Dead Girls Don’t Dance

I don’t have kids. I don’t want kids. BUT I don’t HATE kids. I actually rather like them, because they tend to be very honest, which frequently causes them to say things that are (unintentionally) funny.

Nevertheless, I just don’t want them anywhere near me unless they are impeccably clean and on their best behavior. And as far I’m concerned, good behavior means doing kid stuff in a designated kid area, or sitting completely motionless and silent, unless they are directly spoken to, or are on fire from an adult accidentally flicking a cigarette butt on them. Sorry folks, but that’s how I was raised.

Aside from that, here are my three reasons to not have children:

1. Children are horribly expensive. They need food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and education. Hell, I don’t make enough money to obtain all of these things just for myself. I just can’t afford to take proper care of a baby, even if I wanted one. Not without going on welfare, anyway, and I’d rather die.
2. Children are the second most annoying thing in the universe. The MOST annoying thing in the universe is dumbass parents who think it’s acceptable to allow their ill-mannered, snot-dripping spawn to run loose and/or scream in movie theaters and restaurants.
3. Human babies, unlike puppies, cannot be conveniently given away if you suddenly realise at 2AM that you simply don’t want to take care of this adorable but demanding little beast that is yowling and crying and depriving you of sleep.

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I couldn’t get out of bed this morning.

Well, I did, eventually, but it took an astonishing long time, partly because only the LEFT SIDE of my back punked out on me, and I was terrified. I knew four days ago that I had a pulled muscle in my lower back, but I just did my yoga routine to stretch it out so it wouldn’t hurt so much, and kept on going. It seems that was not really a good idea.

This morning, after my day off, which was misspent mostly shopping, performing miscellaneous household tasks, and crocheting a sweater, I woke up damn near paralyzed. I could move, but it hurt so much I didn’t want to.

This has never happened to me before, and because it was 6:30 AM and I was still drowsy and stupid, I was thinking

HEART ATTACK! STROKE! BLOOD CLOT! My house is a mess, and I’m dying in ugly pajamas! What will the paramedics think?

After I managed to crawl out of bed, limp to the bathroom, and insert my contact lenses (which was SHOCKINGLY difficult), I called in to work, in tears, to say I couldn’t make it. I lucked out. My boss not only understood, but dropped by with muscle relaxers and advice. He’s already been in this situation. He would prefer to have me stay home and rest, because apparently he rather seriously messed up his OWN back by bulldogging through a minor injury.

That actually makes business sense, because if I just grit my teeth and keep going, my back will only get worse, and that would eventually incapacitate me and render me partially disabled and pretty much useless for a longer period of time. Additionally, gritting my teeth gives me a smashing bitch-kitty of a headache, which makes me cranky and unpleasant.

Well, MORE cranky and unpleasant than usual, anyway.

At any rate, I’m going to stop here, because typing one-handed probably isn’t doing me any good.

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A minor household disaster occurs while I am waiting for my ride to work, and a persistent telemarketer calls:

[phone rings] “Hello?”

“May I speak to Janice?”

“No, you may not.” [click]

… 45 seconds later

[phone rings] “Hello.”

“Is Janice in?” same voice from previous call

“Yes, she is, but her cat just barfed on the couch and she doesn’t want to talk to anybody she doesn’t know.”

[click]

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So much for growing my poor fingernails back out, I’m cooking again. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Long, elegant fingernails are prone to get muck wedged underneath them when you’re cooking, anyway, and that’s not only unsanitary, but no longer particularly elegant. Quite the opposite, in fact. I won’t go into the details.

All I know right now is that I want a chef coat and chef pants. Riding the bus home from work wearing sweaty, food-stained jeans and t-shirt makes me look like a dumpster-diving, homeless mental patient. If I must look like a mental patient (and I frequently do), I’d rather look like an amusingly eccentric nutjob, instead of the icky kind that has loud conversations with an invisible giant devil bunny while they urinate on the azaleas in front of the county courthouse.

That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m going to start tinting my grey hair purple, instead of matching it to my alleged natural hair color. Crazy homeless people generally don’t have the money or facilities to dye their hair weird colors. If people are going to look at me askance in public, I would prefer that they have a good reason.

Besides, purple is my favorite color, and I’m forty. I can have purple streaks in my hair if I damn well please. So there.

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This site was down last night. It’s not as if I’m losing money or anything, but it’s still frustrating. I use Frihost, which I think is the best free web hosting community available (250mb space, 10gb data transfer/month), but free is free. The wonderful people who run Frihost have other things to do, such as go to college, study, work, eat and socialize. Hell, they might even sleep occasionally. And computers do weird things and stop working properly, on a regular basis, for no obvious reason. My DSL went down yesterday morning, also for no apparent reason. I guess yesterday just wasn’t my day for the internet.

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So, who else gained five pounds yesterday? I spent most of the evening drifting in and out of a turkey-induced coma, which caused me to goof repeatedly while attempting to sew together the pieces of an afghan that I crocheted months ago. Not exactly the best way to work off an excess 2200 calories. I need to live on soup and salad for days to make up for it… turkey soup, of course.

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Hooray! I have batteries for the camera again. Rechargeable batteries. Four of them. I am going to attempt to keep track of how long the batteries last, and figure out whether they save me a significant amount of money. Obviously, they will at least give me a smaller ecological “alkaline battery footprint” in the local landfill, assuming they actually work worth a squat. We shall see.

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I am going to say something blasphemous and awful.

Brace yourself; I’m female, and I hate shopping. I really do. Shopping sucks. It sucks hairy, unwashed ass, unless you are shopping for things you don’t really need, with money that you can afford to fritter away.

Shopping for necessities blows chunks. I hate shopping for things like groceries, toilet paper, pet food, and light bulbs. Especially when I have to buy the cheap generic stuff because I’m poor.

I don’t normally buy clothes anymore, unless I’m replacing worn-out necessities, like a plain black skirt that has faded to an uneven dingy dark grey, or a white blouse that has an ineradicable pizza sauce stain on it.

The last time I went clothes shopping was at a Goodwill store, where I spent $33 for six tops and two adorable little black cocktail dresses. I didn’t need the dresses, but at less than $5 apiece I simply could not walk away. You never know when you’re going to need a cute little black dress. Particularly the fitted black crepe number that I call my Audrey Hepburn dress.

But I still hate shopping.

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I have got to do something about the way this site looks. It’s reasonably pleasing to the eye. In fact, it’s utterly inoffensive. Which, of course, offends ME. I want it to be weird, but not too creepy, and somehow achieve this feat without loading it down with graphics and causing it to load slowly. My web hosting is a bit wonky as it is, so I don’t want to cause grotesque bandwidth issues.

I also “need” to install dozens of WordPress plugins, because I just CANNOT LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE, and have a compulsive desire to tweak the hell out of anything that can be tweaked.

Stay tuned.

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I have GOT to get some more batteries for my camera. I saw a pretty snake in my garden today, but a picture would be vastly preferable to a thousand words. A video of me jumping three feet in the air because the snake in question startled me screechy would be even better.

I really didn’t expect to see a lively, active snake during a cold snap, even with the sun out. It was a harmless little black racer, but black racers hide in vegetation, and rapidly whip their tails in the dead leaves on the ground if they are disturbed. The resulting noise sounds very much like a rattlesnake and scares the hell out of anything with ears and a lick of common sense.

I heard the snake before I saw it, so I jumped up and back, while emitting a high-pitched squeal that would make any two-year old kid proud. Then I felt stupid, after realizing that I had been scared silly by a pretty little thing about a foot long, about as big around as my finger, and less toxic than a toy from China.

So how was YOUR day?

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