…the who cares girl…

The Boy’s parents really wanted to see me this past weekend, even though I’m sick, so they came over to take me out to lunch and dropped off a bunch of ski-related crap for us to sift through.

This neon outfit caught my eye, of course.

“That would have been perfect at Burning Man!” I cried. “Let’s keep it–I’ll reconstruct it into a pair of…hot pants.”

That will probably never happen, but even I couldn’t turn down the Gayest Ski Outfit of All Time. So there it is.

I am taking out my hormonal state on the dogs. Look at how disgruntled Bear Cub looks! But look at how happy I am!

Yesterday the Boy went to the Testosterone Trap (Lowe’s) and purchased a crapload of Christmas lights uber cheap (1.88 per box) and started putting them all over the house.

The outside of the house, I mean. We already have them all over the inside. Twinkle lights are nice year round! I’ll always be a raver at heart.

I used my car for the camera tripod. Taking photos at night has always been a large pain in my ass. Photographers give me advice but it goes in one ear, out the other. However, I recall and use Stacey‘s advice about using the “flower setting” (macro) for close-ups all the time.

I love what he did with the tree. We both agree that blue Christmas lights are the best.

I have been so ridiculously hormonal lately that yesterday just for “fun” I bought a pregnancy test. Buying my first pregnancy test was a surreal experience. I kept expecting the woman behind the counter to say something to me (like what?), but she didn’t say a word. I also felt like everyone in the store was staring at me. Kind of like the “humiliation” you’re supposed to feel buying condoms. I never felt embarrassed while purchasing condoms–I LOVE condoms! However, I felt that way about “Clear Blue Easy”.

I’m not pregnant. Of course. The line was negative. But I just had to know.

“You could be on a deserted island,” said the Boy disgustedly (he’s still watching “Lost”–up to Season 3 now), “With no men around, no possibility of becoming pregnant, and still think you’re pregnant.”

He’s right. I’ve been reading too much information on pregnancy. And I’ve always been susceptible to influence. If I read that the side effects of a medication include the .00005% possibility of a rash, I will develop that rash. It’s just my overactive imagination, not hypochondria. Realllllllly.

Thanks, Kissy for calling me last night in the midst of all this hormonal excess! I now have Urban Decay’s eyeshadow primer on the “wish list” for Sephora that I am going to force onto my husband! Love youuu!

My hair salon e-mailed me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I had my bi-annual haircut yesterday.

The hairdresser told me I have an “old soul”. I told her that’s because I hang out with elderly people all day long. I used the word “rapport” in our conversation at one point, and a hairdresser at an adjacent sink squealed, “That’s a big word! What does it mean? We’re just hairdressers!”

“You look like the Janice Muppet,” the Boy just told me, peering over my shoulder to look at the photo above.

“Thanks a lot,” I said, after Googling her.

“I always thought she was hot.”

My husband is a weirdoooooo. Speaking of weirdos, it’s time for another round of “Lizzie’s Obsessive Photo Taking During Film Watching!” The film: “Eating Raoul“! I had seen it before, but I forgot how hysterically funny it is.

“Eating Raoul” stars Mary Woronov, one of the original “Mole People” and author of the excellent “Swimming Underground: My Years in the Warhol Factory“, and Paul Bartel, who also wrote/directed the film (and was a dead ringer for my high school debate coach).

The two play Paul and Mary Bland, a couple with refined tastes who want to open a restaurant together.

They are disgusted by all of the sex and filth they see around them daily.

They complain about perverts while dressed in matching pajamas, sleeping in separate beds. They’ve been married for 10 years and their relationship is asexual.

Everywhere Mary goes, men try to attack her. “Swingers” permeate their apartment building, bursting in to molest Mary at all hours of the day.

Even at the bank, Mary cannot escape from perverts, as the bank manager (played hilariously by Buck Henry), attacks her.

After accidentally bopping a pervert over the head with a frying pan and rooting through his wallet, Paul and Mary realize that a lot of money can be made by killing swingers.

Paul had previously met a dominatrix…

…who thoughtfully gave him her calling card.

Doris the Dominatrix gives them helpful advice on how to attract swingers.

So do I, Doris.

So Paul and Mary take out an ad to attract swingers.

They meet plenty of perverts during their journey to earn enough cash to open the restaurant.

Another great line from this actress: “We’re into B&D, but not S&M. We met at the A&P.”

Their locksmith, Raoul, catches them killing perverts and makes a deal with them–he will keep their secret if they let him have the dead bodies to turn in for cash. Raoul winds up sleeping with Mary (Mary claims she was confused by the Thai stick Raoul smokes with her) and tries to kill Paul to keep all the money.

