A Tale with a Twist

I was blamed for a murder that I didn't commit. I was found, weapon in hand, next to the deceased. I know who killed Majere. I also know who framed me.

My name is Cyrnne, and I am a prostitute.

Go HERE for the rest of my story.

We've been together awhile...

[Yes, this really took place -Ed.]


While driving home from Raleigh a few weeks ago, we drove into It. You know IT: the unbearable stench that appears without notice, without cause. It seeps through closed windows, air vents - and into your clothes and sinuses. The smell nearly blinds you. Your eyes water, your throat fills, your nose runs.

Catching his breath, Chachi said, "Ya know what this smells like?"

"What?", I asked.

"Remember back home? That cemetery by the mill?"

"Yes!"

"It smells just like the cemetery after a hard rain. Mixed with low tide!"

Sadly, it made perfect sense to me.

Mmmm

It seems that Humira has side effects, after all. Since taking my inaugural shot last Thursday, I have had stomach pains.

I don't mean mild discomfort or bloating. I mean pain. Kind of what one may feel if one was sucker punched with an anvil. Sharp, stabbing pains.

The kind of stomach pain that causes a person to double over. The kind that makes you nauseous.

On the up side, however, I have lost eight pounds. If weight loss is involved, it can't all be bad, right? Right?! I am scheduled to take the shots every two weeks. At this rate, I should be at my target weight in...three to four months.

Last night, exactly one week after my first shot, I was able to eat a "regular meal". If you consider a turkey combo at Subway a 'meal'. I was thrilled. I sailed through the sandwich, then the chips, then the gooey nectar that rocks the south - sweet tea. I felt great!

Then I stood up. The sharp, agonizing 'have-I-been-stabbed-I-may-be-bleeding' feeling came back. I made it out the door of the Subway...

...and into the glaring light of Wal Mart. I gulped air, swallowed, and held my stomach. Then I began to grocery shop.

By the time I made it to the produce section (less than five feet), I could feel the bile rising. Fear struck and my brain shouted "Yer gonna spew!"

Instantly, my mind ran back to kindergarten. I sat next to the kid who Had diarrhea at the Lunch Table. I still don't recall his name, but his action (and the SMELL!) still lingers all these years later in the dark corners of my brain.

We live in a small town. I could not be known as the Woman who Gacked in Wal Mart. I steeled myself against hurling with mental images of Jeff Kay - tiny Duke head and all - adding me to his Wal Mart Game. I distracted myself with possible entries. Would I be the Yankee Yacking on Yams? Too wordy. And this is the south. They have sweet potato here, not yams. "Vomit Beard" already exists, so that option would be out, too. I ran down the list of possibilities, crossing each one off as I went. I never did find an adequate entry. I didn't throw up, either.

Instead, I found myself laughing. One hand on my mouth, the other on my stomach. Despite the fact that this 'ordeal' lasted about five to ten minutes, no one there gave me a second glance.

When I located and updated Chachi, he warned me sternly about the possible problems with puking in the Marlboro Mecca: If I didn't have a receipt, I'd better be ready to pay.

Creativity Gone Wild...

I always promised myself that Nooze would be allowed to flex her creative muscle whenever needed. So I was ok when the teacher (Mrs. School, appropriately) took up residence in her closet. We barely pay our teachers in this state; the least I can do is allow one to live in my house. Mrs. School also worked with Nooze on her math. Since I am less than exemplary in that subject, I was pleased to have the extra help.

I was also fine when T'ealc moved in. I was told he liked to shop. At the mall. One less outing for me, I figured. Appearances are deceiving; he doesn't eat much.

Then came the siblings: the 20 year old girl, the 17 year old boy and the 16 year old boy. Never mind that I would have barely been a teen myself when they were born; I grew up in Northern Maine. These things happen when kids get bored. [I DID veto 'daughter 1' being named Britney Spears. Where did she get that name?!]

Now Nooze has 'learned to read'. Unfortunately, she is a Lazy Reader, eager to get to what she perceives as the 'meat' of the story. She skims, assumes, makes up words. I have tried to work with her on this, but to no avail. It all came to a head this morning, when she decided to read me a Bible Story. I learned the following:

Ninevites prosecuted people, and liked to torture them a lot. Since Jonah thought that prosecuting people was wrong, he ran away and got eaten by a big whale. Three days later the whale had the flu and threw him up.

