Some Serious Shit

Some of my dear readers have wondered what the fuck is wrong with my ass. Although I have posted all about killing bathrooms hither and yon, I don't believe I have explained the issue satisfactorily. I have battled poop for longer than I can remember. When I was six months old I attempted to take a poop and wound up with twin scars from a double hernia. The post that explains the situation in a little more detail (with pictures!) is here. No, my belly does not look like that anymore, and hasn't for a few years. That is what I looked like at 115-120 lbs.

I believe I suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). I spoke with my doctor about it at one point maybe six or seven years ago and he slapped the diagnosis on me along with a hearty, "Sorry, can't do anything for you." At the time, there were medications for IBS sufferers on either end of the spectrum, the chronic constipation and the chronic diarrhea. In my case they had nothing. What was wrong with my bowels, you ask? I get constipated until at some point my body says, "Fuck this shit!" and I have massive diarrhea. Occasionally the cramps that accompany the diarrhea are so bad that I start throwing up, likely a combination of pain and my body being so fed up with the pollution that any usable exit is utilized.

My symptons have been mostly under control for the past five years with my gluten-free diet. The magnesium that I have been taking has combatted the effects of medication that make a normal person constipated and I have been fairly happy with my ass. I expected that going off all the medication and getting pregnant would mean a reduction in the amount of magnesium needed and happier bowels all around. Nope. I had conveniently forgotten that the most horrific bowel issues in my life (excepting the double hernia incident) have been while pregnant.

The cycle length of "no poop- OMG poop!" has been helped by the magnesium, however I am still struggling. At this point it looks like the cycle is lasting about a week. Just about the time where I am thinking, "I haven't been shitting enough lately" I am starting to notice an unpleasant feeling in my bowels and then running to the bathroom for an extended visit. I am afraid of taking too much magnesium and spending every day in the bathroom, so at this point it is a trial and error clusterfuck of guesswork.

Why am I writing about my ass in lurid detail? Two reasons:

1. Someone might read this and say, "Hey! That sounds like my ass! Maybe I shall seek help/eliminate an allergen from my diet/cry a little for our twin bowel issues."

2. Someone might read this and say. "Hey! That sounds like XYZ and I have THE CURE. You should do ABC and you will have a happy ass forevermore."

Because, at the end of the day, no one wants their life to be ruled by an asshole.

Not A Random Event

Remember the Lenscrafters technician that asked me about IVF last week? I had decided that her comment was a random event and that she was a perfectly normal human being (relatively speaking). Then I saw her again today. She was adjusting my glasses when Chicken noticed an interestingly shaped glasses case. We commented that it looked like a pill. Ms. Technician stating that in her opinion it looked like a suppository. I made a super subtle motion (pointing down to the cooterus area and then up again) to Chicken to explain what a suppository was so he could keep up with the story that was unfolding. I quietly explained that it was a medicine thing, not a fun thing.

Ms. Technician went on to state that as a child she had terrible tummy pain that was not helped by oral remedies and that she had to turn to suppositories to alleviate the issue. It was tramatic for her she said. Uh...er...um... Thankssomuchbyenow!

Don't get me wrong, she was very nice and I was not in the least offended. Chicken's face was so red from laughing and shock that I grabbed a mirror for him. The conversation made our day. As we walked out the door, I said to him, "I am SO blogging this."

Wish Me Luck

Today, Tuesday the 22nd of January, 2008 is the day I begin my Teaching Credential program at CSUSM. I am taking 19 units this semester. I'm a bit scared/stressed/worried and how the fuck do I think I can pull this off with my ridiculous, run-down, illegitimate body? Well, fine my parents got married before I was born, but STILL. I feel well and truly fucked.

*breathe in* *breathe out* *scream a little in silence* *kick helpless animals* *ahhhh....*

It will be okay. The diarrhea and fever and general fuckedness that I dealt with over the holiday weekend is over, with the exception of a multitude of noxious, burn your nose hairs type farts that are continuously emanating from my foul, foul ass. For those of you in WalMart late this evening behind me in check stand 11, I truly apologize. As they used to say "My bad!"

Good night and wish me well. I'll see you on the other side.

Bank of America Finale

I just cannot must the strength to properly finish the Bank of America post, so I will have to make do with my old friend, The Bullet and my bestest bloggy friend, The Picture. I hope you don't mind too much. Where the story left off, it was January 2, 2008 and the first stupid woman at BofA had "accidentally" hung up on me after explaining that the $1400 payment on my zero balance card was my mistake. OMG.

