Can't Remember Diddly! » I just LOLd at MYSELF

OH. EM. GEEEEEEEE.

Dory — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 13:00:33 +0000

(There’s some vaguely not safe for work pictures and video if your boss is a total douche-canoe. If your boss is pretty cool, actually, you’re going to need to call him/her in to show them the knitted naughties.)

Well, hi there! *said in Ellen Degeneres’s voice as Dory*

Are you new here? FABULOUS. GET TO KNOW ME.

About five weeks ago, I had an idea. A wonderful idea. A wonderful, terrible, phenomenally hawsum idea. But at first I couldn’t figure out how to make it happen. I emailed a few of my favorite bloggers who knit. I struck out. I emailed a few IRL friends who knit. I struck out.

THEN. I got a wonderful idea. A wonderful, terrible, PHENOMENALLY HAWSUM idea. You know who could find someone to help me? My favorite bloggers who I have read since 2007. She’s probably your favorite blogger, too. And if she’s not, she SHOULD be. True story.

——

From: dory -at- cantrememberdiddly -dot- com

Subject: Something NOT having to do with knitted reproductive systems (I’m totally lying.)

Date: February 23, 2011 10:27:06 AM CST

To: jenny -at- if you want her email you need to do the legwork because I did dammit dot com

Dear Jenny,
I sent you a message on Facebook, but maybe it got lost in the shuffle. Or, my subject field, which was,”Crafting realistic genitalia for fun and profit (Seriously.)” alerted Facebook censors, which begs the question, Have they MET you?!?! :D I’ll choose a different subject for the email and maybe it won’t hit your spam filter.

ANYWAY.

Hi, I’m Dory, and I’ve been reading your blog for about three years. Coincidentally, I have stains on my hard wood floors from spitting various liquids due to sudden uncontrollable laughter while reading your blog, but, that is neither here nor there. Which makes me wonder where it is REALLY, because if it’s neither here nor there, where else could it be, I mean, besides up Al Gore’s left nostril, which is totally possible for anyone who invented the internet. Anyway.First of all, I have to tell you that you are totally my hero, actually, heroine, which is not at all the same as heroin, except now that I consider it more carefully, yes, yes you are totally my heroin. My heroine AND my heroin. I shall refrain from breaking into “You are the Wind Beneath My Wings” now, which is good because 1- you couldn’t hear me anyway and 2- I am Deaf so it would be a new and improved version of horrifying.

I have a special request. I have looked all over the internet for it, and not only did I not find even close to what I was looking for, I am now psychologically scarred for life and have wonderfully terrifying new issues to take to my therapist.

I wanted to run something by you to see if you would maybe be willing to help me. I would run it by my readers, but I have, like, 3, and they all said they can’t fulfill my request. THANKS A LOT, 3 READERS.

Ok, before I tell you what I’m looking for, you have to know that I’m a Passion Parties consultant but not one of those total crazy stalker, over persistent, 5 voicemail leaving, kind of consultants. More like the 2 facebook page having, good sale giving, sex education imparting, kind. I got into this because the job market, oddly enough, doesn’t have a whole lot of room for a Deaf whacknut. Screw you, job market, if you haven’t figured out that Deaf whacknuts would make you infinitely more interesting. Kind of like when you get drunk at a party to be more funny, except totally not like that.

Ok, here’s the deal.

I did a party Friday night, and I was trying to show the girls how one of the c-ring toys work. I was having a hard time explaining that you could put the vibrating bullet on the clitoris or down on the perineum. I thought, I wish I had a fake vagina and penis that wasn’t creepy or skeevy so I could just go “this goes here and that goes there and viola!” Then I thought, what about knitted or crocheted ones? Then they’re actually kind of cute and funny not porny and skeevy! I went on etsy but couldn’t find what I wanted. I asked a few different knitters I know, but they said that sort of project was beyond their capabilities. I even asked Schmutzie because of that cat with the butthole and the Louella the Crack Whore she knitted. She said it sounded like a really fun project but she didn’t think she had the technical know-how to do it. But I love her even though she couldn’t give me a knitted vagina and penis combo, and if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

The penis would be really easy I bet but the vagina would be kinda tricky. I think I would want to have it, like, picture a doll that got the top cut off right below the belly button (or right above and give her a cute naval ring) and then at the top of the legs so you just have the important part of the torso and pelvis. Kind of like if you took a chain saw to a mannequin except less weird. I would want it to have a tube going in for the vagina so I could insert the knitted penis. I would want it to have lips and a clitoris, maybe even one that peeked out of a small hood like a real clitoris. I would want the skin tone for both to be neutral, not white or black, maybe a hispanic skin tone. I would like the penis to be uncircumcised, and be kinda realistic with a head with a frenulum and a scrotum and about 5″ to 6″ long and an average girth so it doesn’t intimidate any of the men at the couples parties. I would like both to have dark pubic hair but not any longer than 1/2″ to 3/4″. I would like it to be the small, tight kind of knitting so the stuffing doesn’t show through at all. Maybe that tight kind of knitting is actually crocheting, I’m not sure. Hey, remember that one episode of friends when Chandler walks in and sees Rachel’s boobies through the holes in the afghan? See also: I may watch too many Friends reruns.

So I thought maybe, perhaps, possibly, you would be willing to reach out to your readers (cheese and rice, you add 35 to 40 EVERY DAY to your FB!) and see if any of them have the talent to make this sort of thing. Maybe even make it a contest or something. I’m just getting started in this so I don’t have a lot of cash and we’re about 27 seconds away from foreclosure (which is GREAT for depression by the way) but I think I would be able to offer $100 in free Passion Parties product for the finished vagina and penis. If you think it would take more, I could do $100 in product immediately and $100 more product in one month. I’m sure people wouldn’t want to do the whole project just for the chance to win, so I’m not sure how they would throw their hat in the ring, maybe submit pictures of their knitting/crocheting past projects to show their talent? plus a goofy essay “Why I Can Totally Knit/Crochet a Stellar Vagina & Penis”? I’m not sure, but I have a hunch your readers would LOVE to see the entries. Then you could choose the winner and I could give you the prize to give to your readers, I could even give it to you beforehand to show you I won’t flake out on you.

