Hyperhidrosis

Okay.

The other day my palms were abnormally sweaty. I did not know why and I found it a bit concerning because maybe sweaty palms are the sign of a heart attack or something. So I looked up sweaty palms online and oh my dear lord. It turns out I am not alone in my sweaty palms plight:

www.sweaty-palms.com - This one features a very dapper Dr. Reisfeld (and his very dapper headshot) He is “a world leader and pioneer in the field of hyperhidrosis (the sweaty palms thing)”. This is impressive. Until you realize that it is probably not too difficult to be the world-leader in a field that no self-respecting medical professional would specialize in. “I spent 12 years in college and now I’m a doctor.” “Wow, what area do you specialize in?” “Sweaty hands.” “Wow, you are really doing god’s work.”

www.curesweatypalms.com - Featuring the friggin’ “Center for the cure of sweaty palms” - THERE IS A CENTER.

www.sweatypalmsinfo.com - Do you avoid shaking hands with others because of excessive sweating or sweaty palms? Are you embarrassed to meet new people because of excessive sweating? Do you sweat during your sleep, when you are alone, or even when you are not upset?

www.sweatypalms.org - “Persons with palmar hyperhidrosis often seek treatment because the condition almost always causes great distress, which may impair their quality of life causing numerous psychological, educational, and occupational problems.” – Honestly, we live very very very blessed lives when this is causing people psychological problems.

www.handsdry.com - With, I swear to god, the tagline “You’re not afraid to hug, thanks to Dr. Jim Garza.” And then it shows attractive people touching hands. Because if you visit Dr. Garza you will not only get dry hands, but you and the people you date will become attractive. Sign me up!

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Oh, and another thing happened today. A song got stuck in my head for no real reason. I haven’t heard the song in probably 10 years or so, but for some reason it made its way into my brain and it was all downhill from there. Especially considering the song was a song called “Rump Shaker”. And it actually features the lyrics, “I like the way you comb your hair UGH! I like the stylish clothes you wear UGH! I like the little things you do UGH! That make me want to get with you UGH!”

It made me think. When I’m 50 and I turn on an oldies station am I going to hear the real songs from my youth? “All I wanna do is zoom zoom zoom and a boom boom, just shake your rump!” (at least I think that’s what they say, the zoom zoom, boom boom part is unclear.) This makes me a little excited to listen to the oldies stations when I’m older, but it is also a little sad, because the oldies stations now are so innocent and even when they are referring to bad things they are referring to them in completely metaphorical, hidden ways that only the high people can understand. There just isn’t much mystery in “Let me see you shake your rump like a rump shaker.”

I found the music video on YouTube, I heart YouTube and it’s randomness. Anyone under the age of thirty and over the age of like 22 (and who isn't offended by shaking rumps) might enjoy it, anyone else should probably skip it. Oh, and be prepared to have the song stuck in your head for 3 days…it’s really a classic piece of American music.

Target is Evil

It is 8 pm. I have a Halloween party to go to in like an hour. I do not have a Halloween costume. I go to Target. I do not get a cart when I enter. Because carts = money spent in Target. I am there to get a Halloween costume and that is all. Pay no attention to the other aisles, there is nothing to see there, keep moving.

Why do the damn Halloween costumes have to be all the way in the BACK of the store? Meaning I have to pass by SO MANY AISLES OF GOOD STUFF on my way to the costumes. But I am strong and avoid veering off track on my way in. I grab a costume (this year I went dressed as “The Last Costume at Target” (Well, it was really one of two last costumes, but the other costume was one of the guys from Dukes of Hazzard, which was basically just a flannel and a cowboy hat. While this looked comfortable, I doubted anyone would understand that I was supposed to be a character from a TV show from 30 years ago.))

I head back up to the register. I will be strong, I will not veer off track, I am just here to buy this-oooo, candy corns. Candy corns are tasty and festive. I’ll buy just a bag of these and be on my way to the register where I will check out and just buy these two things and-oooo shelves. The kind that appear to magically hang on the wall all by themselves, I love those shelve. I need shelves, I’ve been saying how I need shelves, so this isn’t an impulse buy, I really need them, and so I should buy them. I should buy like five of them. I will stack them on top of each other and then put the costume on top of that and then the candy corns on top of that and I will go to the register and be done with this store and be-ooooo the frame aisle...

