The Upshot Of Waking Up So Digustingly Early

. . . is that the bathroom is usually free.

Marriage Has Been Equalized, Texan Wimmens Rock

Or it's at least being shit on in one less state.

As my friend pointed out so eloquently today, this shouldn't be a discussion about gay marriage rights, it should be a discussion about equal marriage rights.

And some people tried to break the rules to get their way, and got their asses handed to them. Go 'head on Wendy!

And now that marriage is available to all consenting adults in the state of CA, I can rescind my conscientious objecting ban on marriage in general.

That's right---I vowed (privately at some time that no one knows) that I would never marry until my fellow statesmen could marry.

So, you know what that means. . .

. . . Oh man. I'm gonna have to move to Utah.

whywhywhywhy?

hvjcjfchxuyf.jhv.m

Oh Come ON!

4:30 am. Seriously?

True Evil Never Sleeps

Well, there has to be some explanation for waking up at 2 am. It's especially vexing since I'm on so many sleepy time meds right now.

I have passed out sitting up, trying to watch the same movie with Handy J two times now. (Black Sunday, if anyone cares. Don't ask me what happens. Apparently I just snore right through it.)

Joined a gym for a month. Just to see if I can make myself go. Had the obligatory training and "assessment" with a gym dude. He was very nice. I must be really aggravating for personal trainers to talk to because I already know just about everything they have to say.

I know about; weightlifting to increase your resting/basal metabolic rate; rotation of muscle exercises to allow for recovery and gains; working the large muscle groups hard to get quick gains; circuit and cross training to make weightlifting aerobic; blahblah spotmecakes.

He tried really hard to sell me on a personal trainer. And I think I could really benefit from it, if for no other reason than I will show up if I'm obligated to meet someone. (So much easier to ditch a workout if it's just you. At home. Hiding under covers. Watching Netflix.)

Trainers are also good because you don't have to think and plan your workouts. So it's less mental energy. And less dread. Each workout is a surprise, which helps with motivation.

And even though the rates are hella low, it's still too much money. The gym requires you to book a 28 or 52 week increment. And if you want a trainer for 3 times a week, it really adds up. Thousands of dollars.

Sigh.You know, I wasn't even thinking about getting a trainer till he did his whole little song and dance. This is a completely fabricated conundrum.

I can probably find a strength training program online that incorporates muscle confusion and such.

I'm also gearing up to go at it with my Endo Doc again. I think I need to try some dessicated "natural" hormone instead of levo (Synthroid). Doctors have been trained to hate and distrust dessicated hormone. The big argument is that it isn't properly regulated, so you can never be sure of the potency from dose to dose.

And if you've had cancer, they get real twitchy about changing up your meds. There's always that spectre of looming relapse on the horizon, and no doctor wants to be responsible for 'reactivating' you cancer.

Sigh.

I won't bore you with the long history of thyroid meds, but here's an interesting article about natural thyroid and a controlled study.  I believe the article author to be biased, but that doesn't change the science part.

Did I mention the personal trainer took me through a brief workout? That nearly killed me?

3 sets of walking lunges (no weight, knee tap--ugh)
3 sets of squats (no weight)
40 sit ups on incline bench with medicine ball passes
2 sets of overhead press 40lbs
1 set of overhead press with decreasing weight but constant motion (this actually nauseated me. by the time you get down to 10lbs your arms are shaking and you can barely do a rep. i have to investigate this method)

My legs were like jello afterwards. I had trouble going down stairs. I think my quads and glutes are mad at me. Which is fine, because those fuckers haven't acted right in years, so there.

I applied for 13 jobs in one day. I have so far received on rejection notice. It's nice that they took the time to acknowledge my application. But it's very frustrating to not know why I'm being rejected. I was crazy qualified for the position.

Sigh.

Ooo.....I just leaned back and noticed those incline situps worked my transverse abdominus. Yay!

I'm gonna give the acupuncture/herbalist a second shot today. See what they suggest. They have some mojo going on about having a "damp heat" or "dry cold"---but from what I can see, the diets are basically hardcore clean eating. Elimination of processed foods, refined sugar. Eating lots of whole foods. No dairy.

