Cranky Fibro Girl

Harnessing the healing power of snark

Apparently, My Powers Have Some Limits

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Because today, I broke my website. And you know what did me in? Pride.

Last week I took a quiz to determine just exactly where I fell among all of the deadly sins, and here were my results:

Greed: High
Gluttony: High
Wrath: Medium
Sloth: Medium
Envy: Medium
Lust: Very Low
Pride: Very High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

This will of course come as no surprise to anyone who is married to me, is related to me, went to school with me, is friends with me, was friends with me, has ever worked with me, or has ever passed by me on the street.

And if there is anything about which I am prideful, it is the correct use of grammar, and my own personal correct-grammar-using-abilities. In other words, I am a Grammar Snob.

Just two weeks ago on vacation (VACATION!) I declared to my husband that I could not bring myself to eat at the Western Sizzlin’ because its name is composed entirely of adjectives and contains no nouns. (Fortunately for him, he packed lots of tequila.)

So today I asked him to install a new plug in on my blog that would change the way that the comments appear on each post. He did, and everything was fine until I saw that for some reason, it generated the following sentences: “[x] and [y] have already leave comments. Why don’ you?”

Well, there’s not enough tequila in the world to make that acceptable to a grammar snob, so I took it upon myself to just go in and “correct” the grammar written in the HTML code. Because everyone knows that having a Master’s Degree in Spanish and being able to write beautiful, densely packed, grammatically correct paragraphs in two languages means that you are also an expert in computer code.

Not.

Fortunately my husband, the person who actually knows how to write computer code and who has pretty much built this entire website for me, was able to fix it, with only a minimum of eye-rolling, whistling, and use of the phrase “screwed the pooch.”

And because he loves me very very much, and because there is some tequila left over from vacation, he also fixed the grammar for me too.

Is It Wrong…

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…that when I went to the eye doctor yesterday to get contacts for the very first time ever, and the lady teaching me how to put them in and take them out said, “Wow, usually it takes people an hour to learn how to do this, but you learned really fast!”, that I felt an immense surge of pride in my superior contact-putting-in-and-taking-out skills?

Or, on second thought, is that just kind of sad? Just like the fact that yesterday evening I took a shower, got dressed to go out, did my hair, put in my contacts, put on my glasses, and then thought, “Holy cow! After all I’ve been through today with my eyes, why the heck can I not see?!”

I guess these are just two more links in the longstanding chain of evidence which proves that I will never, ever, ever be cool, as least not as the world defines it.

Isn’t It Ironic-Don’t Ya Think?

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Today marks the 4 week anniversary of my hiring a personal trainer and-even more importantly-my actually showing up for the appointments.

I finally got tired of being unhappy with my body, and I decided that if I were going to figure out how to fix that on my own I would have done so by now, seeing as how I’ve had the past 33 years to try.

I had very specific requirements in mind for the person who would fill the role of my personal trainer. Specifically, they had to be someone to whom I could say, “I hate you, you evil sadistic bastard!”, and they would say, “That’s fine. You’re still doing squats.”

OK, so I would never actually say that out loud to anyone. But clearly I am speaking volumes with my eyes. Because occasionally as I’m working out my trainer will tell me to start a new exercise, look at my face, laugh, and then say, “I know. You’re welcome.”

So I’ve been doing really well this last month. I’d love to have dramatic photos to post here for you, but while I personally can see differences, they are not yet pronounced enough to produce a stunning visual contrast. But I did reach an important milestone today-I received my first training injury.

And if you know me At All, you will know exactly where this injury occurred. Yes, that’s right: I hurt my ass working out.

“Hm,” you might say. “I didn’t know that there was anything to hurt in your ass.”

You would be wrong.

Listen. Can you hear it? That is the sound of the Universe laughing.

(“Hm, so you like to use the word ‘ass’ as much as possible in your stories, do you? Well OK then-here ya go!”)

How Far The Mighty Have Fallen

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I personally do not believe in using bumper stickers to express my most deeply held beliefs and opinions for all the world to see. But that doesn’t have to do with bumper stickers themselves, so much as it does the fact that my personal opinions tend to change at the speed of a teenager with ADD playing “Burnout Revenge” after consuming 5 cans of Code Red Mountain Dew. And so that is why God made blogs. And people with no long-term memory.
[Read more…] about How Far The Mighty Have Fallen

Happy Birthday!

