My life is a cosmic joke.

That is seriously the only explanation I have for what’s been going on for the past three years.

I need to write a book, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.

I’ll write a general update, but, because it’s ME, it will inevitably turn into a long entry full of rage and/or dark humor.  Or a list that’s way too comprehensive, but that I won’t feel like cleaning up into an actual entry later.

Yeah, we’re going to go with the latter.

The summary is, basically, this list:

• I was employed for 3 days, humiliated (against the law!  i had proof on my side!  assholes!) during a drug test, and then fired for being ONE minute late.  Despite kicking complete ass at the job, and being nice about their illegal humiliation of me with regard to the contents of my pee (omg long story, but I CRIED, y’all, and it still makes me stabby to think about, because I was treated like some kind of transient hooker drug addict for having Lortab and Valium show up on the test…AFTER telling them I have Lyme and am on those drugs for that reason, which THEY WOULDN’T ACCEPT, choosing instead to not allow me to show them my prescriptions, while sending my pee to corporate for “further testing and verification” – WTF), apparently that one minute of time could have lost the owner a potential customer or something, so out I went.  Honestly, while I was okay AT work, after and before work, all I wanted to do was stay away, because the working environment was AGGRESSIVELY casual, if that makes sense.  Like, “Woo!  You got a customer!  EVERYONE CLAP REALLY LOUDLY AND MOTIVATE EACH OTHER!  Go, team, go!”  In a very small room.  Filled with people on the phone.  I mean, seriously.  If I was to continue at that job, I was going to invest in ear plugs and wear one in my non-headset-covered ear to keep out the brainless, motivational buzzword talk.  As it was, I spent most of my time with one finger in my ear, hunched over my desk, trying to sound excited on the phone while acutely aware  that I intimidated/amused everyone by actually enunciating my words.  So BOO on not being employed, but YAY on no longer being employed by such a fucking weird place.

• Tiger High (U of Memphis) hired someone two weeks ago and didn’t bother to tell me, as I just found out.  I’m on hold with my other staffing place to find out if I’m even a consideration for this other position I interviewed for on the day I had my armpit surgery (lulz, y’all, it was a long day that I still need to tell people about, but it’s been two weeks, so it’s almost not worth it). [ETA: WTF...they're not calling me in for a second interview even though I had a perfect interview because...wait for it...they think I'll be bored working there.  WTF, again.  And one more time:  WTF.]  I’m also going back to Cha-Cha-ing as much as humanly possible during my free time.  Which is basically time that I’m not feeling like ass or trying to complete school work.  Yes, I’m still taking a class.  I don’t know why.  Wait, yes I do…because I don’t want to start paying off my student loans, because I don’t have a fucking job, yet.  BLEARGH.

• The same day I got the call about not being asked to return to the job (Thursday morning, last week), I got a call from my armpit surgeon with my test results from the sample taken from the abscess.  I have MRSA.  Which is prone to returning.  So…shaving my armpits is never going to be the same.  I’ll have to use (I’m not shitting you) Hibiclens as a shaving foam for my legs AND pits (my legs are prone to ingrown hairs around the knees…true story).  Also, every new scratch/cut/abrasion/bruise is now suspect because hello..it’s MRSA.  I get to treat myself like I have AIDS and be super-paranoid until the lesion completely heals and I’m off of antibiotics!  Yay!

• I’ve avoided taking photos of my armpit because I feel like Whale Shit at the Bottom of the Ocean. I did manage to take one or two yesterday, and maybe I’ll make a side-by-side comparison so you can be like, “wtf that healed fast”, because it DID, all things considered.  Once again, proof that my extensive trivial medical knowledge has basically saved my ass.  As has my initial instinct to wash all of my clothes with color-safe bleach in warm water (can’t do hot water…ever…but bleach is bleach).

• My armpit is clearing up, but my skin HATES whatever adhesive is used on all band-aids and medical tapes, so I’ve been slathering StaphAseptic basically all over my torso in an attempt to NOT have any more lesions.  I smell like tea tree oil, and look like I got in a fight with a band-aid-shaped rubber stamp.  On the plus side, the StaphAseptic makes a GREAT deodorant, because it kills all the bacteria before they can make me stink.  :-P

• I’m back on the same antibiotic as before, which, when mixed with my antifungal, not only makes me more susceptible to illness/infection, it also makes my butt a certifiable biological weapon.  I can’t even stand to be in the same room as myself.  But the antibiotic is Minocycline, which is apparently a kick-ass MRSA antibiotic, and allegedly worth it.  As an aside, I’ve been on the anti-fungal for nearly a month, and I still have an epic fuckton of pills left.  Clearly, I’ve missed some doses.  I’m not sure if it upsets me because of the potential for it not fighting the Candida, or if I’m scared that taking the antibiotics without the full dose of antifungals every day will make the yeast infection infinitely worse.  Either way, it’s bad.  So I need to set alarms and carefully monitor that shit.

• Forrest has been AWESOME through all of this.  Still.  It’s emotionally confusing to me, because I feel like a worthless piece of shit, and basically everything happening right now is kind of confirming that (I’m depressed, remember), and he keeps telling me he loves me and is just patient and helpful and amazing.  I just don’t have any other words for it. , except that I’m extremely happy that he’s a part of my life.

• I’m not sleeping.  Again.  However, I feel  doze complete with slackjawed swallon   an oxymoron in the eyes of all hwj.  (I’m leaving this in because I fell asleep in the middle of writing that sentence, and it’s fucking hysterical.)

• What I was TRYING to say in the above bullet point is that I’m not sleeping well at all, and basically spend more time restlessly dozing than I do sleeping.  For instance…the falling asleep during that above bullet point was about a 4-minute nap sitting up.  I think I was trying to say something poetic about dozing in a classic, slackjawed pose, and the oxymoronic part is that, uh, I kept dozing off while trying to write that sentence about not sleeping?  I have no idea.  That was like, 34 hours ago.  I had about a seven-hour series of naps filled with strange dreams about apocalyptic vacation resorts and my grandparents directly afterward.  WTF.

• WE’RE GOING TO FLOOOOOOOOOD OMG.  Remember last May when the rivers in Tennessee decided to overflow and fuck everyone in the ass without lube?  Yeah, it’s that time again.  It was just also Beale Street Music Fest Weekend, which means rain, anyway.  We’ve got warning about all the rain (we’re expected to get somewhere around 7″ over the next few days), but there’s a creek directly behind the house that feeds into a small river which feeds into the Mississippi, which is about 6′ above flood stage right now, and is expected to be 11′ above flood stage by May 10.  We’re okay for now, but keeping an eye on things, just in case.

• We went to a game night on Saturday, and I had fun, but for some reason, ever since then, I’ve just felt more sick and miserable than I have in the past week or so.

I could have just made a vlog update and included all of that and saved the time and effort both of me having to type it, and you guys having to read it.  So, uh, sorry.