Blast From the Past...part 1

I wrote this many years ago, for another blog. It has absolutely nothing to do with cancer. It made me giggle, hope you enjoy it too. Oh and as a side note, the "company" I mention towards the end is no longer a part of my life, so please keep that in mind. I am with my Pygmy and could not be happier. Ok, on to the socks.

Socks are pretty amazing if you think about them. They keep your feet warm, prevent raw chaffed skin from your shoes, and for the truly daring, enhance both male and female body parts.

I will acknowledge that they are great, but mine are pure evil. And I can prove it. They aren't plotting to cause the demise of Western Society as we know it. No! My friends, their plans are more nefarious, indeed! Their sole purpose, is to threaten my sanity by convincing me that they are trying to escape! And I can prove it.

I go to bed one night, with a pair of the evil-doers on my feet, because I just could not seem to get warm. Now I must point out, that I really HATE to have anything on my feet when I sleep, always have. So I go to bed and as far as I know, it was an uneventful night of slumber. When I woke up the next morning, I realized that my feet were naked!! After searching, I discovered that at some point during the night, I had removed my socks. Okay, nothing unusual there. However, I found not two socks in my bed, but THREE! Last time I checked, I only have two feet, so it would follow, that I would have only worn two socks to bed.

So, why were there three socks in my bed? Well there is a simple explanation: SOCK ORGY. Those little cotton pervs were doing goodness only knows what in my bed, with me in it! I wasn't sure if I should be appalled or turned on. I'm ashamed to admit, it was a little of both.

I thought that was the end of it. I was so wrong! About a week later, I had gone to bed, and woke up with my socks in the living room. Now I know you must be thinking I took them off there, right? I assure you I did not! I took them off in my bedroom, and deposited them on the floor, right after I smelled them. Come on! I refuse to believe that I am the ONLY one who ever smells their socks at the end of the day?!? I don't do it all the time, oh never mind! The point, is they were in my room! They were arranged in such a manner in the middle of my living room, that it suggests that they were making their way to the kitchen to get my truck keys and escape! What other explanation could there be?


Fast forward a month or so and I have "company" for the night. The next morning, my socks were in HER shoes. At this point, I can guarantee you that I did not take the time to place my socks in her shoes. And I know that she did not wear my socks and put them in her shoes. The difference in our shoe sizes is the same as the difference between my F-150 and my nephew's Matchbox cars. From this sock activity, it can only be concluded that, again, the little cotton bastards were attempting to escape.


We now time-travel to about two weeks ago. I had dressed myself, in one of my favorite outfits: a black Henley, my American Choppers shirt, carpenter pants and black Nike's. i was about half-way through my 11 hour shift in Hell, and I looked down and thought, "My stomach looks funny". upon further investigation, one of those little cotton bastards had hi-jacked my Henley and was now a stow-away! It had now accomplished what I can only guess is another phase of their nefarious plan to destroy my sanity. This was the "Get Out of the House without Sara Knowing It" phase, or GOSKI for my acronym loving friends.


I would like to say that this was the end of their plans. But I believe they quieted their activity in order to lull me into a false sense of security. I have to hand it to them, they stepped up their game. The new tactic? They have involved my girlfriends socks!! They now have recruits!! We had pulled a set of sheets out of the tote that sheets live in. When we unfolded the fitted sheet, out popped one of HER socks!! It seems that my older wiser socks are teaching her younger socks the ropes.


If you see my socks lurking in a dark shadow, or just hanging out in plain daylight, I say run! Don't walk away from them! They have effectively cost me my sanity, and yours could be next!!

Tears and TP

I have been cancer free for almost a year. Let me say that again: I HAVE BEEN CANCER FREE FOR ALMOST A YEAR!!!! So, why am I seemingly more pissed at the Universe than I was when I first got the diagnosis? Well, grab a couple of rolls of TP and I will tell you a little story. BTW: If you are squeamish or embarrassed by all things "bathroom" related, go watch this instead of continuing on. cats are assholes Otherwise, prepare for a whole bunch of TMI.


I thought when I was going through radiation and had diarrhea that felt like acid coated shards of glass dipped in lemon juice once or twice a day that it couldn't get any worse. WRONG!!! Now, the diarrhea (will be referred to as the Issue, because I hate the word almost as much as the actual condition) shows up, mostly without rhyme or reason, and I have almost no hang time. (For those that aren't familiar with the usage here of the term "hang time" I define it as the time between when your brain tells you that you have to poop, and the moment when you actually start to.) I can't tell you how many events, gatherings or just small get togethers that we (GF and I) have had to leave because my "issue" was getting ready to or in the process of acting up. THIS SUCKS.

There doesn't appear to be much that stops the Issue, but there is so much that is sure to set it off: any food items from McDonald's (not really a bad thing), really greasy pizza (this is a shame), lettuce (so salad, unless made from spinach it off the table), most fried food, stress, too much dairy ( I think too much is somewhere between 1/2 cup of milk and a block of cheese, or we are not really sure about this one) and my medication that I need to take daily to help regulate my blood sugar. Let me list for you all the things that I have found that will stop or slow down the Issue: ( insert crickets chirping). Yeah, pretty much nothing. Oh and the stomach cramps that come with the Issue? You know, the ones that feel like there is a donkey living in your colon and is just, gawd please forgive the word play here, kicking the shit out of you? Nothing really works on those either.

So, I know you are wondering, "How do you function?" Well, I can tell you every gas station between my house and the south side of town (we live on the north side) that have acceptable bathrooms. I can tell you where the bathroom is in EVERY store that I frequent. I can also tell you what it's like to have to wipe tears from your face and wipe your ass at the same time. Sometimes the tears are from the pain, the embarrassment or just frustration from spending yet more time in the bathroom. (For the record, tears from my face can wait) On a side note, I have re-purposed the phrase "photo finish". It's when you aren't really sure if you are going to get to the toilet and get your pants down before you have to throw away or clean ANOTHER pair of underwear. Usually, I loose when it comes down to a photo finish. I have also, considering these odds, stopped gambling.

It just seems so, unfair. I BEAT CANCER. Now, TP and moist wipes are my best friends and constant companions. I know I have to "give myself time to heal". Sometimes when I hear this, I want to throat punch the person that said this. Not because I am mad at them, or pissed about their platitude. It's out of sheer frustration. I wasn't supposed to get cancer. I wasn't supposed to loose the ability to bear children. I wasn't supposed to face my own mortality at the age of 36. When you have faced all of this, and managed to keep your sanity, then you can tell me to give it time. Please note, I will not actually punch you in the throat if you tell me to just give it time. I will simply sigh and say "Yeah I know". My parents raised me better than that. But think about this, sometimes a "wow that sucks" works just as well, and won't get you throat punched.