Paul becomes more and more fed up with the whole scheme. He even bops a swinger over the head before Mary can find the bottom half of her costume.

It’s fairly easy to guess how the movie ends. THEY EAT RAOUL! The movie reminded me and the Boy of early John Waters. It’s hil-a-rious. I need to burn it today. Along with about 10 billion other items on my “To Do” list. Oy.

Bruce Campbell, originally uploaded by rachel_sharpie.

This morning on the way to my hair appointment NPR was playing an interview with Bruce Campbell. That’s cool.*

* My second thought this morning: you know you’re getting older when NPR starts becoming “cool”.

Massive photo dump (due to cold-related insomnia/a large number of photos festering in Flickr):

This morning, horribly, my eyes popped open at 4:30. Maggie sensed that I was awake and immediately jumped into bed next to me, shoving her dogbody up against mine for affection.

I wonder if children of alcoholics tend to be excessively needy.

Then the Bearcub joined in. She’s getting more affectionate as she gets older.

Current nail polish. When I turn 30 will I have to stop with the glitter? I keep imagining James St. James lecturing me: “AGE APPROPRIATE, LIZ!”

My former neighbor, an alcoholic who used to come over to my apartment and guzzle white wine with me and complain about her marriage, gave me this love light. I remember her grunting something like, “It’s more appropriate for you.”

Classic photo of Corinne + photo of Louise Brooks (present from Kissy).

Damn flash. One of these years I will strive to become a less lazy photographer.

Old photo of the Boy on the refrigerator, with perm rods in his hair. I think it’s cuuute.

You know, it’s just impossible to photograph that rainbow painting. It looks so fabulous in real life but in photos all you see is the flash. IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS! I need a professional photographer to help me.

I’ve been trying to arrange the art on the walls, but we have so much. It’s overwhelming.

Bongo painting by my grandfather. Oh look, it’s Nina Hahhhhhhgen.

Grrrr, flash again. Hello, Bob.

From left to right: classic photo of Lisa/me/Corinne, Hibiscus painting, and oval painting by the fabulous and talented six06 that I traded for Louise.

I flirted briefly with collage a few years ago.

Seemed like the logical thing to do with all those magazine clippings I’ve been saving.

I should do more of these. Maybe.

Lately this artist on DeviantArt has got me thinking about going back to Prismacolors. He combines Prismacolors and watercolors and paint markers in a way that is very satisfying. And why not “mixed media”? What do I have against it, anyway? I love craft glitter, after all.

And speaking of colored pencils, when I noticed in “BUST” magazine that someone was offering “Grey Gardens” coloring books, I nearly shit the bed.

They come in packs of three. I gave one to Stacey, who sent me the VHS of “Grey Gardens” years ago that kick-started the whole obsession, one to My #1 Gay, and kept Volume One for myself, because I needed “The Libra husband is not an easy man to please“. I’m working on it now, with my Prismacolors.

I don’t know what irritates me more, the fact that I didn’t come up with this idea first, or the possibility that I could have done a better job. THAT’S OKAY–I STILL LOVE IT!

Now I need to find a really really really boring book and fall back asleep. Being up this early is ridic. And I have a hair appointment later this morning that I ought to be “refreshed” for (thank you Raymi, for inspiring me to get my hair done! It’s been a while).

A Black Friday Nightmare!
by The Boy

‘Twas the day after Thanksgiving and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not me nor my spouse.

Then from the TV arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the tube, to see what the heck was the matter.

The ads came in droves: “Buy electronics, buy stoves.
Buy clothing and makeup, buy Dad a new robe.”

Bright pictures flashing, the voice-over convincing,
BLACK FRIDAY had come, my wallet was wincing.

Visions of bankruptcy danced in my head,
Money saved wisely ending up in the red.

But I turned back to my bed, greed barely been seen,
And with joy in my heart I went back to my dreams!

I ordered this kit a couple of weeks (weeks?) ago when my skin was freaking out and I spent waaaay tooooo looooong researching ways to treat zits. I haven’t used it yet. I fear change.

I figured out the problem (going off birth control) and the following solutions have cleared up my skin 73.2%:

- Clinique “take the day off” make-up remover for eye make-up ONLY (it’s greasy)
- Neutrogena Extra Gentle cleanser on face, no washcloth!
- Dove sensitive skin body wash for body
- bought a new body scrubber (who knows how old it was? ew)
- started taking pre-natal vitamins nearly every day, with dinner, not “when I feel like it” (never)
- quit sleeping in bleached white shirts–maybe the bleach is a skin irritant?
- started moisturizing with Cetaphil, every night
- spot treating (not smearing all over) with Clearasil, OVER the Cetaphil

Here are things that didn’t work:
- salicylic acid (Clinique spot remover)
- sulfur products (Murad)
- PICKING (don’t do that), scrubbing, or shaving (I don’t want to talk about it)

I have posted this information in the hopes that it may help any female who goes off birth control and finds her once beautiful, perfect, radiant and creamy skin hopelessly spotted and has suffered because of it. Take Grammy Liz’s advice: moisturize and DON’T TOUCH IT.

