MAB SmackDown: Raw

Posted on July 28, 2011 by pegoleg

Lib even got a new hat in case her hair falls out.

I’m a peaceable woman.  I abhor violence and am filled with the milk of human kindness.  Yet, at this moment I am looking forward with all my being to witnessing an epic takedown; a beating so brutal it will be deemed a total annihilation.

My sister Lib is taking on her MAB.

Right around St. Patrick’s Day, Lib had a mini-seizure and tests revealed there was something on her brain.  

We dubbed it the Mysterious Abnormal Blob (MAB) because the doctors couldn’t tell what it was.  Virus? Stroke?  It didn’t look like anything they had seen.  They exhausted all the external diagnostics before they went in for a biopsy.  Unfortunately, the biopsy revealed cancer.  It’s something called an oligodendroglioma.  An old friend of the family. 

If you want more background, check out previous posts under the category “Hospital Stories” in the right margin of this blog.

Lib has had no symptoms all this time, due in part to the anti-seizure drugs she’s on.  She’s living her life, going to work and taking care of business.  Nothing has changed, except she isn’t allowed to drive. 

The first months were full of tests, doctor appointments, getting second opinions to try to nail down the tumor grade.  Since then, there has been a frustrating amount of nothing going on.

I know I’m not alone in having found this time in limbo very surreal.  I’ve even forgotten about her MAB for days at a time.  Lib said when she walked in to the hospital for an MRI last night and noted all the hustle and bustle; it was a bit of a shock to realize she was a part of that.  That SHE was the patient.

Finally, something is going to happen. 

The MRI results came in this morning.  Four months since the MAB first arrived on the scene, and no change.  It has not grown.  YES!  Fist pump and Whoop!  Whoop!

Lib is rested, refreshed and pumped up.   It’s time to get rid of the damn thing.  Let the MAB SmackDown begin!

The first option with brain tumors is usually operating.  Hers isn’t in a great place for that.  Her doctors think the best bet is chemo, and she starts next week.  She’ll do oral chemo for a year.  The average patient handles the drug pretty well, without hair loss and with minimal side affects.  Although Lib is usually above average in all things, this is one time we’re hoping she can stifle the over-achiever tendencies and just go for the average.  She does have gorgeous, big, blue eyes, though, so she could make bald look good.

Of course, my main concern is how this affects the family weight loss challenge.  I can’t help but feel that someone going through chemo has an unfair advantage, given the tendency to hurl.  She will be taking anti-nausea drugs, and I hope they are effective.  Otherwise, I may need to consult with the diet judges on this issue.

I’m not a big gambler, because I’m pretty cheap.  But I’m going with the Vegas odds-makers on this one; in the epic MAB SmackDown, I’m putting all my money on my little sister, Lib.

Posted in Cancer Schmancer | Tagged , , , , , , , | 49 Comments

Biggest Loser: Family Edition. Virtue is It’s Own Reward (But Not For Me)

Posted on July 27, 2011 by pegoleg

Working my feminine wiles.

We are now 6 weeks into our family weight loss challenge.  Most of my sisters, sister-in-law and Mom have adopted a slow and steady strategy. We’re all making progress, trying to eat sensibly, and some are becoming more active.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you know that while I am definitely Unfit, I have been a loyal devotee of the YMCA for about 2-1/2 years.  (See posts Throwing In the Towel, and Public Enemy #1 Eludes Fitness Police  for some drivel about the Y.)

People say that exercise is its own reward, that it gives you a natural high.  Time at the gym is a gift to yourself; quality me-time.  That’s what they say. 

Not for me.  Sorry. 

The endorphins just don’t kick in.  For me it’s at best a boring habit that you have to do, like brushing your teeth.  At worst, it’s a punishment.  I work out because I’m getting old.   I don’t want to wake up one day and find my bones snap like twigs, my heart is feebly fluttering and I can’t force my muscles to move my mammothness out of bed.

This was my workout routine in the bad old days before the family weight loss challenge: 

  • Do time on the resistance machines and treadmill
  • Stagger out of the Y, bathed in sweat and righteousness
  • Head over to the Dairy Queen and undo all of the hard work (and then some), by cooling off with my favorite Cappuccino Heath Blizzard. 

If I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to the punishment of ½ hour on the treadmill, I want a reward.