I get up to the register and I am balancing what has now become a teetering pyramid of merchandise. I am walking slowly and concentrating hard on not losing control of the pyramid, because it feels like it can go at any second. I see a Register Lady waving me down, letting me know that her register is open. She looks at me carefully as I balance three aisles of stuff and she says, “Uh, are we out of carts?”
“No, your store is evil.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t come in here and spend less than $200. I didn’t get a cart so I wouldn’t buy anything.”
“That plan didn’t go very well.”
“It did not.”
After she finishes scanning my tower of purchases she smiles and says triumphantly, “Only $142, that’s under $200.”
“That’s not bad for a Halloween costume.”
“No, imagine how much you would have spent if you had a cart. Speaking of which, let me go get you a cart so you can get all of this stuff to your car.”
“No, I got it, I should carry it, so I fully appreciate what I just did.”
Then my phone rings, it’s my friend, I answer, “I hate Target.”
“Me too! I just left the one by my house. $113.”
“I spent $142.”
“It’s a bad bad place.”
“But you know I saw a big sign on the wall that says they give $2 million to charity every week, so we really were just donating to a good cause.”
“Exactly. And with my Target card I get to pick a school that I want money to be donated to and I picked our old high school.”
“It’s all about the kids.”
“They are who I shop for.”
“We are amazing people.”
“Honestly, we should win awards or something.”

Tums

This picture falls under the WHYYYYYYYYY? Category here on the blog. How many times have you eaten a Tums and as you were crunching down on what tasted like a mix of wall and dirt you thought to yourself, “Geez, if there was only some way to make this into a liquid, that would be awesome. I’d drink it all the time. Because if there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to do was draw out the process of taking a Tums, and maybe make a whole snack/coffee break out of it.”

Tums are bad. We’ve accepted this and moved on, because heartburn is badder. Please Tumspeople, it is time for you too to accept that you make a horrible tasting, yet functional product. There is nothing to be ashamed of in that. There is something to be ashamed of if you continually try to make said horrible tasting product taste like Random Flavored Horrible Tasting product. I had a Tums the other night. And you know what? Very rarely have the real blueberries I’ve eaten in my life tasted anything like a wall, so please, STOP with the flavoring. And liquifying.

Thank you.

Chef

This is what happens when I cook.

I can’t even cook bacon in the microwave.

It is a sad, sad thing.

It is a thing on fire, too.

Bacon on fire does not leave the most pleasant smell, FYI.

And it doesn’t really allow you to keep the plate either.

Yet another casualty of my cooking.

Me not cooking is not just me being lazy.

It’s me taking the necessary precautions to not hurt myself or others.

Wonders of the World

I am very busy. I have very much work to do. I am counting down the days until I am no longer in this state and am instead traveling the world in an effort to save it. And an effort to learn Spanish.

It is in times like these, times when I really can’t remember the last day I didn’t work for at least 12-16 hours, that I find joy in the little things. They are the things that make me smile before diving back into whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing on the computer.

Here are some of the little things that make me happy, and I do hope they make you happy too.

............

My Old Roommate and I have a favorite sushi place in town. They know us there. There is a waiter there named Sun. We laugh every time we go in because his name is Sun, my name is Dawn and the Old Roommate’s name is Sommer. We are a bright bunch the three of us. It really never gets old, the whole playing on the name thing.

Anyways, Sun is about the happiest, most friendly guy ever and I just love him to pieces. Last night I ordered a thing called mochi, which is an ice cream-like thing that you can get at sushi places. It is awesome. I asked Sun if I could get it to go because I’d like to eat it while I’m up until all hours of the night making things pretty. You can work up quite an appetite making things pretty.

Sun looks at me with worry, “How far are you going?” “Not far, like 10 minutes away.” “Oh, well, they melt very fast, I don’t want them to melt on you. I’ll figure something out.”

Then he comes out with this to-go box. It’s hard to see what it is, but it is my mochi ice cream on ice to keep it frozen. How cute is Sun? I felt like I was transporting an organ for transplant. And to be honest, the pick me up those damn ice cream things gave me at 3 a.m. was similar to an organ transplant. (And please no comments on them actually looking like organs)

............

