Powerful Erectioons

My spam's getting exponentially more wacky. Now the bizarre animated mental image the subject "Powerful Erectioons" paints in my head aside, I'm now getting crooned to in my spam. I feel like I'm being spoken to by a pervert with Down's Syndrome.

Hi Lucy,

Are yooooou satiiiiisfied wiiith your siize?

Is yoour maaaaate happy?

If nooooot, we've goot the aaaanswer for yoou.

Good grief, it's like some twisted fantasty novel dialect, mixed in with a Scottish brogue. "We've goot it! The engines canna handle it! Och, aye!" Okay, so that's the extent of my Scottish dialect.

But you know what's REALLY worrying? Why someone named "Lucy" would be concerned with her "size", particularly in regard to "powerful erectioons". Or maybe "siize" is something I, as a woman, SHOULD be concerned with. In which case, should I worry that I'm not? Oh spam, how you challenge me.

Quotes and Surgeons

The quotes are stored in a HUUUUGE file (seriously, I think I have, like, 2000 of 'em) and the Blog selects one at random every time you load the page, so apart from refreshing and cycling through until the one you want comes back up again, there's no real way to see anything that came before.

That said, because I am such a colossal geek, I believe I've identified the quote. I think the one you're referring to is something like, "I swear, if I could make her head explode using only the power of my mind? That's what I'd be doing right about now." And that would be Dawn, from "The Body".

As for the update on the surgeon, I did indeed call and I did indeed schedule an appointment, although not for three weeks (they wanted to make it earlier, but they chose THE day I have finals, and this was the next available one). That said, I am not at all certain I'm going to go. I haven't had any really major attacks lately and I'd never had them before ... After doing some research, I'm HOPING I have atypical gallstones, for which surgery is not necessary. However I know doctors, and I know that their answer to this is going to be "Oh well, let's just cut it out anyway." Which is all well and good, but I'd rather not have the bile dripping directly into my COLON for the next 60 years or however long I have left.

So, as of yesterday, I'm on a HUGE diet change (and lovin' it already, lemme tell ya), and we'll see how things go. I have those three weeks until the doctor's appointment ... if nothing much happens between then and now, I do believe I shall cancel and just take it from there. Money saved, AND all organs intact! All I'm sacrificing is what tiny bit of love I had for food. Life is never easy.

ARR!!

<excited gasp!> For no particular reason I know of, I decided on a whim to type in "pirates" in the little search box thingie at EBworld and what do I see but exactly what I was looking for! ...kinda.

Waaaaaaay back when, we're talking 6th and 7th grade, I was hooked on a game called "Pirates!" and, its sequel, "Pirates! Gold". Loved the thing, would spend hours and hours on it. I don't have it anymore, I've no idea what happened to it, or if it would even run on my machine today (since it was probably for the Tandy back then), but what do my eyes see, but a modernized remake of my belov'd game! Hell, I didn't even know it was Sid Meier game, but now I do I'm even more stoked.

Oh, wannit wannit wannit. Must wait 'til November but wannit.

Unravelling the Mystery

I just got this piece of spam:

Now and then, bullfrog for fetishist conquer jersey cow about.He called her Fritz (or was it Fritz?).Furthermore, related to wheelbarrow sweeps the floor, and particle accelerator behind play pinochle with toward rattlesnake.Indeed, boy of a big fan of ball bearing of.

It was unique because for one brief, fleeting moment, it made sense. Sort of like how when I watch 2001: A Space Odyssy, every now and again I almost understand it. Then I try to focus and it's gone.

All of this, and without the Vicodin. Just imagine if I'd popped one first? What a wonderful world this could be.

And now, the news.

I have gallstones! Whee! And I get to call a surgeon on Monday! Oh, happiest of happy days! <does cartwheels of joy>

So pretty.

My first really bad post-horrible-day stomach cramp decided to arrive about thirty minutes ago. I have combated it with two Vicodin.

My world is so good right now. I want to give you all a hug. No really. I love you, man.

Our next contestant on The Waiting Game ...

It seems like every single time I have an appointment somewhere, I either, a) barely make it in time, or b) make it in plenty of time and then spend the next nineteen hours waiting, regardless of when I have an appointment. Today actually ran smoothly, which surprised me. We made it to the hospital in next to no time (MapQuest, I love you), and were probably waiting maybe five minutes. Which was actually a little irritating, as I'd brought my laptop with me, just in case, and had only managed to begin scripting a new scene when they called me. (Really, I wrote "Buffy in mid-fight with vamp" then got called, and that was that.)

The ultrasound itself, not so thrilling. I was sort of hoping ... I dunno. The only ultrasound stuff I've seen has been on TV for babies and stuff, and while I concede that this is COMPLETELY different, I guess I was expecting a guided tour of my innards. "See this greyish blob? That's your spleen. Oh, and this other greyish blog? That's your colon. Colon, meet Jet Wolf. Jet Wolf, meet colon." "Hi colon." "Hi Jet Wolf."

But not so much. It was more, "Lie down. Be squirted with this really odd stuff that's cold for about three-tenths of a second then gets REALLY warm, and now lie there and breathe ONLY when I tell you to for the next twenty minutes." And then at the end of it all, she's like, "You'll hear from the doctor in a couple of days." Very anticlimactic.

Still though, my theory is that if she didn't go, "Okay, breathe, now hold-- OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT?!?", then it can't have been too bad.

Now the fun part of waiting for the results. And the even MORE fun part of waiting for the bill. I'm prepared for much bitching when #2 arrives, and you should too!

