trystinn: (Default)
I'm getting very tired of having to prop my left arm up on chairs, sofa backs and pillows. At some point we'll sort out why my spleen is enlarged (which is why my left ribs are too tender to touch and send pains shooting through my torso from the pressure) but in the meanwhile, I'm having a tougher time being patient about this crap.

That said, its not quite so painful in the evenings. Which is a good thing.
trystinn: (Archangels)
*snorfle*

Writing an Imbolc ritual while nursing a sinus cold is annoying as all Hell. I have absolutely no creativity whatsoever at the moment.
trystinn: (furries)
This morning hubby woke me up to the news that he'd changed his mind - he now wanted to go to the town's "Military Family Appreciation Day BBQ". Now, there's only a few things I'd rather do than go to these kinds of things, they are (in no particular order):
* the Dentist
* the Emergency Room
* Clothes shopping with my mother during PMS

So, needless to say, I was less than thrilled. However, jokes on me - the BBQ was fine and the local historical car club "the Whidbey Cruzers" were out in force with a lovely display. An original classic mini (which hubby wants to buy for me - except he'll drive it every day to work, which is a hoot thinking of my six foot hubby whose shoulders block out the sun driving this tiny thing!), a Thunderbird exactly like the one my beloved grandfather used to have, a GORGEOUS Olds Cutlass 442 and a 1937 Ford Coupe. Basically, I hung out looking at cars and flirting with the old guys. I had a blast!

Then, we did something fairly insane, we took our free movie cards down to the local theatre (which is absolutely grotesque, i.e. ceiling tiles are missing in the theatres, but the only one near us) and saw "The Brothers Grimm". Really, Ron Howard and Terry Gilliam should be shot. The thing is a horrid mess of poor plot development, inane plot devices and the worst character in a movie since Jar Jar Binks.

The movie would have been better without:
a) the French torturer, wannabe Parisian who turns out to be Romany-Gypsy (the Jar Jar Binks type character)
b) the ENTIRETY of the French Army
c) the mysterious heroinne who skins rabbits, has a tan in the middle of the German Black Forest and *shockers* appears to have a crush on both brothers (for reasons why I've no idea, both characters were extremely unattractive in personality).

That, and taking about thirty minutes out of the middle would have worked, well. Just out of curiosity - did all the good editors in Hollywood quit or something? Is this the curse of ego maniacal directors who think the shiny new technology that makes it easier to edit will somewhow imbue them with editing talent?

Heath Ledger with a bad buzz cut and gold-rimmed glasses almost made up for it all.

So why did Hubby deserve all of the above - he's making me a light box for copying my BOS, been working on it all week. Hopefully, it will be done tomorrow (premature happy dance)!
trystinn: (Mystic)
As any good blacksmith, EMT or ER medic will tell you - a dull blade is infinately more dangerous than a sharp one. Surgeons do not attempt surgery with dull blades, cooks do not use dull blades in their kitchen. Think about this - professionals require their blades to be sharp. So should you.

And metaphorically - why on earth would you want to dull your intellect?

With regards to Wicca:
Also, just have to do this because I'm gritting my teeth - its not a knife, its an athame! Used to be a knife, but once sanctified as a ritual tool, it transcends its prior mundane existence to become a RITUAL TOOL. So whatever odd little alliances toward violence you have with knives due to stabbings, etc. don't apply to your athame. If you haven't made the switch, you've got a few options:

a) realize this isn't the path for you
b) try a stronger tool blessing, get help with that if need be.

NOT A KNIFE: ATHAME.

Or was I the only one taught that??
trystinn: (furries)
Ugh..this one is gonna get ugly.

I just got ANOTHER invitation to one of those 'parties' with a commerce theme. Party Lite, Passions Party, Tupperware, you name it - I get the invites.

Just for fun - let's analyze this through my snark sensor array. You're inviting me over to your house (often when you've never invited me over before) so you can get all sorts of hostess gifts and feed me in exchange for your friend to be able to run her little business out of our homes. Hmn...okay. Actually, for added fun, the invite I just received is pot luck - so not only are we to come and spend money so the hostess can get her gifts, we're supposed to feed ourselves! Gotta spend money to make money, err, wait that doesn't work. ACK!

Party Lite - okay, the candles are kinda nice and I get that they last 3000% times longer than other *quality* candles. Here's the thing - I'm a witch. I make my own candles. Yep, even make the non-magical candles for "just around the house, too". I even recycle my half-burned candles into new candles. Joy!

Tupperware - I gave it the Tracker test. If my Basset Hound can eat through it to get to taco meat, it ain't high quality enough for my home. And oy, I still have no idea what the damn toy I got for winning "Tupperware Bingo" does! Tell Tupperware they need a tougher quality control testing labratory, because they are flunking mine.

Passion party - if done by the right person, these are a hoot. Why not? The problem is, they are usually run by these chubby gals with their tummies showing between their too tight pastel cartoon t-shirt and their knock off drop waisted jeans (does anyone in the history of the world find camel toes sexy?), bad local frost job, goofy teenage-wannabees, with really hideous fake designer purses from the NAVY EXCHANGE (Oh, the humanity!) arch neo-conservative gals with those stupid patriot magnets on their SUV from hell. These are the gals the Navy guys marry who are not presentable enough to work at Walmart, that should tell you something.

Two hours worth of CHEMICAL FUN, just lotion after lotion, with one hand for licking, the other for non-edibles. Then come the oddly overly large sex toys - really, if you can fit that in your cooch, I'm now afraid of you! And really, Oak Harbor military folks are really not ready for anal toys. You can tell by the way everyone shrieked into high pitched notes designed to shatter glass and turned green - make a note of it while I put earplugs in. And really, I don't need to know that my husband's co-worker's morbidly obese wife loves the numbing cream and its the "only way to make him last!" And that the fake blonde with the obviously cheap boob job on my left needs clit creme to get off. Seriously, don't need to know that. My hubby doesn't need such a thing, neither do I. Patience, technique, Hitachi's - get some.

*prepared food company* - I admit, I cannot recall the name to this. Here's the thing - I cook. I enjoy cooking. Anyone who whines they don't have time to cook needs to be introduced to the joys of crockpots. If you have time to chat online, you have time to cook - HONEST!

RSVP - NEGATIVE

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TrystInn

October 2012

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