This my dear, dear readers is the best thing I’ve come across in a long time and I need to share it with you because I believe the answer to world peace is to be found in this picture. The reason why I got my mochi to go? Because we decided to try a new dessert in the restaurant: Tempura Ice Cream. Holy crap this is good. I have no idea what is on the outside of it exactly, but I think it’s some sort of batter. The batter tastes like a blueberry muffin. A deep fried blueberry muffin. With strawberry ice cream in the middle. And whip cream on top. Holy crap this is good. As Sommer said, “I was not fully prepared for it to be this good.”

............


This is like the Clapper (clap on, clap off, the clapper) for a bit classier bunch. I can turn my light on and off with A REMOTE. The world is full of wonder people.

............


I don’t know that anymore needs to be said about this. Other than it is probably the best part of my condo.


Happy Friday everyone, may your weekends be filled with fried ice cream and easy toilet paper rolls.

And Speaking of MRI’s

Who the hell invented this MRI machine? And what kind a sadist was this person exactly? Have you ever been in one of these things? My lord. I imagine they can be quite unpleasant for people. For me, not so much, but as I was laying there for a half hour I had some time on my hands and I began thinking about how many ways this could suck for someone else.

1. It’s really loud. Really really loud. I’m deaf, so it didn’t really bother me much, but I’m thinking hearing people might be slightly annoyed by the loud banging noise the machine makes for the extended period of time that you are in it. I actually found the noise to be somewhat hypnotic and a bit like techno or trance music. It got its beat and didn’t let it go for a half hour of banging. I’m thinking this could severely annoy some people. Me? I started making up songs to the beat. Rap songs, because the beat was so fast. But really, is all that noise absolutely necessary? There is no way to get a picture of my knee without making a noise similar to a nuclear bomb being dropped every millisecond?

2. It’s really tiny. Really really tiny. This is bad for two reasons:

a. People are claustrophobic. I have been known to actually climb in cupboards and close the doors in order to take a nap, so I am not really claustrophobic. But I’m thinking that most people do not enjoy being put into a tube the size of a small coffin and being made to stay there for a half hour at a time. Just a hunch on that one.

b. People are big. Look I’m not exactly Mary Kate Olsen, but on the scale of human beings I’m hovering around the smaller side of the scale. And I was barely fitting on the MRI tray that is meant for people to lay on. I’m laying there looking at how close everything is to me and all I can think about is how the hell a huge football player guy fits on one these things. Hell, how does an average 200 guy fit on one of these things? Doesn’t is seem like the inventor of a machine should take into consideration who is actually going to use the machine? Luckily the night I went there was just me and the Small Asian Woman getting MRI’s. But I imagine some nights they might have to use Crisco to get people out of those things.

Or maybe they just figure the coffin feeling and insanity-causing trance blaring would be enough to get anyone out of the machine, even if they were 350 pounds.

MRI

So I went to get an MRI on my knee the other night. I go to the big medical building and I ask the nice nurse where the MRI’s are done. He points downstairs. So I go downstairs. It is late, 6:30 in the evening, and everything is closed at the medical building because normal people go to doctor’s appointments during the day. This is not the first time it’s been made clear that I’m not normal.

I go to the office with the MRI #1 sign outside. But it is locked up, all the MRI’s had gone home for the weekend. As I’m looking in the window, trying to see if maybe there is someone inside, waiting to scan my kneecap, I hear shuffling behind me. I turn around and I see a Small Asian Woman shuffling towards me. She is having difficulty walking. And she too is looking for the MRI.

So the two of us start wandering this huge medical building, looking for an MRI. We go back to the nice nurse and he very nicely escorts us out of the building and points us in the direction of an MRI trailer that is outside. I leave the Small Shuffling Asian Woman and jog to the trailer to see if it’s open. It is not. The Small Shuffling Asian Woman is still shuffling when I return and tell her that that MRI is not open either. We try to go back into the building we were escorted out of, but we were escorted out of a door that only allows you to leave, it doesn’t allow you to go back in. So me with my bad knee and the Small Shuffling Asian Woman with her bad something on her right leg begin to hobble around the perimeter of the damn building back to the front doors.

At this time I remember there being a #1 next the MRI sign downstairs. This means that maybe there is a #2 down there too. We hobble back down the stairs and look around for #2. Instead we find a sign that reads “A new and improved MRI office is being built and is coming soon.” I point at the sign, “It’s coming soon.” The Small Shuffling Asian Woman says, “Do you think it will be here by 7? That’s when I have my appointment.”

