...undefined maladies and hemorrhoid cream.

(Warning:  if you know the specific orifice the aforementioned cream is used on, you can guess how shitty (pun intended) a post this will be before the end.)

I'm used to my bitch headaches.  I get one every few weeks or so, and it makes the day suck.  I even have another drug to try to see if it will kill them, although that need has yet to arise.  What I can't stand are the undefined sicknesses that don't fall clearly into one category or another, but could be caused by any number of things.

Like my daughter's puke-a-thon the other night.  It started that day with her not wanting to really eat, then complaining her tummy hurt.  I managed to get her to eat some butter toast. That ended up coating my seat on the couch (more on the cleanup in a bit).  She ended up getting down to the dry heaves, and ended passing out on the floor in her panties, wrapped in a blanket.  No fever, no other symptom, just puke.  The next day she was fine.  On the plus, she's gotten the sour stomach before, so no worries.

And no trips to the emergency room to make up for a lack of parenting skill.  That was where I had to go after work on Thanksgiving night, because the boy was puking and fevering, and was fine the next day, all thanks to the ministrations (or lack thereof) of the Succubus.  But that was another post (that I failed to write).

So back to my couch, which is past threadbare.  My ass cushion is particularly worn, and the fact that it absorbed prechool hurl deep was a bad thing.  I tried scrubbing it.  I tried spray odor eliminators (the cheap shit, not the Febreze brand).  Sit on it and you smell vomit.  Finally, I went with the old reliable of baking soda on it overnight.  I think I bought the couch a little more time, because it's breathable again.

Unfortunately, the real challenge of being a single parent is being a sick single parent.  Because, very simply, you can't just curl up and sleep. You can entertain your kids with tales of ass blood (although it's gallows humor when wiping is an issue).  But you still have to manage the younglings while trying to curl up and die.  On the down side, there was no puke involved.  I say that it's the down side because if you puke it out, it gets out of your belly quickly.  At least it gets out of there more quickly than the other end.

I'm not sure if it was food poisoning (I made chili. Good chili) or some light flu bug (which makes no sense because I don't have much human contact), but I'm still feeling the effects 24 hours later.

Needless to say, the progression from chunky soft serve ( the source of ass blood and screaming while wiping) to ass soup (which is still haunting me), aided by the cream (a necessity when you have as  irregular movement-ravaged a sphincter as I), it ain't good.  Then came the fevering, which caught me late in the afternoon, which challenged my ability to make supper.  I even threw myself into a sick soak bath (which the kids enjoyed tormenting me during, constantly, necessitating the (wet) boot to the head) before almost passing out momentarily, then curling back up on the couch until the kids bedded, then sitting on the unpuked portion of the couch (the baking soda still doing its work) curled up until it was late enough to roll the boy out for the late night pee (it's either that or definitely change piss sheets in the morning).

And whatever it is, I can still hear the rumbling and gurgling in the intestinal tract.  So I'm not over it by a long shot.  But I'm hungry again (I wasn't last night), so I'm guessing I must be on the mend, just in time for a bacon deluxe burger.  But until then, here's a clip that has little to do with any of the post other than the title "Asses of Fire" just captured yesterday's rectal agony.



Look on the bright side: At least I didn't write this post while on the crapper....

...failed miserably in the upkeep of the blog.

Note: All pictures in this post  are from the weekend after Thanksgiving, when we put up all the shiny decorations and I was too damned lazy to post them then.  I finally downloaded them to the computer today, as I am so not a camera person.

I last posted on Thanksgiving or so.  And now, we're already to December 7.  I've taken in plenty of Christmas stuff already (Charlie Brown, The Santa Clause (1 and 2 (fucking Disney)), even the oldest movie version of A Christmas Carol (after watching the Muppet one on DVD)).  And I've streamed a little Christmas music, including a little Messiah work (I have the score as well as the whole thing on CD and can sing a good portion of it). 

As well, I finally got around to watching the classic Casablanca.  It never really rated high on my priorities list because it was an old-assed movie.  But I have spent more time checking out stuff on TCM, and I've been discovering lots of movies that I wouldn't have given a rats ass about a decade ago.  Ask me about the songs in the Christmas playlist, and I'll be able to tell you, when we reach the Judy Garland version of "Have yourself A Merry Little Christmas," that the song comes from the movie Meet Me in St Louis, which has, perversely, been added to my list of holiday movies (and they're running it late night both times this month). Interesting side note, the movie includes in the cast, besides Judy Garland of course, June Lockhart, who appeared in the aforementioned Christmas Carol (uncredited), and is still acting today (I even remember the B5 ep she was in).  Damned circular, my movie watching is...

But back to Casablanca.  I can see why it makes the list of the best movies ever made.  Even with its age, the dialogue still cracks along at what was back then a staggering pace, and today would be respectable of any good dialogue-driven movie.  Too often, the old movies rely on cliche or dated conventions that are humorous in today's jaded pop culture.  Not so here.

That, or I didn't have the energy after the Christmas decorations, on which we commenced on Saturday, continuing into Sunday to finish.  I went with all white lights, some pearl beads, snow garland, and varying pearly, blue and purple balls this year.  And I'm considering a silver and gold theme for next year. One thing I've learned is the value

Of course, the younglings were enthusiastic, but about as much trouble as they were help.  I figure a few more years of training and severe beatings with flaming tinsel will whip their spindly asses into shape.

Yes, I'm a sadistic bastard.  But then again, I have to do something to get the kids ready to walk six miles uphill both ways in blinding snowstorms (and global warming) (in September) to school.  Maybe it'll make them motivated or something.

Other things of note while I was not posting shit.   The Succubus has access to a computer (she sent me email concerning the kids).  I have evidence that that's a bad thing.  

There used to be a day when I could stay up to three AM and get up in the morning.  Not anymore.

I really hate nights in winter because it's one of the rare times I freeze my ass off even with the heat cranked.  Takes all the fun (and (picture-free) nakedness) out of kid-free weekends.

Except on Christmas, snow sucks.

On the computer front, I have a short in my power cord, right at the plug.  If I didn't have it taped, I could see it spark.  I can still hear it if I wiggle the cord.  And it did short the laptop out temporarily today (would be a shit myself situation if I wasn't as good as I am).  But seeing as though I'm typing this post on the laptop, the cord isn't too dead.  Yet.

And as I'm both too broke and too cheap to replace it....