwear. Don't look at me like that.

Wish me luck! Anyone with burlesque experience is more than welcome to add some tips in the comments. I would appreciate it.

Deadly Little Lady
or
"HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

I stepped into death's parlor for tea today. Luckily, I didn't stay for dinner. Phew.

Otherwise, this blog wouldn't exist any more. Whatever would my gentle readers do to waste time after they had finished with the news?

At any rate, I survived. The poisonous spiders, that is. I feel like a J. R. R. Tolkein character even saying that, but it's absolutely true. Tonight, at my domicile, I encountered two black widows. One of them was absurdly large. The other was somewhat more like what one might find in a zoo or entomological collection - that is to say, of average size.

I have photographic evidence.

Bella Morte of the back porch

I found the first specimen on our back patio while accompanying my friend, Becca, outside while she smoked a cigarette. Thank goodness I had turned on the patio light, because I almost stepped into the little lady's web, while barefoot no less.

Little. BAH! She had to be at least 2.5 inches in diameter. Never in my life have I ever seen or heard of a black widow so large. I spied her twitching amid her chaotic, glistening strands, surrounded by the corpses of her prey:

The Lady at home.



Those are full-sized cockroaches suspended below the spider. Ya know. For scale.

I had to kill her. I had no choice. The apartment is riddled with cracks and seams that lead to the outdoors. What if the little lady bred? We'd be overrun within days. I mean, I might survive if I were bitten, but what about my cats?

What am I saying . . . I didn't kill her. I'm too chickenshit for spiders, thank you very much. I did what comes naturally to every woman: I sent the menfolk after her.

First, Greg went outside with the camera to capture the spider's good side. He took probably 8 or 9 shots at close proximity, trying to get the perfect view of her hourglass. Then we sent out Arturo to get her with the Raid. I'm pleased to note that "Ant and Roach Formula" is equally effective on spiders, at least when it comes to a direct hit.

Everyone celebrated the death of Bella Morte - particularly myself, who had come so close to walking straight into fang-range.

Becca and I decided that she should take her cigarette in the front yard, instead. We'd had enough deadly arachnids for one night. Greg performed the role of chaperon. I'm glad he did. It was his sharp eyes that caught the second Black Widow.

They seem to like hanging upside down in their webs, don't they?

This new spider was about a third of the size of the original find. She much more resembled the black widows I've seen before in captivity. Certainly still deadly.

By some stroke of adrenalin-induced madness, we decided to capture it in a plastic container. Don't ask me how, but Greg did the honors in one fell swoop. No feinting, no whimpering, just POP goes the Tupperwear around our little horror and it was done.

Macro shot through the plastic. Look at those forelegs!

And now what to do with her?

That is the question, isn't it?

Becca wants to take her home. Fine. I told her she can have the damned thing, just don't let it go within a mile radius of me.

Ugh. Greg said her web felt like cloth gauze, it was so strong. It gives me shivers to even think about it. Especially since I imagine these won't be the last black widows we find around this place . . .

Back To My Roots
or
A Sugar By Any Other Name

I had a root beer float today. (Well, not a whole one. I took a few bites of the one Greg made for himself. Bless his heart for always letting Miss Diet Conscious taste his sweets. But that's beside the point.) The point is that it was simply incredible. I'd never had one like it before.

See, I've never been a huge root beer fan. Back when I used to drink a lot of soda, diet cola was my beverage of choice. Yes, diet. Right from Kindergarten. My mother is addicted (in the literal sense of the word) to Diet Pepsi. She drinks about 4 cans per diem. Sometimes more. As a child, I simply got used to what was always around. To this day, normal Pepsi or Coke tastes filthy and cloying to me. I can feel the syrup swimming on my teeth. *shudder*

I loved diet soda for years, until aspartame started giving me mouth sores. It's not the kindest chemical to one's system, I'll tell you that.

And diet root beer tastes like Pepto Bismol.

Nowadays, I have another reason to avoid soda altogether, particularly the sweetened kind. It contains about 10 tsps of the goddamned High Fructose Corn Syrup.

High Fructose corn syrup is just not cool in my book. First off, it'll probably make you fat, even more so than table sugar, which I absolutely cannot forgive. Also, in my opinion, it tastes like crap. I avoid it every chance I get. You can never eat too little refined sugar.

Back to the root beer float.

While we were at Trader Joe's today, Greg snagged something that gave me pause: a can of Hansen's All Natural root beer made with cane sugar. We bought it, took it home, opened it up, and each took a tiny sip of it.


Wow. I couldn't believe what I had been missing.

Sweet, creamy, herbal flavors filled my mouth. It was nothing at all like the insipid, syrupy national brands or sickening, musky generics. I sipped it drop by drop, letting the soda's multitude components spread across my tongue. Vanilla and anise I could make out distinctly. The can also lists wintergreen, birch, and sassafras extracts as flavoring. I never knew those things went into root beer. Usually the ingredient lists for soft drinks state the catch-all NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVORINGS, and leave it at that.

Greg decided that the best way to enjoy this root beer was to make a float out of it. I do believe he was right.