We then see a man who looks MRI-ish coming out of a door that says something about MRI’s. We ask him if there is a machine on the other side of that door that we are supposed to be in. He says no. He says to go up to radiology, they will be able to look up our names in the computer and see where we are supposed to go.

We’d already passed radiology like 4 times.

We go up to radiology and hobble in. There is a Woman Doctor Lady sitting in the waiting room watching the TV, obviously waiting for something or someone. I go to the Receptionist Lady and say that we are looking for the MRI office. The Receptionist Lady asks me when my appointment is, I say 6:30. It is now 6:50. This upsets the Woman Doctor Lady and she begins to throw a small tantrum because I’m so late. “Oh, God! Geez! Man!”

“Uh, is this where I’m supposed to be?”
“Oh God! Geez, you’re so late, man!”
“Uh, well, I might have been a little more prompt if I hadn’t wasted so much time going to all the places in the building that say MRI and instead just come directly here, a place that doesn’t say MRI at all.”
“Exhale of breath in a dramatic fashion.”
“Seriously, put up a sign or something, we were hobbling all over this damn building.”
“Whatever. (Exhale of breath)”

Then the Receptionist Lady asked me what the Small Shuffling Asian Woman’s name was.

“I don’t have any idea.”
“You two aren’t friends?”
“Well we bonded over both being lost and in need of an MRI, but I’m probably not going to send her a Christmas card.”
“Exhale of breath from Doctor Lady”

I turn to Doctor Lady and feel slightly sorry for her, because she is trying to out-bitch me. And that is not really something that’s doable. It’s actually kind of fun for me, because not many people have the argument capabilities as me nor do they have the inclination to pick fights with strangers. This limits my verbal sparring with really just my father. And quite frankly after 28 years I’m bored with his game.

So me and the Doctor Lady had to walk back outside, away from the building, down to another trailer. And the whole time we were arguing. I could tell she wasn’t very good at having people argue back with her, she’s used to just being a bitch and having people cower. Me? Not so much on the cowering. So we are walking out to the MRI machine, doctor and patient, walking past hospital personnel and other patients, and we are having quite a loud exchange of words. We got some interesting looks.

Eventually I got on/in the MRI and I remembered that she said something about taking off all metal and I panicked, “Oh wait, here, my hearing aides, they are metal.” I pulled them out of my ears and handed them to my nemesis in fear that the giant metal contraption I was being put into my suck the hearing aides right out of my ears.

Weirdest thing ever?

As soon as I handed my hearing aides to the Mean Doctor Lady she instantly became Friendly, Warm, Caring Doctor Lady.

Why?

Cause I’m handicapped? Because my loss of hearing suddenly means that she is not allowed to be bitchy with me anymore?

Or...Because she knew she could now say anything she wanted to/about me and I couldn’t hear?

Bitch.

Working is fun

Holy crap I've got a lot of work to do.

This would seem very bad if I didn't know that I will be work-free and travel-heavy in November. November is my light at the end of the tunnel.

My god have I made a lot of things pretty these past few weeks. Pretty is in high demand apparently.

I have nothing to write about and no brain power to try to come up with something.

Here is a link to my book's website though:
www.nonrunnersmarathontraining.com

Tell everyone you know. Or not. Whatever. I'm going to bed. So that I can get up and repeat the pretty-making.

Life

Here is a galley of the book. It seems as though we are inching towards an actual book. All very exciting.

Tonight there were more board games played with the child. The game this evening was good old Life. You can’t go wrong with Life really. It’s fun. You know what’s even more fun? When you read the directions and realize that you are supposed to collect your payday every time you pass over the Payday box, not just when you land right on it. This was good thing to know, because we didn’t know and both of us were hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt before we even got halfway through our life. Although that might be a little more accurate to actual life.

I think that someone needs to come up with a realistic version of the game of Life. I can’t imagine no one has thought of this before. Because the game could be a hell of a lot more entertaining if you ask me. And more realistic.

First of all you HAVE to stop and get married. I HAVE to? Where is the divorce space on the board? Or the “Your spouse is found humping his secretary collect $50,000 in alimony” space?

