A Long-Delayed Update.

So, what's taken so fucking long, you ask? Life.

The current score: Life 11; P 3. (I quantified this in feels, if you want to know.)

But, stuff has been going on.
My hands are still fucked up. Not as bad, but it's quite annoying. I can now tell when the weather changes; a shift in barometric pressure causes my hands and wrists to ache for no apparent reason. That's just super, she sarcasmed.*

I -did- go to see the doctor, though. I managed to get in at a clinic that offers healthcare to people with low/no income or insurance, and the whole visit only cost me $20, which is amazing. I wanted to hug the receptionist when she told me that. Medicine for my various crap did cost me a bit more, though. For the cough (which still lingers) and for my hands. So, there IS relief, but I haven't taken any of those pills yet because they purportedly cause drowsiness, which I have quite enough of, thank you.

Let's see... Oh, I had a hideous date with a creepy dude (more on this later), and stopped seeing that other guy (more on this too). Thus, the dating front is pretty grim, but I don't really have time for boys and their bullshit right now.**

I've been trying harder to find a job, and last week actually got a call from a temp agency, who has since taken me on as talent! So, I'm a step closer to gainful employment, and after a frantic couple of hours, I now have a very nice outfit to wear to other interviews, should there BE other interviews ever.

In spite of numerous setbacks (read: pints of Ben and Jerry's), I've done well on the diet front and managed to break the 170 lb mark, which had been a depressing plateau. Now, I'm only about 9 lbs away from having what is considered within the range of a healthy body weight. WOO!

So, there have been some good things... But in and around these good points has been a vast sea of soul-crushing depression. Part of why I didn't update for awhile has to do with the depression. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share my bad experiences here, but... As a friend told me, this blog is called P vs. Life, so any part of my life is fair game. Ergo, I will endeavor to fill you in on that stuff soon.

For now, it's time for walkies, and then bed... But only because I promised the dog that we would go to bed earlier tonight than last night and I feel guilty. >__>



Notes:
* I am aware that sarcasm cannot be used as a verb. There is a story behind this, though, about some people who aren't aware....

**I don't only date boys, but haven't heard much lately from the ladies, and regardless, don't have much time for them either. And if truth be told, I already have my eye on someone for when I -do- have the time.

Is Dick Organic? Because EAT ONE.

Organic food and items made by small companies with locally-sourced ingredients are trending hard in the Windy City right now, and probably elsewhere. People want to know where their food came from, they want to be assured there are no chemicals in it, they want to feel like smart conscientious consumers... Well, kids, you can't have your organic tomato and eat it, too. 

This whole organic locally-grown trend PISSES ME OFF. Why? Because most of the people who've gotten on board with this now think that going organic means they are less repugnant than the rest of the wretched fuckwits who make up the human race. And this post? Fueled by rage because of one such douchebag. 

Earlier today, I wrote an email to a nearby bar, a classy place with amazing food and a great beer selection--if you like beer. I do NOT like beer; I like gin. When I have been to this establishment, I've been informed that they have two kinds of gin, Death's Door and North Shore. The first time, I had my gin and tonics with Death's Door, and was quite appalled. The second time, I opted for North Shore, and it was even worse. Now, I wouldn't call myself an expert, but I know what good gin tastes like.  I was taught the ways of the gin by one of my best friends, and I know him to be a man of impeccable taste. So. Today, instead of knitting, because my hands are still fucked up, I wrote some complaining emails to various places, one of them being to this bar. I said that their gin was bad, and they should look into getting Hendrick's, Caorunn, Bombay Sapphire, or Tanqueray. (I'm indifferent toward Tanqueray, but a good bar should have it, dammit.) 

I just got a rather supercilious reply from the bar owner which stated that I am the only person who ever said anything negative about their gin selection. In fact, Death's Door was a favorite of the gin-drinking visitors to said bar, and the other had been rated the same as Bombay Sapphire in some sort of tasting test. Mr. Man then proceeds to say that they've been phasing out liquors owned by big-name companies in favor of supporting smaller independent suppliers, and that he knew personally the people who made North Shore, which was made from organic ingredients and blah blah. Basically, a snobby email whose overall tone indicated that -I- must be some sort of uncultured plebeian for even suggesting that they stock such filthy gin. 

And that completely pissed me off, as you can tell. Really, I've had it up to my fucking eyebrows with people snobbishly saying that they prefer to use organic local blah blah shit, as though that makes them superior in some way. Guess what, IT DOES NOT. 

See, Mr. Bar Man, you run a BAR. That means you should be concerned about making sure that you have GOOD liquor at your bar. Just because a bunch of hipster douche bags who are accustomed to drinking Beefeater or Seagram's tell you that your bullshit gin tastes good, that doesn't mean shit. 

The whole deal reminds me a lot of the fairy-tale called The Emperor's New Clothes, because the thing is, NOTHING can possibly be organic ANYwhere. Think about it. All the pollution humankind has released into the air, earth, and water since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution--that shit went EVERYwhere. So, you can't say that this-or-that farm only grows "organic" produce just because they don't add chemicals of their own; the earth, the air, the rain are all adding chemicals to those foodstuffs. And you can buy all the over-priced low-quality veggies you want, but unless you're living in a tent in the forest, growing your own shit, not using electricity or anything that can't be made out of basic shit like the Native Americans did, you are no better than the rest of us. 

But, I feel like I'm dancing around the point. The point I wanted to make is this: organic locally-grown stuff is a nice idea; knowing all the facts about your food would be great.  However, this is the 21st century, and most of us (everyone reading this at least) live in the REAL world. You can grow your own tomatoes in your backyard--in fact, I recommend doing that--but they'll never really be organic because you just don't KNOW what the plant's roots sucked up out of the soil. You probably also don't know where the plant itself or the seeds even came from. The water you pour on your plants, where did that come from? What's been in there? YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW AND YOU CAN'T. And paying twice the price for "organic" food (you don't know where THAT came from either) is so far removed from the naturalistic values you're espousing that you might as well be buying the chemically-treated stuff instead. 

Now, to bring it back to the gin. Mr. Bar Man seems to think that his gins made from "organic" ingredients by tiny companies thus make them better than the bigger-name gins.  However, it does NOT make them better. On the contrary, Death's Door and North Shore are still terrible examples of gin. Being distilled on the moral high ground doesn't change that.

And I'm not going to drink your shitty fucking gin and NOT tell you that you're naked. Because, Emperor, you're fucking naked, so pour out this swill and bring me some fucking Hendrick's already. 

Brief Intermission Due to Crippledness

Just typing up a note to let you know that there WILL be more posts, but right now I am unable to type for more than a few minutes at a time. 

For some reason (probably too much knitting on too tiny needles), I started experiencing a weird numbness in my right pinky finger. After feeling that for about three days... the left pinky followed. So I looked up "pinky finger numbness" and discovered that I probably have something called ulna neuropathy. It has something to do with the ulna nerve (the thing commonly known as a funny bone, which is not a bone). The nerve gets trapped somehow, causing numbness and discomfort to the fingers, hands, and forearms. This type of repetitive motion injury is generally brought on by holding your arms bent at the elbows for too long.  You know, kind of like you do while knitting, typing, etc. 

What this means is that I spent this whole day feeling a mixture of grumpy and depressed because I can't do the important shit I need to, like writing cover letters for job applications, or even the fun shit I'd rather be doing, like knitting or blogging. Even picking things up has caused me some difficulty. The best I can do is a bit of texting, because my thumbs have the most functionality of anything past my elbow. 

So, I'm pretty fucking bored, and you have to be too. I suppose I can try to teach myself to type and knit and write with my feet, because nothing bad could come from that idea. Well, until I succeed at feet-typing, or until my damn ulna nerves quit shitting the bed, I'm on hiatus here. Wish me luck, bitches.