On Many Subjects

I have RA and will begin Embrel therapy next week. The thing about Embrel is that is trashes the immune system and makes you more suceptible to infections. I have been really worried about this, so I did some investigating about methods for keeping my home more germ free. This Clorox® Home Flu Kit is a great idea because you get everything you need in one major disinfecting kit. The kit is not available in stores. This Clorox® Home Flu Kit contains the only bundled set of disinfecting products registered by the EPA that kill influenza A viruses, including the 2009 H1N1 flu virus on hard, non-porous surfaces (use as directed) as well as Clorox® Hand Sanitizer which Kills 99.999% of germs*. Also included is a clearly laid-out 4-color guide and laminated wallet-size card describing most effective ways to use these products. These products for both home and on-the-go use have been packaged by Clorox® into one convenient carton for immediate shipping for just $24.99.

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OK, so I started physical therapy because my I had a backache for something like two years and I was getting damned grouchy about it. I was even grouchier when the doctor told me it was from "normal wear and tear." NORMAL? Is he kidding me? Normal to scream in agony when you sit and normal to scream in agony again when you stand up? If it was normal, wouldn't everyone be doing it? So, I started physical therapy and amazingly, my back feels better. I love going to the heated salt-water spa pool with the fuzzy jets in the water and doing nice, tame exercises. My arthritic body loves the state of weightlessness, so much so, I am thinking of moving to the International Space Station. Meanwhile, back in the pool... I was going through my exercise routine and, as previously stated, my back feels really good, but my FREAKING knees have started hurting to beat the band. I mean hurting to the point I am screaming in agony when I stand up and screaming in agony when I sit d...

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The big question on everyone's mind is, when will property values appreciate, again? You are not the only person asking that question. Real Estate professionals all across the country are wondering the same thing because the real truth is, no one really knows. No one can predict the end of the crisis. America and Americans need to change their perspective on real estate to bring about a real end to the real estate crisis. Think about this: Real estate today is as worthless as the dollar. Think about times past, to your parents or your grandparents. In the 40s and 50s, couples lived with Mom and Dad while they were "courting." During this time, they both worked to save up their 20% down payment on their dream home. They were investing in America. Since that time, that investment in America has been devalued because of credit and the easy access to it. Not only has real estate been devalued because of credit, but the dollar has suffered the same fate. We assess value on an...

Upon walking into the corridor and seeing students lined up on both sides... Me: This looks like a Soul Train line. Student: It is. Me: Then why isn't anyone singing or clapping hands to the beat? Student: (singing) The Looooovvvvveeee Boat, soon will be making another run...

Me: My car is making a funny noise. Repairman: Then, turn the raido off. Me: Oh, you're one of those funny car repairmen. Rep: No, not really. Me: I was making a joke Rep: Wasn't very funny. Me: Give me my keys. I am going to get this fixed somehwere else, you Stupid, no-sense-of-humor-having, butt-crack-showing, dirty-too-small-blue jeans-wearing, front-teeth-missing, jazz-music-hating asshole. *Insipired by a comment I made on Bee's blog

A son-o-mine has recently quit smoking and is using a nicotine patch to counter the cravings for a smelly, smoldering weed. This guy also protects his country by finding and disabling alien invaders. (No. Really!) Additionally, on his alien invader adventures, he frequently is beset with acute mal-de-mer and the military treats his problem with Dramamine patches. He is up to two at a time, now. What does sissy cigarette patches and sissy Dramamine patches have in common. With all the patches he has stuck all over his body, he looks like he lost the alien invaders game... more than once.

I read over some recent entries and I realized my blog used to be far funnier. But what happened was this: First one person then another got their knickers in a knot because they thought I was poking fun at them. Well, I was. So, someone gets their feelings hurt, then I stop blogging about them. A friend once (or more than once) accused me of being too nice and maybe he was right. Me! The greatest proponent of free speech, the First Amendment, self expression, non-conformity and freedom in journalism, EVER. Me! The outspoken and irreverent Kay Four bowed to the wishes of all those people who think they are too precious to be mentioned in my blog, because, OMG! I may say something that makes them take a good long look in the mirror when they should be saying to themselves, "Yes, I do have a stick rammed up my arse," and smile at my harmless humor and by extension, themselves. I am declaring war! I am no longer going to bend to the wishes of the masses beacause, hey! ...

Me: What is that on the radio? CoWorker: It is Lily Allen singing Alfie Me: It sounds like a polka. CW: It does, a little. I'm not digging it. Me: It is a polka. You only hear polkas at weddings... right after everyone does the chicken dance. CW: My nephew announced that he learned the chicken dance and the Macarena. Me: He was bragging about that? CW: He is five. I told him he was all set when he gets married. Me: Who ever decided that the chicken dance and the macarena were great wedding dances? Or the polka for that matter? CW: I dunno. Me: When we get married again, we should insist on no chicken dance. CW: We get married? Me: That wasn't a proposal. Besides you are still married to your husband. CW: Well, the way you said it... Me: .... CW: You did say it like you and I were getting married. Me: But, I didn't mean it that way. CW: Maybe we should get married. Me: Yeah, maybe we should. We are far less trouble than men.

OK. I confess. I joined a dating site with the hope of finally (a long last) meeting the love of my life. I have to admit. The bastards won. I was in contact with a man who seemed to be very interested and exchanged several emails with me...he was educated, an art dealer, seemed classy from his emails. Then, he asked me to send him money. LOTS of money. We had not even reached the stage of talking on the phone when he asked me for money. I don't mean to get on a rant here and most people who read my blog know that I do not rant very often, but... I am thoroughly cheesed off by this character for a number of reasons. First, how could someone actually attempt to take advantage of someone like this? Worse, how could he assume that I was stupid enough to fall for his crap? What does this say about our world that a person (presumably a man) could be so greedy they would try to scam someone. Obviously, if I had sent him the money he asked for, he would do one of two things... hang on to ...

This is the funniest thing I have read recently and it is extremely valuable information, as in, I wish I had known about this when I was a teenager. Or even better, I wish I had known this when my kids were teenagers. How to argue effectively By Dave Barry And not by Stuart J. Williams, Attorney at Law I argue very well. Ask any of my remaining friends. I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don't even invite me. You too can win arguments. Simply follow these rules: Drink liquor. Suppose you are at a party and some hotshot intellectual is expounding on the economy of Peru, a subject you know nothing about. If you're drinking some health-fanatic drink like grapefruit juice, you'll hang back, afraid to display your ignorance, while the hotshot enthralls your date. But if you drink several large martinis, you'll discover you have STRONG VIEWS about the Peruv...

Special Note to the guy driving down Virginia Beach Blvd. in the white pick-up truck during lunch time rush hour: Chicks will not think you're special if you continue to try to pop the zit on your forehead with your head hanging out of the window so you can see yourself in the side-view mirror while you are waiting at the stop light. The only way that whole scenario could be worse was if you were playing Oingo Boingo very loudly at the same.

I have been having trouble decided what to blog about because so many subjects have become off limits as a result of first one thing then another. I am like, HEY, PEOPLE, THIS IS FREE JOURNALISM. This is the first amendment at work. Free speech! Why can't I write about what I want to write about? OK. Two things are on my mind, right now. I joined this dating club in hopes of meeting THE guy who will make my life complete... then, I discovered several things. Namely: The. Men. Actually. Want. To. Meet. Me. Now, I realize that is the purpose of dating. Meeting new people. Seeing if you click. Seeing if there is chemistry. Finding out if love at first sight is real. On the other side of the coin, I am wondering... do I really want a guy mucking about in my life? I mean guys are a lot of trouble and I have been without a guy since my divorce 21 years ago. Sidebar: My definition of a guy is a man who is married to me. On the one hand, that is not a bad thing. I get to make...

It was a first for me. The Divine Miss M and her mom had a sleep over at my apartment on Friday. We made pizza and spinach dip. We ate ice cream and cookies. We watched Aladdin. We put on our jammies and went to bed. Miss M is a very precocious 2.5 years old and very talkative. For example, here are a few classic phrases: "Grammie, I am very happy to be here!" "I made some eggs for you." "Be careful, Grammie! It's very hot!" "I love painting at school." "I have the best mommy, ever." We three climbed into my bed that is full size. Mom was quickly asleep, as was Miss M. But, Miss M likes to take up a lot of room on the bed and spreads out. I had scooted as close to the edge as possible and even risked falling out of the bed and fracturing one or more bones when I hit the floor. Finally, unable to get comfy enough to sleep, I went downstairs and slept on the futon in the livingroom, giving Miss M all the room she needed to sleep sound...

Every now and then, an image comes along that explains everything.

OK. so I listen to audio books when I drive under the hope that my brain will expand and the amount of trivial knowledge that I have will ever increase. Besides, it is a good time to engage in recreational reading (or actually recreational LISTENING.) Yesterday, I was listening to Sahara, by Clive Cussler and imagining myself in the role of Eva Rojas and that Matthew McConaughey really IS Dirk Pitt. (Stop it! You do it, too!) I was listening to the part that described a battle on the James River near the end of the Civil War, as a Confederate ironclad ship was trying to escape down the river with all the documents pertaining to the Confederacy and a very special passenger. The ship encountered resistance north of Newport News, and into Hampton Roads and then betwen Fort Wool and Fort Monroe. So, what has that to do with anything, you may ask. I was on Interstate 64 crossing the James River and taking the tunnel under the James between Fort Wool and Fort Monroe at the time I was listeni...