I picked Artist as my profession. I made 40 grand a year in the game of Life being an artist. Not to mention I got 10 grand every time the kid spun a 1 (she was buying my artwork (she’s a big fan of it apparently, she bought it like 4 times)). I’m thinking that 60 grand a year for being an artist might be a bit misleading to the kids. And then I got to buy a beach house for $110,000? Where the hell is this beach exactly? Iraq?

So basically in this game I was an artist who made 60 grand a year and only had to spend $110 grand on a beach house, which I shared with peg husband who I was forced to marry and my twin children who insisted on driving in my car until I retired. What little mooches.

Honestly, if someone hasn’t come up with a realistic version of Life I think that is a million dollar idea. Where else are kids going to learn about real life? Certainly not from Candy Land.

Pictures for Your Health

Today I have some pictures for you. You know how I love a random picture.

I took this picture in the hallway of the huge Kaiser medical building I go to for doctor’s appointments. Hello. This is not making me feel healthy. And this is not the only door with this on it either. They are all over the damn building. I guess if you are going to catch asbestos a hospital is the best place to do it. I know I felt safer. And much more healthy.


And speaking of poor health, here is a picture I took in the drive-thru at Del Taco. Really. How do people not just keel over after eating this? Who is sitting around thinking, “You know what would be great and pretty much the best idea ever? If we combined french fries with sour cream. And chili!” You know what? I think that the diet industry probably helps fund fast food places. Because if people would perhaps just stop eating approximately 5000 calories at a time then maybe there wouldn’t be quite as big a need for the billion dollar diet industry.

Of course I would be making all of these grand statements while taking pictures in the drive thru. And lets just say I wasn’t in the drive thru strictly for the photography opportunities.

I think this is the best picture ever. I think that all food should look like a scientific photo of what your arteries will look like after you eat the food. That is a brilliant idea. Not to mention quite educational. And quite tasty when dipped in syrup.

Best Role Model Ever

I got the kid some new board games the other day. Because we have been playing the same damn board games for like 7 years and I’m quite bored with them. Pun totally intended. If I Herded my Horses one more time I was going to start slaughtering the horses, and then you kinda lose the innocent fun intended in a board game.

So then. We went to Toys R Us and bought a few games. Can I just tell you that board games aren’t cheap? Three games cost me like 60 bucks. Geez. If we were buying them more than every 7 years I might think that $60 was too much. But then again, I would pay just about anything to stop Herding the Horses.

We bought a couple good games, a card thing and the gold standard “Life”. But then we also saw this game:


Mall Madness. How much fun does this look? And I don’t even like to shop. My favorite part is the white-haired chick who is saying “Chaaaaaarge!” Seriously is this not the best thing ever for a child? I really think that it’s never too early to teach the kids how to stimulate the economy, even when you don’t have any money in the bank. “Chaaaaaaarge!” indeed. Love it.

Then we set up the game. We barely had time to actually play the game after we set it up for a good hour. Look at this thing:


Can you tell that it is 3D? It is. There are two floors to this mall and it even has escalators in the middle. And right by the escalator is a little slot labeled ATM. Where you can go and swipe your card and it tells you how much money you get from the ATM. You have to use up your turn to get to the ATM, but it is a little unrealistic because you can go back as many times as you want and get more money. This is not exactly how real ATMs work. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Another great thing about this game? No dice. Who has time for all that silly rolling and adding up of the dice? Not me. I’m too busy yelling “Chaaaaaaaarge!”. So you just push that button in the middle and it tells you how many spaces to move.

Seriously, this is the best, most positive game ever. Thinking and stimulating kids’ brains is really quite overrated. That’s what PBS is for. This is game playing time, we don’t have time for adding or anything remotely enriching!

Anyone need a babysitter? I’m available. I’ll bring over the new Casino Craziness board game I bought, it will be a great time.

A Story

I use what is called stock photography for a lot of my design work.

This is photography that is on a website and is available for download by people such as myself who make things pretty and need pretty pictures to help them.

I go to my photo website and I search for the particular photos I need by typing in one or two words that describes what I’m looking for.

One of the sites I use has very risque pictures that always seem to find a way into my selection of photos.

It’s not like I’m searching for “boobs”.

Yet, somehow at least one picture of a naked woman pops up with every search.

For example, the other day I searched for “cord”.

Which seems innocent enough.

