Because I know NO ONE is sick of my burn yet...

Burn update, Day 31:

FUCKING OW ALREADY. It is now infected, and as it turns out, I was allergic to whatever gauze thing they were using. So, behold the glory of my leg.




I even took this one to show the size of this damned thing in comparison to my leg.



Ya'll keep your fingers crossed for me that it heals ok, because NOW I'm worried.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

Well, I don't know where she is, but i do know where I am not.

Howdy ho neighbors. The last week has been quite interesting. As I said Friday, Jess and I no longer share an office, BUT, I can see her from my new office…

See that pasty white head in the middle. That would be the Awesome Jess, and the view from my desk. (The window to the right of her was at my old desk.) I really don't like being over here by myself. Thankfully she and I still have Yahoo messenger. And we are in the works to have a zip line installed between our offices. Word.

In other news, I have been going to the Wound Care Center 3x a week to have my burn trimmed up all fancy like. I'm sure, if you love me at all, you remember the BRIGHT RED pic I put up a while ago, well, this is what it looks like now...



And because this one is just so damn pretty, this is what it looked like BEFORE they cut off the dead tissue. You should have seen the girls in the doctor's office, they thought the fact that I wanted to 'document' my wound for my blog was amazing.



I thought the color combination was off the chain. Other than having my leg cut open every other day, and missing my Lesbian, I am just dandy.

And since I have now emblazoned your mind with yucky burn pictures, I will leave you with some puppy love. Tootles for now.

I Am Making Something Up

I didn’t get eaten alive by my ginormaous cat, nor was I abducted by aliens…unless, you count a different boss as an alien.

Last Monday, I was abruptly moved from my cozy, lesbian infected office, out to the carriage house, AKA, The Princess Suite. In stead of working for a guitar playing, beer drinking, insulin shooting, dog loving attorney, (yes, he and I got along fantastically!!). I now work for two (yes, 2) beer drinking, dog loving female attorneys.

May I just say that I am flattered that they didn’t just kick me to the curb. Thank you, thank you very much.

ANywho, I just wanted to let ya’ll know I am, in fact, still alive. I’ll be back Monday with updated burn pictures. (C’mon, you know you want to jump up and down and squeal with excitement.) Tootles my loves!

For the love of Electronic Stimulation Therapy!

I go tomorrow to a wound care clinic here in Savannah for debridement of my burn. Yay. Apparently, things have changed and they don’t necessarily have to cut me. They use ‘agents’ to ‘chemically’ debride the wound. And Electronic Stimulation Therapy, which just sounds cool.

I am not exactly excited about this here procedure, seeing as it is UBER expensive and not covered by insurance (it is out-of-network). But the girl I talked to was very kind and said that they will work with me to get me healed.

Ya’ll wish me luck. Hopefully it won’t be nearly as bad as I am thinking it will be. I remember going with Mom to have her wounds debrided and it was not pleasant.
Maybe they will serve Morphine and Bud Light for lunch

This, kids, is why you should never make your heating pad mad

I felt I should give you guys an update on the skin eating alien life form growing of my leg burn I got a couple weeks ago from my homicidal heating pad.

Day 16:

Does it look like it hurts? YES. IT DOES.

I have kept it covered with antibiotic cream on it since I got it. I made the mistake of putting one of those cool “protects the skin while letting the wound breathe” clear bandages on it. I took it off last night and it seemed to rip off the outermost layer of NEW skin. Yeah. I know, I’m a Dumbass.

I think I’ll stick to good ole sterile gauze and tape.

I do need help though. I am not sure if I should leave it uncovered so that air can get to it. I know that it needs air to heal, but I am afraid of little germs and aliens getting it infected. And that whole “I’m a Diabetic”, thing… as long as my leg doesn’t turn black and fall off, I’m cool.

In other news.

Master Wog and I went out to dinner with a friend of his and his wife. Met them once before, got along well. Turns out the guy is pretty cool good ole country boy, likes his beer and steak. The wife, on the other hand, the biggest racist bigot I have ever met in my entire life. She had me so flustered and embarrassed at dinner, I wanted to get up and run out of there as fast as I could.

