Squeaky Wheel Seeks Grease

Jesus Tapdancing Christ, what the fuck is going on here?

You want special recognition for being bi-polar, schizophrenic, or whatever other mental disorder you have?  You want there to be rules regarding discrimination against you for your “differently-abled”-ness?

Let me tell you a little something about discrimination of that sort:  IT’S NECESSARY.

You want to work in a factory.  Your dad worked there, your brothers work there, you want to be like them.  You want the comradery, and maybe you want the health insurance (though, really, good luck with that, “pre-existing condition” and all…).  Regardless of the reasons, you want to work there so badly that you’ve tried several times to apply, only to be turned down because you’re on medication for schizophrenia.

But, WHY?  You haven’t had an episode in months!  You take your medication regularly, and your moods are really much better.  Why won’t they hire you in good faith?

Every part of a factory (or business - really, you could substitute anything here, up to and including call centers) needs to be represented by someone with their wits about them.  You fuck up, sure, it could be natural selection, but you could also endanger those around you.

Being gay doesn’t hurt anyone else if you’re merely existing.

Unfortunately, being schizophrenic can hurt someone, even if they don’t usually act out against others.

When someone who’s gay is detached from reality, you can just roll your eyes and walk away, and they’re usually just left flustered and shouting about discrimination (ask me how many drag shows I’ve been to.  Go ahead.  Ask).

When someone with schizophrenia is detached from reality, they will often act on it - because what they see isn’t what’s happening.  What they perceive as real, isn’t.  A spot of grease on the skin could become a cancerous growth they need to cut out right that second.  The person next to them laughing about something someone else had said earlier in the day could really be making fun of the person with schizophrenia (in their mind, obviously) - and while the diseased mind likely won’t try to “off” the offending jokester, this could result in a self-loathing pattern that could persist later, causing harm to be brought upon the person by their own hand.

2.2 million folks in the U.S. are purported to have schizophrenia.  Of those, 35% get worse with each episode, and will never recover. Someone with schizophrenia could seem perfectly normal when they’re interviewed, and then a problem with their medication could cause an episode down the line at an inopportune moment.

I hate to word it like that (PSH-style), but, unlike guns, schizophrenics often don’t need someone to manipulate them in order for them to “go off”.

Personally, I would rather every person in my workplace be armed than work next to a schizophrenic.  Statistically, the guns are safer.

How hard is it to replace brakes, anyway?  I’m tempted to do it myself.

I did as much as I felt I could do with my CV, and then cranked up Q10 to see about starting the book that I’ve been writing an outline about for what seems like forever.

I started at 4:40, it’s just about 5:30, and I’ve written around 2000 words.  Not bad.  Granted, it’s a little rough, but it’s better than nothing.

My first sentence makes no sense, and I like it that way.

I’m not going to lie, I sort of love the smell of my own B.O.

If I can keep up this pace of 2000 words per day, I’ll be done by the end of the summer, just as I planned.

Not that I really expect this to go anywhere - this is more of a “can I do it?” experiment.

I’m also trying to take my mind off the fact that Psycho Ex keeps texting me asking if I’m “there” and asking me “what’s up”.  I think he’s trying to wear me down so that I’ll answer him, and I have to admit, the urge to text back, “wherever you aren’t, that’s where I am - leave me alone, you’re ruining my buzz” is strong.

I can’t wait until my wireless contract is up so that I can change my phone number.  Sheesh.

Off to a barbeque.  At this rate, I’ll be 10 pounds heavier by Friday.  Good thing I’m not flying - I’d need to purchase an extra seat.  Ba-dum-chink.

I get a lot of interesting search results on my blog during the average day. Marko and Tam have done this a few times, with grand results, so I figured, why not? I don’t have anything interesting to blog about right now, anyway.

my new tattoo doesn’t look as sharp as when i got it

Honestly? They never do. What you’ve done is basically created a huge scab, and then injected ink into it. When the skin heals over, the design is no longer at the forefront - there’s a layer of skin (and scar tissue, in some cases) over it, making it look dull not only in color, but in composition. Research FAIL, sir or madam.

grease wheel mouse

Um? I’m assuming you have a mouse, and the exercise wheel squeaks? At least, I HOPE that’s what you’re wondering about…Anytime “grease” is mentioned in the same phrase as any small rodent, my Squick-o-meter gets tripped.

glock grease

Completely unnecessary to buy grease specifically made for a Glock. Unless you’re asking HOW to grease a Glock? One dab on each rail, and a dab on the spring, and you’re good to go, from what I understand. The type of grease you use is up to you, and I’m sure there are folks in the sidebar who’d be more than happy to assist you in that aspect.

some sites in rhodes in grease

…I got nothin’. Unless you meant Rhodes Island, Greece? Another research FAIL.

how can i tell if i have re-torn my rotator cuff

Remember that feeling you had when you tore it in the first place? That odd burning sensation, with cramping and seizing up of the joint? It’ll come back at really odd times, like when you’re trying to sleep or drive. And, while you’re walking, you might also have the sensation of your shoulder popping in and out of joint in rhythm with your arm swinging. And there’s pain. Lots of pain. Go to the doctor.

grounded punishment

Depends on the transgression. Some kids respond well, others don’t (*coughcough*).

a simple artical of squeaky wheel gets the grease?

Really, look at any situation where someone bitching about something has gotten results. And it’s “article”, sweetie. Some of these people need to download Firefox and take advantage of the spell-checking feature.

self-diagnosis on webmd is dangerous

I’d say that, in some cases, you’re absolutely right. There are times, though, when you could be freaking out over a headache (”is it a tumor? a stroke? am i gonna die? o noes!”), and you look on WebMD and figure out it’s most likely a tension headache. As always, though, if you’re really not sure what’s going on, and it’s worrying you THAT much, go to the doctor.

“glock 19″ and “aiming”

Buy one with sights. Oh, right, they come with them already. What’s the question?

I don’t know if there are time stamps on my entries, but if there are, you guys have noticed that I’ve been posting at REALLY odd hours of the night.

My insomnia?  Is back, full-force.  My mother would be so proud to know that her daughter has taken after her in the night-owl department.  Actually, she will know, because she reads my blog.  And by the way, I know I talked to you on Saturday, and it’s now Monday, but Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  See you in a month.

I spent a good bit of my Mother’s Day either sleeping or eating.  Seriously.  It was kind of glorious, actually.

I woke up around 10am (after getting to sleep at 5am - fail), neglected to shower, and headed to Collierville to eat lunch with my dad, stepmom, and a bunch of other family folks.  I had a club sandwich, and bought soup for supper.  Went to my dad’s and had cake and ice cream, then fell asleep watching my nephew watch Baby Einstein.  Relocated upstairs to the couch that my sister abandoned when she moved out, and slept there for three freakin’ hours.  Went to Tex’s house, used his shower (I was feeling seriously nappy at that point), ate my soup, watched the pilot episode of Firefly (I’ve only seen the movie - I figured it was time to watch the series), and we hashed more stuff out (this is a work in progress - and an interesting one, at that).  I got home around 1am, fed Lloyd/Pat, gave the cats some catnip, caught up on LJ and my blog reader…and now I’m sitting here, tired as all hell, but not really able to get to sleep.  I hate it, but I’m back to taking either Benadryl or Tylenol PM (depending on the presence of a headache at bedtime) in order to get at least a few hours.  Not sure what’s going on, but I’m betting stress plays a big part.  It’s been a rough couple of months, and things don’t look like they’re going to be calming down anytime soon (though school being out?  is amazing, really).

Looking forward to the Blog Bash in 4 days.  Got lots of stuff to do before then…cleaning, re-arranging things, and, of course, packing.  Need to figure out what I, uh, need.  Clothing-wise, mostly.

Oh - note to all camera-shy folks:  I’m bringing my camera equipment (XTi, tripods, lenses, filters, etc.), and will be taking as many photos as humanly possible, because that’s how I roll.  Let me know if you’d either like me to try not to take photos of you, or if you’d like me to not post photos of you anywhere (including friends/family only filter on Flickr), and I’ll do my best to comply.  Worst-case scenario, you get photos taken of you, and they end up on my hard drive.  You’d be amazed at how many pictures I take that I don’t do anything with.  So no worries.  Just ask TD - he was here for a week, I took lots of photos of him, and I’ve managed to not compromise his anonymity, because I’m just cool like that.

Well, I’m going to read for a while, then I’m going to lay down and pretend to sleep.

(bonus of insomnia - have painted a lot lately)

Anyone hear of this product?

It looks a little like a flea comb, with thicker bristles.

I spent $35 on this, and I’m honestly tempted to take it back to the store.

The problem isn’t that it doesn’t deliver - clearly, it does, as you’ll see by the photos below. The problem is that it’s basically a BLADE, and if you run it over the same area too many times (which I was forced into accidentally doing by my “special” kitty, Pooty, who would not sit still no matter what I did - this is a recurring problem with her), a bald spot appears. I had to abandon the project before I’d finished, because all of the hair that was coming off of her was coming from one spot.

I was with Tex today, running errands and having him help me deliver a grill from my dad’s to my house (woo!), and since I bought it while I was out with him (along with a swank little townhome for Lloyd/Pat - photos when it’s not 4am), I decided to try it out on his cats.

They’re pretty wild, and apt to not enjoy much in the way of grooming from outside sources, and this time was no different. Sure, the Furminator took a good bit off hair off of all of them, but they HATED every second of it. While I was running it over their backs, I could feel a bit of pull, and I initially just thought it was filtering through the undercoat - I mean, they’re sure to hit a few snags if the hairs are all wrapped around each other and buried under the topcoat, right?

Heh.
Since the experiment with Tex’s cats was so short-lived, I decided to withhold actual judgement until I got home and got a chance to try it on my cats. Pooty loves ANY attention, and so while I was using it on her, she wouldn’t stop moving and trying to rub her face on the blade. Bad idea, kitty. I tried holding her down, but since she’s basically just fur and fat, I couldn’t get a good grip on her. So I gave up and tried Dammit. He laid down on his side and gave me that dejected, “Why are you doing this, again? Do I get catnip?” look, while Pooty continued to run around me and attempt to show her appreciation to the blade. I had to abandon the project fairly early on, and when Pooty was laying down in the living room, I noticed what not being able to systematically work my way around her bulk had done. Whoops.

So, basically, if your animals don’t normally like any grooming, don’t get this. And if you have trouble restraining them for grooming, you might want to explore other avenues. Because, like I said, if you can’t systematically work this comb over their body, the animals is going to end up looking kind of weird, as the “secret” to this product is that it trims the undercoat. Some secret.

Anyway, photos.

Clearly, it removed a lot of fur. This is a conglomeration of what I got off of all three cats, but most of it belongs to Pooty.

I took the next one before I’d done anything with Dammit. The Furminator and Sophie are there for scale (Sophie, by the way, was having none of it - she fussed at me so much I was afraid of waking Jazz up):

Poor Pooty. Well, that’s what she gets for being a handi-cat attention-whore, yeah? She’s no worse for wear, and I seriously doubt she even notices.

I used this tool on the rug, because I figured I could just vacuum it up - not thinking, of course, that Jazz was asleep not 10 feet away. I picked up as much loose fur as I could, and I’ll clean up the rest tomorrow.

So. Verdict: ♥ ♥ ♥ 1/2 out of 5.

I don’t know that I’ve laughed loud enough to scare my cats in a long time.

I bought a book from PetCo on the care of leopard geckos, because I wanted to make sure that I was doing everything correctly.  I mean, sure, the PetCo people had told me the basics, but they also neglected to tell me that I’d just purchased what amounts to a child with scales (i.e. this thing may live for up to 25 years).

In the book, there are tips on sexing lizards.  Apparently the males not only have large pre-anal pores (stop sniggering…I can hear you there in the back), but also have large post-anal bulges (again with the giggles…stop it) that are visible when their tails are lightly folded back.

Lloyd is either a eunuch, or is actually a “she”.

The sexing won’t REALLY be possible for another 9 months, but everything I’ve seen indicates that this lizard is going to have to be re-named.

Or maybe I’ll just call it “Pat”.  Heh.

So…Lloyd/Pat has lots of spots now, and the tail is fattening, and the food consumption is still up around 3 or 4 mealworms per DAY.  Fatty McFatfat.  Once the 6-month-mark rolls around, I’ll start limiting the diet a bit more, but for the time being, I’m not withholding food.  Lloyd/Pat’s still growing.

By the way, leopard geckos make really weird squawking noises when they’re irritated.  Their whole body vibrates with the sound, and I’m going to be frank, it sounds like someone farting on a leather chair.  Except higher-pitched, and quieter.

Yeah, this is neat, but when you’re scrolling down through the photos, see if YOU don’t think, “AGH!  RULE THREE!  RULE NUMBER THREE!“