One of the pictures that popped up was a naked woman standing in the desert with a her hands covering her southern lady parts (her northern parts were being left unattended).

Oh, and she had a vacuum cleaner next to her with its cord wrapped around her leg.

Some call this confusing, others call this art.

I have gotten used to the random naked people who pop up when I am searching for innocent, politically correct photos, but some other people wonder why it is that I have naked people on my screen so often.

This amuses me.

The other night I was working late and I was looking for a close-up of a siren, for a piece about firemen or something.

When you search for “siren” about 90% of the pictures that come up are naked women - as in va va voom siren, I’m guessing.

I downloaded the siren I was actually looking for, then I went on with my work.

A client came in later that evening, in a frenzy because she needed a word changed on something that we had made pretty.

She sat down beside me and guided me through the difficult task of changing that word.

After we were done she continued to sit beside me and stare at the screen.

In an effort to indicate that we were done, I minimized my design program.

And below my design program?

My search for sirens.

The client didn’t say anything specifically about the 25 naked women (and two red sirens) on my screen.

But she did finally get her cue to leave.



Happy Friday everyone.

Suspicious

I went to the knee doctor and SUPRISE! he scheduled me for two other appointments. That’s all medicine really does, refer to you other medicine. I think they are trying to weed out those who aren’t really sick or hurt and who will give up after a meager 12 doctor’s appointments without actually curing anything. Ahhh medicine. So next week I have a physical therapy appointment to try to do something about my knee and then I have an MRI to see if there is something more serious going on. MRI’s, unlike X-rays, have appointments at 6:30 in the EVENING. I already enjoy the MRI.

In other news, I’m pretty sure my neighbors two doors down are involved in some sort of animal slaughter ritual. I’ll explain and you tell me your thoughts.

One day right after I moved in I noticed that these neighbors had their garage door opened only about a foot and were standing in their garage spraying it down with a hose. Water and soap were flowing out of the garage. This seemed a little weird, but I suppose sometimes people clean their garages with the garage door almost all the way shut, who am I to judge my new neighbors, so I moved on with my life. Then a couple days later the same thing happened, they were spraying down their garage again. And then a couple days later again. And it hasn’t stopped.

Why on earth would someone need to spray down their garage on a basis that frequent? Animal slaughter is the only real explanation. Initially I thought they might be killing people, not animals, but then the cleaning was so frequent I figured there was no way I wouldn’t have heard about that many people going missing. I mean, there would be stuff on the news if a person was being abducted every other day, right? Right.

My dad said that maybe they have a large dog that they keep in the garage. This makes a little bit of sense, but since when do large dogs crap so much that you have to scrub and spray down their area every other day? I mean, I could see once a week maybe, but unless this dog has some serious diarrhea issues, I don’t see how they’d need to scrub up after him every other day.

So I’m convinced it’s animal slaughter. Or a severe case of OCD. Either way, keep an eye out on the news, if you don’t hear from me for a couple days check the garage two doors down.

Medicine for Dummies

It’s only like 12:30, but I gotta go to bed pretty soon. Tomorrow I have to get up and go to a doctor’s appointment at some ungodly hour. It ain’t right I tell you. Why exactly do they only do knee x-ray’s at 8 a.m.? And why do I keep making these appointments thinking that I might actually get out of bed and make it to one? Tomorrow could be the day. We shall see.

I really have to go get my damn knee checked out because it is not normal to not be able to go up or down stairs without pain and to not be able to run more than one mile without it feeling like someone is stabbing you in the knee with a knife. But it’s also not normal to get up at 7 a.m., so it seems to me as though this doctor’s appointment is already causing more problems than it is solving.

I do so hope my doctor’s appointment tomorrow goes as well as the one last week. Cause that one was awesome.

I went in because I’ve been dizzy for over a year. And, again, I don’t think this is normal. Whenever I move my head at all, AT ALL, I get dizzy. It is tons of fun. Driving? So much fun. Anything besides laying down? Dizzypalooza. My regular doctor thought that this might have something to do with my inner ear, because my ears are so jacked up and why not blame another problem on them. So I go into the ear, nose and throat doctor and she proceeds to tell me that I probably need an appointment with another doctor, but in the meantime I should do these exercises to help strengthen my neck and head, or something.

These are some of the actual exercises:

Eye Exercise: Looking up, then down - at first slowly, then quickly 20 times. Looking from one side to other - at first slowly and then quickly, 20 times.

