What I've been up to lately...

I got sick.
I hate being sick. It is so rare for me to ever feel even the slightest bit off, so a little sniffle turns me into a tantrum-throwing big baby. I was been sniffling and throwing pity parties and sniffling for a full two weeks. Me? Sick?

Went to the grocery store and threw a whole mess of lotions and potions and pills into my basket. I came upon the "unstuff my head before I hack it off" aisle and targeted the Sudafed. The problem with a sick me is that I can't take the majority of cold/cough/flu medications as they contain ingredients that induce most unpleasant hallucinations. Not Sudafed, though. I noticed that "real" Sudafed can only be sold from behind the pharmacist's counter now, and, as we all know, that's where the good stuff is! Having not had any reason to purchase a decongestant in the past decade, I could not remember why one is now required to sign for real Sudafed and limited to a set number of purchases each month.

I learned about meth.
Ah, that's it: meth. Now, I'm a very curious person. Many things fascinate me, and many, many more attract my curiousity. I've long accepted that the fact that I query "how?" or "why?" instead of "ewwww!" to just about anything is a bit unusual. Evidently, meth uses real, honest Sudafed as a base for the drug. Now, most people would wonder why someone would choose to ingest a subtance, but I...well, I wonder how the heck someone decided that cooking up chemicals X, Y, and Z would produce a far out high, man.

I also wonder how someone learned that coffee berries ingested, digested, and execreted by a cat makes for the world's best cup of coffee. But that is a story for another day.

Plant-based drugs - pot, hashish, opium, cocaine - those all make sense to me. Find a plant, maybe dry it out or crush it or something - then get it into your body. Sensible. Logical.

But whisking up a brew of cold medicine, nail polish, alcohol, gasoline, drain cleaner, ether, fertilizer, salt, battery acid, and hydrogen peroxide?

I would love to meet the inventor of meth just so I learn how he did it and why. I am tempted to think of the inventor as sort of an Ikea designer. Ikea designers say, "we need a table that costs $35." The design doesn't happen until after the price is set. Cost is the constraint. I suspect that the local CVS was this inventor's constraint. "We need a fun drug that only contains items sold by CVS." Or something.

I just want to know what the inventor's thought process was. That's all.

I imagine he's six feet under, though. Meth will do that to ya.

I got better, then un-better.

Finally, I felt better. I woke up and had zero need for anything beginning with "thera" or "suda." Then I tripped over my feet and slammed my head into the bathtub. The result? My teeth did not go through my lower lip, but I was left with a painful heckuva "that's gonna leave a mark."

It's a good thing my parents did not name me Grace.

Or Chastity, for that matter.

Kidding.

I learned how quickly lips heal.

Day 1 I really couldn't be seen in public...or eat or talk. Day 2 I was fit for a late-night drive-though smoothie. By Day 3, though, I was willing to run basic, familiar errands where I would only see clecks who would make fun of me...not ask whether I felt Safe At Home.

I want that lip-filler surgery.

If I blurred my eyes such that the teeth marks were barely visible, I rather liked the stung-by-a-whole-hive-o-angry-angry-bees look. That look is rapidly deflating - see above - and if I didn't aready know how much swollen sexy lips hurt hurt hurt, I'd be tempted.

I have no clue what I am doing for Christmas, nor have I mailed out any cards or wrapped any gifts.

The plan was to do photo cards with me and the dogs, but the bathtub incident nixed that. With no time to go homemade, I picked up a box of surprisingly lovely cards and will get them in the mail on Saturday. I just hope the post office hasn't run out of Kwanzaa stamps like they did last year. I affix my cards with Kwanzaa stamps so that the secular, Christian, and Jewish recipients won't get offended by the Virgin, dreidel, or Santa, respectively, on the envelope...after a few snippy comments from offended secularists, Christians, and Jews, two years ago, I went Kwanzaa half in protest, half in jest...and haven't heard a peep since.

Because that's what you do when you receive a card wishing you and yours well...you phone the well-wisher and get snippy.

I guess that's my issue, not yours.

Unless you're a snippy sort of secularist, Christian, or Jew...in which case, you totally have issues.

I watched the news and regretted it.

Which is why I don't watch the news. Tiger Woods? Idiot, idiot, idiot and I can't begin to imagine the pain he has caused. That photoshopped holiday card showing Elin with a golf club and Tiger with multiple facial injuries? Offensive and disgusting. Jersey Shore? Haven't seen it. Have never been to the Jersey Shore. Have zero desire to do either. That story about the child being suspended for drawing Jesus? Um, not exactly.

I'm getting everyone else fat.

I'm baking. A lot. Chocolate cookies dipped in crushed candy canes? Check. Cinnamon rolls with extra extra icing? Check. Salted truffles? Check.

I'm going to see Little Shop of Horrors soon.

This and Rocky Horror Picture Show are my absolute favorites...but the man-eating plant wins. I do so love The Nutcracker, but I could not entice a single friend into a night at the ballet.

Feed me Seymour, feed me!

What have you been up to?