You dieters out there know the drill.

Anyhoo, I will be consulting with them today. Maybe they can stick some needles in me and shock my brains out. Hee.

Pointless post is pointless.

Spreading The Joy

This is want I want to do for a living. So very much.

Description from Wikipedia:

QI (Quite Interesting) is a British comedy panel game television quiz show created and co-produced by John Lloyd, hosted by Stephen Fry, and featuring permanent panelist Alan Davies. 

Most of the questions are extremely obscure, making it unlikely that the correct answer will be given. To compensate, points are awarded not only for right answers, but also for interesting ones, regardless of whether they are right or even relate to the original question. 

Conversely, points are deducted from a panelist who gives "answers which are not only wrong, but pathetically obvious,"typically answers that are generally believed to be true but in fact are misconceptions. Points are also often deducted if an obvious joke answer is given. These answers are known as forfeits, usually indicated by a loud klaxon, flashing lights, and the incorrect answer being displayed on screen as a form of humiliation. 

SEE Stephen Fry try to play school master and fail fabulously.

SEE the XL episodes where all the naughty bits are left in.

SEE Alan Davies subtly undermine the game.

SEE Rob Brydon advance his faux science and mock seriousness.

SEE David Mitchell devolve into a ball of "angry logic."

SEE Sean Lock get pissy and bored with intelligent participants.

SEE Jimmy Carr deadpan through every innuendo.

SEE Phil Jupitus and Bill Bailey sing, dance, flirt, and just be AWESOME.

 But don't take my word for it:

 And of course, THIS happened. I love to see a grown man cry:

A Man Like Me Is Dead In Places

That other men feel liberated

Here's some randomness for you.

This always makes me smile:

This is beautiful and quite surreal. Science is so cool.

Guess what? Wal-Mart may not have the lowest prices after all. There goes your excuse. Now STFUP and shop at Target.

Ricky Gervais, our lord and savior, muses about the nature of creativity. I wish I could make a living mucking about.

And our header comes from this, which has been stuck in my head off and on for a week or so.

Online Job Appliction = Flames of Fury

I appreciate the convenience of online applications, I really do.

But the friggin forms these people come up with--ARGH! You can only choose from their drop down list, and the the item you want to choose is never there.

AND after having you painstakingly dissect your resume and parse out the information to different boxes/pages, they ALWAYS end up asking you to attach AND paste a copy of your resume in some hellish unicode text field where Formats Go Horribly Wrong.

I don't even want your stupid job anyways.

Didn't See That One Coming

Today I was intent on spacing out and watching lots of BBC since I would have the house to myself for awhile.

But two intense phone calls later, and I'm on a course of internet research and logistic coordination for my peeps on the other side of the country.

My aunt, ex wife of my uncle, has always stayed close to the family. It was my parents' house she came to when she was sick with cancer. It was my mom she called to keep in touch. She died unexpectedly. Probably badly.

I always think of her as  the strawberry blonde I first met. I thought she was so beautiful and glamorous. She knew how to do hair and makeup and she always looked good.

She also had a kinda goofy, warped sense of humour that would catch you off guard. Her life was tough, really tough. And she was brave and bold in situations where other people just give up.

I don't know what to say. I'm not sure what I feel. This is just some fucked up shit right here.

She appeared, in my own weird way, in a poem i wrote a long time ago.

July 12, 2005

what is there left, at the end of a day
but to look to the right, and deign to say
"there but for the grace of something i don't know
swiftly, surely, i must go."

perhaps not grace, but twenty years hence
you find yourself, not twenty but p'haps
merely twelve and a pence
would shuttle you to this dire mishap

all doomed failure, all reckoned to ruin
sealed with a kiss, affection's misdoing
till finally the damn breaks and no dike will save
a faithless pauper from a spiritless grave

for karma's a wheel, and we're all underfoot
but reflection might leave one to believe
that the terrible entropy was somehow mistook
for some sad fate's soft reprieve

Did You Ever Wake Up With The Suspicion. . .

. . . that you must have been having an amazing dream, because you feel so calm and content?

I love that feeling. It vexes me that I can't remember the dream material, but it's still a very pleasant way to awake.