Imagine Hansen's cane-sweetened root beer and Breyer's vanilla bean ice cream (also natural with no HFCS), frosting up the sides of a white porcelain bowl. Think about that. Little specks of vanilla pod riding on the bubbles. Root beer freezing on the scoop of ice cream, giving it a glossy tan shell. And fragrant! The smell of the root beer, spicy-sweet and complex, wafted to my on its effervescence. Wow.

Like I said at the start of the post, I only had a few spoonfuls of the float. A few spoonfuls was all I needed. The flavor was so rich and powerful that eating more than a little at a time was a waste of tastebuds. The sweetness was perfect. It was delicious. After about 8 small tastes of ice cream and root beer, I was completely satisfied. I actually felt full.

The whole experience made me wonder if the obesity epidemic isn't due in large part to artificial sweeteners and flavorings. About 1/3 cup of natural ice cream and root beer made a luscious, satisfying desert. I couldn't have eaten more if I wanted to. Yet, I see people downing 32oz portions of the artificial stuff all the time, chasing an experience they can never truly have and a craving they can never truly fulfill.

At any rate, Hansen's All Nature Cane Sugar Root Beer is wonderful. I highly suggest you try it.

Divine Bovine
or
Udder Madness

Surreality brightens up my day. Every once in a while, I stumble upon something that makes me blink a few times and wonder if I've triggered another acid flashback. It's nice to question my perceptions. Might be too much for some, but I've come to enjoy it. You only get so many forays into madness before you get too old or two legitimately crazy to enjoy them. Gather ye rosebuds!

Without further ado, I will show you, gentle readers, what I am rambling about: a most demented animation featuring the humble dairy cow as we have never seen her before:







While creating this post, I've just watched the video for the seventh time today, and I'm still in awe of how very like a hallucinogen it is. The cows seem at one moment, familiar, the next, comical, and then suddenly, ominous. They churn and mutate into forms almost unrecognizable as the original with sinister determination. Blink again, and they've returned to normal. It's almost chilling.

If you ask me, someone started eating the mushrooms before they even finished picking. Am I right, kids?

When the long-legged cows come out, I can't help but be reminded of Salvador Dali's elephants:



I would wager Cyriak (the animator) is a much of a fan of Dali as I am.

Go take a look at his website if you have some time to kill. It's high caliber stuff.

I'd love to hire him to do animated wedding invitations. I wonder what that would run . . .

I'm still sick. And today, the three of us are moving out of our old apartment into a new smaller one, so I have to do hard labor and inhale dust. If you need me, I'll be at my pity party.

Head Like A Hole
or
"I'll Take 'Things That Fall Out of Your Face,' For $175"

Ah, that good ol' fashioned tonsillitis, such a beloved melody from my childhood. If memory serves me right, it goes a lil' something like this:


I woke up on Friday with a twinge of pain in the right side of my neck. A quick palpation revealed an enlarged lymph node. Well, that could be anything. Maybe the air-conditioner was on too high. Maybe I slept with my mouth open. No time to deal with it anyway. Off to work with me!

By Saturday morning, I knew I was in for some real fun. My right tonsil had begun to swell, making swallowing painful. I didn't need to feel my nodes - I could see them bulging through my skin just fine. It's a cold. I'll feel crappy for 2 days, and get over it. I don't need to spend $150 for a doctor's visit. I'll cope just fine. Oh well, no time to deal with it anyway. Take a few asprin, gargle with Listerine, and off to work with me!

On Sunday afternoon, I woke up shivering like a heroin addict. The ghastly fingers of fever ran up and down my limbs. My muscles ached. And my throat! Even my own saliva proved too difficult to swallow. I designated an empty water bottle as my spittoon. Robbed of my speech, I whimpered piteously until my roommates understood my fate. Greg looked down my throat and told me that my tonsils were so swollen, he was concerned for my airway. Indeed, I felt as if my throat might close up at any moment.

I bit the bullet, and went to urgent care.

If I had more political fire in me, this is where I'd rant about how much a capitalist health care system sucks for a commoner like myself. There's no reason why a throat infection should cost $175 dollars to treat, in an otherwise healthy person. I even skipped getting a throat culture to save money.

If only I could figure out how to buy black market antibiotics from Mexico . . . but I digress.

The real reason I wrote this post is to show you some amazing photos of what came out of my tonsils today!

I've been on antibiotics for about 24 hours now. That's long enough to feel some improvement, though I'm still sick as a dog. I managed to get myself in a hot shower. All that steam felt mighty nice, and really helped my throat relax. In fact, it relaxed so much, the pus pockets fell off of my tonsils. (See the diagram at the start of the article, if you don't know what pus pockets I'm talking about.)

Of course I took pictures. I couldn't deny my gentle readers such a spectacle!

First a picture for scale . . .




Here's a macro glamour shot of the one that came off my right tonsil:

Look, you can see the little ridge where it was attached to my headmeats.

And one of the left:

Say "pus sacs!"

Did I mention that both these nuggets of joy smelled like a cadaver? The human body is so charming.


I sorely (HAH!) envy you adults who had your tonsils removed during childhood, under the auspices of your parents' health insurance plan. Please wish me a speedy recovery.



******UPDATE*******

Two more pus sacs fell off a few hours later, only they were half the size of the first set. And then a single long stringy one uncoiled from the right tonsil. And blood. Lots of blood. Just thought you'd all like to know. No, I didn't take a picture.

Yes it does hurt. Thanks for asking. *hack*