Howie and I were doing the dishes last night. He was putting them in the dishwasher and I was going along behind him putting the dishes in their correct places. Finally he looked up and glared at me. I admit, sometimes my OCD gets a little out of hand.
"Don't beat me," I said after a moment.
"I'm not going to beat you until your neck is better."
"It's good we can meet in the middle like that."
"It's all about compromise," he said as he continued loading.
I love YouTube. [via: Towleroad]
Hey. Just a quick note to let everyone know, my neck is on the mend. Good thing too since I dialed back my dosage of the muscle relaxer today.
The worst part about all this (at least since I got on the medication) is that I've spent the last three days flat on my back in bed... and not in the good way. It's been boring, and if not for the many episodes of The O.C. I've watched (to say nothing of all the episode I have remaining to watch) I think would have lost my mind by now.
(Written by guest blogger, Scooter)
Sure, she styles herself Ma Kettle in a Wal-Mart pantsuit, tossing back shots with the boys down at the Peckerwood Roadhouse and barnstorming all over the back country in a 1969 Dodge Charger. Well, I hate to break it to ya'll, but Hillary ain't exactly a blue collar backwoods gal.
According to her family tree, Mademoiselle Rodham (aka, one of the little people, just like you) is the great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of Antoine-Marie-Francois de Navarre (that's a dude, WTF!), a descendant of the kings of Navarre in FRANCE.
You know, France, the birthplace of brie, white wine and gay-sounding names. As a matter of fact, Hillary's family tree is loaded with French people, like Pierre Belleperche, Jacques Duguay, and Étienne Campeau.
So keep this in mind when you go to vote, West Virginia and Kentucky, we don't need no blue-blooded snobs, with their high-handed European ways, running our government. Obama has a weird name, but it ain't French.
(Written by guest blogger, Scooter)
I'm sorry, but Hillary Clinton was the one who said we should all check out Saturday Night Live for their take on the media's supposed kid-glove treatment of Barack Obama. When she did that, she was making the case that a comedy skit is a fair measure of an election. Rather than view it as a piece of comedy designed to evoke laughter, she saw it as a work of political analysis that should be considered and valued for its insight. I thought it was grasping at straws and wanted to say, "They're not supporting your campaign, they're just trying to be funny. Don't read too much into it."
Now that SNL has lampooned Clinton as a sour-loser and joked that her supporters are racist, the Clinton camp seems to be in shock, as if a dear friend has suddenly turned on them. Folks, it's a TV show. All they care about is ratings and audience share. And I've got more bad news so you'd better sit down. It's about the Easter Bunny.
I heart John Roberts.
And my mom.
See last year's Mother's Day video after the jump.
And call your mother!
I'm sort of in a "good news, bad news" sort of place this morning.
The good news is, the pills I was given yesterday to repair the torn muscle in my neck have worked wonders. Praise be to (insert your preferred deity name here) my will to live has returned.
The bad news is, between the muscle relaxers and sleeping flat on my back to keep my neck muscles lax, I realized I have sleep apnea. Twice last night, I stopped breathing in my sleep and woke up gasping for air. And one of these times, there was a particularly horrible nightmare along with it.
Rewind one week.
I was carrying a box up a set of stairs for my friends, Robert and Drew. It wasn't that heavy, and certainly no heavier than thousands of other things I've carried in my life. But then, these things don't have to make sense.
When I got the box upstairs, I unloaded half of it where I was asked to, then took the box with its remaining contents to a hall closet.
Twenty minutes later, after a quick rest, a stab of pain erupted just below my left shoulder blade and worked its way up the left side of my spine and into my neck where it decided to take up residence.
I took some over the counter pain reliever and figured it would be better soon enough... and it was. Yesterday, my neck was still a little tight, but at least it didn't feel like there was ground glass in the base of my skull.
Then, I woke up this morning in unbelievable pain.
Howie finally took control of the situation, insisted that enough was enough, and made me go to Urgent Care where the very nice UNC doctor told me that I'd torn a muscle in my neck. It was able to mostly heal in the last week, and then it was reinjured last night.
So, he sent me off with two incredibly powerful prescriptions and much finger shaking over not lifting anything heavy, or spending more than 30 minutes in front of the computer at a time for the next week.
In other words, blogging is going to be light for the next seven days.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go apply wet heat, get medicated, and spend the rest of the day watching the first season of The O.C. on DVD.
Can you believe I've never seen it? Seriously.
My apologies to those of you who don't find Nazi humor particularly funny, but this made me laugh so hard, ramen came out of my nose... thus I couldn't stop myself from posting it. [via: Andrew Sullivan]
Unless otherwise noted, the images on this blog have been gathered from the internet and are used for illustrative purposes only.