Then...Moses and Jesus were talking about dying. Moses offered to be crucified instead of Jesus, because Jesus was holy and should just go live in heaven. Jesus said no, he'd had a bath and all - because he wanted to be shiny on the cross. Then it rained and they found Noah and got on a boat with him.

I had to stop her there. Between laughter and fear of lightning, I told her 'that is NOT what happened. Jesus and Moses weren't even alive at the same time!'

She looked at me pointedly and said, 'The Bible said that God was with Moses. Aren't Jesus and God the same?'

We were riding the line, there, between creativity and blasphemy. So I looked at her and said, "Where's T'ealc been? Isn't it time to go school shopping?!"

What it is, exactly...

When I moved to North Carolina over ten years ago, I was fine. Within 2 months, I found what I thought to be a scab on my scalp.

Due to my extreme clumsiness, I simply assumed that I had hit my head and didn't remember. Unfortunately, it didn't go away. It got bigger. I tried changing shampoos, but had no luck. It began to spread.

Convinced that I was simply allergic to 'the entire state of North Carolina', I tried to narrow down to at least ONE soap, ONE shampoo, ONE detergent that didn't make me feel like I was covered in ants.

Then my hair began to fall out. Handful by handful, every day. I had a small bald spot. I was concerned that I may have Alopecia, but never followed through with a doctor to check it out.

Within a year, I was diagnosed with psoriasis. Thanks to health insurance, I was placed on potions, lotions and oils that were guaranteed to give me my life back. Although they would work for a time, nothing completely took the psoriasis away.

By 1998 or so, the psoriasis was so extreme that I stopped wearing shorts or t-shirts outside the house. In the heat of a Carolina summer, you would find me in long pants and long shirts, quietly suffering. I stopped wearing dresses, as the plaques would grow through pantyhose (which I wore to cover my legs). When I removed the hose, the plaques would tear off. It was pure agony.

In the instances that I did manage to make it outside in 'summer wear', I endured stares and whispers. I was asked if I had AIDS. I was asked if I had leprosy. People would physically recoil from me, noses wrinkled, as they backed away. Everyone was afraid that I was contagious. I cried a lot.

Desperate for a cure - ANY cure - I began researching alternative medicine and homeopathy. I bathed in Oatmeal (instant AND Irish), and milk by the gallon. I rubbed olive oil on my skin. I ate turmeric by the tablespoon, simply because I was told that it would help. [I now hate curry, for some reason].

Then I got pregnant. Pregnancy was, indeed, my miracle drug. My skin cleared completely; my hair grew back. My hair grew so long that, 1 week before Nooze was born, I had 16 inches cut off. At this point, my hair was still to my shoulders!

After Nooze was born, my skin stayed clear for about 4 months. When the psoriasis came back, however, it was with a vengeance. I went through over 20 different medications in an attempt to find a cure.

I woke one morning in 2003 to find that one finger on my right hand was severely swollen. It felt as though the bones were going to burst through the skin at any moment. I blamed it on the weather. As time passed, however, the swelling spread. One finger became two, then one hand, a knee, my back.

I began collecting gel packs, ice packs, braces and wraps. One morning, looking in the mirror, it hit me. I looked like a hunchbacked Edward Scissorhands. Since this clearly would not do, I called my doctor.

I explained the symptoms, side effects and pain. I was given an appointment for that same day, and many tests were run.

Over the course of the next few months, I was poked, prodded and pin pricked more times than I care to remember. I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis. Then came the fun part: insurance hurdles. My doctor wanted to put me on Enbrel, then a fairly new (but extremely successful) injection that helped clear up both psoriatic arthritis AND psoriasis.

The main problem? The price tag. Without insurance, Enbrel costs an average of $2,000 per month. This is for 8 (25 mg) shots - two per week. My insurance company grumbled and sputtered for a good 6 weeks before finally caving in. The caveat? I had to order the medication by mail - from TEXAS. The medication had to be shipped cold storage in specialized containers by UPS - signature required. [If this medication is not kept cold, the effectiveness can be minimized - or lost.] Thus began the careful dance of working my life around a UPS route.

I endured 6 months of Enbrel shots, with bizarre side effects. I initially brushed them away as nerves, but soon came to see it as 'just the way it is'. Sometimes, when you are desperate enough, you just learn to sit down, shut up, and get used to having seizures.

I completed my round of Enbrel in October 2005. The 'pretty skin, pretty hair' season lasted approximately 4 months. I woke in February of this year with what appeared to be club foot, a back injury, and man hands. The arthritis portion certainly wasn't going down without a fight. I began to walk with a limp.

Thanks to my visit with Dr. Doogie, I was taken seriously. Dr. Doogie got me in to Dr. Yup-Yup - who is a dream.

I had my first Humira injection yesterday. In Dr. Yup-Yup's office. I stayed there for 30 minutes after the shot, and was monitored by a nurse to ensure that I was not allergic. They insisted on checking my blood pressure and pulse before I left. Both were normal; no sign of anxiety was found. This, my friends, may be the cure. There is, of course, a catch.

Humira burns. I don't mean that it stings. I mean it feels as though you are on fire. Should you not believe me, I recommend that you try the following: light a match. As it burns its hottest, slam the lit match directly into your thigh. Leave it there for 30 seconds, pushing at an angle to ensure that it is 'subcutaneous'. Don't move it - don't scream; don't swear; don't break it; don't throw it directly at the next person walking through the door. That wet 'I think I may puke' feeling? Normal. That 'Oh God, this SUCKS!' feeling? Also normal. Got that 'I think I may pass out' feeling? Good. Now we're on the same page.

Regardless. It is 24 hours later now. The burning was gone in 15 minutes. No nausea. No vomiting (almost). No vertigo. Most important: no seizures.

That, my friends, is What it is, exactly, that is wrong with me.

Yup-Yup, T'is

Thanks to Dr. Yup-Yup, insurance clearance and medication availability have been smooth this time around.

I will receive my first Humira injection tomorrow afternoon. I was apparently allergic to the Enbrel.(seizures, anyone? How 'bout some severe vertigo? Nausea? Inability to walk upright? Anyone? Anyone?!) As a result, Dr. Yup-Yup wants me to hang out at the office for a good thirty minutes. Just in case.

Thankfully, the Dr. is a mere 15 minutes from my office. And a very good hospital is right across the street. You know, just in case.

If this medication doesn't take, we will move on. To methotrexate.

Dear Sitemeter...

Dear Sitemeter,

Tiff originally introduced me to you. Now, thanks to your presence, I have knowledge of things I never thought possible. I am also forced to write the following letters:



Dear China, Chile, Ecuador and Equatorial Guinea,

Thank you for clicking 'next site' on blogger and ending up on my page. I clicked on your sites out of curiosity - and was thrilled. I understood roughly 85% of the Spanish site - and none of the Chinese. It was fun nonetheless.

Dear Bolivia,

Winter will be over soon. Chin up, my dear. Visit again soon.

Dear Kazakhstan,

You have internet access?! Color me intrigued.

Dear Russia, Ireland, (NC) Dept. of Natural Resources, California, New Mexico and others too random and varied to mention:

Have you nothing better to do than search for PIMENTO LOAF? I referenced it ONCE. [I believe that I referred to it as a 'bastard child of Bologna']. This, sadly, is my number one hit.

Dear Hong Kong,

Though I spend a lot of time in doctors offices, I have never met the kind of nurse that you seek. Ewww.

Dear, uh, whoever you are,

I was asked by a nurse if I wore those. [My answer was NO]. Why do YOU want them? Do you go to the same doctor?

Dear Australia, Ireland #2, California #2, and many others around the world,

Locks of Love is a wonderful, wonderful charity. I pray that you followed through.

To all other countries large, small and/or random: Thank you for stopping by. I will be tracking you down shortly.

Hugs and kisses,

Rennratt

I need to go outside and play...

Thanks to Wordnerd for this wonderful idea:

Instructions: Bold all of the following TV shows which you’ve ever seen 3 or more episodes of in your lifetime. Bold and Italicize a show if you’re positive you’ve seen every episode of it. If you want, add up to 3 additional shows (keep the list in alphabetical order).

24
3rd Rock from the Sun
7th Heaven
Adam-12
Aeon Flux
ALF
Alfred Hitchcock Presents
Alias
Allo Allo
American Idol /Pop Idol/Canadian Idol/Australian Idol
America’s Next Top Model/Germany’s Next Top Model
Angel
Arrested Development
Babylon 5
Babylon 5: Crusade
Battlestar Galactica (the old one)
Battlestar Galactica (the new one)
Baywatch
Beavis & Butthead
The Ben Stiller Show
Beverly Hills 90210
Bewitched
Bonanza
Bones
Bosom Buddies
Boston Legal
Boy Meets World
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Bug Juice
Chappelle’s Show
Charlie’s Angels
Charmed
Cheers
China Beach
Columbo
Commander in Chief
Coupling
Cowboy Bebop
Crossing Jordan
CSI
CSI: Miami
CSI: NY
Curb Your Enthusiasm
Dancing with the Stars
Danny Phantom
Dark Angel
Dark Skies
Davinci’s Inquest
Dawson’s Creek
Dead Like Me
Deadliest Catch
Deadwood
Degrassi: The Next Generation
Designing Women
Desperate Housewives
Dharma & Greg
Different Strokes
Doctor Who (new Who)
Doctor Who (series 1-26)
Dragnet
Due South
Dungeons and Dragons (old cartoon)
Earth 2
Emergency!
Entourage
ER
Eureka!
Everwood
Everybody Loves Raymond
Facts of Life
Family Guy
Family Ties
Fantasy Island
Farscape (Best show ever. Should never have been cancelled._
Fawlty Towers
Felicity
Firefly
Frasier
Friends
Get Smart
Gilligan’s Island
Gilmore Girls
Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.
Green Wing
Grey’s Anatomy
Growing Pains
Gunsmoke
Hannah Montana
Happy Days
Head of the Class
Highlander
Hill Street Blues
Hogan’s Heroes
Home Improvement
Homicide: Life on the Street
House
I Dream of Jeannie
I Love Lucy
Invader Zim
Invasion
Iron Chef (Japan)
Iron Chef (USA)
Hell’s Kitchen
JAG
Jackass
Jeopardy
Joey
John Doe
Kath and Kim
LA Law
Laugh-In
Laverne and Shirley
Law and Order
Little House on the Prairie
Lizzie McGuire

Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman

Lost

Lost in Space
Love, American Style
M*A*S*H
MacGyver
Magnum P.I.
Malcolm in the Middle
Married… With Children
Melrose Place
Miami Vice
Mission Impossible
Monk
Moonlighting
Mork & Mindy
Murphy Brown
My Family
My Favorite Martian
My Life as a Dog
My Mother the Car
My So-Called Life
My Three Sons
My Two Dads
Mysterious Cities of Gold
NCIS
Night Court
Nip/Tuck
Northern Exposure
Numb3rs
One Tree Hill
Oz
Perry Mason
Picket Fences
Pirates of Darkwater
Pokemon
Power Rangers
Prison Break
Profiler
Project Runway
Psyche
Quantum Leap
Queer As Folk (US)
Queer as Folk (British)
Queer Eye For The Straight Guy
ReGenesis
Remington Steele
Rescue Me
Road Rules
ROME
Roseanne
Roswell
Samurai Jack
Saved by the Bell
Scarecrow and Mrs. King
Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?
Scrubs
Seinfeld
Sex and the City
Six Feet Under
Slings and Arrows
Smallville
So Weird
South Park
Spaced
Spongebob Squarepants
Sports Night
Square Pegs
St. Elsewhere
Star Trek
Star Trek: The Next Generation
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Star Trek: Voyager
Star Trek: Enterprise
Stargate Atlantis — New season
Stargate SG-1 — New season
Superman
Supernatural
Surface
Survivor
Taxi
Teen Titans
Teletubbies
That Girl
That 70’s Show
That’s So Raven
The 4400
The Addams Family
The Andy Griffith Show
The A-Team
The Avengers
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Bionic Woman
The Brady Bunch
The Colbert Report
The Cosby Show
The Daily Show
The Dead Zone
The Dick Van Dyke Show
The Flintstones
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
The Golden Girls
The Jetsons
The L Word
The Love Boat
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
The Mighty Boosh
The Monkees
The Munsters
The Mythbusters
The O.C.
The Office (UK)
The Office (US)
The Pretender
The Prisoner
The Real World
ROAR
The Shield
The Simpsons
The Six Million Dollar Man
The Sopranos
The Suite Life of Zack and Cody
The Twilight Zone
The Waltons
The West Wing
The Wonder Years
The X-Files
Third Watch
thirtysomething
Three’s Company
Top Gear
Twin Peaks
Twitch City
Upstairs, Downstairs
Veronica Mars
Waiting for God
Wings
What Not To Wear (US)
What Not To Wear (UK)
Whose Line is it Anyway? (US)
Whose Line is it Anyway? (UK)
Witchblade
Will and Grace
Wonderfalls
Xena: Warrior Princess (Hey! I suffered from insomnia while pregnant!)
Young Hercules

For the record, I added Eureka!, Hannah Montana and Waiting For God.

I feel the need to explain that we had no television for YEARS when growing up. When we finally DID get one, I fell onto the couch and played catch up!

I was young, once

Ok. so the hairstyles left a lot to be desired. And I was NEVER as hott as Tiff. But, once upon a time, I was young.

Picture one is the 2nd mountain that I ever climbed. It's in West Virginia.

Picture two was in college - and proof that some beautiful people don't set limits on friendship. Wherever she is today, may Cin be healthy and happy.

Picture three: That Orange Hippie shirt was one of my favorites. The little boy that I held in that picture is now in his 20's.

Picture four: My not so brief experiment as a redhead. And a rather brief experiment as a size nine! The beauty on my lap is now a teenager.

Looking back at the pictures makes me nostalgic, but only for the weird things. I wish that I had the ability to hike like I did in picture one. (And EAT! Can you see the size of that sandwich?!) I wish that I had the ability to have friendships like I did in picture two. I really wish I still had the shirt in picture three. And picture four? I really wish that I was close enough geographically to hug the little one that sat on my lap so long ago. I wouldn't mind being a redhead again, either.

Grrrr (Or, What Would Adam Sandler Do?)

I had no idea that hell had desks. Or that my office was located in the Seventh Circle. That is precisely where I found myself yesterday. Agitated, angry, and oh, so hot.

Everyone was irritating me. Each person that stepped across the threshold upped the ante. We were full steam ahead into White Hot Rage. All because of one person.

You know the type. The self righteous, condescending I've-been-here-three-months-and-I-know-it-all-you-will-conform--to-my-way kind of person. Well, Sister. Management trumps Snotty. I responded to her attitude with a firm 'Get over yourself' and received the Ultimate twelve year old response: She rolled her eyes at me. (Oh, yes she diiiiid!) Then she huffed, stomped her foot...and stormed out of my office. All while muttering about how unprofessional some people in this hellhole can be.

I comforted myself by mentally sucker punching her - in the face - until she lost consciousness.

I think I may need to take some of those 'Management' classes.

I'd really like to punch her first.

Go Shorty, it's Yer Birfday

Don't call me Shorty. (Or Shirley, for that matter...)

After a perfectly heinous day at work, I came home to find out that:

Nooze was at her friend's house for the night. And Chachi was taking me on a date. He took me to The Crackhouse for dinner, and we went to see You, Me and Dupree. I'm not usually much of a chick movie kind of gal, but this movie was a great combo of sweet and utterly, hopelessly stupid. Granted, it was no Super Troopers, but then, ST didn't have Owen Wilson. Sigh.

Don't bug me about the week plot, the sappy dialogue, or the Oh-Dear-Lord-What-is-up-with-Michael-Douglas-He-looks-like-the-undead situation. It freaked me out, too. But it had Owen Wilson! I don't recommend this for kids. Or teens. Or people that can't abandon reality for a few hours. All in all, it was a fun night. And a great escape from my VERY frustrating day.

Rennratt's Un-Funeral

As I previously mentioned, I am no fan of funerals. However, Tiff's suggestion of an Un-funeral intrigued me. As I am not prone to Public Displays of Affection, I will skip the recommended orgy, and put my own spin on the event.

First, a few ground rules:

1. No one is to wear black, unless the outfit is accompanied by mesh gloves and Doc Martens - a la Abby/NCIS. Tats and facial piercings are also welcome. (If I can't see 'em, I don't want to know. M'kay?)

2. No crying/sobbing - unless hysterical laughter is involved.

3. MY kind of music is to be played. (See Playlist below)

4. DJ!

5. Eulogy must be in line with my personality: hire a stand up comedian. Or bring Marge Schott back from the dead.

6. Save the flowers for the living - I like daffodils and larkspur.

7. BUFFET! (Trinamick, bring some of that crazy salad dressing you've been raving about.)

8. Don't make me wear makeup. But PLEASE, for crying out loud, give me guidance on these eyebrows! (I have tunnel vision...)

9. Under NO circumstances are clowns to be invited. (I'm talkin' to YOU, Chachi!)

10. Can anyone say Mosh Pit? (Or migraine? Or dislocated neck?) Can mix it up with a dance floor, sans rhythm. Disco ball is optional.

The Playlist

Dirge: Dead Man's Party - Oingo Boingo

Service Songs (or 'Fun things to jump around to')

Girls Just Want to Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper

Pictures of You - The Cure

Fugitive - Indigo Girls

The Vampire Song - Concrete Blonde

Be My Escape - Relient K

You Don't Know Me - Meryl Streep/Postcards from the Edge soundtrack

Language or the Kiss - Indigo Girls

Fat Bottomed Girls - Queen

Bring Me Some Water - Melissa Etheridge

A Requisite Smattering of Def Leppard (listener choice)

Requiem: I Wanna Be Sedated - The Ramones

This is where it gets 'serious'. Your assignment, nay, your obligation - is to complete the following:

When you attend the Un-Funeral, whether in person or on line, you are to bring your own music.

This music should be the wierdest, most obscure piece of listening (agony?!) that anyone has ever heard. Throw in a foreign language for bonus points! Music, regardless of language, should be the social equivalent of The Chicken Dance. You must approach the DJ (remember? We have one!). In your most serious, grieving manner possible, convince the DJ to play the song...because, after all... "This was Rennratt's FAVORITE!"

Again, are you GAME?!

The 500 Word Challenge

The Zs were clearly losing. It seemed, each time they came into play, that people would immediately relax, sleep closing in without warning. They were doomed, it appeared, to be corporate shills for restful weekends and Sleep Number beds. No marketing ploy could save them from a boring, relaxing, sleep-filled future.

The Os, on the other hand, were letters of excitement, bringing cheers and screaming wherever they went. Their market influence seemed to know no boundary - effects were felt from cereal to cookie jingles. The Os soon became exhausted. Longing for release, retreat and vacation with the Zs, the Os let out a long, mournful howl.

Ooooo!, They cried in frustration. Why couldn't they take a vacation? They worked long hours, well into early mornings most times. Yet no vacation was allowed; there was no rest to be found. This was when the Os decided to strike.

In response, Corporate Scientist I.M. Greedy began a quest to create the Ultimate Selling Letter: He created the Super Os. Designed from Alloyed Steel, these Super Os would exceed the need in the marketplace, ensuring profitability for all jingles involving the Letter O. These would be the letter to cross the picket line: The Scab Os.

What Dr. Greedy didn't expect, however, was that his Super Os would be created with a conscience. In what would did conscience and commercialism merge? It happened, nonetheless. Each time a Super O was cut from the rest, it would immediately reattach itself to the rest. The result was a long, metallic string of Super Os, mimicking the howl of frustration from its lesser brothers.

Dr. Greedy soon became frustrated. His Super Os were a rather uncooperative bunch, refusing to fit the mold that he had so intricately designed. The continued to be cut and re-cut, defiant from beginning to end.

Corporate sponsors fell away, opting for numbers instead. Greedy and his crew, nearly bankrupt, left advertising for more lucrative jobs. The Os, Zs and Super Os took jobs with Alpha Bits...and they all lived happily ever after.