I never do anything to be nice, or for personal satisfaction.  I demand recompense.  That’s who I am; it’s the ugly, unvarnished truth.  Like a small child or a dog, I work best when I’m rewarded.  I’m Pavlov’s puppy who salivates for Cappuccino Heath Blizzards instead of Milk Bones. 

The sweet/fat food category once formed the backbone of my reward system, but I’ve had to make other arrangements now that I am being a good girl.

My new self-reward system takes a two-pronged approach.

  1. Food.  I know this is how I got into this flabby mess in the first place, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to shuck off the habits of ½ a century.   I need acceptable substitutes and I think I’ve found them in a surprising place: under the golden arches.  My new go-to treat after a workout is a McDonald’s small Sugar-Free Vanilla Iced Coffee.  It’s a real deal for the waistline at a skinny 60 calories.

I also just learned that their child-size vanilla cone has only 45 calories.  That’s what it says on their website – really!  And they only cost 52 cents.  I feel a bit cheap going through the drive-thru for that amount, but I drop the rest of the $1 in the Ronald McDonald House donation box and get a double reward: something sweet to eat, and the sweet feeling of being a tycoon/philanthropist.

  1.  Retail therapy.  This can be problematic when one is on a budget.  Luckily, (spoiler alert for those on my Christmas gift list) we have a truly excellent Goodwill store in our town.  They have great stuff! 

I’ve shopped resale and thrift stores ever since college.  Long before reuse and recycle became cool, “green” buzzwords, I loved the idea of finding new life and new uses from other people’s stuff.  One man’s trash, etc.

Instead of going out for lunch, I spend the time doing a little shopping.  Each week, I treat myself to a new (to me) purse for $4.99, or a couple of paperbacks for 50 cents each, or some much needed bric-a-brac to add to my dusty collection. 

This kind of retail therapy also helps when you’re changing sizes relatively rapidly.  You don’t want to spend beaucoup $$ on something that you hope won’t fit in a month.   At $3.99 each, one can afford a new pair of jeans every couple of weeks.  I consider it a rental fee, because I’ll donate the clothes back again when I shrink out of them.

There you have my strategy for surviving weight-loss deprivation.  Feel free to borrow these hints, especially my dear sisters; my fellow travelers on the journey to good health.  But you may prefer McDonald’s extra-large, Triple-Thick Chocolate Shake.  I hear that’s low cal, too.

Posted in Biggest Loser: Family Edition | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

The Tell-Tale Heart of the Matter: Some Little Habits Can Drive You To Murder

Posted on July 25, 2011 by pegoleg

I have this friend.  A really good friend; someone whose company I enjoy, whose friendship I cherish.  She is a delightful, bubbly person and I am about this close to smothering her, hacking up the body and burying the pieces under the floorboards.

My friend has picked up a little verbal habit.   She has all but abandoned the periods in her speech, and ends every other sentence with a trailing “so…”, her voice dropping, the dots practically audible.  It’s a harmless habit, really, but it’s reached the point where I wait for it.  I can’t concentrate on what she’s saying because I’m laying bets with myself on how the sentence will end. 

Conversation with her goes something like this:

Me: “How is the coffee?”
Her: “Too hot to drink, so…”
Me, after a pause: “Do you want some cream?”
Her:  “No, I’m trying to lose some weight.   I’ve cut out cream and sugar, so…”

I wait before I respond, because the lack of a definite ending to the sentence leads me to believe she is going to say something else.

“So?” I want to scream “So WHAT?  WHAT?  Where is the explanation you imply is forthcoming?”

Eye see you, so....

But I don’t scream.  I just smile.  I think (more and more often lately) of Edgar Allan Poe’s wonderful, terrible story “The Tell-Tale Heart”.  How the narrator’s friend had one milky, white eye, probably a cataract.  Poor fellow couldn’t help it.  How the narrator loved his friend, but came to detest that eye, staring, staring at him all the time.  How he finally had to kill his friend to shutter the detestable orb once and for all.  He buried the body under his floorboards.

It doesn’t seem such an unreasonable response, the more I think about it.

To make things worse, this verbal tic is spreading.  I’ve noticed more people have adopted the trailing “so…”.  I’ve even found myself doing it.  I must be more vigilant with my speech, and less critical of others.

