to anyone who actually liked inception:
you’re all sheeple. it’s a boring, derivative pantsload of crap. the wizard of oz is better. the nightwatch series, for all its messiness, is better. the action sequences were done decades ago in nearly every bond flick. dicaprio reprises his shutter island role. ellen page does a commendable job with the material, but chris nolan still can’t write women to save his life.
and i want to nom on some joseph gordon-levitt.
for the last two years or so, i’ve been paying half-attention to the bicycle-vs-car debate that’s been going on in the DC area. with several friends who bike around the metro area, i would like it if cyclists didn’t have to take their life into their hands every time they got on their bikes. as a driver, i would like it if the cyclists out there obeyed the traffic laws when they’re on the streets.
today, i think they should all go to hell.
this morning, a little before nine, i was driving up arizona ave from canal road towards macarthur boulevard. for about a half-block, the road is one lane uphill, two lanes downhill. as the line of cars made its way uphill, an impatient cyclist split the lanes, trying to pass the cars on the right (no shoulder, mind you). stymied by the large SUV in front of me, he proceeded to yell at and pound on it, as though the driver of the SUV were at fault. then he swings out into the left turn lane that diverges, and pulls the same shit with the cars in that lane.
if that asshole ever gets hit by a car, i won’t be crying.
however. not a half-block later, as i’m driving across macarthur, i see the following: in the downhill lane, there’s a cyclist waiting for a break in the traffic to make a left turn. he’s got his arm out, signaling. he’s at a full stop, while cars move around him. then, an impatient driver who was behind him waiting to make the same left turn swings out around him, and makes the left turn inches from his front wheel.
if that asshole ever wraps his car around a tree, i’m going to be crying for the tree.
so. right now, i have no sympathy for anyone in the bicycles-vs-cars debate. we’re all assholes, and we all deserve what’s coming to us.
he’s at the specialist vet (they’re unfortunately the really expensive ones), laid up with fluid around his heart and lungs. no theories as to why, yet. we’re scared and worried for the little guy.
holy shit life has become a comedy of errors.
G and I are driving my car to STL to attend the memorial service for G’s grandmother. our friend Jesse borrowed G’s car to drive to VT. G’s car was serviced MONDAY by the dealer and we were told it would be fine to drive until a replacement water pump came in. G’s car, with Jesse, is now crapped out on side of interstate in northern MD, 90 miles from dealer, totally dead. Jesse’s cell phone is almost out of juice. We’re at a rest stop in PA trying to coordinate tow, repair at ANOTHER dealer, and payment. best of all: IT’S HAILING, and the windows in G’s car are down.
this spring, j gave me a bunch of vegetable seeds because he knows i like mucking about in the dirt. early this afternoon, g and i planted the first batch – 2 varieties of radish (cherry belle and easter egg blend) and an onion (italian red of florence). in a few weeks, we’ll put in the rest of the veggies – eggplant, cucumber, honeydew, cayenne and jalapeno peppers, orange bell peppers, and tomatillos.
this is the first attempt at a vegetable bed in this location. last year it was mostly overtaken by james’ hops, and the year before that it was a drought-resistant flowerbed (except that it rained a lot that year and killed everything). the year before that, it was home to several exuberant pumpkin vines, courtesy of an insufficiently hot composter. we’re attempting a modified square foot garden (with each grid closer to 2′ than 1′ square) – it will be interesting to see what transpires.
the beds on either side are strawberries (going gangbusters into year 3) and roses (surrounding fred).
so, the interesting thing about repeat miscarriages, it seems, is that there’s not a whole lot to be done if there isn’t some sort of chromosomal or clotting factor issue. when there is such an issue (about a third of the time) there are medical and surgical interventions that can happen. the other two thirds? the medical advice is to keep on truckin’.
or really, keep on fuckin’.
the RE visit today wasn’t too helpful; the resident (who had done a rotation on the psych ward when g was the attending – she recognized him and started to stammer a bit) was scattered and unnecessarily timid. i don’t think a case history should be taken with “um, so you don’t have a history of…?” questions, but maybe that’s just my survey instrument training talking. after 50 minutes of that (and a brief conversation with her attending), she sent us off to the lab, where they promptly relieved me of what felt like half my blood volume. going vasovagal was a distinct possibility. i’d post a photo of the needle site, but you’d just nod at the lovely bruise.
the upshot of all this is that if i don’t get pregnant this cycle, i get to do the clomid challenge next cycle (not as fun as it sounds, but it radically increases the chances of a multiple pregnancy) and have a hysterosalpingogram (i’ll spare the details, mostly because i don’t want to think about them right now – but it’s about as unpleasant as it sounds and will require the heavy painkiller artillery before and after).
w00t.
on tuesday, one of my docs asked me how bad this whole process would have to get before i gave up. i looked at him, and said “hunh? i’ve decided to get pregnant. until someone tells me i’m categorically unable to carry a pregnancy to term, i’m going to do whatever’s necessary. “hard” and “give up” do not compute.”
so, we begin again. with the knowledge now that i’ve a 50% chance of miscarrying – unless the tests tell us otherwise.
in other news, i’m sleeping in a lab tonight to see if the docs can determine a cause of my insomnia.
laloca: a one-woman effort to keep the DC-area medical establishment humming.
i expect great things.
first: i’ve discovered that the content of the internet can be described as an ever-decreasing fractal. it goes something like this:
and so on, and so forth.1 if i could find my notes from my undergrad 4th dimensional math class (primary text: flatland), i could probably even graph it out in something other than an ever-narrowing pie chart.
2. nothing gets my goat like a badly-written survey instrument. if you’re going to ask about sexual behavior and accept the fact that non-monogamy exists, you might want to ensure that your followup questions aren’t written with a monogamy bias so strong that it’s impossible for a multi-partnered person to answer them in a way that won’t give you crap data. yes, i’m looking at you, university of indiana PhD candidate research.2
____________
1 these categories are not exhaustive, nor are they necessarily in the right order. i’m open to suggestions.
2 honestly, if that’s the type of instrument design that gets approved, i’m glad i never went further in public health academia than an MPH. it seems there’s more rigorous design and pre-testing in the commercial world, where millions of dollars of marketing and r&d money are assigned on the basis of research findings.
it seems something happened out there wherever my laloca database is stored, and content back to early ‘08 got zapped. luckily i last backed up in late june ‘09, and posting for a variety of reasons has been light since then.
google’s cache to the rescue, which has some of the missing posts between mid-feb and last june. stuff will slowly be coming back, but alas, some things may be permanently lost in the ether.
james (a.k.a. “host”) has a touch more info on how it all went *poof* – but in the end, he’s as clueless as i am.
wordpress generally does a good job of filtering spam comments, but every now and then a few slip through. my most recent ones have been… interesting.
Lilly has not wanted, or rather I should say, she has not given in to my grabbing hands for a while now. ,
i can’t help but wonder what’s been going on between the speaker and Lilly. they should talk more. the speaker’s inability to distinguish between Lilly’s lack of desire (no means no, bucko) and lack of action is troubling. Lilly needs to get out of the relationship. or perhaps the speaker needs to stop listening to so much depeche mode. Lilly, are you ok?
And of course a brand-spankin’ new pair of shoes from Maitreya. ,
shoes are an awkward implement for spanking, but far be it from me to question another’s proclivities. especially when the buddha is selling the shoes.
They need to hitch a parasitic ride with whites to stand a chance! ,
i’m so geared to public health that i got caught up with the notion of parasites and only a moment later noticed the racism in the sentence. nice. (by the way, the most recent issue of medical consultant has an article on emerging tropical diseases, including dengue and leishmeniasis. it should really be “worsening tropical diseases,” as they’ve both been around for a long time. but still, fascinating stuff.)
This is an appalling state of affairs. ,
my spammers have apparently carved a window into the last year of my life.
sigh
no, that’s just me.
on that note, i should go bring in the trash cans. this last week’s snow led to a pileup of recycling and the stinkier sort of rubbish. life marches on, doesn’t it?