Wednesday, November 30, 2005


I will say it here so I do not have to say it AGAIN.

When you have a virus (ie mono, viral meningitis) , there is (usually) no cure-all, thus is the nature of a VIRUS.
A bacterial infection (ie strep, blood poisoning, bacterial pneumonitis) is treatable with ANTIBIOTICS, thus is the nature of BACTERIA. explains it simply:

There are two types of germs that cause most infections in the United States - viruses and bacteria:

Virus - viral infections include
All colds and fluMost coughs Most sore throats Usually involve several parts of the body
Antibiotics CANNOT KILL viruses A virus is an infectious agent, smaller than bacteria, which requires the cells of a living organism to grow or reproduce. Viruses cause a variety of infectious diseases, among them the common cold, diarrhea, chicken pox, yellow fever, most childhood respiratory diseases and the majority of infections of the upper respiratory passages.

Bacteria - bacterial infections include:
Strep throatUrinary tract infectionsMost ear infectionsSome sinus infectionsAre usually localized at a single point in the body
Antibiotics CAN KILL bacteria IF the bacteria are not resistantBacteria are minute life forms which can cause infections in humans. Bacteria have the ability to adapt quickly to their surroundings. Their goal is to survive and multiply. This ability to adapt to their surroundings is the basis of antibiotic resistance. Surviving contact with that antibiotic allows the bacteria to resist it in future contacts.




*grabs strands of hair to pull while screaming as loud as swollen tonsil allows*

Monday, November 21, 2005

4 days fixed

in the past four days I have

gone to the gym once
been given 24 hours notice for a bachelorette party
been given 8 days notice for a wedding
made an entire mini scrapbook for said bachelorette party
attended said bachelorette party
saw a man's naked ass *shudder*
started talking to my mom again :D
started talking to my dad again :D
went to the Mystic Aquarium
seen: parrots, a little mouse, penguins, 2 beluga whales, fur seals, stellar sea lion, sharks, seahorses, pirhanas, poison dart frogs, tarantulas, clown fish, anemones, sea stars, and all manner of aquarium animals
touched a sting ray
given 5 presents :D
had vomiting and explosive diarrhea :P
thought about Thanksgiving 3,769,231,490,238 times
thought about Christmas 1,456,792,873,226 times
plotted evil and good 212,376,598,874,213,409,223 times. heh heh heh

Friday, November 18, 2005

coworker fun

I sneeze.

Anorexia (nickname, long story): said in Mom voice "Are you getting sick????"
Me: said in head "Yeah, sick of YOU"
Me: said aloud "No, I'm just still allergic to work.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

leave me alone, please

In the last 24 hours I have had:

a flu shot
3 bad commutes
a fight with my mother
a fight with my father
a fight/bad conversation with my sister
a fight/bad conversation with my boyfriend
a fall down an entire flight of stairs
and to add insult to injury, I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.

Can I curl up in the fetal position and cover myself with blankets and well someone tell me when Friday is here?


Sunday, November 13, 2005

Caution: Bridges Freeze Before Roadways

So I escape from work early on Thursday after the conference call from hell and take Friday off so I can escape to the wilds of the White Mountains for a weekend with the family, including my SISTER who was flying into Boston from Virginia.

Thursday night was a rush. I got home, went to the axis of evil pet store to get bird food because I was in a pinch (excuses) got the birds fed and watered, got my shit together, and without making us late despite my father's sighs and comments, got out the door at the predetermined time of 5:30pm.

We made our way slowly to Logan, cutting through Quincy Center (WHY???) and then hopping on the x-way again, and pulled into terminal A. My father had to take care of some police business, so I went in to wait for my sister's flight to arrive, killing the time by buying an Oprah magazine (which I never read) and peanut m and m's. After a little bit of waiting, she arrived, my dad met us, and we were off.

IT wasn't too cold in Boston, which was good since my sister was in a white hoodie, cami, black jammie pants and flip flops. I had my work clothes on, high heel boots, a silk blouse and grey wool pants with my raincoat. hahaha we were kind of dressed opposite, but we didn't really care, even though we were planning on stopping for dinner at Uno's in Concord.

We did end up stopping, had some great appetizers, some beer, pizza and then started out for Lincoln, NH, about another 20 or so exits north. My father had mentioned switching drivers but he never did, so we just let him do the driving, while I occasionally checked in with my mother at the other end. She had left earlier in the day with my grandmother, something my father had orchestrated so my mother would be surprised by my sister's sudden appearance.

By the time we were passing Plymouth, NH my dad mentioned that the gas gauge was on 'E'. Unlike me, he enjoys driving this way - I think it's the "let's see how far I can go on "E" " type of thrill thing, something I personally do not share. I kept saying "Well there's gas at Campton, and we're coming up on it" and I think he FINALLY got the hint when he pulled off at Exit 28. SHortly before pulling off, it had started to snow a bit, and while gassing up in Campton it was REALLY snowing and starting to accumulate. The temperature was constantly dropping as well. My dad leapt in the car after filling up and was like "shit it's cold, good thing we're almost there"

We proceeded on to Lincoln, and when we passed the "Lincoln 1 mile" sign I called my mom to tell her we were almost there. No sooner had I hung up the phone, do we start into a slow skid. Then everything happened so fast. We start to skid and then we move to the left side of the road, and my father slowly turn the wheel into the skid, then opposite. Soon we are careening around the highway, which was thankfully deserted at 11:00pm. We are going to the left and right. While this was happening very fast, it seemed like it was slow motion, and the whole time all I could think was "please keep us upright, PLEASE keep us upright" As we were propelled forward my father seemed to be losing and gaining control of our SUV all at the same time. We started to slide right again, and we hit the right rear on the guard rail. This slowed us down a lot, but we then bounced off and slid left. It then became painfully apparent that we were going to hit something, and I, like an ASS said "we're gonna hit" and braced myself for impact with the guardrail. Sure enough, we hit the left guardrail, very hard. All I really remember is my left leg flying up and whacking under the dashboard, I don't remember the whiplash that we'd all be suffering from the next day. We sat there for a split second, and then I heard my sister crying and my dad saying "ARE YOU ALRIGHT" It was him I was worried about most; we hit in his corner of the car, and I had been watching him the whole time we skidded across the road, I don't know why. Maybe cause I didn't want to see the road, maybe cause I knew we were entirely in his hands. He yelled, so I figured he was ok, and instead turned around in my seat to see my sister, who was surrounded by luggage, shaken up, but seemed ok. I tried to hug her around the seat, which obviously didn't work, and turned to look at my dad, but he was no longer in the car. I heard "get out of the car girls, get out NOW GET OUT OF THE CAR" My sister hopped out, and I fumbled for the plastic bag I had packed for her with mittens, a hat, boots, socks and her winter jacket. "ALLISON get out of the CAR now!" THen I thought "Oh god, the car is on fire" because I smelled the brakes and their burning smell, so I scrambled, found the bag, and hopped out. My father was hunched over on his knees in the snow covered ravine on the other side of the guardrail saying "I can't find my glasses" This was because he had done a superman-esque leap out of the driver's side window, as the door was jammed shut by the guard rail. As he fumbled he said "CALL YOUR MOTHER" I called her and said "we're ok, but we've been in an accident" dead silence. I said "mom are you still there?" and she goes "yeah. you sure you're ok? what do I do" I said "call information, get the number for NH State Police, tell them where we are, and tell them we need someone out here, but we're not hurt" My dad continued to search. Between hugging my poor sister who had been hit in the head by a cooking pot during the accident, and helping her track down a jacket, I asked my father if I should call the state police. He said "YES" so I dialed *77. Call cannot be completed as dialed. Fucking A. Called 411. "What listing" I say "New Hampshire State Police" "What city" I say "New Hampshire State Police" they say "What listing?" I say "NEW HAMPSHIRE STATE POLICE IMMEDIATELY" "we're sorry please wait for a specialist." Well it must've been a lonely Thursday night and said specialist must've been jerking off in the back, because I counted 10 rings and hung up. SO I dialed 0. I get an operator. I say "I need to be connected to the New Hampshire State Police immediately, this is an emergency" She says "Oh you have to dial 911" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
So FINE. I dial 911 and I hear James f-ing Earl Jones going "Cingular" and FINALLY "New Hampshire State Police Emergency Line how can we help you?" Sigh of relief. I go through the whole thing "we've been in an accident, not hurt, really shaken up, road's got black ice, other people are skidding, we're most afraid of being hit by someone else, yadda yadda" The guy says "you're on the other side of the guardrail?" I say "yes" He says "now you're in New Hampshire, right?" SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF GOD NO I'M IN FLORIDA BUT WANTED TO SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I CALLED 911 IN NEW HAMPSHIRE THEN TIMED HOW LONG IT TOOK THEM TO RESPOND! I say "yes sir, in New Hampshire" So he sends someone. We do a quick damage assessment: we hit the guardrail so hard, not only did we rip part of it out of the ground, but it jammed itself behind the tire and under the car. We were not going to be backing out and driving off the exit anytime soon....

These conversations should have been a good indication of how long we were about to wait for help. A random guy ran down the highway a few minutes after the crash with a flashlight and said "I was behind you and saw everything are you guys ok? Oh and I called the state police" While he and my dad were talking a tractor trailer skidded on what we came to find out was a frozen bridge, heading right towards us. AMy and I ran down the ravine and my dad and the other guy jumped the guardrail before the tractor trailer regained control and continued to speed down the highway. My dad sent the guy back to his car so he wouldn't be killed for helping us, and we huddled together to wait. And wait. and wait. After 30 minutes of waiting in the snow, a local policewoman pulled up. Having the safety of bluelights, I got my sister some sneaker from her suitcase, and as I did that, the state trooper (who will henceforth be called "Gary with the Hot Ass") pulled up. After they made sure we were ok, my sister and I were invited to hang out in the back of the police lady's car til help came and got us out.

This was both incredibly boring as well as slightly educational. Boring because this involved about two hours of waiting. But interesting because Hot Ass and local police girl had great conversations LPG: You hear about the meth lab on main st? HAG: No, but I had to respond to an arson last night, then arrested so and so for the second time for hitting up cars, but once I cuffed him he told me where he had stolen the stuff from. Or the police radio also provided entertainment: Police "I need a number on an address I have to respond to, I think it's the XYZ family" Dispatch: "you've been there before, I think it's 789" Police: "Yup, been there before. Ok. Thanks." Also, Local Police Girl made several heated phone calls to the Department of Transportation: "I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY to get out here and salt this bridge cause it froze last night and I skidded, and now you've had 3 phone calls before 11pm and we STILL had 2 accidents. I am sitting here with the second accident and I see two cars up ahead that have gone off the road" hahahah she scared them shitless cause 20 minutes later 3 salt trucks came.

A ramp truck came too, but was useless. He caused some more damage trying to extract the car, then said "I think we need the Fire Department to cut the guardrail up" SWEET thought Amy and I, firemen and power tools.

Now you have to remember that you are in New Hampshire in the start of the "North Country" and people don't see a lot of action. SO when the state police calls your local podunk fire department to take some heave equipment up to the highway and extract a car, they're gonna get excited, which is why two fully equipped fire trucks and a box truck were sent, along with about 18 firemen. The local police girl goes "jesus, what'd they send the whole brigade?" I said "oh let the firemen have their fun they get to use a saw..."

Around 1:30am we were finally extracted from the guardrail. My sister and I rode to the condo we were renting in the police car, while my dad went with the towing company. We were relieved to get there. We had to unload everything in the snow and cold and haul it in, but we made it in one piece.

I don't know if he's still doing it, but that night, my dad was really beating himself up about crashing. He said "I did everything I was trained to do, took my foot off the brake, turned into the skid and I still fucked up" I said "DAD you did everything right. If Amy or I had been driving we wouldn't have reacted properly and we would've rolled that thing over. You were amazing" The police officer had told us the grim truth. She said "thank god your dad's a cop and has all that training. Cause if you had flipped it, you would've jumped the guardrail, gone down the ravine, and then ended up below in the river, which is not where you want to be."

So basically, as much as my dad thinks he fucked up and messed up the car (we're waiting to see if it's fixable - it looks pretty bad, but not totally a lost cause) he is the one responsible for saving all of our asses. We got a chance to look at the accident scene in the daylight, and it was rather harrowing: we skidded about 50-75 feet across a bridge that was probaby a healthy 20 feet above the river. Had my father not known exactly how to react, we probably would've flipped at a much higher rate than the one at which we crashed, and definitely gone into the shallow river or its rock covered bank. He truly saved our lives, I think. And that's why he rocks.

Accident recount post officially over. The end. ;)

Thursday, November 10, 2005

boring boring boring, this da-ay is so BORING

It is currently 1:45pm.
In 15 minutes I have a conference call.

But for the next 15 minutes I have nothing to do. I mean I have something but I don't want to do it. That's that.

Also, I get to go home in like, an hour, thanks to the fact I worked 3 hrs uncompensated overtime this week. Well more, because I skip lunch and don't leave early, but I don't keep track of that crap.
Anywas, I am going to get one the 2:59 inbound green line to park street, and that little bitch better be on time. And then I'm gonna transfer to the 3:24 outbound red line. AND THAT BITCH BETTER BE ON TIME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I will not let the mbta f*ck with me and my transportation.

yawn. that was a pointless post. And I'm not even gonna draw a picture to go with it.


Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Starbucks Cup #49, Beth Israel Deaconess, Boston

Baking may be regarded as a
science, but it's the chemistry
between the ingredients and the
cook that gives desserts life.
Baking is done out of love,
to share with family and friends,
to see them smile.
-- Anna Olson
Chef and hostess of the all-dessert
show Sugar on Food Network

sweet little ben bird, who we all loved

On my seventeenth birthday, I received a card from my grandparents. I'm sure I still have it too. IT said "Come with us this week to buy a: (and she sketched a little birdcage with a bird in it)"
I had wanted a bird for so so long, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I had been fascinated with birds throughout my childhood and wanted some to observe up close. Maybe it was because I wanted a pet, having to be satisfied with fish for so many years. At any rate, my grandparents were the ones who made the final push to bring birds into the house. My mom was hesitant ("the noise, the mess") but being a sap for animals, she was not about to protest.

Not knowing any better, we went to the epitome of evil among bird pet stores (begins with a "p" ends with an "o") and stood in front of the glass case of parakeets for several minutes watching the large flock of birds move and play together. We quickly picked out a little blue bird, and "he" was beautiful. He had a beautiful bluish purple body, that faded into turquoise, blue green, green, and then a yellow head. He had black stripes on the top of his head, black and white wing feathers and a sweet little face with big black eyes. We picked him out immediately. Then we had to pick him out a friend. Our eyes were drawn to a green bird. She wasn't your average green parakeet. She was a darker shade of green. She had a little yellow face, and on the top of her black striped head there was a patch of yellow feathers that I thought was shaped like a star. They were both beautiful and made a good pair.

We surveyed the cages. Since we knew we wanted two birds, we decided to get a cockatiel cage and a good selection of toys for the two of them.

The ride home was an adventure. Each bird had it's own cardboard crate, and was chirping nervously. We let the out in their cage. And the rest is basically history.

Beatrice and Benedick, as we called them, provided us with hours of joy and entertainment. They played in their cage, they'd fight and chirp and preen each other. They'd throw their food out of their dish, they'd escape between the bars of their cage and fly around my room, and I'd walk in to find them sitting on my curtain rod or sitting amongst my stuffed animals. Each bird had its own distinct personality. We loved them more than any animal that had ever crossed the threshold of our house.

I went to Africa in January 2003, and upon coming home in May, I learned that Beatrice had died very suddenly one night in March. Apparently, my sister found her, and it was quite traumatic. My dad went out and dug through the frozen dirt in order to dig a suitable grave. She was buried with a poem from "Much Ado About Nothing" the play which inspired her name. That was sad to me. But I wasn't there to experience everything, so I felt sad, and moved on. After all, I still had my little Ben, who almost died of depression after the death of Beatrice, but my sister and mother managed to drag him up out of it at the last second.

Little Ben adapted to life on his own. He became more affectionate and even started giving my sister "kisses." He would sit in the corner of his cage and put his head through his legs, turning himself inside out. He would observe our cockatiel, Lily, for hours, and then scold him whenever he started to misbehave. Ben would sing contentedly with the stereo, and grind his beak happily as I sat quietly at my computer working and he looked on.

A couple of weeks ago, we noticed that Ben was getting a little quiet, a little old and tired looking. He was after all, at least 7, having been in our family for 6 1/2 years and being at least 6 months old at the time of his purchase. But still, we had worked so hard to keep him healthy, converting his seed diet to pellets, supplementing his meals with lettuce, when he actually would eat it. How could he be sick? We second guessed ourselves often. He's old, maybe he's not sick, he's not sneezing or weezing.....maybe he's just slowing down. Finally, when Ben sat on his perch, hunched over, breathing heavier than normal and keeping his eyes close for longer and longer periods of time, I knew something was wrong. Knowing parakeets are prone to tumors, I prepared myself for the worst. As Ben's condition remained stable, I realized I had to take the chance to bring him to the vet, while he was still well enough to eat and get around his cage. I took him to the local avian veterinarian. I left work one day at 1pm without telling anyone I was going. I just walked out, went to the pet store to buy a carrier and went to the vet's. She was very nice, and told me that Ben was very thin and small, but she couldn't palpate a tumor. She told me that she couldn't know what was really wrong with Ben without x-rays and tests, which would cost upwards of $300. Not that I could ever put a price on the bird that had brought me so much happiness, I was still not prepared to spend that kind of money without weighing my options first. I told the vet this, and she suggested antibiotics and a supplement to boost liver function. I was shown how to administer the meds and $106 later, I was sent home, armed with medication and a medicine dropper. I was going away that weekend, so I had to show my mom how to temp the bird with a treat and drop the medication in her mouth, as my mom is skittish about handling the birds.

When I left on Friday, Ben (we found out that he was actually a SHE when we went to the vet's) seemed to rally. She seemed a little perkier, a little sassier. I went away reassured. It would not last long, however, and upon my return on Sunday I went to her cage to find her left leg paralyzed. She adapted to this very quickly, but still I was very concerned. I continued to medicate her, change her water and feed her whatever she wanted. But I knew deep down that something was very wrong. She started to slow more and more. On Monday, she could barely climb. We modified her cage so that she wouldn't have to leave the floor of her cage. On Tuesday, I knew we were in for the worst. Ben just sat on the floor of her cage, closing her eyes frequently, breathing heavily. The paralysis was a classice indication of an inoperable kidney tumor, and I knew that there was nothing to be done. This was hard, just watching my pet waste away. The only heartening thing had been the vet's reassurance that she was not in any pain. I kept telling myself that, and feeding her her favorite treats. I checked on her incessantly throughout the night, and then went to watch Tv for an hour. By 10pm Tuesday, November 1, our little Ben was no longer.

I will say one thing. She looked entirely peaceful in her cage. She had not moved from the place I had last left her, and it looked as though she fell asleep, died, and sort of just turned over. I could not keep from crying though, as we had bonded especially tightly in the last few days of her life. My mom was absolutely beside herself with emotion. We had not been the type of family that grew up with pets, these were really our first, so it HURT like a motherf*cker to see our babies go. Like I said though, there was nothing to be done for the sweet thing. I got a great blue box and green tissue paper. I wrapped her in a shroud of fabric printed with brightly-colored owls, and laid her in the box, with two treats and a note, telling her how much she meant to us. Because it's true, she was a special sweet birdie.

We buried her the next night, next to her friend Beatrice. Now they can finally hang out again and eat lots of treats, and I couldn't be happier for the both of them. But still, I selfishly dwell on the void they left in our lives. Sadly, we'd look at the empty cage, and finally my mother asked me to take it down. It made her sad, and it made our cockatiel confused - he'd stare at it for hours wondering where she was. I dissembled it, and put it on the floor. My dad urged us to get more birds, but my mother and I just couldn't imagine other birds in the house. "It won't be the same" we said......

of course.
we. are suckers.

I went to FosterParrots, a shelter I've been volunteering at for a YEAR this month (where the HECK did that time go?) and I told the director, all the while digging my nails into my palm so I wouldn't get 'emotional.' His look was one of pure empathy. He is truly the king of all bird nerds, and I KNEW of all people, he would understand how I felt, especially since he has struggled to keep some of his favorite birds alive in the face of illness, abuse from other owners, and disability. He said "ohhh, oh nooo, Allison! I am so sorry. That's awful. Oh I'm sorry." He let me go on about the vet and the tumor and everything and let me go on about how I was here to sort of move on and stuff, but DID NOT WANT MORE BIRDS. He says 'ok, well just think about this. It's kind of funny. Someone found a bird in the bank parking lot YESTERDAY and she's so so sweet and needs a home" I said "well don't look at me, I can't take birds" The codirector took a different approach. She said "Volunteers are not allowed to have empty cages, take her, take a friend for her and get out of here." I thought about it while I was on my hands and knees cleaning bird crap off the floor and thought "please of course I want two more parakeets" and when I saw the little one I was supposed to take home, I thought "sweet jesus how can I say no?" There she was, petite, blue (the color of tanzanite, my mom says) with a little white face and big black eyes. 1,2,3 awwwwwwwwwwwwww! She was playing on the toys in the cage and looked pretty happy and healthy. Karen, the codirector, said "let's find her a friend, oh that guy looks good" as she pointed to a solitary yellow and lime green male. I was kinda like "whatev, maybe she should have another female friend....." That was left up in the air while I made a quick phone call to my mother. At first she said "nooooooooo, oh please noooooooo no more, I can't stand the heartbreak" I said "but MOM they need a good home, come ON" and she said quietly "you know you KNOW you can bring them home if they need to be adopted." Skipping back into the parrot shelter, Marc had a carrier ready for me, and brought it to the parakeet aviary to help me collect the new birds. He caught the female and put her in the carrier. "Let's get her a boyfriend" Marc said. His eyes wandered over a few birds, and then settled on the same yellow and lime green male that had been pointed out to me by Karen. He sat alone on a perch. He was robust and quite healthy looking, but was minding his own business. He looked like kind of a loner. Marc grabbed him and put him in the carrier......and out I went.

The birds were so good in the car. Beatrice and Ben were always very spazzy on car rides, but these two sat in the carrier and chirped every once in a while. They were so well behaved, I even hit up the Dunkin' Donuts drive through on the way home.

When I got home, I showed the newbies to my mom who just stared at them with love, saying "awwwwww!!!" every 7 seconds or so. I brought the case upstairs to my room, and held it in front of Lily. "Lily" I said, "these are going to be your new friends" "Hiiii birdie!!!" said Lily. SO sweet. so SMART! The birds contentedly preened each other while I prepared the old cage for them, scrubbing it clean of any lurking germs.

When we released the birds into the new cage, they sat there. And sat there some more. They were so cute though, we didn't need them to tricks or anything special. AND then.....the female, SPRANG into action, crazily grabbing each toy with her beak and flinging it around, crawling back and forth on the floor of her cage, jumping from place to place - she was CRAZY. Meanwhile the male sort of sat in the corner and was like "oh shit, what the HELL did I get myself INTO??"

That pretty much sums up their personalities. We're gonna call them Charlie Brown (Charlie for short) and Lucy. They're really perfect names that fit with their attitudes. Charlie sits on his perch, innocently minding his own business, oblivious to the WORLD. Lucy zooms around the cage. Charlie sits there with this "Please just leave me out of whatever insane thing you are doing right now" Lucy will sneak up behind him, clearly in attack mode. She'll open her mouth, and lean forward, ready to STRIKE. Sometimes she actually gets away with it too.....Often Charlie will just fly somewhere else for his alone time, but every once in a while, he'll be like 'I've HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!" and strike back.'s SO good to have parakeets in the house again :)

Saturday, November 05, 2005

drunken blogging

I wish I were here right now having sex with Jamaal (boyfriend):

Goog God, I'm drunk. Good Night, Love, ME

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


Xcalibur: I want to put your boob in my mouth
wildorchid: wow
wildorchid: my boss was just sitting right here
wildorchid: good thing I didn't open this screen
my boob. approximately.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

she had SEVEN people looking at her, but still

Playing a game on your blackberry with the volume turned up full blast for 45 minutes straight during an early morning bus ride and ignoring the seven people giving you dirty looks because they are either quietly reading or trying to sleep. dumb twat.