Because the only part of our house with wood floors is the dining room.  And it’s not that big.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 52 Comments

Sometimes, Nature is A Fanged Demon of Destruction That Is Trying To Eat You.

Posted on July 22, 2011 by pegoleg

Welcome to Nature.

When you live in the country, like we do, you feel a kinship with Nature.  But you must never lose sight of the fact that Nature isn’t all Bambi and butterflies.  Sometimes, Nature is fanged demons of destruction that are trying to eat you.

Here is an actual, true-life account of one such encounter.

It was early in the morning last week when I went out to do a little gardening.  I weeded the flowerbed next to the garage, walked by the basement door and started on the small bed to the left of it.

A slight movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.   There was a huge, black snake sunning itself in front of the basement door, less than 10 feet from where I was standing.  I had just walked blithely by it, within striking range of the behemoth.

He slithered right.   I sprinted left.

I dropped the hose, trowel and gloves and did the Kitchen Door Dash in 2 seconds flat.

As is often the case in these life-threatening situations, my big, strong husband was nowhere to be found.  I grabbed my cell phone, dialed his number and screamed, “A ginormous rattlesnake just attacked me by the basement door!”

“This is Illinois” he said calmly.  “We don’t get many rattlesnakes.  What did it look like?” 

So I gave a factual, succinct description: “It was about 8 feet long, black, as big around as a man’s thigh, with rusty, reddish markings.  It was Biblical – Garden of Eden stuff!  “And yeah, forsooth, verily, the Asp will strike at Man’s heel, and Man will crush the Asp with his heel (though I think a shovel would work better)…” but I’M not going anywhere NEAR that thing.   If you had seen the way it looked at me with its evil, red eyes, rearing back to strike with fangs like daggers…”

“Sounds like a bull snake” he interrupted. “They’re harmless.”

“Harmless, harmless?”  I sputtered.   He didn’t seem to grasp the danger I was in.  I pulled my trump card.  “Like that highly poisonous water moccasin you killed in the barn?”

“That was 15 years ago.  It was a freak thing because of how high the water level was in the river that spring,” he said, still with that infuriating Buddha-like calm.

“If we had one once, we could get one again. “ My logic was faultless.  “Ohhhh” I suddenly groaned, smacking my forehead with my hand.

“What now?” Even through the phone, I could tell he had assumed his Long Suffering Spouse expression.

“The garage door is open, and it was heading that way.”  I dropped my voice to a whisper; afraid the mere mention of it would summon the foul beast.  “What if the S-N-A-K-E got in there?”

“Why are you whispering?  And why are you spelling?” he sounded genuinely puzzled.

I did not deign to answer that.  “What if it got in one of those boxes I’ve got stacked up in the garage to go to the Goodwill? Or, or…it went up the tailpipe of the car, and is waiting under my seat?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.  Poisonous snakes are pretty rare around here,” he said in a Talk Calmly To Soothe the Loony voice. “It’s more afraid of you than you are of it, but…”

“Not ruddy likely.” I snorted.

“…you’d better go shut the garage door anyway.” he continued as if I had not spoken.

Oh.    No.

I like Nature as well as the next city girl, but if wrestling with a 12-foot long Burmese python is the price to be paid for fresh air, then pack my bags and point me toward Gotham.

But there was no one else who could handle the crisis.  The man of the house had abandoned his family and it was up to me to protect our child.  The longer I delayed; the more time Jafar had to slither into our home and hatch some baby serpents.

Armed with only a fireplace poker, I slowly opened the door to the garage and actually put my hand into the viper’s pit.  Keeping my body behind the door, I reached 2 feet (it was a long 2 feet, and I really, really felt the stretch in my shoulder) and groped around until I found the automatic garage door switch.   I hit it, then retreated, slamming the door behind me.   I’ve given up on my car as a lost cause, and haven’t been in the garage since then.

I know what you’re going to say.  You admire my bravery and want to heap praise and glory upon me.   

To this I respond, “Tut, tut.  It was nothing.”  I seek no glory.   I merely did what any mother would do, knowing I was the only thing standing between Mortal Peril and my innocent baby, slumbering peacefully in her bed (after getting in at 3am after a night out on the town, probably doing Jell-O shots with her friends). 