Yesterday after work while the Boy was having scrumptious foodstuffs surrounded by loving family members, I was lying on the couch, eating Indian leftovers (Indian food tastes good even when you’re sick), surrounded by panting, shedding dogfriends and watching “Nikita” for the first time.

Now, I never saw the Americanized remake starring Bridget Fonda, but I just can’t imagine Bridget pulling this role off.

The actress that plays Nikita was so, so good. Not afraid to get ugly. I like that. My boyfriend Jean Reno and his brief appearance as the “cleaner” was just the icing on the cake.

Her little ballet dance in combat boots after kicking her instructor in the face was excellent.

And then you see how beautiful she is too, in that natural, waify, semi-androgynous way that French women pull off so damn well.

I wanna be French. We watched some French porn recently and it was about 10 billion times better than American porn. They make a helluva lot less noise, too. All that noise is very distracting!

I’m going to work, even though I shouldn’t, because you really shouldn’t spread germs all over people with lowered immune systems. I’m going to work because the place I’m working at now is really really really nice and I want to make a good impression because someday I might want to work there permanently. Not to mention I have a 92-year-old patient that I could spend all day talking to, I love her.

And then I’m just going to collapse when I get home into a pile of snot. Hooray!

Oh yeah, today is BUY NOTHING DAY! I nearly forgot. Well, that should be easy. For meeeee.

“Hair” by “the irison“, artist I’m currently crushing on over at Deviant Art.

I’m sick. It’s no fun. I worked today. I will work tomorrow. I am not going to have delicious Thanksgiving dinner with the Boy’s family. I am going to have water and soup. And watch some foreign films. Yes.

I started having panic attacks when I moved to Seattle. Over the years battling anxiety, there are things I have discovered that make it worse:
- booze
- cigarettes
- caffeine

There are things that make it better:
- exercise (especially outdoors)
- Xanax, and
- SSRIs.

I took Paxil on and off for years, and started taking Celexa nearly a year ago because it has less side effects. Every time I go off the Celexa, the anxiety/panic attacks, or “cray crays”, as I like to call them, return, and I am forced to take Xanax. When I’m on the Celexa, I hardly ever have panic attacks, and my anxiety rarely develops to the point when I need to take a Xanax.

Now I’m thinking about getting pregnant. I’m currently taking 20 mgs of Celexa (minimal dose). I don’t drink anymore, quit smoking, I’m taking prenatals, I’m heavily considering exercise, but I really really really want to stay on the 20 mgs of Celexa through the pregnancy. And after.

My mother DOES NOT LIKE THIS IDEA. She’s certain taking Celexa will cause brain damage, autism, you name it, it’s all gonna happen to my baby.

So my question is, is it really better to go off the Celexa and suffer crippling anxiety during pregnancy, knowing that I can’t take Xanax? (Xanax is a big no-no for pregnant women–I know that much). My regular doctor told me that for some women, staying on the meds is better than going off of them. But “some women”. Am I one of those women?

So many questions. I’m meeting with an OB in a few weeks to ask her, but I don’t know what answer will satisfy me. I just don’t know what to do.

Yes, it’s that time of year again! “Buy Nothing Day” is this Friday, November 27th for North America, November 28th International! The Boy took this picture. I’m all pre-period bloated and possibly verging on a cold, but you know. Had to do it!

Give it a whirl, blog-logs!

Speaking of not buying cigarettes, I’ve been listening to “Conquer cravings and be tobacco free” by Positive Changes, the hypnosis clinic I went to a while back to help me stop craving alcohol/fried things, and it seems to help. Especially now since I’m working and my natural stress level is a bit higher. Plus a lot of people in the health care profession smoke. It seems backwards, but it’s true. I recommend these c.d.s–just listen to them at night, right before sleepy time.They work.

The nice thing about working again is that I’m too busy to get depressed like I was last year around this time. I’m too busy to notice the gloom-and-doom rainy gray weather, too busy, in fact, to even plug in my Happy Light. And I’m not even sure I need it right now.

I just wish I could stir up motivation when I get home from work to hop on that treadmill–which hasn’t happened yet. Maybe I need a hypnosis c.d. entitled “MOVE YOUR ASS!”.