Take a look at my “Info” on my facebook profile and that should hopefully prove to you that I’m not a total douche-canoe. I have links to my blog (which I’ve mentioned you to my three readers a few different times) and my Passion Parties online catalog and my Passion Parties Facebook Pages which come in Mild & Wild just like hot wings. Except less messy and you don’t have to tip me. Unless you want to. Because we’re out of toilet paper and Tom doesn’t get paid until next week. So I’ll probably “borrow” some from the gas station restroom.

Thank you, Jenny, for listening to my verbal diarrhea and please know that if you say no you’re not interested I will totally understand and there will be no hard feelings. You have total immunity from getting unsubscribed in my Google Reader for life or longer.

Love,

Dory

——

And promptly forgot about it and moved onto other more important things, like tax refunds and finishing Lost.

But Jenny didn’t. Jenny emailed me back and told me clearly I was insane but in a good way (she TOTALLY gets me) and that she would see what she could do.

I would have been happy with that. Because, DOOD. JENNY. EMAILED. ME.

But then Jenny wrote about it in her SexIs column.

And there were comments. MANY comments. Many FUNNY comments. Many Funny HELPFUL comments.

Because Jenny and Her People rock out loud like that.

Then Jenny emailed me and said, hey, there’s this chick that wants to take on this challenge. Email her.

I was put here on this earth to do Jenny’s bidding, so who am I to disobey?

So that’s how I met Louise.

I love Louise.

Louise and I emailed back and forth a little and much, MUCH faster than I thought would happen, Louise sent me PICTURES. Pictures of PROGRESS.

I am not a crier. I got a little emotional when I saw these pictures, I can’t lie to you; I got a little misty-eyed.

Because I was so. Damn. Happy.

That hasn’t happened in a while, and it weirded me out a little at first. But then I just went with it. My heart grew TWO sizes that day.

It is absolutely amazing. I don’t mean amazing like the amazing connection the psycho bitch feels for The Bachelor. As she sobs her mascara off and ugly cries and screams and burns down the mansion.

I mean the amazing that makes me feel like good things can happen to ME.

The blogosphere is astounding and amazing and wonderful, and I am humbled by what we will do for one of our own.

Like use the power of Our People to help a little blogger. Or use the power of our talent to help someone we’ve met online for four minutes.

It’s an absolutely beautiful thing. And I’ll never forget it. Pinky swear.

So here’s what you need to know!

Here’s my shop’s Facebook Pages, Mild and Wild. “Like” one or both. I offer access to secret specials and sales there, as well as articles, tips and techniques to enhance your romantic relationships. Here’s my shop. Go there. Click Shop Online and have some fun. I’m only $23 in sales away from hitting a milestone, which would be $1500 in sales for March, and only $523 away from $2000 which would mean I would bonus for the first time and get $100 bonus. Just sayin’.

Here’s Louise’s shop’s Facebook Page. Check it out. “Like it”. Offer her a challenge. Tell her you want something weird knitted. Buy something. It will make you more interesting and better liked. I mean, look at me! Now I can be the sex toy lady with the Knitted Naughties! I feel more popular already!

And of course, here’s Jenny. Here’s the link that probably landed you here.

I love you, Jenny! In a totally non-practicing-lesbian-lover-but-questioning kind of way.

I love you, Louise! In a totally non-practicing-lesbian-lover-but-questioning-and-considering-a-threesome kind of way.

I sincerely hope that Jenny and Louise and I get to meet and hug and clink drinks together someday.

I told Louise that Jenny and I would be hiding in the Ladies Room and she would need to be on board with this, but I’m pretty sure it’s still under consideration.

But most of all, I love you, Mah Peepull. I rillyrilly do. Especially you and you who have been with me since 2007.

Because even when I’m a complete guanomaniac, you love me. Even when I go weeks at a time without inspiration to write, you keep me in your reader and encourage me when I do put something up.

*big wet sloppy kisses all around and jumping up and down hugs too*

OH. Almost forgot to tell you.

Pending a clean background check, TOM HAS A BIG BOY JOB. That pays him what him and his master’s degree and his $80k in student loans are worth. If anything bad comes up on the background check, Tom’s just going to say he was drunk. Folks will excuse you from all manner of transgressions with a well played, “But you see, I was drunk.”

My party last Friday was $837. My best party EVER. DAMN.

I’m still in shock. After all the SHIT that we’ve endured, and cried over, and prayed through, FINALLY, good stuff is happening.

Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. God, you are SO good.

Dory

P.S. Sorry if you got Google juice on you with all those links up there. But those ladies deserve it. Every single bit. You should try it. It’s linky love. It’s fun. It’s good karma. And you need to be hosed down when it’s over. You know you did something hawsum when you need to be hosed down after you do it.

P.P.S. Ok, honestly, I’m not sorry. And you should be blessed by that Google juice that got splashed on you. It feels like holy water and tastes like Lucky Charms and goes down like KoolAid.

P.P.P.S. Mmmmmmmmmmm, Lucky Charms.

P.P.P.P.S. I’m magically delicious.

P.P.P.P.P.S. And so is Embrace, the edible lube. The vanilla tastes like, (guess what?) Lucky Charms. Now, THAT shit is magical. It’s in my shop online under “Lubricants.”

