I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Who is your favourite artist (of the drawing kind!)

I like Ver Meer, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Munnings, N.C. Whyeth, Frederick Remmington, James Ward, Monet, and equine illustrator C.W. Anderson.

What is your favourite dessert?

Something I can't have any longer.

"Mud pie." Not what you think. It was coffee-flavoured ice cream, set inside a pie crust made of crushed chocolate biscuits--an "Oreo cookie crust" we call it. Then the "pie" was topped with a layer of hot fudge, fresh whipped cream and a marachino cherry. OMG! It was like dying and going to heaven!

I'm also partial to bread pudding and homemade brownies.

Any plans for your next birthday?

With no one but me, I pretty much ignore my birthday, unless someone remembers to send me a card or something.

YUMM--BROWNIES!

MUD PIE:

Well, I really wasn't feeling right, so I went to to the health center.

Hours later I'm back home, disgusted and not a happy little camper.

I went to the pharmacy first, told them I needed a re-fill on my blood pressure med. Was told that they never filled a BP med for me. Okaaaay then. This is the ONLY pharmacy I use! It was less than a month ago I had the dang thing filled. So, just now I re-checked the bottle. Yup. The bottle has the name and address of the pharmacy on it, plus the words "2 refills"...yet the pharmacy has no record of filling this med for me. Well, that inspires a lot of trust, doesn't it?

Okay, those Procrit shots? Today my prescription came in. Did the pharmacy tell me? No. I went in to get my antibiotics, and when I opened the bag, there was a second pill bottle in there. And I thought, "what the???" They not only forgot to tell me that my procrit had finally come in, but never told me that it needed refrigeration! It wasn't until I looked at the bottle, that I saw the "refridgerate" sticker on the side. Sheesh.

Stupid idiots.

Oh, but let's get back to the health center. I needed another Procrit shot. I was supposed to go in Monday, but wasn't feeling well. So, I went in today, and it's "What procrit shot?" DOH--the one I was told to come in and get, what d'ya think? "Oh but we're not authorized to give it to you, here." Well, you gave me one the other day! "But that might have been an emergency. We can't give it to you ourselves..."

They basically didn't have a clue. So, here I am with these little vials of liquid in my 'fridge, and no clue what the hell I'm supposed to do with them, because none of the staff at the health center have a clue, either.

Every flippin' time I go in there--they treat me like they've never seen me before...hell, half the time they don't even read my chart!!!

It took so much for me to convince myself to try and stablize my health. I really got so, last year, I just didn't give a damn if I kicked off or not. To be honest, sometimes I still don't.

So, it's very discouraging, being treated this way. If my own health providers don't care about me, why the hell should I? I only have the cats, for pity's sake. It's not like I'm a productive member of society. I'm very expendable--any teenager to retiree who can read and talk, can do my job.

It's just really discouraging, knowing no one looking after me really gives a sh_t about me.

I don't know, some days living seems like more of a punishment than Hell ever could be.

On the bright side, my blood pressure and blood sugar are both finally back in normal range, after spiking for some reason, last week. Blood count is up slightly from the other day, as well. So, I have been TRYING to care about myself...it's just harder some days, than others.

But, I am myteriously dehydrated, apparently. Haven't had the stomach virus in quite a few days now, have been drinking normally: bottled water, juice, non-caffinated soda...but that, plus the infection, is being surmised as the reason for my not feeling well.

Stupid health center. Wish I was rich and could see a REAL doctor...or even better, choose a health care provider.

Oh well. That's my whigne for tonight. Hope you're having a better night than I am.

"Was it good for you, Rose? Oh, and sorry about that whole 'Exsperminate! Exsperminate!' thing, by the way..."

Whoa! I just almost fell out of my chair. Dizzy spells again. Don't want to miss work...what should I do? I don't want to lose my job...oh, this sucks. Guess I'll try to carry on.

"You may ask me three questions and I shall try to answer them. Things that you would like to know about me or my life, my past my future, what makes me tick, what makes me sick. From the mundane to the serious - fire away and I will endeavour to answer for you..."

I've sometimes written of how, as a teen and into my adulthood, I'd felt as if I'd developed a connection with the natural world around me. As if there was this invisible, but nevertheless energized thread running through me, tying me to the elements surrounding my emotional self.

Sometimes, I wonder if those all too rare times, when I sensed a feeling of balance and harmony with nature, sometimes I wonder if perhaps I was just wishing it to be so, or if it was indeed, real?

Is there a "force" that ties all living things together, is there some kind of mystical connection with God that while intangible, a special sort of feeling that elevates us, that only can be felt under the "right" conditions?

Or, is this just all a lot of stuff and nonsense? Wishful thinking? Just a human trying to find common sense in thin air? Merely a case good vibes?

I don't suppose I ever shall know. Maybe I'm just crazy as a loon.