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Unfortunately I was a little too miserable to notice before, what with the sinus pain and pressure, and the White Hot Nail Of Agony piercing my eardrum, and The Doctor Who Did Not Believe Me, but last Monday, June 12th, was the one year birthday of my blog!

I always knew I could produce an almost unending stream of words pretty much on demand, but who knew I could come up with enough actual funny stories to fill up an entire year?

So I just wanted to take a moment to mark this occasion, and to thank all of you who read this blog. Because without you, I would just be jibber jabbering out into nothingness.

Here’s to another great year!

How Does Your Garden Grow?

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Up until a few years ago I used to go around bragging all the time about how I had a “black thumb”. Unfortunately it was true that I was spectacularly unsuccessful in keeping alive things like plants, flowers, and a beta fish. But I never realized until recently just how weird it was that basically I was saying, “You know, I just want to tell you how excited I am about this special talent of mine where I am really good at killing living things.”

Looking back now I really don’t know how my husband and I ever had enough confidence in our abilities to take in and nurture living creatures other than ourselves, given the fact that every time he goes out of town on a trip he has to sit me down, look me in the eye, and remind me to continue eating while he is gone. Or the fact that once my husband was in serious stomach pain for like 5 days, and it wasn’t until the day when he could no longer stand up straight and was walking around the house bent over at a 90 degree angle and I could actually physically overpower him and force him into the car that he went to the doctor to get treated. [Read more…] about How Does Your Garden Grow?

Rebel Yell

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I’m sure it will come as no surprise to any of you to learn that I have an extremely well-developed inner rebel. But the weird thing about her is the the things she chooses to rebel against.

For example, I will happily dump every single trash can in our house, tie up the garbage bags, and deposit them outside the kitchen door in the garage. But I absolutely refuse to take those same garbage bags and place them in the big trash can that we take to the curb every Tuesday. I just now went outside and checked, and it is exactly 24 extra steps from the kitchen doorstep to the trash cans. I refuse to walk 24 extra steps because I believe that in doing so, I am winning some kind of moral victory. (Please know that I never said any of this is rational.)

Fortunately I am married to a man who is afflicted with this same issue. But where my rebellion is up front and in your face his is more passive, so you don’t actually realize what’s going on until you notice for the 2 bazillionth time in a row that, Under No Circumstances Whatsoever will he retrieve clean towels from the linen closet and hang them on the hooks in the bathroom.

I’m not really sure what this proves other than the fact that if, as I am, you are the firstborn child of 2 firstborn parents, married to another firstborn child of a  firstborn parent, that there will occasionally be moments in your marriage when you both act like rams who are continually smashing into one another, horns locked in mortal combat. Except that you’re not fighting for anything important, like a mate. You’re just fighting to defend your right to be stubborn about really stupid stuff.

My inner rebel also showed up A Lot in my work life, and I’m sure you can imagine just how much my employers enjoyed that. It did not matter what rule they made; I was an expert in finding a way to react with moral outrage and righteous indignation, thus allowing me to feel totally justified in completely ignoring said rule.

However now that I’m in my 30’s I’ve been thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could try to do things a little differently. And so for the last 7 months I have been taking a class to actually become certified at this profession of being a Life Coach. And that is also why I have been absent from my blog for the last week. This Tuesday was our 2 1/2 hour final oral exam, and while I do excel at totally-making-things-up-as-I-go-along and pulling-things-out-of-my-ass-at-the-last-minute, I thought that perhaps I should actually prepare for this exam, so as not do undo all my hard work of the last 7 months (and the 4 months before that).

And so I am very happy to report that I successfully managed my inner rebel, and now I am officially a Certified Life Coach.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming of humorously commenting on all of the goofy contrasts that we, personally experience in life. (And thankfully, there are lots.)

I Can Think Of No Funny Titles For This Post About Math

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The other day my mom called to tell me that she met a guy at her office who graduated from Wake Forest the same year I did. She said she asked him some questions about himself to see if he and I had ever “crossed paths” while we were in school together, and when she told me that he was a math major I just laughed hysterically because I knew that the answer to that question was a resounding “no”.

Ever since I was 12 years old math has been the bane of my existence. And I’m not exactly sure why that is. All I know is that up until that point I did just fine in math, with no kind of math inferiority complex whatsoever. Then my family moved to another state, and somehow in that move I lost my ability to do math.

It’s just so weird. I mean, it’s not like the time I had to take 4 migraine pills in one 24-hour period and subsequently lost the ability to put on my own pajama pants without my husband’s assistance. In that situation I could clearly pinpoint the exact cause of that loss of ability. [Read more…] about I Can Think Of No Funny Titles For This Post About Math

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

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Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there just are not words to describe just how much I love my Black Berry.

I bought my Black Berry last year as a birthday gift to myself, and I have enjoyed it so much over the past year that sometimes it causes me to spontaneously burst out into verse:

“I think that I shall never see/a poem as lovely as my Black Berry.”

or song:

“Oh Black Berry, Oh Black Berry, how lovely is thy keypad.”

My Black Berry is like a tiny, tangible talisman of love. Whenever I hear it vibrating away as it receives some email I think, “Hooray! Someone wants to talk to me!

Of course to hear my husband describe it, my Black Berry love is less adoration and more addiction, but what does he know? Sure I like to have it near me at all times so as to instantly be able to access my emails, even to the point of keeping it right here on my desk with me as I work on my computer. And yeah, so maybe I did ask my husband to drive me down the mountain on which my in-laws’ house is located on Christmas Day so as to be able to receive a signal, despite the fact that they have wireless Internet connection at their house and I could technically do whatever I wanted or needed to do on my laptop. And yes, perhaps there have been times when I’ve awoken in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and have been seized with the uncontrollable urge to check my email despite the fact that I don’t actually know anyone who emails me important information at 3 am.

And don’t even get me started on Instant Messaging and Text Messaging! (Oops! Please excuse me for a moment while I wipe the drool off of my computer screen.)

But anyway, the point of all of this is that now I can stay in constant communication with all the people I like without actually having to speak with them on the phone. Because, and this has been a deep, dark secret of mine for a LONG time, I am a “phonophobiac”. Yes, that’s right. I am afraid of calling people on the phone.

For a long time I was even terrified of having to place my fast food order into those speaker boxes they have in the drive-through line. But I was soon cured of that because, let’s face it, what doesn‘t an order of McDonald’s French fries cure?

If you’re reading this and thinking, “What?!”, don’t worry. You’re not alone. I’ve only met one other person who understands this fear of mine. Everyone else just looks at me as if I’ve just said something like, “You know, I’ve found that having to breathe in and out on a regular basis is really just too much for me to deal with.”

I recently tried to explain this to my family, but they just gave me The Look. You know, the one that says, “I hear the words you’re saying, but they’re…just…not…making…any…sense.” (Incidentally, this is a look that I am VERY familiar with, as I frequently see this same expression on the faces of my tutoring students.)

“So,” ventured my dad slowly, struggling to understand what I was saying, “is it getting any better?”

“No,” I sighed, rolling my eyes so hard that I temporarily severed important connections to my brain, “the whole point is that I finally realize that I don’t have to get better. It is OK for me to be this way. I am finally coming out as a phonophobiac!”

“So, you’re embracing it,” offered my brother, who is himself a Professional in The Art Of Being Unreachable By Phone.

“Ex-actly!”

And all was well for the next hour or so, until I heard my mother calling up the stairs for me to pick up the phone so I could talk to not one, not two, but THREE people on the phone ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

So you’d better believe that the gods of irony are going to be hearing from me about this, just as soon as I figure out how to reach them electronically. Um, does anyone know how to IM the Universe?

You Get Me, You Really Get Me

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The other day I went to go see my hairdresser. I needed his help because I was going to get a head shot taken for my website, and I needed him to Do Something with my hair. I like my hair because it is naturally curly, but the downside of having curly hair is that if I were Native American, my Indian name would most likely be “Human Delivery System For Giant Poof Clouds Of Frizz.”

I am happy to say that he was able to do his magic once again, and I was very happy with the result. As I was getting up to leave he said, “I had to use a lot of product today, because your hair was wanting to be a bitch.”

YES! Welcome to my frizzy-headed world.