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. YOU. ARE. WELCOME.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. In honor of Jenny, I’m offering a sale good thru 11:59pm Sunday night. If a sale on sex toys doesn’t say love, then I don’t know what does. Anyway. 1 person can take 25% off their order, code WOOHOO25. 1 person, 20%, WOOHOO20. 1 person, 15%, WOOHOO15. Got to www.designyourpassion.com click through to my website and click on Shop Online. Try the first one, and if it doesn’t work, try the next, etc. Have fun!

The picture:

The video:

Now they need names!

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2011. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • 9 atta-girls • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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Hint: Think Sexy 70′s Music…

Dory — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 02:22:36 +0000

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2010. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • Last one to comment is a rotten egg! • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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Step into the Wayback Machine with me: 5/4/2008 Stoo-pid is as stoo-pid does. -OR- Life is like a box of cat poop.

Dory — Tue, 04 May 2010 12:30:51 +0000

My cat is so stoo-pid.

[Audience choruses] How. Stoo-pid. Is. He.

He so stoo-pid, he chewed the cord on the LitterMaid, gave himself a pretty good jolt, and is now afraid of his own litterbox. In his feeble mind, The Potty Bit-ted Me On My Mouf.

A couple weeks ago, the LitterMaid stopped working with the pooper-scooper arm extended all the way across to the pooper keeper. I played with the cord a little bit, and discovered that it had been chewed and now had a short in it. If I fiddled with it, it would make a little connection and move about an inch and stop. It was now officially junk.

Meanwhile, one of the cats peed smack in the middle of our bed. We figured it was Elmer and that he was pissed-off [everybody groans] about something, maybe because I wasn’t scooping as often as the box used to (c’mon, I don’t care who you are, you can’t scoop every time 10 minutes after the cat leaves the box). We had to strip the bed and clean it which is a great big, pain-in-the-ass job and about as popular around here as a root canal and forgoing anesthesia for hypnosis.

I scooped old-skool fashion for a couple days and Elmer peed on the bed again. I sent Hunky to the store for a new LitterMaid and a Bissell Little Green Machine. He cleaned the bed and the BLGM worked much better than rags and a ShopVac. I dismantled LitterMaid I (AKA LandfillMatter), set up LitterMaid II, and I declared “all good in da ‘hood”. But I kept checking the new box periodically and it seemed like the cats weren’t generating as much stinky stuff as usual. A week went by and the pooper keeper hadn’t even filled up yet. Elmer peed on our bed a couple more times, necessitating stripping and cleaning AGAIN. Well, you know I was about ready to send Mr. Elmer to Kitty Orphanage, because if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s for my house to stink like cat pee.

The proverbial last straw came when Hunky was having a lovely nap on the couch. Elmer had been enjoying his favorite activity, which is laying on the top of the couch, keeping watch over his front yard; the people walking by, and the birds and squirrels brave enough to venture into his territory. I saw him out of the corner of my eye as he rose and jumped down to Hunky’s lap.

As I watched first in confusion then in abject horror, manymanymany things happened at approximately the speed of technology.

Hunky’s eyes fluttered, then opened, and his eyes got rilly, rilly big.

He jumped up off the couch holding Elmer by the scruff of the neck, an arc of pee still streaming from Elmer.

He was yelling like a Tazmanian Devil. I couldn’t tell a single word he was saying.

I jumped up and yelled, “What do you want me to do?!” mostly because I had to yell over him to make myself heard.

He continued his Tazmanian Devil impression on the way to the basement door where he tossed the cat (he didn’t hurt him; don’t sic the ASPCA on us) down the stairs.

Doors slammed.

Cat mmmrrrOOOOWWWWed.

Much yelling and groaning and gnashing of teeth.

It wasn’t pretty. At all. By any stretch of the imagination.

Something had to be done.

In a last ditch effort, I bought a cheap, simple litterbox in a different color than the Scary Potty. I filled it up for him and showed him where it was, and right away he got in and hunkered down. Well, now I’m all, mentally high fiving myself and doing a little victory dance in my head, chalking up Dory 1, Elmer 0. But he sat there for over a minute, and I’m thinking, day-um, that’s a lot of peeing. But then he got up and walked away and there’s two tiny little drops for all of his effort. Now I’m thinking, ok,now he’s stoo-pid and broken.

Hunky took him to the vet. When I picked him up, the vet explained that he had a nasty bladder infection. Every time he tried to pee for about the week prior, it must’ve burned horribly. She gave me antibiotics and some special food that cost more per pound than a nice New York Strip steak. I ordered this cranberry medicine from 1-800-Pet-Meds to go in his steak/food. So now Elmer is on the mend, I guess. He’s still not peeing much yet, but his course of antibiotics isn’t finished.

So here’s my theory: when his Potty Bit-ted Him In His Mouf, he started holding his pee to avoid it, and consequently developed a bladder infection.

He’s still terrified of the litterbox, of course. We’ve tried a cardboard box filled with shredded paper shavings. We’ve tried holding him close to the new cheap litterbox and offering treats or scratching his neck just like he likes. But he still won’t use it.

Because his feeble mind, My Potty Bit-ted Me In My Mouf AND Has A Scary Mean Monster Hiding In It That Bit-ted Me In My Junk.

Too bad there’s no medicine for stoo-pid.

Where’s the research grants for that? Surely it’s as big a problem as erectile dysfunction.

I bet we all could think of a lot of folks that would benefit greatly from some IStoopidium DA.

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Time for some Blog Stew

Dory — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 13:30:35 +0000

10 days went by without me posting, and you know what that means, Mah Peepull! It’s time for another heapin’ helpin’ of Blog Stew!

• • •

I got The Plague. As you can see, I lived to tell the tale. It was a very close call.

While I didn’t get the tummy part of it (Thank GOD!) I did get the body ache part, and I’ve never had it so bad, EVER. I stayed in bed for almost an entire day straight and then moved very carefully for the next couple days. I managed to not share The Plague with Hunky and boys.

I did, however, manage to generate about 7 quarts of snot. (I may tend toward hyperbole. Just sayin’.)