History is full of accounts of women who call up reserves of superhuman strength and courage when their children are in danger.   This is just one more such story.  

Although it is a rather compelling story, if I do say so myself.  One I’m sure many people would want to read.  Maybe Reader’s Digest would be interested in this for a feature article.  Or I could compose a modest Epic Poem.  Anybody know if you use iambic pentameter for those?

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 35 Comments

Biggest Loser: Family Edition. Partying In Hell

Posted on July 21, 2011 by pegoleg

Party in hell.

ASTOUNDING WEIGHT-LOSS BREAKTHROUGH!

I have discovered an appetite suppressant that is easy, low-tech, requires no special food and costs nothing.

All you have to do is suffer the burning agonies of hellfire.

Most participants in the family weight loss challenge were in Michigan last weekend to celebrate the high school graduation of my nephew, Andy. Before we gathered for the celebration, however, we gathered for a jam-packed day of preparation. In the middle of one of the worst heat waves to ever hit the Midwest. In a church hall that was not blessed with air conditioning.

The tables were laden to groaning with a sumptuous array of homemade goodies. It was a veritable banquet, fit for a king. Creamy salads, chicken, pork sandwiches and au gratin potatoes fought for table-space with sugary snacks, a yummy cake and the most decadent double chocolate brownies this choco-addict has ever laid eyes upon.

And yet…

After a day spent cooking in the hall kitchen I was barely tempted by the goodies. In fact, the thought of stuffing food into my sweat-stained, beet-red face made me slightly nauseated. I survived the day by volunteering to refill beverages every 15 minutes. These were kept in the walk-in cooler, a wintry wonderland of chilly delight.

So instead of the weight gain I was dreading, I actually managed to lose ½ a pound over the weekend. I imagine most of my sisters shared my loss, as they shared – more than shared – the workload.

The brownies not only looked divine, they had magical properties. I bumped into them everywhere. Whenever I sat down during the party, a brownie appeared before my nose. When I went to my car, there was a brownie on the dashboard. Brushing my teeth before bed – a brownie in the medicine cabinet.

My brother-in-law Pat had, with a hearty smile, offered to fetch me one early in the day. My “no, thanks” wiped that fake smile off his face PDQ. Coincidence? I think not.

Judy strolled into the party looking fab – obviously she has been holding out on her weight loss progress. Naturally I am happy for her (trying to turn my teeth-gritted grimace into a smile).

Sister-in-law Lisa admitted that her Chicago vacation resulted in a 3-pound weight gain. Too bad, so sad. But as this was reported along with the news that she had managed to re-lose the vaca gain already, I was not encouraged.

Terry stayed the same, but that’s pretty good considering her hectic social schedule for the week. Mary Kay reported she lost 3 pounds this week, as did I. Or at least I think I did. Weigh in day has been changed to Wednesday and I can’t keep straight which day I weighed what. I guess I should keep a log.

Nobody else reported in this week. It should be obvious by now that my family is not much for following the rules.

In fact, everybody is so casual about the whole thing, I think I should make sure the cash and valuable prizes are collected now and kept under lock and key by a disinterested third party – perhaps that accounting firm that does the Academy Awards? Otherwise, come the end (which date has yet to be determined), all the booty will have disappeared in a haze of vague, half-promises and I will have suffered the Summer of the Diet Damned for nothing more than a hot, healthy body.

We can’t have that, now, can we?

Posted in Biggest Loser: Family Edition | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

We’re Havin’ A Heat Wave; A Tropical Heat Wave

Posted on July 20, 2011 by pegoleg

The simple joys of nature.

Ode To A Tree In Summer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
While lying in a leafy glade
In summer’s heat, the blessed shade.

But when dog days get even hairier,
I long, instead, for Willis Carrier.
Cuz when the temp hits 103,
I’d rather chill with my A/C.

*Many heartfelt thanks to Willis Carrier, the inventor of the modern air conditioner.
Abject apologies to poet Joyce Kilmer, the author of “Trees”.

Posted in Little Ditties | Tagged , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Where is the Life of the Future that Hollywood Promised? An Open Letter To The Scientific Community

Posted on July 18, 2011 by pegoleg

Cruising, Jetsons style.

Dear Mr. Science Geeks,

I’ve got a bone to pick with you.

