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Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Rock-Making, Wrist-Breaking, Penis Envy and a Disappearing Roommate

Apparently I took up the temporary hobby of rock-making yesterday. I would advise not keeping garlic bread under the broiler for twenty minutes. Yeah, I did that. That was me. I got distracted by a conversation with my daughter and then I started smelling the smoke. On the plus side I couldn't smell the overdue cat litter (I got around to that today). On the minus side, food wasted. Charred food is a carcinogen, and I'm just not adding to my risks for cancer when it's not like I'm going to enjoy the taste of it anyway.

That's the one thing about my cooking that isn't so great. I have a very limited attention span, and I'm impatient. I actually stand in front of the microwave telling it to hurry up. Again, yeah, I do that. That's me. I'm one of those people. Of course, I yell at other drivers while I'm driving, too. They can't hear me, but it's a way of venting. People think road rage is a bad thing, but I think the unheard screaming is helpful. Nobody knows, you get out your frustrations, and you're not a physical danger to anyone.

In my case I'm more of a physical danger to myself than to anyone else. A few years ago I unknowingly cracked a bone in my wrist. I didn't remember doing it, and had it for months before I finally went to see why my wrist hurt. They gave me a rigid brace for it while it was healing, but then it didn't heal properly, and then there was a ganglion cyst involved. They removed the synovial fluid with a large-bore syringe (not comfortable by any means, but livable) and injected cortisone with the same needle. It didn't help and I developed a weird rash from the cortisone - took a few months to disappear. I went to a specialist who recommended surgery as an option, but I chose to ignore him and get on with my life. I was more concerned about my other issues, and even now they're still taking precedence.

Be that as it may, I was playing with my ferret, Pepper, last night, and just happened to move my hand in the wrong direction. It really hurt, but I didn't think a lot of it. I'm kind of used to pain, and most of my old injuries will give me a reminder every now and again, so I basically ignored it and figured it would go away. It hasn't. It looks like I might be up for some additional surgery. The orthopedic surgeons are going to make a fortune off of me. They've already removed my tailbone. Now they've got two hip surgeries and a potential wrist surgery.

None of this kind of stuff is going to be helpful when it comes to having any sort of dating life, of course. I've got so much crap going on that I don't even know where to fit everything anymore. I'm certainly not opposed to dating anymore. It's just that the more things you have wrong with you, and the older you get, the less bloody likely you are to even meet someone who's interested, much less someone who is remotely compatible. For one thing, I'm a feminist. My dating pool is limited strictly to men who will not treat women like they're worth less than men. For another, I'm an equal rights advocate, whether it comes to race, religion, or sexual orientation, so this leaves bigots of any sort right out of the loop. On top of that, I love animals, so any guy who doesn't isn't getting anywhere near me...or my ferret.

Of course, there are the ones who are afraid of strong women, who think that all feminists suffer from 'penis envy'. (Yes, I used scare quotes - get over it.) Here's a free bit of advice for those men. Most women have zero interest in having dangly things wobbling between their legs, and women who are interested in men in a sexual way are usually only interested when they're not dangling - lesbians I would think have zero interest altogether. The closest a feminist comes to having penis envy, is the envy we feel at the ease with which a Caucasian penis will open a door. Again, yeah, I did that. That was me who said that. Beyond that, though, what is there to envy? That's an extremely vulnerable piece of equipment down there. Not only is it vulnerable to injury, such as you would get from a kick to the crotch, but it's also very vulnerable to laughter. It doesn't stand up well to that - see what I did there?

Granted, if my ex is going to be living here, that may make dating even more difficult, because who is really going to understand that? Especially at first when you're getting to know someone, and they have no idea what the real situation might be. Of course, I think he's been here all of 24 hours in the last week, so I'm not sure it's even going to be an issue. I haven't seen him in days. I've talked to him, so he's still alive, but he just has some of his stuff here right now. According to him he's still planning to live here, though. We're apparently sharing the apartment with The Invisible Man. Best roommate ever.