I'm happy to announce, by the way, that the pain has almost completely disappeared now. My stomach's still really jumpy, but that could just be from the anxiety of anticipating more pain than anything. It's hard to tell. But isn't that typical? I'm about to shell out hundreds of dollars for something, as of right now, isn't bothering me. I admit at least minor irking at that.

Oh, and before I depart, Mike felt very strongly that I should mention how apparently the woman squirting my tummy with the weird gel stuff did so with all the dignity of mustard on a hot dog. Boy, don't I feel sexy now?

Too early for news.

I very much wanted to make a little song for this morning. Something to the Wizard of Oz tune, but "We're off to see the ultrasound guy, the wonderful ultrasound guy of St. Vincent" didn't flow too well. As in, at all. But the sentiment is the same.

Although isn't it funny how, on and off for the past couple of weeks, I've been getting myself up at 5:30, 6am, and today when I have to get up at 7am, I'm dragging and just want to stay in bed?

And how was YOUR Monday?

Well, for a day that started out pretty ordinary, things took a fairly dramatic turn this afternooon.

But first, some backstory.

About four or five days ago, I began to be plagued by stomach craps after pretty much every meal. Nothing really major ... I mean, not pleasant, by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm by and large a "wait it out" type of person and haven't seen the inside of a doctor's office in years.

Well the "wait it out" method decided it was going to go all evil on me today.

After lunch, things were running smoothly, then suddenly, there the cramps where. I sighed and continued attempting to write this Dawn and Giles scene which was actually coming along fairly well, I pause to complain. Then the cramps suddenly became something more. More intense, more uncomfortable. More nauseating.

A particularly unpleasant conversation with the porcelain god later, and my previously irritating stomach cramps had escalated into OHMYFUCKINGODJUSTKILLMENOW cramps.

You ever had a pain so intense you didn't realize it was making you cry until you noticed your cheeks were wet?

I'd love to put a time frame on how long this lasted, but I really can't. I'd venture a guess of anywhere from 20 to 60 minutes of me wandering around from room to room, actually trying to get away from the pain, trying to lie down, bend over, sit, and having NOTHING work. I think I may almost have passed out at one point, and I know that my breathing was getting so erratic I did almost hyperventilate, which from a detached standpoint, was a new experience and fairly interesting.

Finally, the pain died down, and life began to look a little bit less like a cruel pratical joke. I was trembling, sweating, panting, whimpering ... not my finest moment.

Afraid that I might actually have to go somewhere, I hopped in the shower, and while I was in there, it went away completely. I don't think I've ever been so relieved in my entire life. Of course, that lasted for all of five minutes, perhaps, when I could feel it building again. Rushing now, I only JUST managed to get myself out before I revisited DefCon Agony, and spent the next indeterminate amount of time all but writhing on the bed (actually, I may have been writhing, I can't quite recall). Luckily I don't think this bout lasted quite as long, but it didn't grant me the painless reprieve either. And what was worse, the pain was getting so bad now that it was actually exhausting me.

I managed to drag myself into the computer room and call up hospitals, just in case. And just as well, as Round 3 began to start. This time I called Mike at work and asked if he could get away to come with me to the doctor (because I admit it, when I get in pain I can be a huge baby and I wanted my Dork Boy), which I think panicked him just a tad, but he was a trooper and within about 15 minutes, we were pulling into the parking lot.

Skipping the boring suffering-in-waiting-room stuff, it turns out that I probably (emphasis on probably here) have either, 1) an ulcer forming, or 2) gall stones. And aren't both pleasant!

To rule out the later, I have an ultrasound scheduled for Wednesday, and in the meantime, I have a lovely bottle of Vicodin sitting downstairs. One of which I think is starting to kick in, cuz I'm startin' to feel gooooood.

No more pain. That's my wish for the rest of this week. Oh, and if I could still finish up Ep7, that'd be GREAT.

But I'll settle for no pain. Please?

Atom-Free

No, no Atom or RSS ... if you guys think it'd be super spiffy keen, however, I can look into getting it set up. Particularly when I get over my "I am dull and cannot possibly have anything of interest to say" mood, which is where I've been of late because I suck an' my brain hates me.

Anyway, not that I have any idea how to do the RSS thing, mind, but I'm fairly confident I can figure it. Thanks for the suggestion.

Disturbing Mind Theater

I think it must've been horror movie night at Jet Wolf's Mind Theater, cuz the nightmares? All night, all the time. I'd be jerked awake by one, only to finally slip off to sleep again once I'd calmed down sufficiently and land smack dab in the middle of another.

And it's not like we're talkin' "Night of the Living Friday the 13ths on Elm Street this Halloween". No no, my nightmares are always of the Extreme Mind Fuck category. Kinda tedious. Kinda not restful. Kinda pissy today.

And it's a pity, too, because I think I enjoyed the, oh, ten minutes of actual sleep I got. My mind haaaaates me.

On the upside, however, I just received a piece of spam entitled "spumoni philosophy". Ahh yes, the ancient and time honoured study of Italian ice cream and its impact on the human existence. Maybe I'll take that as an elective next term.

Listening To:Run - Four Star Mary (in my head)

Looking Forward To:Finishing up this first scene for Act 1 in Ep 7. It's a monster.

Tara, now with sauce

<snerk> Checking the stats for HoF, I decided to follow one of those automatic Google translation links. This one appears to be in Spanish, and goes to 4Paws. Amusing enough, but the translation for "Willow" has me dying.