It has been 50 years and more since TV shows and movies foretold a future filled with life-altering, laborsaving devices.  But none of them have materialized.  What have you guys been doing – sitting on your hands all day?

Here are just a few of the inventions I have been waiting for:

Robots:  The Jetsons had Rosie, the perfect maid, and Star Wars had C3PO, the gay BFF.  But after all this time, there is still no Android Alice taking care of business at my house.  Why am I still scrubbing my own toilets?

Flying cars:  I really need a flying car, if for no other reason than that I would never again have to parallel park.  Not only do we NOT have flying cars yet, you can’t even figure out how to make the earth-bound variety self-maintaining.  I don’t think it should be up to ME to have to monitor gas, oil and tire pressure.

Replicators:  These have been in Star Trek, and even kid’s movies like Babes in Toyland.  I  really, really want one of these.   All you do is press a couple of brightly colored buttons on a console, and whatever you want pops right out.  This would come in handy because you can get stuff without paying for it, and it’s not stealing.  Wikipedia has a pretty comprehensive explanation of how this all works, so it should be a snap for scientific-types to put one together. 

Instant food:  Pills, replicators – there have been lots of suggestions made for how to bring dinner to the table with no fuss or mess.  All you’ve come up with was Tang.  Although this was very cool at the time, it’s like drinking a water-logged orange sandbox.  I know I would have no trouble sticking to my diet if all we had to eat were pills.  This should be top priority!  (Note to scientists: ix-nay on the Soylent Green research.)

Three to beam to Hawaii, Mr. Scott.

Transporters:  Having recently experienced the hassle and expense of getting a family of 4 from Chicago to New York and back, I could definitely use this.   It would also allow us to avoid one of the few space-age devices the scientific community actually delivered on: the anal probe, deftly wielded by TSA operatives at every airport.  In Star Trek, all you have to do is say “Beam me up, Scottie” and your molecules are whizzing through the air to their destination.   How hard can that be to set up? 

Garbage fueled cars:  Back to the Future was made more than 25 years ago, so you’ve had plenty of time to get this into production.  But instead of concentrating on something useful, like recycling garbage, you guys in Detroit have been working on making fuel out of perfectly good food.   This has done nothing but jack up the price of corn and cost us taxpayers a mint!
     Meanwhile, I am still shelling out a major portion of each paycheck to fill my Escalade with fossil fuel. And both my kids are understandably confused.  They keep using their cars to store trash, no matter how often I tell them that garbage is not yet a fuel source.

Our great nation depends on a division of labor.  Your job, Mr. Science, is to come up with cheap, laborsaving inventions to make my life easier.  My job is to provide a running commentary on how you’re doing your job, along with anything else that strikes my fancy.

We can have the life of ease and convenience that Hollywood has promised, if only each of us does his job.  I don’t think that’s asking too much.

Regards,

Peg-o-Leg

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Biggest Loser: Family Edition. Getting Philosophical About It

Posted on July 14, 2011 by pegoleg

I love me some ice cream.

If a big slab of meaty ribs is cooking in the woods, and nobody can smell them, are they really there? 

It has been a week of good news/bad news in the family summer weight-loss challenge.