January 2, 2008

• I call again, and again and again. Transferred, call drops, "computers don't make mistakes ma'am"
• After 2 1/1 hours I get to a nice man that fixes most of my problem, he stays on the line while he transfers me to someone that finishes it all up
• The money should be transferred to my Washing Mutual checking account ASAP
• I will receive a letter explaining the error so WaMu doesn't charge me for the overdraft of my account.
• I go to WaMu and talk with a warm body there, she waives the fee as I do not EVER bounce checks.
  
• I rock. She rocks. Go WaMu!
  
• I am appeased, but I am still closing the credit card account.

January 7, 2008

• I receive an electronic transfer of $1400.00 into my checking account. Better late than never?
• I have not received the letter from BofA in the mail.

January 8, 2008

• I call BofA to cancel my credit card account
• I am told by the representative that I have a pending transaction for the amount of $1400.00, hence I owe them $1400
• I explain the situation
• She is stupid, I am transferred
• I am told that my bank returned the initial $1400.00
• My bank did not.
• I am told that I have to fax proof that the $1400 went through.
• I am pissed.
• I call back to talk to someone else that might be more cooperative.
• I get the same story, but this guy says I have to fax BOTH sides of my bank statement as proof of the $1400 being paid
• I inform him that I don't get bank statements in the mail (who does that anymore? Let us please think of the TREES people!)
• He is not convinced that the NSF letter will work. We part ways unsatisfied.
• I spent 1 hour on the phone. Then I write a letter, fax cover, and have TB fax it all at work.

January 10, 2008

• TB walks to the mailbox and brings home the mail. I am puzzled by this, because he never used to get the mail. He's been doing it a lot lately. Hmmm....
• This is in the mail:

• What the FUCK?! Seriously? They mailed me a check AND put the $1400 in my checking account and DUH?!
• I call BofA when I can see clearly through the haze of PISSED THE FUCK OFF
• By the way, I am totally nice on the phone to these people whether they deserve it or not
• The manager I speak with actually understands what I am saying
• I tell her to cancel the check because I am not getting off my ass to send it back
• She apologizes for the fuck ups
• I ask WTF happened and WHY and WTF?
• She has no answer, but says she will send me a $50 gift card of my choice...I pick Amazon.com
• She reports that everything will clear out in five business day and then I may call and cancel my card
• I hang up, wondering if the letter and the gift card will end up in the same place-in my dreams

I spent approximately 4 hours on the phone, plus time writing/faxing/stressing for a bank error that should have been fixed properly the first time. I will not be doing any business with Bank of America again. This was not a matter of one person doing a bad job. This was fucking from one hole to another and then back again. Isn't there some sort of etiquette rule about that? Anyway, stay away from Bank of America if you value your time and peace of mind.

---

• My driver's license says "Blue"
• Teddy Bear says that my eyes are more blue than the picture shows, but they are not true blue
• I think they should be called hazel
• I blame the eye color randomness on my mother
• She said I was "blonde" as a child, too
• I guess "hazel" and "brown" don't sound as cool
  
• I am not blogging right now, I am studying for my CSET

Bank of America Part I

This morning I was sleeping soundly in my happy little bed with my new electric blanket and dreaming of glad tidings and a new year full to the brim of puppies and snowflakes. Or something like that. I was awakened by the shrill irritation that is my new land line. I didn't ask for a home phone, I didn't want a home phone (okay maybe a little bit but shhh!) and now it had the fucking gall to RING. I detest the sound of ringing phones. It is horrid and dreadful and usually means that someone wants something or needs to say something or I have to (God forbid) DO something. So I keep my phone on vibrate and encourage the practice in others. Few people even know I have a home phone, and of course I have to go and tell the whole fucking Internets. *sigh* This has nothing, whatsoever to do with this post, except for the fact that I received a phone call this morning that woke me from my pleasant slumber.

Teddy Bear was on the line, stressed and stressing. It seems that my checking account was overdrawn by a tidy sum due to an error by Bank of America. What? Which bank was that? Oh, that is right, Bank of America. Please note this for your future banking needs. Stay away from B of A. Far, far away. Let's begin with a little back story, okay?

Over the past three months I paid off my Bank of America credit card. I had carried a balance for far too long and we (Teddy Bear) worked diligently to get out (my) ass out of debt. I paid the bulk of it, found that there was a stupid interest charge, paid it, and then another interest charge on the interest charge. The last payment was $2.05. I paid all the payments (as I always do) online, and then entered them into Quicken. I have a thing for Quicken. It makes my heart a flutter and my knees weak. Every transaction goes into Quicken. Pack of gum? Check! House payment? Check! So imagine my surprise when Teddy Bear wakes me up at the fuckall time of 9am to tell me that Bank of America had withdrawn $1400.00 from my checking account. (I must say, in my overdrawn defense that I only keep a bit of spending money in my checking account at any given time, and some day I shall post more on the crazy money ways of the TB and myself.)