I can be a huge baby when I get sick. If I have the strength, I contact close friends to say goodbye and if applicable, reveal what I’m bequeathing them with in my will.

I just realized that I may have already told you this. It was The Plague followed by the hotel weekend. Did I already tell you this or did I just post it as a status update on Twitter/Facebook?

I have no idea what I’m doing. Someone should take away my blogging license.

Oh, look! Something shiny!!!

• • •

I’ve been a lot more active on Twitter lately. I think it may be true what they say about tweeting something and wasting a good idea for a post. I’ve caught myself a few times tweeting something that I really should flesh out into a decent post.

If you tweet it and don’t post it… using that one good idea to put a tweet out there that has decent substance gets more attention on Twitter and goes a lot farther in developing relationships and finding readers.

If you tweet it and also post it… I think it could show bad form to tweet something and then also use that idea to post. I’m not judging people who do that, I’m just saying it doesn’t feel right to me. I may change my mind; it’s not out of the realm of possibilility. After all, bumper stickers and tshirts all over the world assure me that it’s my right as a woman. Oh, another downer: If you do both, it shows up multiple times in feeds like FriendFeed, Buzz, Seesmic, etc and you run the risk of irritating people and having them unsubscribe.

I guess what I’m saying is… it’s a trade off.

And I may have put way too much thought into this.

• • •

A friend at work just got a new MP3 player and was asking if I would put some of my music on his player. Sure, no problem, right? Right. Actually, for a change, it worked the way it was supposed to. Amazingly. He gave me some money and I downloaded a couple albums for him from iTunes, and I didn’t even have to burn them onto a CD and re-import into iTunes to get the protected files to work on his player. I just plugged it in, drag-n-dropped them onto the player that mounted onto my desktop, and voila! He had tunage. I love my Mac. LOVE. LOVE.

The only problem, and it wasn’t a big one, was when he wanted a couple songs that iTunes didn’t carry. See, I was one of those freaks that was downloading a much as humanly, or more accurately, computer-ly possible the last four hours that Napster was up. Then, scared off by the press about people getting fined thousands of dollars, I quit. But when I couldn’t get him the music he wanted on iTunes, I went looking for it. And I may or may not have gone a little nuts looking on Billboard charts for one hit wonders from the 70s 80s and 90s. I may or may not have acquired such greats as Feel Like Makin’ Love, Shake Your Groove Thang, Rock Me Amadeus, Too Shy, Sledgehammer, and West End Girls as well as around 250 others. You know, I think I’ll just leave it at that so I don’t incriminate myself any further. Both in the music taste department, and the downloading music source department.

I fear it’s too late; you’ve lost respect for me already. I don’t blame you. I judge me.

And I’ll be rockin’ my air guitar along to Pour Some Sugar On Me as I do it.

• • •

I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading at work in the last couple months.

Last week I finished The Runaway Quilt which was #4 in a series by Jennifer Chiaverini. I started that series that inspired me to do the sampler quilt I started in July. (That was the ugliest, messiest sentence in the history of EVER.)

I just finished My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Piccoult. For the most part, it was a good read. There’s a lot of the story that reads almost poetically; I love the way she used some similes to illustrate small details. But there were other sections that read a little to cliche-ish-ly. Shut up. That’s totally a word.

• • •

I had a dream that I called my local Apple guy to get my beloved iMac, my Edgrr, my five-and-a-half-year-old buddy, out of the hospital. My guy said Edgrr needed a new logic board (that much is really true) and that Apple had a new program to trade in old Macs for new Macs and that Edgrr’s trade in value was currently $1655.

What? I told you it was a dream. I started with, I had a dream. Did you think I was doing my MLK impression? I don’t have one of those.

Related: I want an iPad. The way you want a drink of ice water after you’ve been tanning next to the pool for six hours. In Arizona. In a desert.

• • •

I’ve been kicking around the idea of starting another blog with no identifying information so I can tell some of the stories that I come across at the shelter. You would be inspired by some some of the people that come through here. I never get tired of listening when they want to tell me where they’ve been, what they’ve learned, and where they want to go.

Well, almost never.

Some people just talk too freaking much.

• • •

I guess I SOLD OUT TO THE MAN or whatever. Over there on the sidebar is an Amazon dealio with some of my favorite books. If you click over to Amazon from there and buy something, I get, I don’t know, something. Probably enough to fulfill my lifelong dream of stopping at the gumball machine on the way out of the grocery store. And getting two gumballs. If you clicked over and bought, like, a car or something like that, I might be able to get a temporary tattoo of a dragon with a rose in its mouth.

I signed up for Google AdSense but I haven’t exactly figured out how it works yet, so you have a while before you have to ignore the Google Ad boxes. Mostly, I just signed up because Blissfully Domestic (Oh, why, yes, I DOOO write for Blissfully Domestic!) said I should. Something about getting revenue from the clicks on my articles over there. So you can blame all this AdSense nonsense on them. Or me. Whatever. *shrugs*

As long as you’re willing to listen to me blather on and on, I might as well take the clicks from the search engine traffic, right?

Right?

That’s the sound of me searching my soul.

• • •

I’ve talked about this before, but Oh Em Gee, it drives the proofreading portion of my brain to distress when I see contractions used incorrectly. IT’S = It Is. ITS = possessive. Sound it out.

This concludes the Blogging Public Service Announcement. (Paid for by the Typologically Anal Retentive Association With A Stick Up Their Big Old Butt.)

• • •

About six weeks ago, I wrote channelled my inner angst-y teenager and blubbered about my disappointment with the blogosphere.

I sucked it up and realized I CAN’T CHANGE THE BLOGOSPHERE.

Wow. What a concept. Brilliant, Dory.

But I can change myself. I sat back and thought about what I could change about the situation.