(Uh, this isn’t helping the dizziness)

Head Exercises: Bend head forward-then backward with eyes open-slowly, then quickly 20 times. Turn head from one side to other side - slowly, then quickly 20 times. As dizziness improves, these head exercises should be done with eyes closed.

(Really. Did I mention that I get dizzy WHENEVER I move my head?)

Standing: Change from sitting to standing and back again, 20 times, with eyes open. Repeat with eyes closed. Throw a small rubber ball from hand to hand above eye level. Throw ball from hand to hand under one knee.

(Yeah, cause standing up doesn’t make me lightheaded at all, let’s go ahead and do it 20 times in a row.)

Moving About: Walk across room with eyes open, then closed, 10 times. Walk up and down a slope with eyes open, then closed, 20 times. Walk up and down steps with eyes open, then closed, 20 times. Any game involved stooping or turning is good.

(A slope? Where exactly does one find a slope? And a slope that I am comfortable walking up and down with my eyes closed?)

Do you know how many years of medicine was studying by the people who wrote the above suggestions for helping me get rid of my dizziness? I always knew school was overrated. “I have an idea! How about we try to cure dizziness by having the patient do EVERYTHING that makes them dizzy! Maybe this will scare the dizzy right out of them, or maybe they will become so incredibly dizzy that their normal state of dizziness will seem mild and completely okay in comparison!”

Tomorrow I’m hoping to come home with a sheet of paper that recommends repeatedly hitting my kneecap with a hammer in order to make it feel better. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Help

Sometimes when I send an e-mail the e-mail gets kicked back because it couldn’t be delivered for some reason. Every time this happens I crack up. Because this is the e-mail that I receive:

“Hi. This is the qmail-send program at yahoo.com.
I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses.
This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.”

Seriously what is it with computers trying to act like they are people, with feelings and genuine emotion? Who is designing them to do this? And why? Do I need to feel like my e-mail is “sorry it didn’t work out”? I’m thinking no. I think I’d be perfectly okay with my e-mail if it just sent me a boring e-mail saying “Your e-mail to so and such didn’t go through.” I don’t really need to think that my e-mail has such an investment in my e-mail delivery that it feels like it’s “given up” when an e-mail doesn’t make it to its intended recipient.

This e-mail emotion thing is exactly like the automatic, voice-operated lady at AT&T, “Hmmm. I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.” She actually SAYS, “Hmmm.” Whyyyyy???? She isn’t thinking, she isn’t confused or frustrated, she’s a COMPUTER. A computer who is making me very confused and frustrated and is making my slam my phone against the wall, which in turn makes a sound that confuses in frustrates automated lady.

And do you know that automated lady is for sale to whoever wants her? I called another number the other day and got the Annoying AT&T lady and I about just threw my phone out the window as a result, just because I knew that any conversation between the two us always ends up in both of not knowing what the hell is going on.

And speaking of extremely helpful help lines: I’ve yet to receive a SMUD bill. SMUD is one of the electricity companies here. It’s one that I’ve paid a great deal to over the years. Maybe all those payments made SMUD a big fan of me and that is why they haven’t billed me yet in my new place. They are so sweet, that SMUD.

I tried to set up a SMUD account about 5 times, 4 of which came before I moved in. Each one of those 4 times I was told that my condo didn’t exist in SMUD’s computers. The 5th time I called I was actually living in the condo. When Help Lady asked me if perhaps I had the wrong unit number I replied, “I’m living in the unit, there is a number on the door. I’m pretty sure it’s the right address.” Then the nice Help Lady said that she would send someone out to manually switch my account, or something. I said, “This is the 5th time I’ve called, how do I know this is actually going to happen this time?” Help Lady said, “BECAUSE, I’m telling you it’s going to happen.” To which I said, “Alrighty then.”

A month later I still don’t have a SMUD account. I do have electricity though - so I imagine someone is getting a bill somewhere. People have been telling me I really need to call to check out the situation, because with my luck I’ll probably end up getting a lump bill for $50,754 when they finally figure the whole thing out.

The sad part is that I hate help lines so much that I’m willing to pay a huge lump bill, just to not have to deal with both automated and real Help Ladies. And frankly I just don’t think my phone, or my wall can take anymore helpful machines and people.