Back to 9am this morning. Checking account: negative. Chicken: making Mommy a pot of decaf coffee. Mommy: on hold with Bank of America on two separate lines. Because on one line I had called ABC phone number and on the other XYZ phone number and I was waiting to see which would pick up first. At the same time TB is calling my bank (the holder of my checking account and NOT B of A) and I was online checking my Bank of America account. Which had a -$1400.00 balance because DUH they had just taken +$1400 and added it to my zero balance credit card and that equals negative fourteen hundred in the credit card world. (Um, Eliza, please skip this whole thing if you haven't already puked from the cornucopia of numbers.)

Where was I? Oh yes. On hold. For 24 minutes. Yesterday being a holiday and all, everyone needed to call Bank of America. If you are getting tired of reading "Bank of America" please understand that I am trying to put this thought into your brain: stay the fuck away from them. So... I talk to a woman from B of A and she tells me that I must have made a mistake, no problem, everyone makes mistakes, and they can wire me the money. It will arrive by mail in 10-14 business days. I pick my jaw up off the floor and attempt to explain to her FUCKING STUPID ASS that "wiring money" does not mean printing a paper check and putting it in the mail. THE MAIL. I requested that she put someone else on the phone, someone that can help me because I was not going to limp away. Figuratively or literally. She informed me that no one can help, it was not their mistake and that I could be transferred to Online Banking because it was an online transaction. I submitted to the transfer and then "CLICK" the bitch dropped the call.

To Be Continued...

New! Improved!

Now with RSS feed. THAT WORKS!!

New House

(picture removed)
Remember how I moved (September 1st) and you asked for pictures and I said "yes" and then I promptly forgot to post them? Sorry! Here is a snapshot that Chicken took of me the morning of the move. Yes, it's not the best picture of me or the house, but LOOK! house! whee!

The wall behind me that looks yellow IS yellow but not THAT yellow. If you know what I mean. Also, Jeremy commented about me posting on topics that don't really move people to chime in and talk about stuff. Any topics that I should babble about? More pictures, road trips, school, penises (peni?), the big ole hairy vagina I saw one day in the locker room at the gym? I'm having trouble thinking with all the damn writing I am doing for school. Gah, the writing about feelings and teaching and learners and curriculum and culture and diversity and bah.

OMFG. Teddy Bear just walked up to me after farting and he trailed the shit (not literal shit, just the smell of it, fresh and rotting. Can things be fresh and rotting at the same time?) and STINKS Oh Lordy STENCH, I'm dying here. Fuck (I just had to put one "fuck" in there for good measure).

Half-Nekkid Thursday Tuesday

I haven't posted a HNT in ages, and certain people (Osbasso) have bugged me mercilessly about the lack of nekkidness. Part of the problem is that when Teddy Bear takes a half-nekkid picture he does it with the professional knowledge of one that has taken half-nekkid (and sometimes all nekkid) pictures of hot chicks posing in front of hotter cars. According to him, if the pose doesn't hurt, you're not doing it right. I feel for all the America's Next Top Model girls, because DAMN it hurts when he takes my picture. But then he photoshops it to add interesting colors and layers and I don't know what the hell he does but BAM! I end up looking at the picture and saying over and over "I have a NICE ASS. A really, really NICE ASS." Of course, you don't get the full splendor of the ass because occasionally I have some modesty. But rest assured, the ass is nice.
I originally wanted to show off how long my hair has grown after chopping it off at the shoulders, but instead I had to tuck my head down just to expose my froggy tattoo. My hair is a mighty growing beast and I haven't had a haircut in five months. I also wanted to show my scorpion tattoo, so TB highlighted my two tats and managed to only catch a little bit of the crazy Sam hair. I'm fairly certain that certain *ahem* people would rather see the ass than the hair, so there you go!

For those of you that don't know what HNT is, please visit Osbasso and tell him Sam sent you. He'll catch you up to speed right quick!

You Missed It

Blog status:

Back to "normal"

Minor changes still to come.

Loathing of Blogger Beta intense.

Seems that I can't play with my labels the way the rest of you can because my site lives at a non-Blogger server. I can't use all the new drag and drop features and I can't see all the new GUI. In my world, new Blogger is the old Blogger, but now with more bugs. AND... I can't import into Wordpress like I was considering without a totally kludged work around. Poopy heads.