This is what I came up with.

I’m mad at the blogosphere, so obviously I need more blogosphere.

I told you, um, duh. See also: Sarcasm above, i.e. Brilliant, Dory.

Anyway, I went and got more blogosphere. I went through a very popular, big-girl-blogger’s followers and one by one, added people and doubled who I was following just to see who would follow me back so I could meet some new twits twats tweeple.

It worked.

Hi, new tweeple! *waves*

I like the blogosphere again.

• • •

I guess that’s about all the damage I can do this time.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Word.

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2010. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • One atta-girl • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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Can I ask a quick question or two or eleventy-seven?

Dory — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 05:33:49 +0000

Have you seen my Google Friend Connect toy over there in my sidebar? Have you clicked Follow yet? Why not? What did I do? Did I rain on your parade? Did I pee in your Wheaties? Did I hock a loogy in your chock ‘o hoogy? Can you tell it’s margarita night? Is it that obvious? Do you have an balcoholic average too? No? Just me? Have you clicked follow yet? Why not? If you do, will I shut up? Would you like to find out?

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2009. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • Last one to comment is a rotten egg! • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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Coming soon to a sarcastic inappropriate greeting card line near you!

Dory — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 04:45:33 +0000

Just in case you hadn’t noticed, I am a talented and very serious artist.

I call this… Mixed Message.

(Only click through if there are no bosses, kiddies, kitties, members of the clergy, Dakota Fanning, or baskets of fluffy chicks and goslings present.)

(...)
Read the rest of Coming soon to a sarcastic inappropriate greeting card line near you! (137 words)

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2009. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • 4 atta-girls • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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The One Where She Narrowly Avoided a Punch in the Throat a Little Bit

Dory — Fri, 08 May 2009 17:35:40 +0000

So, My Writing Mojo has been MIA for a couple months now. I came just short of putting out an APB when she flounced in unceremoniously this morning, dropped her bag on the floor, flopped on the couch with her feet up on one arm, and turned on the TV.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I said the only thing I could think of. “Where the hell have you been, young lady?! I’ve been worried sick! You could have been dead in a ditch somewhere! What, they don’t have phones where you were?!” I spun my mental Rolodex and searched my memory for other similar admonishments my own mother had used on me. “You are SO grounded, missy!”

She smiled smugly in a way that made me want to punch her in the throat a little bit. “Yeahyeah, suresure. Whatever.”

“No, there’s NO whatever. You just disappeared without a trace and not so much as a warning shot for a couple damn months. AND you missed our bloggy birfday yesterday! I demand an explanation! Hell, our readers reader deserves an explanation! They’ve been putting up with only Wordless Wednesday and Tell Me Thursday posts, which are all well and good, but all alone they spell LAME, sister!” I fumed.

She didn’t bother glancing away from The View. “I wouldn’t figure you’re in any position to be demanding anything.” she huffed. “Do you have any Cheetos?”

“No, I don’t have any– Dammit– if I get you some Cheetos, will you fill me in?” I pointed and shot red laser beams out my eyeballs at her.

She gave me her best color-me-unimpressed expression and said, “Throw in a Mountain Dew and a pack of smokes, and you got a deal.” She directed her attention back to Whoopi and Elizabeth who were currently in a heated debate about saving beavers in the rainforests.

I threw my hands up in the air. “Oh, for the… I’ll be right back, you extortionist.” I was secretly pretty proud of her chutzpah; she had something I needed, and she didn’t let that go without making use of it.

As I drove down to the convenience store, my mind whirled. Where had she been? What had she been doing? Images of dirty carnivals and cold Taco Bell and jails danced in my head.

I came back in the house and tossed her first, the Cheetos and second, the smokes. She caught one with her left and one with her right, barely glancing my way.

“Well?!”

“Oh, unclench. Where’s my pop?”

“In the freezer. Spill it, sister.”

“Let’s go smoke.”

Twist my arm. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

On the way out to the deck, I snatched her pop out of the fridge and grabbed myself a Bud Light. At that point, I was so flustered, it was not a want; it was a need. I paused, thought better of it, and exchanged the Mountain Dew for another beer. Perhaps it would grease the wheels a little. We settled into lawn chairs, not looking at each other, but rather across the backyard and into the timber beyond. I handed her the beer and got a slightly surprised look in return. The expression left as fast as it came, and she directed her gaze back out into nowhere as she packed her smokes on her thigh before she opened them. I cracked my can open and took that best, first pull. She made the sign for “lighter” without looking at me and I lit her up. She took a long, hungry drag and picked at her fingernails.

I said, “I really could’ve used you all those hours I was on third shift instead of sitting there with my thumb up the internet.”

Almost apologetically she said, “Yeah, I figured. I felt kind of bad about that.”

I used one of my therapist’s favorite techniques and remained silent, not breaking the silence for her. Suck it, chivalry.

She risked a glance my way. “Yeah, January was great. We got a lot done, didn’t we?”

I didn’t answer, just took another pull on my beer and studiously avoided looking at her.

“February was bad. Teh Crazie scared me,” she remarked quietly, looking down at nothing.

I nodded slowly. “Me, too. I suppose I probably didn’t handle it as well as I thought I did. But I thought we had it under some semblance of control.”

“Well, then we were pondering The Girlbeater and I got really spooked.”

“That’s understandable,” I allowed. “But we have some important work to do. It won’t be easy.”

“I guess I knew that deep down. I suppose it’s what made me realize I needed to come back home.” She looked at me timidly, needing a pardon.

“Well, I’m glad you did. I kind of missed you, you crazy bitch,” I chuckled a little.

“Yeahyeah, suresure,” she shot me a mischievous grin.

“Are you ready to get back to it?” I wondered.

“Yeah, I suppose. I’ve got some great stories for you.”