Transcendentalism without responsibility is worthless. It's not about selfishness or doing whatever pleases you. It's about being true to yourself--and to the LIFE around you. It's about being in step with the life around you, while thinking outside the box and choosing a different perspective.

Hi all,

Woke an hour earlier than I'd intended--my body hasn't adjusted to my new work schedule yet, apparently. I'd tried to go to bed early last night, but my stinking hillbilly neighbours had other ideas. Sister is a bit of a...well, give her Hyacynth Bucket's shrill voice and Nan's loud chav attitude, and put it together with an inbred American hillbilly....yikes. Scary stuff. Anyway, the woman's got one volume to her voice: Loud. And, she's always yelling at something or someone. Alaways. The cat, the dog, her son, her brother, some guy on the street...even the poor postman! Then there's the nephew...I won't even go there. Think of some sleezy Italian with slicked back hair and gold chains...but extremely dumb...I mean the kid's already been evicted (and arrested) for drug possession once, but did he LEARN from that experience? Nah--walked up the stairs yesterday, and the hall reeked of pot smoke. And the hillbilly...he isn't a bad guy, but last night he was drunk again, and trying to make that damn basset hound of his sing--at half-past midnight. Oh yeah, I'm lovin' this.

Now there's some kiddie's ride-on toy sitting in the hall outside their door...Jaysus! It's just a tiny two-room apartment! There's already 3 of them in there, how many more are there going to be?????? This is flippin' Glens Falls, not India or South America! They've already brought a wandering cat (which sits outside my apartment at all hours, meowing at my cats through the bottom of the door), a drug addict, cockroaches, and a steady stream of seedy-looking strangers into the building, and sister's been using the staircase railings as a clothes dryer... what's next?

Oh well. But yeah, not a lot of chances to fall asleep, last night. I really don't think I like living in the city. Tho' I suppose if I were rich, and had better housing, I might feel differently.

Well, not sure what to do this morning. Tidy up I suppose, tho' I don't feel like it. For some reason by bad foot hurts more than usual, this morning--my bad knee as well...maybe the weather's changing? Not as weak as I was, last couple of days, tho' still a bit tired and worn down...still, no feeling like I'm going to pass out, which is good. I'd hate it if I had to go back in hospital again, for a transfusion. Especially not that hospital, the one my mum died in...spent so much time there with her, the last few years of her life...nothing can make me feel more empty and lost, then lying alone in a hospital bed for hours on end.

Guess I'll go cook up some eggs and bacon, and see what I can get done today. Have a good day all, cheers. Nancy G.

I am probably the only person on earth who has ever used the words "sexually frustrated graffiti" together, ha-ha.

I was about to turn in, when I saw two new comments on my blog, so I quickly logged back in to have a brief look.

"I love you David." Oh, swell.

It seems my blog has become a virtual alley wall, for these sexually frustrated fan-girls to smear their love-note graffiti to David Tennant on.

God help me.

A face only a pimp--erm, princess, no really, I mean a princess could love.

And...one of the consequences of blogging about DT and Dr Who, is that sometimes people will tell you stuff you really don't want to know--and send you stuff you REAAALLLY don't want to see.

Another e-mail in my in-box. A person sent me some pics of herself meeting the the sex-god known as David Tennant, and well...one of them...as some of you know, there's this pic of him floating around, wearing nothin' but a bobbie's helmet. Not a good idea in the day and age of Photoshop, apparently.

Buried smack-dab in the middle of those pics of him signing autographs, was a blow up of DT's...erm...manhood. Well, I'm no judge of such things, being an old maid and all, but unless you lot have completely different measuring standards,..and not that I spent any time staring, mind you--

But... I don't quite think the man's nickname is all that accurate. Let's just say I think it must fit rather nicely in his hand...ewwww--what am I saying? 'Scuse me, I have to go and throw up now.

Blimey! Now this old maid's probably going to have bad dreams tonight.

...erm--I mean, I've just broken my record.

In Nov. of 2007, I hit my all-time high for visitor stats, at just over 25,000 visits for that month.

In June of 2008, the record was broken, as I had 33069 visitors.

Whoa. I must use really good pictures to illustrate my blog, huh?

It's quarter to ten and I'm well knackered. I don't usually go to bed early in the summer..a holdover from my childhood, probably.

Anyway, had my supper, took my medicine, the cats are fed. I was going to stay up and write, but my arms feel like lead weights, and I've a slight headache, so decided to let discretion be the better part of valour, for once.

So, Flame, Boots, Bonnie Prince Charlie and I, bid you a fond adieu, and a good night, blog friends. Cheers.

CHARILE

FLAME AND BOOTS

AND SOME STRANGE PERSON, DUNNO' WHO THIS IS...

One of my favourite comics (later a sat. morning cartoon) as a wee child. From when I was 8 years old, I bring you The Archies: (Archie comics)

It just caught up with me, that it was 39 years ago, when this was in the top twenty hits on the radio. Gosh, does that make me feel old, or what?