I saw this on another person's blog and decided to post it after spending about five minutes of my precious time answering the questions. So, if any of these situations happen to me, I will already have a name picked out. 1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet name and current street you live on) Tippy Oceanview (that's kinda cool) 2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (your grandmother/grandfather first name and your favorite candy) Eleanor Mars (bar) (Also kinda cool) 3. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your last name) K-Pop (Coolness, again) 4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) No way it is Pink Panther! 5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (your middle name, your favorite city) Carol St. Petersburg 6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your first name, first three of your middle and last name) KarVerPop (At least this is pronouncable) 7. Terrorist Name: (middle name spelled backwards, your grandmother's ma...

All right, winter, we GET IT. All I can think about is contained in three words: I am cold. No, wait, here are a few more: it is cold here. That's four words! And: I wish I had an extra sweater right now. 9 words! These are really adding up. How about this one: Who said winter was a good idea when my feet have turned to blocks of ice and my blood is running so sluggishly I can barely type and my big fuzzy brown coat has been morphed (by me) into a blanket and is still ineffectual. OK, that is 45 words. I have had just about enough of January. Really, January. You made your point. "I can make you cold," you said, and it's not like any of us disagreed with you. But then you had to go and freeze everything just to prove that point. It I was January's mother, I would send it to its room. With no dessert. My skin is cracking from the cold. Every time I absentmindedly scratch my shin, my fingers come back all bloody. It is a good thing I am not in therapy. Why is my leg...

On Sunday, I listened to a podcast by Garrison Keillor, "The news from Lake Wobegone." It was his Thanksgiving podcast so I was a couple of months late in listening. He talked about the huge feast that the female members of his family prepared and how everyone ate at least three times what they would normally eat because not to may hurt someone's feelings. Then, GK said that being thankful for a huge feast was not what the holiday was all about. He quoted "I was naked and you clothed me, I was hungry and you fed me," referring to words Jesus spoke in the Bible. Then, GK said that it didn't matter what church you attended, what organization you pledged your alliegence to, if you followed the rules or not set down my your congregation's tenets and dogma. What really mattered was how we treat our fellow man. Garrison Keillor felt that was going to be the deciding factor about who got a positive reward and those who did not. To that I say, "Truer words ...

As cold as it is outside, I am surprised that not all the spiders have frozen to death. On the other hand, they have decided that my nice warm apartment may be a good place to wait out the cold spell. It was BIG. It was HUGE. It was about the size of my shoe. I know that because I hurled the shoe across the room, ricocheted off the door and fell on top of the intruder. My cats, thinking I was playing with them, ran over to the shoe, which missed the spider, by the way, and proceeded to treat it like a new kitty toy, happily chasing it and playing soccer with it. Fortunately, the spider's mortal remains were in the middle of the kitchen floor when I went in to make coffee this morning and I was left to wonder why my carnivorous predators did not eat the darn thing. I say "fortunately" because the spider was dead, not because I had to clean up the carcass.

I was thinking about my age this morning, after discussing the horrors of Hot Flashes with a co-worker. According to V, one of her friends stayed over night with her in a kind of slumber party and the other women, who is younger than V, was bundled in a heavy robe, slippers, and a blanket while sweetly announcing, "It is a little bit chilly in your apartment." Like me, V often goes to bed with long pajamas on, socks on her feet and totally armed against the cold nights with a blanket and a quilt. Some time around the magic hour of 2am, we are forced out of our blissful sleep by a hot flash. That means, the blankets are flung off the bed, the pajama bottoms and socks end up on the floor and the ceiling fan goes on high-speed. Only to be chilled to the point of pnuemonia a few minutes later. Sleep has become a real rollercoaster ride and something I have begun to have fantasies about. Not only that, there are other distinct indicators that I, and my co-worker, are getting older...

First, they tell us to work faster, then the database we work from is shut down, successfully preventing us from working at all.

It is normal for me to go to bed about 9:00 pm to 9:30 pm. Then, right on cue, I wake up at 2:14. So, I get up and pee because I am awake anyway. So, I go back to sleep and then, I wake up at 6:00 and I have to pee ALOT. My sleep is always in two segments, but I cannot understand why I have to pee so much when I wake up at 6:00 am. I do not drink anything during my 2:14 sleep break. The only thing I can figure is that I am sleep-driving to the Seven-Eleven, buying a six pack of beer and sleep-chugging all six before returning to the cozy warmth of my bed. Could explain why I wake up with a headache every morning, too.