“I bet! Gimme a taste, girl!” I sat back in the chair and put my feet up on the little end table between us, immensely glad to see her and thankful she found her way home.

“You asked for it!” She put her feet up on the other corner of the end table and held out her beer can. I gave it a clunk with mine, and extended my closed hand to invite a fist bump. She smirked and bumped. “So, there I was, in a dirty bus station in Utah, a used spark plug in one hand, a Red Bull in the other, and a drunk slumped onto my shoulder and mumbling about being on a porn set with Martha Stewart, some midget clowns and a Zamboni…” she began.

I settled in with the first of many, many beers and cigarettes, and some really fantastic stories. A couple hours in, some Chinese delivery was added to the equation.

It’s so good to have her back.

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2009. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • 3 atta-girls • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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Consider the economy duly stimulated.

Dory — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 09:25:26 +0000

You may have seen my tweet about the tax refund coming (Well, helloooOOOoooOOOooo Mr. Tax Refund! Come to Mama!) and lots of huge changes came with it.

New Ears

First of all, HunkyDory paid it forward. Much thanks from the bottom of my heart to all who helped me get my new ears. They’ve been working fabulously! That money that was given to us for the HAs has been paid forward plus some extra. So your gift did double duty, first to me, and now a gift to someone else in need.

Just as I was getting used to the new HAs, I had a setback last weekend. I had sharp, stabbing pains in my left ear on and off all day Friday. I get these once in awhile and really didn’t think much of it. It feels kind of like a bad toothache except in my ear. But when I put in my HAs on Saturday morning, it felt like the left one wasn’t working at all. I tried new batteries, and that didn’t work. I tried sticking the receiver of the left aid in my right ear and realized it was actually working fine; it was my ear that was the problem. I went in to the audiologist today, and when he peeked in there, he didn’t see anything abnormal. He said I needed to go see an ENT doc because he had done all he could do. I asked him if he could just turn up the left so I wasn’t so lopsided. He was all, “Sure, no problem” and we went into the office and plugged the aid into the computer. He said, “I’m going to turn this up about 3db and we’ll see if that does it.” Nothing. No difference. He looked a little puzzled and said, “I’ll turn it up another 4db.” Zip. Like he hadn’t turned it up at all. He looked a little worried, turned it back down, and said we’ll have to see what the ENT says. So I can hear almost nothing on the left and it rings almost constantly and is a lot louder than I’m used to. If you’re so inclined, I’d sure appreciate it if you remembered me in your prayers, because it’s seriously freaking me out. I’ve never experienced a decay this noticeable this fast before. I hope it’s just something temporary that they can fix, because it would seriously suck ass to lose a bunch more hearing when I feel like I just got it back.

New job

I’m working at a homeless shelter now, part-time overnights, on the weekends. The new HAs made that possible. I couldn’t do this before because there’s only one staff member on at a time and you have to be able to answer the phone. Even with the volume at maximum I still can’t catch every word, but I understand most of the conversation.

My very first night, the cops called to see if we could give someone slightly inebriated an emergency cot, and I had to tell them we had already told the person earlier that we wouldn’t; then someone else came in way past curfew all upset and I dealt with that. Talk about getting thrown in the deep end!

I think I’ll like this job a lot. When things are quiet, you can do about whatever you want to, except sleep. So hopefully I’ll have more time to read and write. I’ve been so stinkin’ busy the last couple months, I have a list of post subjects as long as my arm, and I’m really looking forward to getting more writing done. Oh, and call me Captain Obvious, but I just gotta say, overnights seriously throw your sleep schedule all kinds of out of whack!

New phone

After salivating over the iPhone for almost two years, I finally got my hot little hands on one.

It’s so frickin’ hawsum, I want to buy it a shot of tequila and tongue kiss it and ask it if it wants to come in for “coffee” and buy it breakfast in the morning and call it the next day and court it and tell it that I don’t want to have any more kids but I would if it would make it happy and take it to Vegas and marry it in a drive-through wedding chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating and live happily ever after.

It needs a name. Now taking suggestions.

Since Hunky felt sorry for my poor jilted Tilt, he took it in and gave it a new home on his hip. It’s very thankful. Actually, it runs on Windoze though, so it probably is nursing an arrogant, false sense of entitlement. It totally has Hunky pegged as a soft touch, and it’s all acting out and testing him. I have to step in now and then and use my scary mom voice to coerce it into submission. It’s kind of a snotty little shithead.

New furnace

This came about not because of the tax refund but I’m throwing it in there because 1- It matches with the “New ___” theme I’ve got going here and B- It’s just so hawsum. We applied for energy assistance a couple months ago and, thank God, were given credit on our gas bill. I had to sign something about completing a weatherization thing on our house and didn’t think much of it. So a couple weeks later, this guy came in and said, “Oh, this furnace has got to go.” And I was all, “Because you know the furnace fairy personally and she owes you a favor?” and he was all, “Uh, well, you don’t have to pay for it.” and I was all, *speechless* because I’m quick and witty like that.

Let me just tell you how old our furnace was. The house was built in 1948 and it’s original. It’s a bonafide antique. Somewhere along the line, it was converted from coal to gas. It still had the hieroglyphics on it from when my house was a cave and dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Six estimates later, we have a bright, shiny new furnace and my basement really couldn’t be more happy to welcome the new guy. It takes up half the space. It’s 92% efficient compared to the old 60-ish% efficient dinosaur. It’s handsome and smart and charismatic and sexy.

New computer

My beloved iMac, Edgrr, is four and a half years old, and I was starting to really worry about it pooping out or crashing when I have graphics jobs lined up to get done. Obviously, we haven’t exactly had a couple extra thousand dollars lying around to get a new Mac. Well, my friend Marcia knew that I was a complete mac nut and told me a friend of hers had a Macbook for sale, only one year old and all tricked out (4gb RAM and 500gb hard drive!) to be able to handle graphics work. I told her I was really super interested and she hooked us up. We emailed back and forth on Friday, and the UPS man visited me TODAY! I can’t wait to move into it! *claps hands excitedly* As we speak, I have the Carbon Copy Cloner copying the hard drive on the old computer, and I’ll start moving into the new laptop tomorrow after I get off work and get a nap. This laptop is going to come in really handy when I’m working these overnights. We now have three Macs in our house.