  • The good news is… I’ve been faithful to my diet all week.
    The bad news is… that’s because I’ve had a rotten cold.
    The good news is…lacking a sense of smell or taste, I haven’t wanted to eat much.
    The bad news is … I risked death by food poisoning every time I ate something since I couldn’t smell if it had gone bad.
    The good news is…food poisoning would be a wonderful jump-start to the diet.
    The bad news is…that kind of weight loss comes back pretty quickly once they hook you up to the IVs.
  • The good news is…sister-in-law Lisa spent a week partying in Chicago, thereby derailing her diet for sure.
    The bad news is…she sent pictures of herself going on a 4-hour bike ride there.
    The good news is…the bike rental shop was next door to Gino’s.  They were running a 2-for-1 special on Appletinis with purchase of deep-dish pizza.
  • The bad news is…sister Terry has been vigilant in going swimming every day.
    The good news is…the pool has one of those swim-up Tiki bars so she can get a daiquiri after every lap.
  • The bad news is…sister Mary Kay reported a 2 pound weight gain last week.  Hang in there, MK.  I believe in you.  Keep it up!
    The good news is…sister Mary Kay reported a 2 pound weight gain last week.  Hang in there, MK.  I believe in you.  Keep it up!
  • The good news is…sister Judy finally bought a scale.
    The bad news is…it shows she lost 2 pounds.
  • The bad news is…the stress of preparing for her son’s graduation party has kept sister Carolyn from eating much.
    The good news is…the party this weekend is sure to feature lots of yummy foods to tempt everyone.
    The bad news is…she may be too busy with hostess duties to eat.
    The good news is…she’ll end up taking 8 pounds of leftover potato salad and half of a table-sized chocolate sheet cake home with her.
  • The bad news is…sister Lib also had a rotten cold all week, so probably lost weight.
    The good news is…no good news here.  She lost weight and feels miserable.  I may be in it to win it, but I’m not a sadist.
  • The good news is…Mom has been playing it pretty close to the vest, which might mean she was struggling with temptation this week.
    The bad news is…Mom has been playing it close to the vest, which might mean she is hiding a big weight loss, lulling us all into a false sense of security.  My Mom is a saint walking among us, but she can also be pretty devious.

I haven’t darkened the doorway at the Y at all this week, lacking the basic ability to breath without looking like an extra from Deliverance (what my sister Carolyn eloquently refers to as a toothless mouth-breather.)

So there you have it.   Until next week, bon dietito!

Posted in Biggest Loser: Family Edition | Tagged , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Ode To The Summer Cold

Posted on July 12, 2011 by pegoleg

I need my beauty sleep.

I lay me down upon my bed,
To seek a little sleep.
Begins the drip, begins the hack,
No rest – no dreaming deep.

It does no good, I cannot breathe,
Downstairs I go to find
Some solace from the toss and turn,
Diversion for my mind.

Coughing, spewing, bleary-eyed,
Upright, just snot and me,
At 2 am I find myself
Alone with QVC.

*Dedicated to my sister Lib, and all our fellow-sufferers, alone in the night with our Kleenex and our remote controls.  May we be breathing easier soon.

Posted in Little Ditties | Tagged , , , , | 26 Comments

Invasion of the iPod Snatchers

Posted on July 11, 2011 by pegoleg

Nowhere to run to...nowhere to hide.

My husband has become one of Them.

They’re taking over.  I keep trying to tell people, but they won’t listen. 

“You’re paranoid”, they say.

“That’s crazy talk”, they say.

Oh sure, it seemed innocent enough at first.  Who didn’t want to listen to their own music play list?  Soon, everybody had an iPod.  Then came the iPhones, then the iPads.  They infiltrated our lives so slowly that nobody noticed they were taking over. 

Those who have already been transformed are the biggest threat.  

The iPod People are virtually indistinguishable from normal people, except for their total lack of emotion about anything but apps, and future upgrades.  They wear a perpetually glazed-over look, until the subject swings round to their latest i-gizmo.  That’s when they come to life, eyes firing with the religious fervor of a tent-revival preacher.

Ever since my 2-year contract with Verizon was up, they’ve been after me in dead earnest; the phone calls, the emails, the relentless barrage of ads.  It’s not as if I’m walking around with a Seinfeld brick of a cell phone.  Mine has a keyboard and a decent camera.  But it isn’t “smart”.

When one of the iPod People catches sight of my non-i, non-smart phone, it is like waving a red cape before a bull.

They almost got me last week at a party.  My own brother pinned me down as he demonstrated every mother-loving feature of his new iPad2.  Foam flecked the corners of his mouth.   I created a diversion by asking to see the internet features, and was able to slip away when he went to ask the hostess for her Wi-fi password.   I barely escaped with my life

There are just a few - oh, so few - of us left to fight the good fight.

They got my husband, Bill, 3 months ago.   He doesn’t look any different, but a wife knows.  He is an empty shell of the man he used to be.  His body still sits on the couch in our living room, but his spirit is fully taken over by the pursuit and mastery of new iPhone apps.

I’m afraid to go down the basement – afraid my iPad is growing down there, just waiting for me.  I’ll hold out as long as I can, but I’m getting tired.  So tired.

What’s that you say?  It can’t happen to you?  Oh, you naïve fool!  Don’t you know? They’re here already.

You’re next!  You’re next.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments