So there I was...in Walmart...during this holiday shopping season, which tells you right there that I am just askin for it. I really thought that I had the appropriate mind set. You know..holiday cheer, patience with the people, and low expectations for any type of speed at the check out. Needless to say the mind set I ended up with was "Do NOT ram that woman with your cart... or this fat man riding the Walmart scooter taking up the whole frickin aisle." The apathy exuded by the check out person was palpable (really I don't know if it was a man or a woman- more like a slug morphed into the body of a hemaphrodite with the pleasant attitude of a Nazi war criminal). Seriously..there should be warning labels on the doors of Walmart. Enter at your own risk...sanity left in parking lot (and even that's a stretch...my life has flashed in front of my eyes more than once trying to navigate out of that damn place...backing out of parking spots should be an Olympic sport..really Miss Fancy Pants in your big white Escalade, you're going to SPEED UP as I try and back out?) Give me a break people. I love the $9.98 red sweater I got at Walmart, but I'm pretty sure I don't need to spend $2000 in car repair bills because you were in a hurry to find a parking spot near the front door just to get a bargain. And what is the purpose of the greeter? I don't find them all that pleasant, what with their judgmental up and down stare of what?? the fact that my clothes don't have holes in them, that my pants aren't riding up the crack of my ass, that I'm not smuggling in an AK-47 to blow all ya'll to pieces?? Greet this granny!
It's no wonder Amazon got a ton of my business this year. Not that I actually bought any Christmas gifts at Walmart.. I mean it is the one store that my family in Indiana has access to, I don't want to risk duplicates! But there are times when venturing into Walmart is a necessary evil.
I have to stop thinking about it because it's beyond irritating to think that this very line of thinking is only feeding into the negative cog that exists in the Walmart world. The low expectations and disgruntled workers will continue to be so when irritated and annoyed shoppers continue to shop there. And really isn't this true of most things? Our perceptions and expectations really shape our reality. I think the key to real, honest happiness is to embrace the fact that we are not entitled to a hassle free, off without a hitch shopping experience. Or dining experience. Or flight experience. Customer service?!?! Hell.. it barely exists anymore. We are to be grateful and smitten with the very existence of commerce and freedoms like travel and Starbuck's drive thrus, regardless of how unpleasant these transactions are that delivers these goods into our eager hands.
Wait. Fuck that. Customer Service is and should be a priority for any business. We work hard for the money we make, just like all of the workers in the industries providing these goods and services. No one is entitled, but everyone deserves respect. Respect for other people's time, money and personal space. That means you little Miss Escalade huffing and puffing in line with your 25 items when the line is clearly marked as 20 items or less. That also means you Mr. Harvard trained doctor with an ego the size of Texas, knock before you enter a patient's room, whose door is closed because they are sitting on the bedside commode shitting their brains out. We can all be better about being respectful of the people we share this planet with. Our co-workers, our neighbors, our friends and family, and yes the fat guy on the scooter, and bitchy Escalade chick all deserve respect - because it's their planet too.
Dear Buddha- I know that Christmas is all for the glory of Jesus Christ, and for the awesome score of gifts we all get in celebration of his birth (did I get that right?) But I would humbly ask for your influence on my ever shortening fuse this holiday season, so that I may not end up on the evening news for T-boning the bitch in the Escalade in the Walmart parking lot. Your faithful servant, Brooke "sorry I called her a bitch" Albertson
Friday, December 23, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
November 10, 2011
So there I was ...putting the cash from my wallet into the console of my car because I was thinking that if I go in this place I could be murdered, raped, and robbed. If that's gonna happen--they're gonna have to look for this measly $100. OK...back story...I was at Pura Vida, a vegetarian cafe over the weekend- they were having a little street festival with health conscious vendors. The usual stuff..yoga studios, chiropractic practices, granola distributors and on and on..The pamphlets on animal cruelty brought tears to my eyes. HORRENDOUS! My good friend Suzanne had stopped eating chicken after she watched a television special on how they were mass produced and the horrible treatment and deaths they went through. I understand completely..and I was only reading a little color brochure. It is appalling. If you own any kind of pet and love their company then you should seriously educate yourself on the practices of mass producing meat. Not only that, ask yourself...why is your dog's life any different from a cow, chicken or pig?
There was a woman with a booth on hand analysis (read: science based palm reading). She was lovely. We had a very nice chat and I told her that I would come see her. She was intelligent, well spoken, charismatic..things I like in people. So when I pulled up to the address she gave me...parking my car in a former tennis court..next to an old van that probably hasn't seen the road in 10 years...I was more than skeptical, I was freaked the fuck out. I contemplated the situation. Put my cash in the console, pulled my spider senses more into focus and went in...all the while remembering my assaultive behavior class from last month and cursing at myself for not wearing "get away" shoes. Ok..I might be a little dramatic at the moment.
I walked through the gate and looked at the house. Something..some THING was starting to make sense. This is not so much a retreat for hippies (and hopefully not rapists and murderers) type of place but a place of gathering for naturalists. Apparently inside the courtyard of the big house was a community neighborhood organic garden. The trees outside weren't so much as unkempt..they just weren't "landscaped". No stubby short round bushes of indeterminate variety here. There was more ease in my step. The sign on the door explained the garden and the owner of the house and said come in quietly, take your shoes off (OH NO! NOT MY NON-GETAWAY SHOES!). I looked through the patio door windows and it looked empty. Hmmm...I was early. I went in. Took off my shoes. I was greeted by a pitbull.
Insert underwear change here.
He sized me up, shaked his butt and sniffed my shoes and I swear he smiled at me. So I patted his head and I'm happy to report that I have all my body parts. "Angel" is a beautiful dog, incredibly loving. Very sweet.
Yes... I realize fully that every action I have taken up to this point is completely insane. I know you're thinking.. Who DOES THAT! At multiple points I could've been the highlight of the 11 o'clock news. There was just a sixth sense, a feeling in my gut, that I wasn't in any danger, that I was just experiencing something for the first time. Cut away from the visual cues (things that society has sort of embedded into my brain) there was really nothing to be afraid of. I was only inside for about a minute before Annabella came in. She seemed surprised that I was inside. I said..well the note on the door said to come in. So I did.
Here are some of the highlights-I have Air hands- indicative of many, many reincarnations. This lifetime, based on some numerology type stuff, is about trusting my inner voice and my intuitive mind and bringing my spiritual consciousness alive. I have a "Mystic Cross" meaning a skepticism concerning spirituality and that I want information and truth, not blind faith.On my destiny line there is a Writer's Fork and from looking she said I was a writer in a past life as well as, oddly enough, a healer. Not only does this indicate creativity through writing she said, it also indicates that my subconscious wants to write down a map of my life (kind of spot on if you ask me). I have a very large money triangle and money should not stress me out because I'm going to be making plenty of it. I have a large triangle of triumph meaning that as I age I will be overcoming health issues. I have a loss of a loved one coming but it won't be detrimental to my path. I have had what she calls emotional confusion in my early life and I'm learning to trust my intuition (how very true since I was sitting there at that very moment because of my intuition). She said that I have a strong connection with someone with a different "background" (she added the footnote- race or culture) and that this connection is actually a reunion from a past life and that it is very favorable. All the while, we talked about events and karma..of the sense of being lost because I haven't really had the spiritual guidance I needed to grow. I will be changing careers soon and it will be very positive and very successful. She sees 2 pregnancies in the near future. Her biggest worries were that I wasn't spiritually fulfilled and that I am not using my creativity. She said that I need to write. (this is not the first person to tell me this). I apparently have a psychic line which indicates that my inner voice has an ability to guide me. That if I opened myself up to it, I would be able to connect with those who have passed on. YAY! Now I can see dead people too! That'll be fun!
I'm really glad I went. As you know I'm on a bit of a "vision quest" of healing and health..and I've spent 35 years just being willy nilly about damn near everything. I've been reading a lot. Joining meetup groups on meditation, veganism, yoga and travel..No stone left unturned.
Dear Buddha,
Hi. I don't think we've been formally introduced. To be honest I know VERY little about you. I mean, I saw his Holiness the Dali Lama speak in Boston. I don't remember a damn thing except I couldn't understand anything he said. If you don't mind...I'm gonna do some research on you..see what's cookin. I know I'm a pretty big fan of yours..I mean..we have the same belly- that's gotta mean something right? If you could be so kind as to be patient with me..I'm new at this. :-) Warm Regards, Brooke
There was a woman with a booth on hand analysis (read: science based palm reading). She was lovely. We had a very nice chat and I told her that I would come see her. She was intelligent, well spoken, charismatic..things I like in people. So when I pulled up to the address she gave me...parking my car in a former tennis court..next to an old van that probably hasn't seen the road in 10 years...I was more than skeptical, I was freaked the fuck out. I contemplated the situation. Put my cash in the console, pulled my spider senses more into focus and went in...all the while remembering my assaultive behavior class from last month and cursing at myself for not wearing "get away" shoes. Ok..I might be a little dramatic at the moment.
I walked through the gate and looked at the house. Something..some THING was starting to make sense. This is not so much a retreat for hippies (and hopefully not rapists and murderers) type of place but a place of gathering for naturalists. Apparently inside the courtyard of the big house was a community neighborhood organic garden. The trees outside weren't so much as unkempt..they just weren't "landscaped". No stubby short round bushes of indeterminate variety here. There was more ease in my step. The sign on the door explained the garden and the owner of the house and said come in quietly, take your shoes off (OH NO! NOT MY NON-GETAWAY SHOES!). I looked through the patio door windows and it looked empty. Hmmm...I was early. I went in. Took off my shoes. I was greeted by a pitbull.
Insert underwear change here.
He sized me up, shaked his butt and sniffed my shoes and I swear he smiled at me. So I patted his head and I'm happy to report that I have all my body parts. "Angel" is a beautiful dog, incredibly loving. Very sweet.
Yes... I realize fully that every action I have taken up to this point is completely insane. I know you're thinking.. Who DOES THAT! At multiple points I could've been the highlight of the 11 o'clock news. There was just a sixth sense, a feeling in my gut, that I wasn't in any danger, that I was just experiencing something for the first time. Cut away from the visual cues (things that society has sort of embedded into my brain) there was really nothing to be afraid of. I was only inside for about a minute before Annabella came in. She seemed surprised that I was inside. I said..well the note on the door said to come in. So I did.
Here are some of the highlights-I have Air hands- indicative of many, many reincarnations. This lifetime, based on some numerology type stuff, is about trusting my inner voice and my intuitive mind and bringing my spiritual consciousness alive. I have a "Mystic Cross" meaning a skepticism concerning spirituality and that I want information and truth, not blind faith.On my destiny line there is a Writer's Fork and from looking she said I was a writer in a past life as well as, oddly enough, a healer. Not only does this indicate creativity through writing she said, it also indicates that my subconscious wants to write down a map of my life (kind of spot on if you ask me). I have a very large money triangle and money should not stress me out because I'm going to be making plenty of it. I have a large triangle of triumph meaning that as I age I will be overcoming health issues. I have a loss of a loved one coming but it won't be detrimental to my path. I have had what she calls emotional confusion in my early life and I'm learning to trust my intuition (how very true since I was sitting there at that very moment because of my intuition). She said that I have a strong connection with someone with a different "background" (she added the footnote- race or culture) and that this connection is actually a reunion from a past life and that it is very favorable. All the while, we talked about events and karma..of the sense of being lost because I haven't really had the spiritual guidance I needed to grow. I will be changing careers soon and it will be very positive and very successful. She sees 2 pregnancies in the near future. Her biggest worries were that I wasn't spiritually fulfilled and that I am not using my creativity. She said that I need to write. (this is not the first person to tell me this). I apparently have a psychic line which indicates that my inner voice has an ability to guide me. That if I opened myself up to it, I would be able to connect with those who have passed on. YAY! Now I can see dead people too! That'll be fun!
I'm really glad I went. As you know I'm on a bit of a "vision quest" of healing and health..and I've spent 35 years just being willy nilly about damn near everything. I've been reading a lot. Joining meetup groups on meditation, veganism, yoga and travel..No stone left unturned.
Dear Buddha,
Hi. I don't think we've been formally introduced. To be honest I know VERY little about you. I mean, I saw his Holiness the Dali Lama speak in Boston. I don't remember a damn thing except I couldn't understand anything he said. If you don't mind...I'm gonna do some research on you..see what's cookin. I know I'm a pretty big fan of yours..I mean..we have the same belly- that's gotta mean something right? If you could be so kind as to be patient with me..I'm new at this. :-) Warm Regards, Brooke
Sunday, October 30, 2011
October 30, 2011
Let me start from the beginning...I feel that my judgment should at least be well informed.
Imagine waking up after 12 hours in bed, most of it sleeping, and feeling like it was merely a cat nap. Your body heavy, your mind sluggish. You drink some caffeine to get going, diet of course because really..who wants to drink those extra calories. The dog goes out for her bathroom break and life continues in a state of what you have decided is "getting older". Everyone feels like this to some extent. Exercise is attempted only to bring a different level of exhaustion. Body aches. Headaches. Aches are fine. Aches are NOT scary. It's the "aging process". Stabbing abdominal pain... that is scary. Doctor Wonderful orders me to not eat spicy food and stop with the caffeine (how the hell am I going to stay awake without caffeine?). When I go back he orders a pill. In the meantime I am so distraught with the very nature of my health. Starting to realize that this is not just an "aging" process. My fatigue was addressed by ordering basic lab tests by Dr. Wonderful. They came back normal and therefore the investigation was stopped. Every aspect of my life was becoming affected. I gave up and decided it was just my "depression" playing physical tricks on me. The Psychiatrist ordered another pill. So now on sleeping pills, pain pills, muscle relaxants, anti-depressant, birth control pills (because seriously- how could I muster the energy to take care of a child), antacids, vitamins, and high doses of B-12 to get any little energy kick possible. I have an entire reusable grocery bag full of pill bottles and supplements to help me feel better, all the while feeling like I was putting more than one foot in the grave.
I stopped the diet pepsi cold turkey and started weeding meat out of my diet. I went to Indiana to visit.
What a visit that was. My sister and my Mom had gone to an event with this psychic medium a month prior and arranged for all of us to meet with him in a more intimate setting. This guy really DOES see dead people. As sure as I am that the sky is blue and that there are "psychics" who read right into your wallet, this guy was for real. I will lay down my life (what little is left of it!) and tell you that we are surrounded by our loved ones that have passed on and that there is something greater in store for us. Riding on the complete mind bend of our visit with Rick, the seeing dead guy...I was a little less skeptical of John the Amish guy who reads your iris to look for health problems. It's called iridology, there are books on this people, and I can't make this stuff up. John looked into my eye and his first "diagnosis" was that I had a hiatal hernia (your stomach gets pulled up through your diaphragm-something it isn't supposed to do), I had a foot and knee issue, an acidic system, and gravely, at the end of our little "office visit" -(read: pole barn on a farm) he said there was something wrong with my breast. He made me promise that I would get it looked in to. I know..it's bizarre.
So once back in Vegas, and still having abdominal pain but now feeling happier about it do to the anti-depressant, I went back to Dr. Wonderful and he FINALLY ordered an upper GI study. As an after thought I asked if he would order a baseline mammogram, just in case. He obliged and I was beginning to think I wouldn't burn him at the stake after all. I was on my new "vegetarian" - no soda diet and feeling very "granola" shopping at Whole Foods. Just being in that store makes me want to burn incense and braid my hair. I picked up a book "The Beginner's Guide to Natural Living" by Larry Cook. I figured if I'm going to overhaul my life I might as well do it up right! (except no Tom's toothpaste...yuck). After blowing through the book in like 2 days, I decided to investigate the local naturopathic doctors. There was one recommended by the American Association of Naturopaths. I went with him. I really felt like there was some truth behind the idea that our western medicine is keeping us ill. Pill after pill with no relief in sight.
Dr. S. was sweeping his sidewalk when I arrived for my appointment. He brought me in and gave me the usual questionnaire to fill out. He looked over the answers, asked some fairly vague questions and looked at the normal lab results I brought in. He had me sit on his exam table and said something about blah blah kinesiology and had me hold out my arms straight in front of me with my fingers interlaced. He asked me to resist his attempt to push my arms down, and I did (I mean, he is kind of old, it wasn't that daunting of a task) and I could keep my arms up, he was pushing pretty hard though. He talked about the electromagnetic force of our bodies and how our bodies and everything on this planet really has a flow of energy. When the "force" combines with something it will either make it stronger or weaker, due to the electromagnetism or something, I didn't quite get what he was saying. To demonstrate he had me hold a pill bottle in my hand and for the life of me I can't remember what it said on the side. I held the bottle between my hands and interlaced my fingers again. He asked me to resist against him, but this time I could not. My arms fell away like a rag doll. The bottle wasn't heavy or anything. At this point I was wishing I had paid closer attention to what he had been saying. He said that the body doesn't want to "hold on" to things it doesn't need. That when something weakens the system it would be extremely hard for me to resist against his force. And if a substance strengthens me and my system, then he could jump up and down and find it hard to overcome my resistance. He then began touching with his fingertips various spots on my body..energy channels that correspond to the different organs. I would hold out my arms and he would touch a channel with one hand and with the other he would attempt to push down my arms. If a certain channel was weak (due to disease, injury, whatever) my arms would fall away again like a rag doll. With each spot he would say something like- "Your lungs are good. You have two leaking heart valves. Kidneys are good. Spleen good. You have a hiatal hernia (just like the Amish guy said!) Liver is good. Problem with your right ovary. Uterus is good (that's what HE said!) and on and on. When he got to my right breast, my arms fell away and he asked what was wrong with my breast. I said I didn't know. He said "it's probably a cyst or something, we'll find out". All the while, the exotic receptionist-medical assistant was taking notes.
He sat me up and began pulling down bottles from the wall of bottled remedies. Remember..if I held something in my hand that my body is strengthened by he would be unable to push my arms down, and vice versa. He had remedies for Multiple Sclerosis, lyme disease, heavy metals, cancer, diabetes, kidney disease..everything you can imagine. So we went through every bottle. The bottles that contained something that made me stronger were set to one side. Treatment for Multiple Sclerosis- I didn't need that. Cancer treatment- 5-7 bottles of different cancer treatments made me stronger. My body was showing an affinity, a need, for that remedy. Shit. fuck damn. We stopped and talked about it. "Do you have a lump?" he asked. No. I mean..of course..a million lumps and bumps. Nothing that has ever stood out. "Well." and he tilted his chin down and looked at me over his glasses. "I think what's going on in your breast might be malignant." I exhaled. he encouraged me to not worry because we were going to take care of it. (Oh...don't worry. Ok). Then, he started turning a few of the bottles around so I could read the labels. angio-something (stops the growth of blood vessels to the site of the cancer) and so on it went, and then there was one for Parkinson's Disease. What the hell? He asked Miss Exotic to pull out one of the questionnares I had answered. There was a Parkinson's questionnare. I had one symptom. We talked briefly about the fact that I also had an affinity for the treatment of Parkinson's. I had the flashing vision of being a one boobed twitching drooling mess. Fanfuckingtastic.
This bottle holding, arm resisting went on for 2 hours. Then he began ordering lab tests. Radiology tests. We would get confirmation the good old fashioned Western way.
The diagnostic mammogram was negative as well as the ultrasound of the breast. Yay! Other tests are pending. Some tests I had to go to Dr. Wonderful for and he basically patted me on the head and prescribed another anti-depressant. There there young lady...just take this pill and it will be all better.
so---what's better? what path to choose? Who to give my business to? My health? My life?
I'm frustrated. I'm disgusted. But what I do know is that I want to minimize the toxins and poisons going in my body. Aspartame toxicity? Very much so. Cancer? Parkinsons? I guess I'll have to just take that a day at a time.
Martini's aren't bad for us are they???
Imagine waking up after 12 hours in bed, most of it sleeping, and feeling like it was merely a cat nap. Your body heavy, your mind sluggish. You drink some caffeine to get going, diet of course because really..who wants to drink those extra calories. The dog goes out for her bathroom break and life continues in a state of what you have decided is "getting older". Everyone feels like this to some extent. Exercise is attempted only to bring a different level of exhaustion. Body aches. Headaches. Aches are fine. Aches are NOT scary. It's the "aging process". Stabbing abdominal pain... that is scary. Doctor Wonderful orders me to not eat spicy food and stop with the caffeine (how the hell am I going to stay awake without caffeine?). When I go back he orders a pill. In the meantime I am so distraught with the very nature of my health. Starting to realize that this is not just an "aging" process. My fatigue was addressed by ordering basic lab tests by Dr. Wonderful. They came back normal and therefore the investigation was stopped. Every aspect of my life was becoming affected. I gave up and decided it was just my "depression" playing physical tricks on me. The Psychiatrist ordered another pill. So now on sleeping pills, pain pills, muscle relaxants, anti-depressant, birth control pills (because seriously- how could I muster the energy to take care of a child), antacids, vitamins, and high doses of B-12 to get any little energy kick possible. I have an entire reusable grocery bag full of pill bottles and supplements to help me feel better, all the while feeling like I was putting more than one foot in the grave.
I stopped the diet pepsi cold turkey and started weeding meat out of my diet. I went to Indiana to visit.
What a visit that was. My sister and my Mom had gone to an event with this psychic medium a month prior and arranged for all of us to meet with him in a more intimate setting. This guy really DOES see dead people. As sure as I am that the sky is blue and that there are "psychics" who read right into your wallet, this guy was for real. I will lay down my life (what little is left of it!) and tell you that we are surrounded by our loved ones that have passed on and that there is something greater in store for us. Riding on the complete mind bend of our visit with Rick, the seeing dead guy...I was a little less skeptical of John the Amish guy who reads your iris to look for health problems. It's called iridology, there are books on this people, and I can't make this stuff up. John looked into my eye and his first "diagnosis" was that I had a hiatal hernia (your stomach gets pulled up through your diaphragm-something it isn't supposed to do), I had a foot and knee issue, an acidic system, and gravely, at the end of our little "office visit" -(read: pole barn on a farm) he said there was something wrong with my breast. He made me promise that I would get it looked in to. I know..it's bizarre.
So once back in Vegas, and still having abdominal pain but now feeling happier about it do to the anti-depressant, I went back to Dr. Wonderful and he FINALLY ordered an upper GI study. As an after thought I asked if he would order a baseline mammogram, just in case. He obliged and I was beginning to think I wouldn't burn him at the stake after all. I was on my new "vegetarian" - no soda diet and feeling very "granola" shopping at Whole Foods. Just being in that store makes me want to burn incense and braid my hair. I picked up a book "The Beginner's Guide to Natural Living" by Larry Cook. I figured if I'm going to overhaul my life I might as well do it up right! (except no Tom's toothpaste...yuck). After blowing through the book in like 2 days, I decided to investigate the local naturopathic doctors. There was one recommended by the American Association of Naturopaths. I went with him. I really felt like there was some truth behind the idea that our western medicine is keeping us ill. Pill after pill with no relief in sight.
Dr. S. was sweeping his sidewalk when I arrived for my appointment. He brought me in and gave me the usual questionnaire to fill out. He looked over the answers, asked some fairly vague questions and looked at the normal lab results I brought in. He had me sit on his exam table and said something about blah blah kinesiology and had me hold out my arms straight in front of me with my fingers interlaced. He asked me to resist his attempt to push my arms down, and I did (I mean, he is kind of old, it wasn't that daunting of a task) and I could keep my arms up, he was pushing pretty hard though. He talked about the electromagnetic force of our bodies and how our bodies and everything on this planet really has a flow of energy. When the "force" combines with something it will either make it stronger or weaker, due to the electromagnetism or something, I didn't quite get what he was saying. To demonstrate he had me hold a pill bottle in my hand and for the life of me I can't remember what it said on the side. I held the bottle between my hands and interlaced my fingers again. He asked me to resist against him, but this time I could not. My arms fell away like a rag doll. The bottle wasn't heavy or anything. At this point I was wishing I had paid closer attention to what he had been saying. He said that the body doesn't want to "hold on" to things it doesn't need. That when something weakens the system it would be extremely hard for me to resist against his force. And if a substance strengthens me and my system, then he could jump up and down and find it hard to overcome my resistance. He then began touching with his fingertips various spots on my body..energy channels that correspond to the different organs. I would hold out my arms and he would touch a channel with one hand and with the other he would attempt to push down my arms. If a certain channel was weak (due to disease, injury, whatever) my arms would fall away again like a rag doll. With each spot he would say something like- "Your lungs are good. You have two leaking heart valves. Kidneys are good. Spleen good. You have a hiatal hernia (just like the Amish guy said!) Liver is good. Problem with your right ovary. Uterus is good (that's what HE said!) and on and on. When he got to my right breast, my arms fell away and he asked what was wrong with my breast. I said I didn't know. He said "it's probably a cyst or something, we'll find out". All the while, the exotic receptionist-medical assistant was taking notes.
He sat me up and began pulling down bottles from the wall of bottled remedies. Remember..if I held something in my hand that my body is strengthened by he would be unable to push my arms down, and vice versa. He had remedies for Multiple Sclerosis, lyme disease, heavy metals, cancer, diabetes, kidney disease..everything you can imagine. So we went through every bottle. The bottles that contained something that made me stronger were set to one side. Treatment for Multiple Sclerosis- I didn't need that. Cancer treatment- 5-7 bottles of different cancer treatments made me stronger. My body was showing an affinity, a need, for that remedy. Shit. fuck damn. We stopped and talked about it. "Do you have a lump?" he asked. No. I mean..of course..a million lumps and bumps. Nothing that has ever stood out. "Well." and he tilted his chin down and looked at me over his glasses. "I think what's going on in your breast might be malignant." I exhaled. he encouraged me to not worry because we were going to take care of it. (Oh...don't worry. Ok). Then, he started turning a few of the bottles around so I could read the labels. angio-something (stops the growth of blood vessels to the site of the cancer) and so on it went, and then there was one for Parkinson's Disease. What the hell? He asked Miss Exotic to pull out one of the questionnares I had answered. There was a Parkinson's questionnare. I had one symptom. We talked briefly about the fact that I also had an affinity for the treatment of Parkinson's. I had the flashing vision of being a one boobed twitching drooling mess. Fanfuckingtastic.
This bottle holding, arm resisting went on for 2 hours. Then he began ordering lab tests. Radiology tests. We would get confirmation the good old fashioned Western way.
The diagnostic mammogram was negative as well as the ultrasound of the breast. Yay! Other tests are pending. Some tests I had to go to Dr. Wonderful for and he basically patted me on the head and prescribed another anti-depressant. There there young lady...just take this pill and it will be all better.
so---what's better? what path to choose? Who to give my business to? My health? My life?
I'm frustrated. I'm disgusted. But what I do know is that I want to minimize the toxins and poisons going in my body. Aspartame toxicity? Very much so. Cancer? Parkinsons? I guess I'll have to just take that a day at a time.
Martini's aren't bad for us are they???
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
October 16, 2011
So there I was...in a lovely blue hospital gown...drinking barium (read chalkletmilk) preparing for some "live exrays". My health has really become a problem. The stabbing stomach pains that go unrelenting for hours, no tums, maalox or apple cider vinegar could touch. Lortab and ambien is the only combination I found to make it better. My first week of a vegetarian diet has been completed. No more diet sodas. That was not a misprint. I'm off the diet pepsi. But I am a long way from feeling better. during the exam the barium lights up black in my colon and the doc had to literally rearrange my internal parts with a paddle board to see what he needed to see. The words "this isn't supposed to be here" being pointed to a shadowy black smudge on the screen were helpful in lowering my stress level, NOT. But the words- your report will be sent to your doctor in about 5-7 business days- did induce an amount of annoyance with the system that would be better handled in a women's prison. I've made an executive decision. If medications offered to me do NOT FIX THE PROBLEM but only take care of the symptom..I'm not interested. We've got big government and bigger business fucking up the food we eat, the soil we grow it in, and then not disclosing these atrocities. All the while the American public is living in the sick cycle of death. Clogged arteries? We'll bypass them. Stroked out, we'll rehab them. What about HEALTH CARE THAT CARES FOR HEALTH , not the endless search for solutions. Help us be healthy....STOP POISONING OUR FOODS, TREATING OUR WATER WITH FLUORIDE. I wouldn't get so sick if the food provided to the average American wasn't loaded with genetically modified organisms, antibiotics, stress hormones, pesticides..and the medical conglomerate's big fix is throw in more pills and antibiotics while the dance continues. We're paying to be kept ill. I for one refuse to do it anymore. I have health care concerns. Potentially life threatening issues....It's time to put the theory to the test. The body will heal itself if given the proper tools. I am seeking the help of a Naturopathic MD. I hope to document it here, to educate, to form a community that knows there needs to be a shift in the way healthcare is practiced today. Or potentially disprove the whole food supplements, chiropractic treatments, organic diet. I guess we'll see.
Dear Allah,
Could you please instill a conscience into the "machine of illness" that make and dispense products for human consumption. And could the smart minds in our doctors across this country realize that cure is what we need. Not..stay sick, but not feel it with this pill.
Starting week two of my vegetarian lifestyle.
Dear Allah,
Could you please instill a conscience into the "machine of illness" that make and dispense products for human consumption. And could the smart minds in our doctors across this country realize that cure is what we need. Not..stay sick, but not feel it with this pill.
Starting week two of my vegetarian lifestyle.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
September 21, 2011
So there I was....trying on this...the only word that comes to mind is Psychedelic...trying on this Psychedelic Dress at Macy's. The only real reason I wanted to try it on was because I thought it would look great with my knee high black boots. I put it on and to be honest the mood was sour from the get go because I had to see myself in THAT lighting in just my grandma undergarments. Again..apologize for the traumatic visual. So I pull this dress over my head and I'm surprised that it's actually pretty cute..kind of retro (do not read vintage). I twirl, bend..and yes I added a snap at the end because I was beginning to channel Reese Witherspoon apparently. The true test to any piece of fashion in my wardrobe is the sit test..and I loathe dressing rooms that don't have at least a small slice of sitting apparatus in them. I grab a seat on some laminate and OHMYGOD.. all that comes to mind is that there's obviously another event that can be called "The Thunder from Down Under"..and No..my ass did not explode literally..the seat was apparently calling out to God to please save it from the torture of my body weight on it. It did TOTALLY sound as if I was over taken by a giant gaseous cloud requiring release at that exact moment and apparently the young girl a few dressing rooms down could not contain her laughter. At this juncture I sniff.. I don't really know why... habit. Maybe some disgusting reflex. oh shut up..and thankfully..there was not an odor to be found, so I was glad that I would only be associated with a sound and not a smell..shut up Kelly...So seeing how I jumped up immediately after the explosion I didn't get a true sit test for this cute retro dress but decided to hurry the hell up and get out of there so that no one would know it was me who may or may not have totally ripped one in the dressing room. And of course when I walk out with my sweet retro Friday night outfit I come face to face with the "giggler". So I was totally busted for something I didn't even do. And really who wants to explain that whole "sit test" fiasco to some late teen stick figure who probably looks great in dressing room lighting and gross three way mirrors. Bitch.
Dear God- you're humor does not impress me. Nope. Not at all. Go pick on someone your own size. Your faithful servant, FartyMcfartypants
Dear God- you're humor does not impress me. Nope. Not at all. Go pick on someone your own size. Your faithful servant, FartyMcfartypants
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 12, 2011
So there I was, 3651 days ago, sleeping cozily in my bed. It wasn't unusual for people to call me at such an obscene time in the morning. I mean 9 am might as well be the crack of dawn for a single girl living the life in Boston. But the calls were stacked, and when I looked, they were from my family. I felt fear climb up my spine and grab my throat. It was most likely Dad. He's practically had one foot in the grave since he found out his third child was, in fact, another girl. And as I opened my flip phone to make the dreaded call home. The phone rang again.
"Hello?"
"Brooke! Are you ok?" My older sister Carrie.
"Huh? Me. I'm sleeping. What's up?"
"There are planes crashing into buildings in New York City!"
"What?!"
"Turn on the TV!"
"I don't have a TV!" (seriously..I was a traveling nurse and had much better things to do than watch Golden Girls all day- and I could rent the first couple seasons of Sex and the City- so who needs cable?)
"Well find one. They think it's terrorists. Be careful, there might be more attacks!"
What the hell? Terrorists? 4 hours from here, crashing into a major metropolitan city.
Bang Bang Bang- "Shirein!! Get up get up get up..let me in!" The high rise I lived in had a fairly speedy elevator, but that felt like it took a year to go up to the 27th floor from the 19th floor that my studio was on.
"Are you crazy woman!" Shirein in her poodle pajamas (wtf is that about!) answered the door (also living the single life where 9 am is completely unacceptable for visiting hours).
"There are terrorists crashing planes into buildings in New York City..Turn on the News!"
And we sat there, knees pulled into our chests, mouths covered with shaky hands and watched it all unfold. I saw the news coverage of people jumping from the World Trade Center buildings. I saw some link arms and jump. I watched some jump in an embrace. Some jumped alone. To their deaths. My imagination has no concept of what they were leaving behind in those buildings. The living hell that no one will ever know. They quickly stopped showing footage of the jumpers. The mothers, fathers, husbands and wives stopped being filmed as they escaped and succombed to their fate. The Pentagon was hit. A flight crashed in Pennsylvania. There were warnings of other threats in other cities. We sat there in a high rise across from the Federal Building in Boston and realized getting outside of the city would be a wise decision.
Walking outside for the first time on September 11th in downtown Boston- It felt as if the weight of the world was mourning. Even the pigeons seemed to show their sadness. There were no cars on the streets in Boston. The only business I found open was a 7-11 on the corner. It occured to me that at that moment I could've been experiencing the beginning of the end of the world as we know it. Apocolaypse. I didn't even consider buying water or canned goods. The reason being that the abandoned city had plenty to offer me if I should need it. The silence of a sadness like that grips you and leaves a tattoo where it once held you. Too stunned for anger, too shocked for tears- September 12th will forever be the day that I was most proud to be an American. At the Massachusetts General Hospital on September 12th there were hundreds of people in line to donate blood, and those lines were formed at every hospital in the city, in the state and across the country. People calling to volunteer to do anything. Please..they just wanted to do something. There were American Flags on cars, buses, and every restaurant window. Men and women - strangers living next to each other began to reach out. Began to stand together as Americans. The devastating reality of so many final conversations. The heart wrenching loss of self that wives and husbands must have felt when their loved one never called back. When everything wasn't ok. When there would never be another I love you. I break inside a little bit at the thought of that ever happening to me or to someone I love. But THAT day..we all loved every single one of them and we felt it. We hurt together, even if we would never know that kind of hurt personally.
Soon there were stories of courage and luck and heroism. Of those who missed a flight. Who called in sick. Who made it out. We held onto those lifelines. We stop and remember on September 11th, and the lost are in our thoughts while the living are in our prayers. But I suggest we celebrate on September 12th..the acts of human kindness, no..not just human kindness, but American kindness, and the love that we showed our fellow man. Because United we did stand.
"Hello?"
"Brooke! Are you ok?" My older sister Carrie.
"Huh? Me. I'm sleeping. What's up?"
"There are planes crashing into buildings in New York City!"
"What?!"
"Turn on the TV!"
"I don't have a TV!" (seriously..I was a traveling nurse and had much better things to do than watch Golden Girls all day- and I could rent the first couple seasons of Sex and the City- so who needs cable?)
"Well find one. They think it's terrorists. Be careful, there might be more attacks!"
What the hell? Terrorists? 4 hours from here, crashing into a major metropolitan city.
Bang Bang Bang- "Shirein!! Get up get up get up..let me in!" The high rise I lived in had a fairly speedy elevator, but that felt like it took a year to go up to the 27th floor from the 19th floor that my studio was on.
"Are you crazy woman!" Shirein in her poodle pajamas (wtf is that about!) answered the door (also living the single life where 9 am is completely unacceptable for visiting hours).
"There are terrorists crashing planes into buildings in New York City..Turn on the News!"
And we sat there, knees pulled into our chests, mouths covered with shaky hands and watched it all unfold. I saw the news coverage of people jumping from the World Trade Center buildings. I saw some link arms and jump. I watched some jump in an embrace. Some jumped alone. To their deaths. My imagination has no concept of what they were leaving behind in those buildings. The living hell that no one will ever know. They quickly stopped showing footage of the jumpers. The mothers, fathers, husbands and wives stopped being filmed as they escaped and succombed to their fate. The Pentagon was hit. A flight crashed in Pennsylvania. There were warnings of other threats in other cities. We sat there in a high rise across from the Federal Building in Boston and realized getting outside of the city would be a wise decision.
Walking outside for the first time on September 11th in downtown Boston- It felt as if the weight of the world was mourning. Even the pigeons seemed to show their sadness. There were no cars on the streets in Boston. The only business I found open was a 7-11 on the corner. It occured to me that at that moment I could've been experiencing the beginning of the end of the world as we know it. Apocolaypse. I didn't even consider buying water or canned goods. The reason being that the abandoned city had plenty to offer me if I should need it. The silence of a sadness like that grips you and leaves a tattoo where it once held you. Too stunned for anger, too shocked for tears- September 12th will forever be the day that I was most proud to be an American. At the Massachusetts General Hospital on September 12th there were hundreds of people in line to donate blood, and those lines were formed at every hospital in the city, in the state and across the country. People calling to volunteer to do anything. Please..they just wanted to do something. There were American Flags on cars, buses, and every restaurant window. Men and women - strangers living next to each other began to reach out. Began to stand together as Americans. The devastating reality of so many final conversations. The heart wrenching loss of self that wives and husbands must have felt when their loved one never called back. When everything wasn't ok. When there would never be another I love you. I break inside a little bit at the thought of that ever happening to me or to someone I love. But THAT day..we all loved every single one of them and we felt it. We hurt together, even if we would never know that kind of hurt personally.
Soon there were stories of courage and luck and heroism. Of those who missed a flight. Who called in sick. Who made it out. We held onto those lifelines. We stop and remember on September 11th, and the lost are in our thoughts while the living are in our prayers. But I suggest we celebrate on September 12th..the acts of human kindness, no..not just human kindness, but American kindness, and the love that we showed our fellow man. Because United we did stand.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
September 8, 2011
So there I was laying on my bedroom floor. Yankee Candle candlelight flickering on the walls while Dr. Marti Ross finishes a guided meditation on the CD player (hey..I have my deep side!) Relaxed and happy I roll to my side and about a foot from where my head was laying was a HUGE FUCKING COCKROACH! In my hysteria I am sure there was a loud scream, but I don't recall if it was a shrill girlie scream (yes. yes it was). I jump and I'm sure Michael Jordan's got nothing on me at this point! And that little bastard barely moves! Really, he was taunting me! I slide on a flip flop of death and then the little fucker scurries into the bathroom..bad move mister, carpeting might have saved you! I proceed to River Dance myself around the bathroom floor in attempt to kill the thing! In my mind..it might as well have been a Pterodactyl! IT WAS HUGE! But too bad for him, I AM the LORD of the DANCE! and he is dead. Some of you may remember my previous "roommate" that had a bad run in with a shower curtain rod and the bathtub. Tragic. Although this dinosauresque roach may have had the last laugh since I think I sprained an ankle in the all the flailing, I mean dancing, and there was the part that involved me scraping up dinosaur goo, legs, and possibly roach eggs. It might have been genocide. I could have killed what was possibly millions of generations of Dinosaur roaches. Now Nato will be on my ass for violating the Geneva Convention! Great. I'll be in prison. I won't do well in prison. They surely won't let me have a fan and eye patches to sleep with. This is not looking good for me especially considering they probably put roaches on the payroll at the prison. Roach spit in my food. Heckling me because they'll all know I am a roach killer. It's not good. Not good at all.
Dear Lord... Please forgive me for accidentally dancing on that beautiful creature you blessed my home with. My heart breaks for his/her family as they will surely be impacted by the loss of their loved one. On a positive note, they will get more food, cuz DAMN that bitch was huge! Your faithful servant, Brooke.
Dear Lord... Please forgive me for accidentally dancing on that beautiful creature you blessed my home with. My heart breaks for his/her family as they will surely be impacted by the loss of their loved one. On a positive note, they will get more food, cuz DAMN that bitch was huge! Your faithful servant, Brooke.
Friday, September 2, 2011
September 2, 2011
Picture it.. Vegas, 2011! So there I was..(and props to everyone who picked up on the Golden Girls reference!) plucking my third chin hair this week, hold on this gets more personal, when I sent a small prayer of thanks to our Heavenly Father for the wisdom and foresight of striking me down with a humongous cold sore above my lip, a cheek pimple and PMS today. In my effort at personal growth, my prayer of Thanks went something like this-"God, I realize I've been a 'fucktard' for approximately the last 30 years (I had to have been a decent human being at some stretch, right?) and I am grateful to still be drawing breath. I want to thank you for the opportunity to experience social facial uncomfortableness in these days prior to my trip to LA where I will be convening with the cast of Big Brother 13. Your infinite wisdom knows no bounds and my gratitude spills forth, along with the continued abdominal bloat and possibly dried up, flaky herpie goo. Please hear my prayer. And thanks for getting the refrigerator replaced. Amen, Your faithful servant, Brooke. PS- if things continue as they have been, I fully expect my humpback to rear it's bountiful mound in the next few months and request that I have an ever playing theme song of "My Humps" by Fergie and her black eyed peas, because really there is no limit on shame."
Lovely lady lumps indeed.
PSS..sorry for saying fucktard in my prayer, but it is the beginning of a revolution. A socially backward slide of my moral compass, but a revolution nonetheless.
PSSS..During said convening of Big Brother 13 cast members and myself, a complete Big Brother idiot, having never seen a single episode in 13 seasons, I ask for guidance and support that I might not shoot liquid out of my nose while laughing at my own ridiculous jokes, that I am certain are going to be told, or if liquid should come from any of my orifices may it land on my sister Kelly and no one else, because really, what are sisters for?
PSSSS...and by the way, if you could turn some water into wine, I have a case in the fridge (cold, praise Jesus) and feel like tying one on tonight. I'm feeling a nice Pinot Noir or hell, even a Zinfandel will do in a pinch! But no rush, I need to hit the treadmill. Ciao! Again.. faithful servant, future dweller in the fires of hell, Brooke
Lovely lady lumps indeed.
PSS..sorry for saying fucktard in my prayer, but it is the beginning of a revolution. A socially backward slide of my moral compass, but a revolution nonetheless.
PSSS..During said convening of Big Brother 13 cast members and myself, a complete Big Brother idiot, having never seen a single episode in 13 seasons, I ask for guidance and support that I might not shoot liquid out of my nose while laughing at my own ridiculous jokes, that I am certain are going to be told, or if liquid should come from any of my orifices may it land on my sister Kelly and no one else, because really, what are sisters for?
PSSSS...and by the way, if you could turn some water into wine, I have a case in the fridge (cold, praise Jesus) and feel like tying one on tonight. I'm feeling a nice Pinot Noir or hell, even a Zinfandel will do in a pinch! But no rush, I need to hit the treadmill. Ciao! Again.. faithful servant, future dweller in the fires of hell, Brooke
Sunday, August 28, 2011
August 28th, 2011
So there I was...(THERE YOU WERE!) Walking down Telegraph Ave in Berkeley California. I'm not even going to MENTION that I needed a winter coat for the 61 degree temperatures...In front of me walked a young man with white daisy duke shorts on, cowboy boots, carrying a big purse and wearing a shirt that said "Born this Gay". I decided that he was the walking definition of redundant. It would be like me wearing a tight t-shirt that said "muffin top made by Hostess Cupcakes". People don't need the obvious pointed out. Well..some people might. And those people are the reason McDonald's has crazy stupid warnings on their coffee cups.
That's all for now. Thank you. And God...see.. I was on my best behavior. I didn't make fun of the fat woman (350+) on the moaning personal scooter with an oxygen tank and "Fit4Life" bag on the side. So now there is no reason you should continue punishing me by keeping my fridge warm. (and to make it up to me I will gladly accept your offer of a gratuitous computing error on my paycheck in my favor). Your faithful servant, Brooke (aka Fatty)
That's all for now. Thank you. And God...see.. I was on my best behavior. I didn't make fun of the fat woman (350+) on the moaning personal scooter with an oxygen tank and "Fit4Life" bag on the side. So now there is no reason you should continue punishing me by keeping my fridge warm. (and to make it up to me I will gladly accept your offer of a gratuitous computing error on my paycheck in my favor). Your faithful servant, Brooke (aka Fatty)
Monday, August 22, 2011
August 22, 2011
So there I was....(There you were! bravo..you're learning). So proud of my healthy shopping spree at Whole Foods Sunday morning and feeling like a million bucks and after a restful day of sleep in preparation for my long 12 hour night shift at the hospital I woke up and to my utter annoyance, no scratch that, to my fucking complete disbelief and core shaking rage that my refrigerator is again ...warm. My frozen foods could be cut with a butter knife. If you haven't been privy to my appliance issues, let me recap...the fucking fridge hates me. Since moving in to my very cute, cozy with an amazing view of Las Vegas even though I live in the ghetto condo, my refrigerator has stopped cooling 3 times. Ask me how many times I've gone to the grocery store since moving into said cute ghetto condo... yes.. 3. But this time..my beautiful ,organic, fair trade goodies will not be spoiled. No way am I wasting another $100 of groceries or playing the guessing game of whether or not I will be in the ER with food poisoning (Thank You cute hunky, muscle bound doctor for getting me in and out in 2 1/2 hours). So I packed that shit up in the uber cute 'save the planet' reusable grocery bags and took my happy ass and all my cold foods to work. You bet your sweet ass I used my work refrigerator to store my food. And as it is still there, monopolizing space and tempting over worked, under paid, highly stressed out nurses to possibly eat it..I am looking for a foster fridge. A loving environment where my cold foods can rest easy knowing that they will not perish from this earth without giving the pleasure they were born to give. I have no stipulations as to the family situation of my foster fridge. Single parent, fine. Bickering, middle aged assholes, great. My requirement is only that you leave a little for me. My Cilantro Pesto naan pizzas, my yummy vanilla Kefir, the ever so irresistable frozen strawberry bars with chunks of real strawberries..have one..just leave some for me so that in 6 years when I find a suitable, long term cooling device for my beautiful, organic, fair trade goodies .. I can enjoy them as their rightful owner.
And God, I apologize for my assholeyness in previous blog. I am deeply apologetic for my blasphemy, and will serve a just penance. But God, could you send a repairman that doesn't look at me like I'm a doe eyed pea brained dimwit, who will listen to my explanation of abbarant refrigerator behavior and preferably not be a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON! Would be much appreciated. Respectfully, your faithful servant, Brooke.
And God, I apologize for my assholeyness in previous blog. I am deeply apologetic for my blasphemy, and will serve a just penance. But God, could you send a repairman that doesn't look at me like I'm a doe eyed pea brained dimwit, who will listen to my explanation of abbarant refrigerator behavior and preferably not be a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON! Would be much appreciated. Respectfully, your faithful servant, Brooke.
Friday, August 19, 2011
August 19-2011
So there I was- being whisked away, all a surprise, for my birthday. (please let it be a spa day, please let it be a spa day, please please please) When I was escorted to the pool of a nice Resort/Casino. Yes..ok..I was ok with it being a pool day, as there are generally many many alcoholic beverages consumed beside Las Vegas pools. BUT>>>ah ha...he was just trying to throw off my scent, because we quickly veered towards the..you guessed it...SPA! I love feeling all froo froo she she in big cozy spa robes with all those soft soothing sounds of ...Michelle laughing? My co-worker, love love love her, needs a volume dial! But I would not be deterred from my relaxation..massage, facial, and pedicure (silently stabbing the woman in the pedicure chair beside me as she blabs away on her cell phone). All in all..very very FROO FROO SHE SHE..and therefore, just what I needed. The best part of the Spa was us four girls sitting by the pool, downing 3 PITCHERS of raspberry margaritas! and watching Michelle re-enact some of the moves she learned at her pole dancing class! (Nice work Dixie!) The discussion was of the usual girlfriend variety- men, sex, and men, and one disturbingly funny recounting of a particular brown eye. Such a lovely afternoon talking about various dicks (literal and figuritive) we've come across in our lives, as this really was our maiden voyage into such discussions and we all needed each others backgrounds! So that of course, our next girls day can be spent discussing politics and the finer art of hair removal. It was all over way too quickly, but that was just our time at the Spa- we were expected someplace that evening to continue the festivities.
Friends/co-workers and Gigolos? Yes..my birthday EXTRAVAGANZA was shared with the filming of some Showtime Reality show called Gigolos. He was not hot- and she definitely needed to pay for it. What is the world coming too?
Many laughs, plenty of drinks and lots of memories made up my perfect Birthday. All made possible by the man in my life Jeff..he's so dreamy.
Friends/co-workers and Gigolos? Yes..my birthday EXTRAVAGANZA was shared with the filming of some Showtime Reality show called Gigolos. He was not hot- and she definitely needed to pay for it. What is the world coming too?
Many laughs, plenty of drinks and lots of memories made up my perfect Birthday. All made possible by the man in my life Jeff..he's so dreamy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)