Again, with the name-needing. Now taking suggestions.

New… wait, what?

To wrap up, HunkyDory has done their part. Consider the economy duly stimulated.

Dory didn’t get ALL the good stuff. Just most of it. Hunky got the parts to make his Virago AND his Intercepter run, and the Virago will get some plastic surgery to get a new paint job and take out the dent in the fuel tank. We are still batting around the idea of finding a used Wii so the boys will also get some happy happy from the tax refund even though the little turds probably don’t deserve it. I can’t get them to finish their chore list every day for a week to save their life! We told Rocky that if he would finish all his chores consistently, we would keep him in minutes and texts on his cell phone. It is currently a glorified paperweight.

The rest of it goes to *sigh* BILLS. But I certainly can’t complain. It’s just so amazing to me how God makes sure we have everything we need and even some things we want. We’re so blessed.

What’d you spend your tax refund on?

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I showed remarkable restraint. At first.

Dory — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 19:42:16 +0000

Then as hard as I tried, I couldn’t NOT do it.

Do what? you inquire.

(As an aside, my photoshop powers carry an awesome amount of responsibility which I find immensely easy to ditch when it suits me.)

Well, in way of explanation, first I read this post wherein Tanis is speaking on “ping envy.” (Shuddup, that’s what we call it at our house.)

Then I clicked a link she posted to this website, where I saw this picture:

Well, lookit that! A CityGirl! What a coincidence, I have a CityGirl! She’s one of my best bloggy BFFs, and has perpetual immunity from getting kicked off my Google Reader. I’m 99% sure that she’s subscribed to me, too; which is a state that I am about to place in a very precarious position. A state which is in grave danger and very well could change after I post this:

*ducks and covers*

*peeks out from hiding spot*

CityGirl, you still love me, right? Right?! I get as good as I give, so feel free to wail away on me!

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2009. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • 2 atta-girls • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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You could stumble/kirtsy/digg it. Or open your window and yell. You know; whatever works.

Dory — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 22:11:39 +0000

So. About those hearing aids.

I’ll back up a bit to fill you in. This process has been dragging on for months and months and months. I’m not even exaggerating– I started working with Voc Rehab in July 2007 to get new hearing aids. I was working with a program that’s designed to give people with disabilities some help in setting up their own business. It’s really designed to get people off SSDI and earning their own income. I don’t receive SSDI because I applied and was denied because apparently I’m not disabled enough (the important thing is I’m not bitter about that *wink*) but you know, whatever. *waves hand* Anywho, they match up to $10k for equipment you need to get going, and for me, that meant, a new computer, display, software, and hearing aids. Well, like all things bureaucratic, it was moving at approximately the speed of erosion.

So, I decided, enough, let’s get this show on the road. I had my VR guy change the paperwork to halt that process and just get the hearing aids as quickly as possible. I could pursue the other program again afterward. I went in and got the hearing tests done, and found out that the aids I needed were about $1000 more than the state would pay so we’d have to pay the difference. We couldn’t fit even one more payment into our budget, so financing was not an option. You can’t squeeze blood from a stone. Well, as far as I know. I went on a mission to find the funding that could pay the difference. I was trying to make the calls, and was hung up on multiple times. Apparently, a relay operator sounds remarkably like a telemarketer. So I emailed my guy, gave him the information and asked him to make the calls for me.

About a month later, he emailed me… “Hey, where are we at?”

Seriously?

I replied, “Last we talked, I sent you numbers to call for funding.”

A few weeks later, I emailed him… “Hey, where we at?”

He replied, “Sorry, I got busy, but I have CR Hearing Center on the phone as I type. I’ll let you know.”

A couple weeks later, I emailed him… “Hey, where we at?”

He replied, “Why don’t we get together so we can see where we’re at.”

*drops face into both hands*

You get the picture.

On 2/6/09, I got frustrated enough to take matters into my own hands. I asked Tom to call Abry Hearing Center and make me an appointment to see if they knew of any funding resources I could use. I have a friend that is also losing her hearing, and she said these were just the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. Tom called for me and they said I could come in on Monday 2/9/09.

I went in thinking they’d have some time blocked out for me and we’d just be talking about funding resources. Well, before I knew it, Bill did the whole shpiel, testing and everything… and then asked me if I’d like to test-drive a pair of Zon 7s! Uh, hells yeah!

Bill plugged one into the computer and did his magic to make the thing know all the results of my hearing tests. He put it on me, and turned it on.

Whoa.

There really aren’t words to describe how that felt.

Bill said he had another one, but it was out with another customer while their HA was in the shop. It would be coming back later that day, and so I should come back then and he’d fit it to me. How’d they do that, you ask? Well, it’s one that doesn’t use an ear mold; instead it uses a tube with a rubber stopper that’s kind of like a noise canceling ear bud, and that part is what they keep on hand so multiple people can use that “loaner” aid. The tube goes from in the ear, over the top of the ear, and behind where it plugs into the aid itself. The tube is clear, so you can barely even see it. I don’t care if people can tell I’m wearing HAs, so I’m considering buying some lime green nail polish to paint the aid bright and happy anyway. I’m just kidding. Kind of. Ok, I can’t lie to you, I’m still considering it.

I walked outside, and the whole world rushed at me. All the different sounds were so overwhelming, so huge, so crisp, so amazing.

