The skin biopsy I had last week came back positive for pre-cancerous squamous cell carcinoma, so I got the carbolic acid treatment last night and now I’m walking around with a funny-looking scab on my face. (The area where he used the acid is white.)
The thing about dermatologists is, once you have insurance, they want to biopsy everything. So I need to put the brakes on — I can’t afford all these co-pays.
Pink grapefruit, eggs and leftover ham. Yum! You?
So the wildlife trappers are here, banging their ladders against the roof as they install the one-way traps on the eaves openings. It will be so nice not to hear squirrels chewing away at my living room ceiling. (Bastards.)
So I spent several hours trying to figure out what’s up with the embeds. Then I got to meet the wildlife guy who’s going to trap the squirrels (the ones I thought were raccoons) nesting in my crawl space. So the little bastards remain my longtime nemesis!
Then I went out to one of the local bars with a friend. We ordered crabs. When we were finished, we noticed weird black spots on the shell of my friend’s crabs. “Where are these from?” I asked the waitress.
“Mexico or Florida,” she said.
“You mean the Gulf of Mexico. Swell.”
So I just had a heaping helping of Corexit. Ugh.
Okay, now it’s official. I’m the new managing editor at Crooks and Liars, and I’ve been swimming in the deep end for the past two weeks. Please be patient until we get back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Was in the ER today because one of my legs was swollen and my doctor wanted me to get checked for a blood clot. I do not have one!
My sister and I went to see my dad’s sister today. It’s really strange, how much she looks like my father — it’s almost like he was still here. Of course, Aunt A. is very, very Catholic and talked a lot about how she saw on TV (Fox News) the government is now pushing euthanasia, in addition to killing babies. As my sister and I were leaving, I said what I always say after seeing my aunt: “Well, I have to go have an abortion now.”
Here are my new socks. Cool, huh?
I was coming back from seeing my friend and whoops, the “check engine” light came on. I took it to the Auto Zone (in case you didn’t know, they do the same check for free that your mechanic does for $65) and the reading came back as a “cylinder 4 misfire.”
I called my mechanic of last resort, the one who does all the really big stuff, and asked him if it was safe to drive out to the burbs for Christmas. “Does it ‘chug chug chug’ when you turn it on?” he said. Nope, I said.
“Does it drive smoothly, or do you have to give it some extra gas?”
Now that you mention it, I said, it sort of feels a little draggy — like when you forget to release the hand brake.
“But it’s driving smoothly?” Yes, I said.
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Sounds like you just need a tune-up,” he said. “Merry Christmas!”
Merry Christmas, indeed.
I really am a sucker for those little Christmas houses, and I have a bunch of them on top of the bookcases next to my desk. Notice how I cleverly stuck a cut-apart gift bag on my wall for a backdrop? Damn, I’m creative! Here’s a picture:
