Where I Reveal Myself To You In Terrible Ways

Most of these blog entries will be a record of self-loathing or depression.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Watching TV: Frontline - Solitary Nation

Ideas sparked:

1. A program where people can write letters to prisoners through a third party - the letters go to a repository where they are taken out of envelopes (and maybe screened) and then they are given to prisoners. Prisoners can then write back through the same repository, which then works in reverse.

2. Giving solitary prisoners letters from kids. Drawings. Maybe not even with names.

3. Start a writing project among the prisoners: one prisoner writes a paragraph or piece, then another inmate takes it up and the story goes around the unit. If there is a worry about secret codes, the stories are mixed randomly with stories among prisons nationwide. 

4. Expose the solitary prisoners to chat roulette. Put the camera high enough in the cell so that they can't expose themselves and maybe all anyone can see is their hands or feet (if they stand on their hands). Or blur them.


I'm pretty sure I've gained some weight (or at least girth) back because these fashionable pants that I bought (that were in my previous size) now feel like I'm jamming my nuts into a sock.

The Other Note On My Hand

Listening to NPR, I always hear the ads and think about what I would have as my ad. Today as I was listening to the Fresh Air interview with Hari Kondabolu, I thought it would be cool to buy the time as ads for comedians I like.

Pop Culture Note

Watching @midnight. Nick Swardson looks like he has an addiction problem. He looks haggard and like he's been sleeping in his truck. He looks like a biker coming off a bender. 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Watching TV: Crisis

This show had a lot of promise, but episode three is going off the rails.

1. The father has returned to the control center, but it's not explained how. Do they not notice he's missing, that he just strolled off? What about is daughter? Wouldn't she be paranoid about losing him and wake up the second he moved?

2. A Secret Service agent can't shoot a man on a moving motorcycle from ten feet away? In the leg, perhaps? Or shoot out the tires of the motorcycle? You want me to believe their marksmanship is that bad?

3. They didn't ask the President's wife if she had received a phone call. Come to think of it, they didnt directly ask the President. They just said a lot of goofy dramatic stuff and left.

4. The Secret Service agent called the number back from the Chief of Staff's office. He doesn't hand the phone to the FBI agent to get her to check if the voice of the wife sounds different? Oh, which reminds me: the man is speaking to his wife; the agent asks to speak with her, when she hands the phone back to him he just hangs it up. No "goodbye, honey?" And through slight of hand we're confused into thinking everyone knows that she asked him to come to the fence, but we know that, but he doesn't. The kidnapper never got that far; the agent asked for the phone. So A) she should have been suspicious when he just hung up the phone without talking to his wife (especially since he was asking them to leave so he could talk to her) and B) when she said "We'll walk with you outside" he we have betrayed himself by looking totally confused. 

The guy's a lousy actor, anyway; I didn't find him believable as an emotional father and if I didn't, it's ridiculous that trained investigators did. Besides: why should he be able to fool experts? He's not some CIA operative; he's a political guy! The way he flipped out later at the car is more indicative of his paper-thin persona; why would he fool two trained agents? He wouldn't.

5. No one found the guy with his hood up in his menacing leather jacket carrying a suspicious package worth a second look? Maybe it's because people are dumb; maybe it's because they don't live in this town, but that guy would have been profiled and stopped before he ever got to the front. If he's made out so that the audience can identify him as "Bad Guy" then the cops can pick him out like an elephant at a flea circus.

6. There are cameras that show the fence. It's ridiculous to think that there's not. They would have had that guy's picture within minutes of the incident. Later in the episode, they show "news footage" of the incident (shot from a ridiculous angle that would never happen); if that were real, the amateur detectives on TV would have torn apart that piece frame by frame and found that guy and pasted him all over the news. It's ridiculous.

7. The main bad guy makes an egg sandwich and tells the others about it. Are you kidding me?? He just did the "villain explains himself" speech that mark the whole thing as amateurish, what is this bullshit? (And what happens when is daughter smells egg and butter on him and is like "When did you eat an egg?") Fucking ridiculous.

8. When the hot FBI agent (she's pretty, but not hot, really; stunning face but no body - which is okay; lean and athletic is right for an agent; I'm just remarking on the silly archetype; it's like a parody; has anyone read the back of a Margaret Truman thriller?) says to the woman Secret Service agent: Get him [the President] up here so we can figure out who took his son, it's just ridiculous. A, there's gotta be a way to communicate with him in the bunker; B: who says he knows more than anyone else about why this is happening? Is he some kind of intelligence analyst? She's the fucking investigator; she should be figuring it out.

And I'm only halfway through this episode.

9. The candles: a bunch of them exploded, yet we only saw "Bad Guy" put down one. If he put down a bunch, that would be suspicious, and if you don't think FBI and Secret Service have undercover people in that crowd, you're as dumb as this show is.

Point of Order

Hari Kondabolu was on Fresh Air today and I couldn't help disagreeing with him a smidge.

I love the guy as a performer - his delivery, his material; the lists - but he made an assertion on the show that I had a slight quibble with. And I could be wrong.

Talking about his experience writing on W. Kamau Bell's show on FX, Kondabolu said that, if Bell liked a piece they wrote or pitched but felt it wouldn't necessarily work as delivered by him, he would suggest the writer do it himself, and then let him do it on the show. Hari said that no one else on late night did something like that.

Well, it may be a recent example, so not very indicative of the genre, and it may be different than I perceive it, but I think this is very much what Deon Cole would do on the Conan show last year. The material didn't seem to be related to Conan at all, or have any of his influence or style about it, and Cole was brought out to deliver it. Many times it was even weird and completely jarring in terms of the feel of Conan's show (and I think that's a racial thing*, for me anyway). But it seemed obvious it was Cole's own material and Conan really liked it and so let him just perform it because it made no sense coming from Conan.

Like I say, I don't know if that's how it went down, or if those pieces were written by Cole or the staff or just one other staff member. But they seemed like they fit Cole's style and they were their own little pieces, with no real attachment or transition to the larger whole. So I would cite those as examples of another host doing a similar thing. (I wonder if The Daily Show or Colbert have any of that, but I don't know.)

(*I'm saying it's a problem on my end; a lack of racial perception or acceptance I have.)

Can't Let Go of The Argument

Listened to NPR on the way home, and they were talking about Ukraine again. It's a propaganda battle now, with the real battle (possibly, but hopefully not) close behind. I still want to fight the logic of the whole thing.

I realized the other day why Lavrov and Putin keep talking about America doing its part to ease the tensions. It's because the story being spun in Russia is that the people who took over the Kiev government are fascists, so to keep asking America to dial down the tension is a sly trick wherein they dial up the tensions via their media and then fault the U.S. for not working to cool it.

Three men were killed at a checkpoint. In the NPR story, the men who are at the checkpoint now asked for donations in their names and described them as a bus driver and (I forget). Part of me wanted to be cynical and cold and say "Hey! You're all 'freedom fighters' now; at least, that's what you keep telling us. So don't try to turn around now and act like these guys were some poor dupes who got shot. The babushkas said they'd die with not problems; are your guys less committed?"

I'd also like to confront the masked me in the Eastern towns like Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men. "Oh, the new government in Kiev is fascist, is it? Where's your evidence? What fascist government would have let you take over these buildings? What fascist regime would have let their soldiers walk quietly and politely out of their military base (in Crimea) and not fought back? If they're so cruel and power mad, why have they left you alone? Why didn't they show up before you took over the police stations?? Why don't you study Soviet history and ask me how these people are in any way like the totalitarian governments that used to rule here? You can't do it! Your supporter claim to be oppressed, yet the only people who have been beaten in the street in the east are the supporters of the central government? Why would you need to beat them? You vastly outnumber them! Why do you hide your faces; refuse to give your names? If your cause is just; if you believe you are fighting for freedom willing to die for your cause, what do you have to fear??"

I get too wrapped up in it.

I'd like them to explain the parallels of their situation. If they had protested in their central squares - in Slovyansk, in Donetsk, in the other towns, who would have stopped them? Who would have sent them  home? Who would have outlawed protest? Not this government. And while they protested in Kiev for months before taking over any government buildings, you did it at once - and with guns!!

Where were the guns in Kiev? How did this "fascist" government fight back against the Yanukovich government? Did they have AK-47s? Did they dress up in military gear? No. At worst, they threw rocks, and they were throwing them at soldier and police actively engaged in pushing them out. You never had to fight anyone? No one ever stopped you from protesting. You never even tried that. That is what betrays your talk of oppression and peace. You started with guns. No one else did.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

The Little I Salvaged

I was just walking back from my house (to Best Friend's place) and you know what I really wanted to do? I wanted to order some fries and a pizza.

My alcoholism is twingeing. The tendon in my neck is starting to hurt and so that little headache I've had recently is flaring, just a little bit. And although I'm tired and could have fallen asleep at my place (but I need to take the dog out tonight and again in the morning), I want to order a pizza and some fries and stay up way too late so that tomorrow might not come and I might not have to go back to that job where I feel like a failure every. single. day.

Here's what little I salvaged of the day: I took a shower and I did some wash.

I took a shower at about two. In that moment I was considering going to my brother's place for dinner with he and is family. Then I started doing the math on the timing and realized I wouldnt be home until two hours after the dog's dinner time. I couldn't do that. So I scratched it off my list. I walked the dog and watched another movie and a half (the half something I had seen before). 

At seven I fed the dog. I had been thinking I would feed the dog, walk her, then go home and do wash. As the time was coming up to walk her I was thinking "Fuck it. I'll stay here, watch more cable movies and then get up really early drive home and figure out what I can wear." 

Thankfully I didn't stick to that plan. That was a lousy plan. That plan would have made me crazy stressed tomorrow and made me hate myself for what I didn't do. Luckily, when I walked the dog at eight I saw how nice it could be outside, how easy it would be to be outside, to walk home. It wouldn't be easy to be home, to have to deal with my life, even if only for two hours, but it wouldn't be hard to get there.

So I went, and I did wash, and I listened to a podcast, and I talked to NGG on the phone. And the dryer ended much later than I was planning on and I felt tired but knew I should stay up to walk the dog around midnight and I started to get stressed about going to that job where I'm fucking up and hear people shouting at me in my head about how shitty I am, even if the people in front of me are nice to me.

And I want pizza and some french fries. 

But I won't get them. And I have an outfit for tomorrow. And I'll remember to get gas, and I'll get to work on time and everything will be fine ...until it's not.

Steer Me Out of This Trainwreck

I'm in my usual place. It's after 12 on the second day of the weekend, I haven't taken a shower, I'm watching something I've already seen, and I'm trying to make some justifications for how a lousy outcome will be good, be better than nothing.


I could take a shower, walk the dog, get in the car, go to my house, change, and go to my brother's in Pennsylvania for a few hours. See his wife and the kids and have dinner with them. Change the dynamic there, maybe, and change my own dynamic for a few hours.

But I'm here. Thinking about poor choices and trying to salvage another mess I've made. Trying to figure out a way to not hate everything about myself and my life come midnight tonight.

CBS and Religion - Again

One of the other stories on "Sunday Morning" was about some nuns in Kansas who made a music recording that his become incredibly popular. It's a novelty story, the kind that news shows like to do to show just how "funny" this old world is: "Hey, nuns it the top of the charts! How silly/charming/inspiring is that?"

But it comes with a viewpoint and it's one I find condescending, even if they don't mean it.

Part of it is just ridiculous: could the interviewer not have worn more plain or chaste clothing for the interview? Watching her try to walk on the gravel drive in high heels just pointed out how much the show doesn't think about its subjects or relies on style rather than substance.

Okay, sure: if it had been a different story, I'm sure the interviewer would have worn a much more colorful dress. Maybe she wore black out of respect. 

But to ask what the women think of their success on the charts? Do you realize how stupid and insulting that question is? Do you realize how it speaks to the vanity and entanglement in the world of material things and physical desire? Do you even know what religion is or is about?? It's just sad and annoying. 

Again, it's all the unspoken questions: Why would anyone live like this? Can you believe they don't talk?? Did you see their clothes?? It ends up sounding like gossipy housewives in the worst stereotypes. 

I guess you can't really expect anything more; the profane world works as the profane world works. It speaks its own language, and anything outside of it is therefore weird, and strange. If someone were to put the reporters' lives under the lens of religion and traditional values, it would look horribly twisted, too. But to frame people of faith with the culture of money and fame worship is just tawdry and sad.

EW - no, not that one

Watching Elizabeth Warren on CBS' "Sunday Morning," I think of a question I'd like to ask all the pro-business types, like Americans for Prosperity and the Koch Brothers: "Would you be okay with another business putting you out of business? If your billion dollar business went away because someone did it better, would you be okay with that?" 

Of course, there are tons of facets to this question: Could they accept the premise? Do they believe it would be possible? Because that's an important idea. If they don't accept the idea that they could be put out of business by the free market, that means they would do anything - consider anything - as a means of staying in business. 

Where that applies is the matter of legislation. If you believe your loss of business would be an unnatural thing, then anything you do in support of it is a good thing, including influencing legislation.

What I'm guessing is the case is that any way that legislation could compromise their business would be unnatural and usurping, but anything they do to further their own business interests is wholesome and the "natural" law of business (which is totally unnatural because it's subject to all the whims, foibles, and evils of men).

Today's Doings

I didn't go anywhere.
I didn't shower.
I watched an episode of Law & Order I had seen before.
I bought a burrito and chips at Chipotle for lunch, even though I've got plenty of frozen meals here.
I watched a movie I had never seen before, The Island. It was exciting, but full of flaws.
I went and bought a bunch of chips and soda.
I took the dog for a walk three times.
I wasted some time on Facebook and felt bad about myself and my life.
I napped.
I watched a few episodes of TV that I wanted to watch.

The Didn'ts
I didn't write or send any mail.
I didn't take my dry cleaning in.
I didn't pay my credit card bill.
I didn't write any involved entries on here or catch up on old entries I planned or made notes for.
I didn't go home to my house and do wash.
I didn't call anyone or talk to anyone aside from by text.
I didn't get much sun.
I didn't watch any of the TV I had meant to or any recent movies (that I've been saving for Best Friend's giant TV).

Saturday, April 19, 2014


It being Saturday night, it's time for a party, so I went out and got my party friends: 
1 bag of kettle cooked chips
1 bag of crisp rounds chips
1 bag of mixed chips
2 liter of Coke
1 box of chocolate topped butter cookies

If I had a cell phone with a camera, you'd have pictures of this pathetic parade. As it is, I suppose you'll have to use your imagination.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Here's Where I Am

At home. At least right now.

Okay, that's not really what I meant to write. I am at my house, but that's because I didn't have to work today (day labor) but didn't want to call off the dog walker (interaction with a stranger; asking for a favor) and so I just left the house for the period in which he's going to walk the dog. I'll go back at three or four or five; we'll see.

I was going to do wash over here so that I had something to wear for Friday, but I don't need to because I have clean dress clothes, so I'll just take those back. I was going to wash some of my new jeans. I obviously need to buy even more new jeans to keep up with work attire. I've also started to worry about how many nice shirts I have.

My biggest problem at the moment, though, the reason I started this entry in the first place, is eating. I haven't eaten anything today because eating with this broken tooth is tricky. The food pushes the tooth around and makes it hurt (probably very low-level pain, but when it's the only sensation, it's everything) and feel like things are getting stuck between my teeth.

I didn't pull out the piece last night, although I did find pliers. And I did take the pliers and put them on the tooth, but it's so close to the tooth in front and behind that I can't really get a grip without knocking into them and that does cause that chilling sensation in my body.

At that point I was wishing I had plastic or wooden pliers; a pair that didn't make my other teeth feel so bad when it knocked into them. I think with plastic pliers (or rubber tips on a regular pair) I could grip this thing and work it out.

At the moment though, I'm kind of thinking of letting it work itself out. I'm pushing it around like you do (maybe you haven't had a loose tooth - or piece of tooth - lately, but there's something fun about them; ask any kid) and its occurred to me that it's going to get looser and looser as the days go by and it'll be easier to rip out then.

But there's still the issue of eating. I hate disturbing it to eat and I don't know how to eat around it (it's hard, because it's one of the few complementary teeth I have left; the whole molar set on the other side is gone on the bottom, so there's no way to chew). I guess I'm just going to have to deal with it or tear it out. Well see.
Or I could not eat and lose some weight.

I forgot to mention (I think; the television works as a natural thought disruptor) that the reason I brought up the abscess and how I messed with it was because it wasn't there last night. So: I cut the abscess, the other chunk of filling falls out, the abscess flattens out. Coincidence? You know how the human brain is.

I spent the walk here from Best Friend's trying to do math in my head. I've been doing it a lot lately: 4,000 over ten years; 12,000 over twenty years. Today it was thirty thousand over fifty years.

They're all fantasy numbers in supposed loans I would ask for. Four thousand for one tooth (this one, before it fell apart), twelve thousand for three teeth; thirty thousand for one or two implants. I try to come up with repayment terms that I could live with. Sixty dollars a month. Best Friend has money. Her brother has money. Someone else I know has money. But how could I ask for it? What could I promise in return? Even if I pay them back; am I going to "live right?" Am I going to take care of myself? Are they making a good investment? I can't say that they are, and so I can't ask them for a loan.

In the shower earlier I heard the voice in my head again: "You can't do what you've always done." I fought with the voice, about how I don't have money, but I don't think that's what the voice was about. The voice was more about taking care of myself in a general way: making my bed; brushing my teeth more than once a day; doing work even on my days and hours off. I don't like that idea. I'm still not ready to hear it. I see the consequences manifesting themselves, but I am still resistant.

Inside My Head

Here we are in the demented space that is my head.

The piece of tooth that's loose hurts because it keeps pushing up in my gum, or straining at the gum it's still attached to even when it's just resting against my bottom teeth. So I want to pull it.

Here's where it gets sick. I'm kind of excited by the idea of pulling it out. There's something very satisfying about pulling out pieces of my teeth. Maybe it's the fact that I'm completely in control of myself (however pathetic the circumstances). 

I fear the pain, sure. It doesn't even seem like it'll be that bad, but any pain is no fun. I probably make it out to be much worst in my head.

Oh, wait: I forgot what I meant to open with:

Here's something I'd didn't tell you about yesterday that may or may not be connected: I popped the abscess.

I was at my brother's, looking in on his cats, and just felt very aware of it. I was eating chips and didn't have toothpick to empty out my tooth pocket, and then I remembered he's got those dental toothpicks. So I got one of those. It was different that the ones that I have, in that the point for the tooth was a flat blade rather than a slightly or fully rounded point. So after a little while I went into the bathroom and stabbed the abscess.

It bled, and maybe there was some pus. Not a whole lot came out. I got some Listerine from the closet and dipped the point in it, then stuck it back in the abscess. Then I swished with the Listerine. Then I stabbed the abscess again and tried to get it to drain some.

It didn't, really. It would bleed a little bit each time, but it wasn't cut well and when I pushed on it, I felt like I was just pushing it back into the space in my gum rather than out the side to drain it. I thought later how much I wished I had some kind of needle-less syringe to suck out the contents. 

So now I've got this loose piece in my gum that hurts and I want to get some pliers and grab it.

Of course, I don't know if you're like me, but the idea of gripping a tooth with pliers sends shivers up my spine. And not the good kind. 

Just now when describing it, it didn't seem so bad. I was able to be aware that the tooth piece I would grab wouldn't feel the connection to the bone, which is somehow the freaky feeling you get. Maybe it's because of the nerves, which in this case doesn't apply, since I'm pretty sure the nerve in this tooth died. And the piece I want to pull isn't connected to the jaw, so it's not connected to the "mainframe" of my body. 

Of course, I don't think I know where pliers are in this house and I don't know how much is connected to the gum and how much I'd have to pull out. The piece feels like it goes deep; while it's broken off from the jaw and root, but it's still down into the gum that far. That feels like a lot to tear out.

I wish I had company in this. I'd love to have someone to talk to and witness with me while I do this crazy, fucked up thing. Like I would if I were 20 or 25. Someone there in the middle of the night watching with a locked gaze and cringing and wincing as I do this crazy thing that's painful as hell.

Okay, I'm not paying attention very well. Might check a few drawers for some pliers.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Well It Happened

Turns out most of #12 was filling, and the second, larger piece just fell out.

Now the tooth is split in two pieces: a stable, inner piece still rooted in the bone and a smaller, loose piece that's looking to fall out. It's attached to the gum, bit will rip out with some work. The question is, do I want to rip it out?

(Worst part? I just went and bought myself a burrito and am eating it with chips. Now I don't have the teeth to eat it with.)

Commercial Report: Trivago

Who is this guy in the Trivago commercial? He looks old. And haggard. It may be that he looks normal for 40 or 45, but up against everyone else on TV, he looks like he drank all yesterday and slept in the gutter.

"Find The Love of Your Dreams"

CBS is showing ads for a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie called "In Your Dreams" or something. 

Seriously? This is where CBS and Hallmark are going? Usually the Hallmark movies are sweet and sappily romantic, but they're usually not magical realism. Is this an indication of America's losing touch with what it takes to have a relationship, or is it Hallmark knowing its demographic is single women over 30? 

I don't get it.

Commercial Report: Toyota and the Muppets

Right: let the puppets take over the car; that's safe. (They don't show them driving, do they? They thought of that.)

Watching TV: ABC's "Resurrection"

One of the things that I find unrealistic about this show is how everyone who's related to a "returned" person just walks away from them or sends them to their room. My feeling (which could be based on other fictional media; I'm unsure) is that if you lost someone and then they came back, you wouldn't want to let them out of your sight. You have no idea how they came back, so what's to say they won't just up and disappear as fast as they came? 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

What About Me??

(I called it that because I didn't have a title in mind and, in some ways, I can see it as applicable.)

There was a story on NPR just now about the dangers of mixing benzodiazepan drugs and opioids. In the story they talked with a woman who had been addicted to prescription drugs and then heroin, and she talked about the feeling after the rush; the state some people call "the nod." 

It made me think about how the other night I had this really strong desire for heroin. Okay, maybe not heroin specifically, but something in my brain that equaled heroin. Something that my brain imagined would stop certain activity, or change certain activity, and make me feel differently. In that moment, I almost felt like, had some been in front of me or offered to me, I might have taken it.

What is that?? I'm 41 years old. I've never done illegal drugs a day in my life. Why would my body still crave it - still crave drugs (or my imagined form of them) in particular? What is happening in my brain when that happens?

Part of it is easily explained: I don't have resilience; I don't have coping skills, and I've avoided building them all these years and I've been using numbing devices like food and television to dispel feelings. S my brain is used to a pattern of being numbed by some kind of agent and, in that moment, was just expressing a desire to be numbed. It doesn't know what heroin is, or the experience is like, but it can approximate the "numbed" feeling, so it just imagines the bridge to that place, and craves that. Not heroin, but emotional and mental escape.

Still, I wanted someone to do a study. I wanted to be part of a group of people like me, people who never drank or did drugs but yet found their own version of drugs and did that, and who sometimes crave drugs, even as they know they can't or won't do them because they're too aware of the consequences.

I wanted two things: a brain study, and a rehab program. I wanted rehab for my brain, even if it isn't on drugs. I wanted someone to teach me how to live, how to not get bogged down in the bad habits and the bad emotions.

I think that's where the whining comes in. No one else gets special training, why should you? And if you want it, then make those decisions to get it: either on your own, or make the decision to get some help.

What I want to ask (because it's my only excuse left) is: can I truly make that decision if I am this way? Can I even approach better, if my brain is in this state?

The universe says yes. Mostly because addicts do it all the time. They reach a point where they make a decision, and then they keep on making decisions, or they get help making decisions, so they can continue on in the right direction. But at some point you have to make the decision for yourself. In the end, you are by yourself. People who learned how to make good decisions early on don't realize this, but it's a very lonely job, trying to change yourself. You're asking me to give up everything I identify as me. How am I supposed to do that?? That's frightening! That's a black hole of existence! Sure, we may "know" what it'll be like on the other side, but we have no experience of that. We can't count on that. That wasn't us; that was other people. How do we know we'll make it through?

A (Feminist?) Joke and Today's Poor Decisions

Today on NPR they were talking about how there might be genetic reasons for a higher incidence of Alzheimer's in women. My immediate reaction was to think: They get Alzheimer's so they can continue to deal with their husbands! 
Who's with me? Am I right?

Or: They get Alzheimer's so their husbands can know what it's like to be responsible for a fucking change!
Am I right, ladies??

Okay, so they're not funny, really. In some ways they're "revenge" jokes, that I think of in terms of how shitty most men are in relationships and ignorant of their wives' struggles (perhaps "oblivious" is more accurate; the only thing missing is the scent of intention in their "unknowing"). They're an expression of the frustration I hear from women (or maybe I imagine it) with their husbands' callous ignorance of the full reality of their lives.

Was watching an old episode of "Inside Amy Schumer," and while most of the episode was hard for me to watch (cringe-worthy in the type of humor; not bad), Tig Notaro was awesome. Her presence is just great; I don't know if she needs to even do anything.

Poor choices this evening:
I bought a can of processed cheese dip and a 2 liter bottle of soda.
I drank 2/3 (or 3/5) of that bottle of Coke.
I ate half a bag of chips and a bunch of crackers. 

It doesn't seem that bad when I write it out, but I know that I ate too much (I also had two big steak and bean burritos), and that cheese dip and soda wasn't good.

My tongue has stayed yellow. I think I'm losing some of my ability to taste. I don't know if that's true or just a paranoid fear. I've never had this happen to me before and I don't know how to clear it up.

Well, aside from the obvious. I'm considering making an appointment for this Saturday. Today I scrubbed my tongue with a napkin and it seemed the yellow came off. I wondered if I could just rub off the growth, but that's dumb. I should, however, get another toothbrush and start brushing my tongue on a regular basis. I did that after work today, but then I drank the soda. (Well, I drank a soda at work, too. I wonder sometimes how the soda affects it; the sugars, or whatever it might be.)

God I would love to have twelve thousand dollars to spend at the dentist. It would be so much fun - yes, fun - going to the dentist and knowing it's paid for. 
Okay, maybe not fun, but certainly satisfying.