I ran a few errands and then came back to have him fit me on the other side. This time I hauled Hunky in, too, so he could see the cool stuff going on in the computer. This particular model plugs into the computer and looks at your audiogram, then compensates for your particular level of loss accordingly. For example, I have almost normal hearing at the highest frequencies, a moderate loss in the lowest frequencies, and severe loss in the middle frequencies where most voices carry on normal conversation. So the aid doesn’t boost the highs, boosts the lows a bit, and boosts the mids the most. He even showed us how the computer makes a graph with bars showing what I hear, and what the hearing aid is compensating for. As we were talking, we watching the bars dance up and down; sometimes what I heard didn’t even register any bars, and you could see the bars for the hearing aids high-stepping their little hearts out.

It was simply astonishing. I can hear the police car before I see it in the mirror, the birds, conversation… oh, and music. Oh, wow. Oh, wow oh wow oh wow. Music sounds right. Since my mids are gone, I can’t hear melody well at all, so music sounded… off. I can hear the bass parts well and some background, so it ends up odd or off-key unless I turn it waaay up, enough that it would do damage and prematurely deafen me. Which reminds me of another cool little extra… because these have like a noise-canceling little stopper inside the ear, it actually protects my cochlea from loud noise damage. When loud noise hits the receiver, it actually turns it down before it transmits the sound to my cochlea, so I still hear it some, but it’s buffered a little bit to avoid further damage. How friggin’ cool is that shit?!

I had those for a week, and hells yeah, I put those little suckers through their paces! I went all over town running errands, a Valentine’s Day banquet in a noisy ballroom, and a bar with live music, and even used the phone. And it was absolutely astounding. Like I said, I had no idea that I had lost so much hearing, and what I was missing.

Then I had to give them back when the week was over.

I thought I had prepared myself adequately. I was wrong.

It was bad timing anyway. February is always hard for me to get through, the worst month of the year when it seems like the gray winter will never reach her end. PMS week in February? You better put me on suicide watch, and I’m only half joking about that. I managed through PMS week and thought I had gotten through it. Well, the PMS had a fun little surprise in store for me. It cruised right through the P and kept right on truckin’ right into the M. The day I gave them back, I was hemorrhaging to death (well, that’s what it feels like, right, girls?), ripping peoples’ faces off, and on the verge of tears all damn day. I couldn’t even hardly stand myself. I became convinced that everyone, including and especially Teh Innernetz, hated me hard and that I was the bloggy equivalent of that pathetic little kid who know one picks for their team and eats lunch alone and *wails* no one ever talks to me on Twitter and no one reads me because I suck ass *dramatic hand to forehead* and WAAAHHHHH. Oh, it was UUUUHG– LEE. The final blow was when I seriously and completely. lost. my. shit. I totally ripped into Hunky over something really stupid and he called me out on it. One minute I was shredding him with my she-claws and the next minute I was apologizing for being so nasty and selfish and sobbing ugly-crying, snot flying hither and yon. He literally took a step back, shook his head, looked at me and went, “WHOA. Where’s. The. Fries.”

Not my proudest moment ever.

After he talked me down from the ledge, I admitted I perhaps, possibly, might have been a little more upset than I initially let on about giving back the hearing aids.

We talked for quite awhile about the hearing aids and our options. They weren’t exactly plentiful. The ones that I had test-driven were Zon 7s and they were $4850. They said they’d give us $600 off, and VR would pay $2200.We hadn’t heard back from The Lion’s Club or The Masons yet, which were two possibilities for funding. About then, CityGirl emailed me and said I should ask for help from my friends, both IRL and of the bloggy variety (i.e. Mah Peepull). I replied that I felt like I really couldn’t because it was such a high amount. Meanwhile about four different people came up to Tom at the Mission and said that they wanted to help me get the aids if they could. Then Hunky talked to Bill, who said that maybe we should consider that they also had two other models, the Zon 5 and the Zon 3. It was possible that I could get the Zon 3 completely covered by VR after more discounts Abry wanted to give us to try to help. I was like, ok, but truthfully, I was underwhelmed. I felt like I would be getting a little old lady’s hearing aid, and I’m a little more active than a LOL sitting at home and watching her stories and going to Bingo and Potluck every other week. I was afraid it wouldn’t sound the same, and Hunky encouraged me to go back and talk to Bill about it.

Which brings us to today.

Bill said yes, the Zon 3 was kind of a LOL hearing aid, but it would get the job done. He showed me the differences in the two models, the Zon 3 and the Zon 5; mainly how intuitive it was, additional bands and channels, and how it reacted better in special situations like a quiet room, a busy restaurant, or outside on a windy day. He said that eventually we could trade up to the Zon 5, which really was best suited for someone younger and more active like me. Thinking that he’d say something like $1000 or $1500, I asked, “So how much would we need to come up with to trade up to the Zon 5?”

“$400,” he said.

“$400?!” I squeaked.

“Yes, $400.”

My jaw dropped.

*skwees a little bit*

See, between my IRL friends and my bloggy friends and of course us, that’s totally doable! I’m sure you’ve seen how $5s and $10s and $20s add up real fast, so I’m so excited!

Once my VR guy returns Abry’s call with the OK to go ahead, it will only take one week for the new HAs to arrive! So, I admit, I’m like, rilly rilly bad at this, but if you want to help, I’d be so grateful to you for any amount at all, because it all adds up. If the budget is too tight, I understand. Maybe you could just help by emailing your IRL friends about my Etsy, or tweeting the url of my store, which is http://cantrememberdiddly.etsy.com. So if you could send your friends over to my Etsy store, they could get a purty picture and help me get my new HAs!

I would truly appreciate anything at all you can do to spread the word, mah peepull.

© Dory for Can't Remember Diddly!, 2009. All rights reserved. This post cannot be republished without express written permission. • Permalink • 6 atta-girls • Join my blog network on Facebook and Rate my blog while you're at it. This means YOU, bub.

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