I refuse to discuss some of the fucking things she was saying. Just because you are an ignorant piece of shit, doesn’t mean that I share those feelings. And I damn sure don’t appreciate you discussing how much you hate every person who doesn’t look exactly like you. You poodle haired, redneck, ignorant, piece of trash. My dogs are smarted than you, and they lick their own asses.

Not only am I from Savannah and NOT a racist, my new cousin, Brooklyn is half black. And, Catie and her BLACK boyfriend have been together for almost 7 years. And I LOVE him, like he was my own brother. I wanted to start going through my camera and showing her pictures of the baby and telling her how beautiful Brooklyn is. Then I wanted to punch the shit out of her. So, I quietly sat there, finished off a couple more pina coladas, and left.

When Wog and I got to the car, I looked at him and said, “baby, that will never fucking happen again. I refuse to go anywhere with her.”

She made me sick. Stupid bitch.

I told Jess that I wish she would have been there. She could have set her straight and I could have been the muscle. When things got out of hand, I would have rubbed my burn on her and told her she was infected with Alien Jizz.

Take that.

I need a hobby

Aside from strip clubs and beer. When I was in high school, I drew a lot, wrote a lot of poems and stories, and shit like that. But for some reason, I stopped suddenly a few years ago.

I have gotten to a point now where I REALLY need something to keep me occupied.

I can’t sit still long enough to read a book, I fall asleep. I try to write, but it all sounds childish. I tried to draw, but my dog eats my sketchbook.

I looked into making jewelry. A good friend of mine, Ivy, does it on a regular basis. She and I were at Wal-Mart and I came across the jewelry making stuff isle and went nuts. I though it was the coolest thing ever. I just don’t know if I will be able to occupy my mind long enough to make something worth wearing, or even selling.

Maybe I should just stick to strip clubs and beer.

These are the only three drawings I have been able to keep in frames and taken care of. The tiger is my favorite.

*Note: the Rose has no thorns on purpose, silly.*

Oh, and this one is for Mama Dawg. This is my mini book wall I told you about.

Smells like.....teen spirit?

I figure I'd give all of you lovely folks a break from my Blister Burn Bonanza 2009....so...I shall discuss something else. Like confessing that I am a whore.

I admit it, I am a fragrance junkie. Perfume whore. Body spray slut. What ever you would like to call it. But I have found a smell that suits me well, and I dig the message.

It is by Philosophy and called 'Falling in Love'. All Philosophy products have some type of definition, or philosophy, of the name of the product. This description for Falling in Love has always touched that little mushy spot somewhere deep inside my big little heart.

Philosophy: When it comes to love you need not fall but rather surrender. Surrender to the idea that you must love yourself before you can love another. You must absolutely trust yourself before you can absolutely trust another and most importantly you must accept your flaws before you can accept the flaws of another.

Kind of puts it in perspective, huh?

I like this one too, another fragrance called 'Amazing Grace'. This is the philosophy for it.

Philosophy: How you climb up the mountain is just as important as how you get down the mountain. In the end, it all comes down to one word. Grace.

Grace? Ha. Me, not so much. I was attacked by a homicidal heating pad for fuck's sake. I have no grace. But I like the thought.

Now thats what I call a blister popping good time!

So...

Jess came over last night for our usual American Idol/Beer drinking date night. After our first…8 beers or so, we decided to “pop” my uberblister. Sad thing is, right as we got ready for the main event, my camera died. But the video is entertaining nonetheless. And by video, I mean the massive blister on my leg. Plus, all three of my dogs were helping. And they are awesome helpers! (Listen out for Duke’s burp. Hehe)



At one point during the popping session, I though Jess was going to yank the needle out of my hand and start stabbing the shit out of the uberblister. She was extremely interested in the massive volume of this thing on my leg. Needless to say, she kept me motivated.

And for any of you who care about me, don’t worry, I used a sterilized needle and alcohol swabs, then bandaged it up with antibiotic ointment and a sterile bandage. I got this wound shit on lock down. Word.

This is what happened before the uberblister popping session. Behold, Jessica torturing my sweet Kane and then getting her spot in the bed taken by Duke. Enjoy.