Monday, August 16, 2010

I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again

As some of you may already know, we are moving to Northern Ireland.

We fly out of LAX on September 21. That's one of the reasons I haven't been around the blogosphere much. Immigration details, passports, plane tickets, customs forms... and a lot of dicking around on Facebook to kill the pain.

It's been a rough year. Hell, it's been a rough few years. And probably a few more ahead. My possessions, my daughter, my pets, my parents... all these will get left behind. You know things are bad when you have to go back to the Old Country for a new start.

The Fledgling's been in Uni now; she'll be starting her Sophomore year in just a few weeks. So she'll be staying here in the States while I, the Spouse Sparrow, and the Nestling go off to live in Norn Iron.

To say that I'm stressed out about it would be an understatement. It's like jumping out of a plane, and hoping someone catches up to you and gets a parachute on you before you hit the ground.

I know I should be thinking about all the things I have to look forward to, but all I can think about is the things I have lost, and am losing. We're not in a situation where I'll be flying back over to visit, or can afford to ship my things. Once we're there, that's it. I'll just have to hope that it all works out.

Some of you have been listening to my whingeing for a good long while now, sorry. And thank you. You've been my support system, my connection, a hand reaching out in the dark of night when I wake up in panic. Thank you.

I don't know how long it will be before we have an Internet connection over in Northern Ireland. We have to find jobs and things like that, so it may be awhile.

September 21, 2010.

35 days left. Fuck.

Fat Sparrow

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Pneumonia is pnot pnice

Just a quick update, which some of you already know from Facebook...

I may not be making the rounds quite as much, as the Nestling Sparrow has a fairly gnarly case of pneumonia, and we'll be going back in to the doctor's in the morning, as it's not clearing up. My nerves are shot. They did an IV drip on the Nestling right in the doctor's office this last Friday. It took seven tries before the doctor got a vein, and then an antibiotic injection on top of that, along with some anti-nausea/anti-vomiting medication. He's having a hard time keeping down food, and with that, his oral antibiotics.

I was really expecting the Nestling to be doing a lot better by now. Damn.


Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Conversations With The Spouse Sparrow, Part 2

Go here for "Conversations With the Spouse Sparrow, Part 1"

Me: (apropos of nothing) "Did you know that Peter Murphy became a Muslim?"

Spouse Sparrow: "Peter who?"

Me: "Peter Murphy."

Spouse Sparrow: "Not ringing a bell."

Me: "You know, Peter Murphy: Bauhaus, 'Bela Lugosi's Dead', 'She's In Parties'? That Peter Murphy.

Spouse Sparrow: "Never heard of him."

Me: (slightly irritated now) "Peter fucking Murphy, for fuck's sake, the Godfather of Goth! That Peter Murphy, you know?!"

Spouse Sparrow: (blank look on face)

Me: "Jesus, he even went on to a solo career, you know, 'Cuts You Up', 'A Strange Kind of Love'?"

Spouse Sparrow: (blank look on face gets blanker)

Me: "Are you taking the piss? PETER MURPHY. P-E-T-E-R M-U-R-P-H-Y. Christ!"

Spouse Sparrow: (blank look on face has now turned to belligerent look)

Me: "Look, have you seen 'The Hunger'?"

Spouse Sparrow: (brightens up) "That's the one with werewolves, right?"

Me: "No, doof, it's the one about vampires, with David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve."

Spouse Sparrow: "No. David Bowie movies are shite."

Me: "Awwww, I liked 'Labyrinth'. And while 'SpongeBob: Atlantis Squarepantis' was not his finest hour, 'Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence' didn't suck. I liked the music."

Spouse Sparrow: "No, you have to say it 'Mewwy Cwisamas, Missah Lawance!"

Me: (shakes head in disbelief) "So, anyway, Bauhaus, of which Peter Murphy was the lead singer, was in a scene of 'The Hunger'. You really haven't seen it?"

Spouse Sparrow: "No, guess not. What does he look like?"

Me: "He was in the original ad for the Maxell tapes. Not the ones here in America, but the British ones. People paid good money to import them, here, because it was... well, an import. All the cool kids had them as posters."

Spouse Sparrow: "Don't know it."

Me: "Yes, you do. It's the guy sitting in an armchair, in profile, in front of a speaker, getting blown back by the music that supposedly coming out of it."

Spouse Sparrow: "No, haven't seen it. So, what does this Peter git look like, anyway?"

Me: "You know, spiky short blond hair, kind of like Budgie from Siouxsie."

Spouse Sparrow: "Like I know what Budgie looks like? I don't listen to pop music."

Me: (thoroughly irritated by this point) "IT'S NOT FUCKING POP MUSIC, YOU STUPID CUNT! Besides, you do listen to pop music, you know you do."

Spouse Sparrow: (smugly) "Oh, really? Well, Siouxsie was on 'Top of the Pops', and if it's not pop music, why would they have it on there?"

Me: "It's alternative, you ignorant fuckwit! I don't care what they call it over there, it's NOT pop music! Besides, if you don't listen to pop music, what the fuck are you doing watching a show called 'Top of the Pops'?!"

Spouse Sparrow: "Watching 'alternative music', according to you. It's probably one of those cuntybaw things that John Peel droned on about, wasn't it?"

Me: (completely exasperated) "For fuck's sake, how is it that you can know all the lyrics to every single Spice Girls song there is, and you've never even heard of Peter fucking Murphy, or Bauhaus?"

Spouse Sparrow: (immediately starts singing and dancing) "If you wanna be my lover, gotta get with my friends...."

Me: "I have no idea how we ended up married. How the fuck are we married?"

Spouse Sparrow: "I ask myself that all the time. It seems you couldn't resist my huge cock."

Me: "Aaaarrgghhh, you always bring that up!"

Spouse Sparrow: "That's what yer ma said."


Spouse Sparrow: (eating some kind of nasty, dehydrated banana chips) "These banana chips are really good, but I worry about where it says 'Oh My God' on the back of the package."

Me: "What? Where does it say that?"

Spouse Sparrow: (pointing to back of bag) "Right here.... Cholesterol: Oh My God, Sodium: Oh My God."

Me: (grabbing bag) "That's 0 MG: Zero Milli Grams, you twat."

Spouse Sparrow: "Well, I guess that would make more sense then, wouldn't it?"


Me: "You know, Squidward on 'SpongeBob SquarePants' is supposed to be a squid or an octopus or something, but he only has six tentacles. Where are his other tentacles?"

Spouse Sparrow: "Maybe he has undescended tentacles."

Me: (rolls eyes)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Did someone say they had VD?

A bit of advice: If you are a 40-year-old woman going through early menopause and also ovulating, it is not a good idea to try and sort through your children's old baby clothes. It is an even worse idea to do so in preparation to sell said baby clothes, thus permanently parting from these precious, treasured memories of your child's babyhood. Mind you, they were hidden away in the garage and then in the storage unit, but they were there, they were MINE!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go berate my children, fight with my husband, find, slaughter, and eat some red meat, gorge on chocolate, and waste time on Facebook.

Oh, and list those baby clothes for sale.

Happy Valentine's Day.


Fat Sparrow

Monday, November 02, 2009

The one with the armadillo picture

Yes, I have finally responded to your incessant* demands to "Post something, you cunt!"

So, here is "something."

Now that we are at the folks' Nest, our temporary home 'til we go on to Northern Ireland, I have access to a whole treasure trove of family photos. While most of them are pictures of someone's thumb (it's how people on my mom's side of the family took pictures; most families know who's taking the pic by who's not in the shot, we know by whose thumb it is), there are a few that did turn out all right.

So, as threatened promised, here is the infamous Armadillo Picture:

That would be me, age 5 (or 6; I can't remember and my mom's asleep right now; that would also make it the summer of either 1975 or 1976), on a trip back to Eastern Oklahoma to visit my mom's Okie relatives. I'm in what was my favorite nightgown (you can't see it, but it had little pictures of angels all over it) in the back of my uncle's pick-up truck after having been out with them the previous night to go shooting armadillos. My mother didn't approve, which is why I'm in my nightgown; Dad snuck me out after Mom had put me to bed 'cause I had begged him. Sometimes it pays off being Daddy's Little Girl.

My mom was born in California in 1948, her parents were part of the great Okie migration in the 1930's, following the Dust Bowl, but they still had relatives that stayed in Oklahoma and stuck it out.

Yes, those are dead armadillos. If you're not familiar with armadillos (proper Spanish pronunciation: Ar-ma-DEE-yohs, local yokel pronunciation: Armuh-DILL-ers) , they are primarily known in Oklahoma and Texas as a crop pest and road kill. They breed like crazy, have no natural predators any longer, and so if you have a farm/ranch (as my relatives do) you have to eradicate them on a semi-weekly basis. This mainly involves a gun, as it's useless to put out traps for them, and even if they would take poisoned bait, my uncle wouldn't have put it out, as the local birds of prey will eat freshly dead things, and then there'd be less hawks to catch mice in the fields. Armadillos mainly like to root around under the fields, looking for grubs and such, and in the meantime destroying the root system of whatever's planted. They are mainly nocturnal, so about every other week my uncle and cousins would spend the night out shootin' armuhdillers.

The Wikipedia article does mention that they jump when startled (which makes for interesting shooting, or so I've been told), but the article fails to mention that they also will do a back flip when shot. Good times. They also roll up into a ball when threatened, so as to protect themselves.

Here you can see some pictures of what it looks like when an armadillo rolls up into a ball. The text states "Once the animal is rolled up, there's no flesh left for predators to bite!" Notice that the text does not mention anything about shotguns. If you're wondering what happens to them after they've shot them, they pick out the shot, put them on a spit and roast them and then the pigs get them. Oh yeah, crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside. The pigs eat everything but the shell.

While in Oklahoma, I was also served rattlesnake for lunch (tastes like chicken, but textured like swordfish or shark), and given the snake's rattle as a toy to play with, after they had dried it for a couple of days. We kids were told to only use the stairs to go up and down the farmhouse porch, not to just jump off, because the rattlesnakes that lived under the porch were used to people using the steps, but "get ornery" if you jump off the porch. And the last thing anyone wants, I am sure, is ornery rattlesnakes. When I asked my Aint (that's Oklahoman for "aunt") why they didn't shoot the rattlesnakes under the porch, she replied "Oh honey, they ain't hurtin' nuthin', and they keep the mice from comin' in the house." Rattlesnakes in the outhouse were fair game for target practice, however, as no one enjoys a snake up the backside in Oklahoma, apparently.

While already an accomplished horseback rider at age 6, that trip back to Oklahoma also learned me how to round up cows, milk them, learn how to use an outhouse (with Sears Roebuck catalog pages as toilet paper, no less!), get used to bath water from a pond and drinking water from a well, and find out that everything east of the Rockies is a lot buggier than Southern California.

More pics to follow over time, as the Spouse Sparrow digs through the boxes and scans them, assuming our scanner co-operates.


* I lied; people have actually been pleading with me for years to stop posting.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Got to move on some time

As I'm moving (no, not to Norn Iron just yet, still gotta save up money) on the 31st, I'll be Internet-less from then until I get it hooked up at the new Sparrow's Nest. I don't know how long that'll be, so I'll see you when I see you. Hopefully it won't take AT&T more than a month, ha.

Fat Sparrow

Monday, August 24, 2009

Who knew?

Shit, am I dumb. I totally missed my own blog-a-versary. I've been not really posting for over 3 years now, woohoo!

Fat Sparrow

Friday, August 07, 2009

At least I was already awake for this one

Fuck I hate earthquakes. My house is already complete chaos, since we're getting ready to move, but my nerves have been shot and since I was up with a migraine I did not need an earthquake on top of it. Funny, now that the earthquake's over, my migraine has improved slightly...

Of course, it is brilliant to be able to go here the second after I climb out of the doorway to be able to find where it was. Gotta love teh interwebs.

Fat Sparrow

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated

...but not by much.

Yeah, I'm here. Kicking, screaming, bitching and moaning, but here. Not much new there.

I'm trying to make the rounds to those of you that are still left.

I'm starting out slow. Like zimmer-frame slow, so bear with me. Sheesh, I don't even know how Blogger works anymore.

Further updates as events warrant.

Fat Sparrow

Monday, August 27, 2007

Slack bastard, with excuses and apologies

Yes, I have fucked off once again. I had planned on taking some time off, if you remember, before the Broccoli Incident, but I never got around to it. It's kind of been forced on me now.

As some of you may have guessed, my health has been crap, and I've had a lot of doctor's appointments lately. Plus, both the kids have health problems, so they've been at the doctor's, too. I also have a lot of other stuff that has to get taken care of around here, that I'm on deadlines for. I'm sorry to leave you all hanging, but I've been too tired and worn down to even visit 'round the blogs, let alone post. Okay, check.... check.... check.... check.... I believe that's all my excuses.

I'll try to visit, and post, when I'm feeling better and have some spare time again. It may not be for a couple of weeks more, however. My apologies, also, for not replying to everyone's comments wishing me a Happy Blog Day/telling me to fuck off and die/telling me to "Post something you cunt" from my last post.


Fat Sparrow

P.S. -- If anyone needs to reach me, you can still e-mail me. The Spouse Sparrow will check my mail for me, and let me know if I have any.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

It seems like so much longer

Today is my blog day. I've been posting this dreck for a year now. I still can't believe I have readers. Thank you all.

Fat Sparrow

Thursday, August 02, 2007

109 things you never wanted to know about me

Having been tagged by NiolK, and dared by Old Knudsen to take the Knudsen Challenge, I decided to combine them, and now you get....

109 things you never wanted to know about me!

1) I went partially blind for about a month when I was 11. The doctors never found out what caused it.

2) I really, really, really hate drug addicts. This may have something to do with me being married to one for 10 years.

3) I was always the shortest kid in my class, and I was also the youngest.

4) I started kindergarten when I was 4, and got kicked out within 12 weeks. I thought they had made a mistake and put me in the Special Ed class, so to be helpful, I went around doing all the other kids' classwork for them. The school board recommended to my parents that I be promoted to 3rd grade, and go to a special school for gifted kids at a local university. Instead, my parents put me in to a private religious school. Not that I am bitter.

5) My ex-husband used to tell me I had Flintstones feet. I prefer "Picasso feet," myself.

6) I had a nose ring back in 1988. It was a small gold hoop. No one else had nose rings back then. I took it out when everyone and their grandmother started getting them.

7) I met the Spouse Sparrow on an Internet discussion group, and immediately chatted him up and asked him to marry me. We were both married to other people at the time, and lived a half a world apart from each other. These turned out to be minor complications.

8) I love to sing, but usually I totally suck at it. When I win the Lottery, I am going to take voice lessons.

9) I once got thrown out of a nightclub at Disneyland for dancing "far too sexually" (their words, not mine) to "Blue Monday." I was dancing with my brother. We were trying to show a friend of mine just how it should be done. Definitely not the most embarrassing moment of my life, but certainly one of the more bizarre. And no, it was not "that kind of family."

10) I am a Sagittarius with Taurus rising.

11) My hair is about 40% white. No, not grey, white. I dye it red. Getting white hair early runs in the family; my mom and grandma both had completely white hair before they were out of high school. Mine didn't start 'til I married the Ex.

12) I don't like muscle-y men. I prefer the slack fucker body type. Think Simon Pegg in "Shaun of the Dead." I also like what the Spouse Sparrow calls "skinny dying fuckers," but they had better have enough of a belly for me to use as a pillow.

13) I like dark-haired, dark-eyed men. Think Dave Navarro from early Jane's Addiction. Yet I have managed to end up married to blondish/gingerish men, twice. Go figure.

14) The only reason I vote is so that I get complaining rights. I dislike and distrust all politicians, as they are professional dissemblers, and if there was a NOTA (None Of The Above) option on our ballots I would regularly use it.

15) That being said, I campaigned and voted for Ross Perot, because he is a crazy little fucker, and I respect that.

16) I would love to meet Ursula K. Le Guin before she carks it, although I have no idea what I would say to her.

17) I named my daughter (well, her middle name) after one of Ursula K. Le Guin's characters.

18) I met Ray Bradbury when I was 17. It was rather surreal. I was small and young and hot, and everyone else there was geeky and male, or older women schoolteachers. He was large and old and drunk. He autographed several books for me.

19) I know quite a lot about most of the world's religions, even the obscure ones.

20) I was an Anthro major/Psych minor.

21) I have known 3 people who had their doctorate in Poli Sci, and they all delivered pizza. That was after they had their doctorates, mind you.

22) I tend to be either incredibly cautious or stupidly rash. If it's something physical, I'm always incredibly cautious. Erm, unless it's sex.

23) I do not take physical pain very well. If I am in pain, everyone within hearing distance will know all about it.

24) I tend to be very loyal, but if you have fucked me over, all bets are off.

25) When I was 11, I only weighed 55 lbs.

26) By the time I was 12, I weighed 90 lbs. The difference was all tits and ass.

27) I have been married twice, and engaged three times. I broke off the engagement with that one I didn't marry, and I hope he never tracks me down. He was a cunt.

28) I am a hopeless romantic and an awful cynic.

29) Everyone in my high school used me as their agony aunt. I cannot believe how many girls thought that douching with Coke is an effective form of birth control.

30) Speaking of birth control, I am allergic to latex if it comes in contact with my mucous membranes, and I am allergic to spermicide, and the Sponge.

31) The Ex and I split up more times than I can remember before we finally got divorced. I haven't spoken to him in about 2 or 3 years now. I am so glad to be out of the constant drama and psych ward that is his life.

32) I have one tattoo. It is on my left butt-cheek. It is a blue rose and a red rose, with leaves, and a scroll with the Spouse Sparrow's name. Getting a tattoo was nowhere near as painful as I had thought it was going to be. Compared to giving birth, it was a piece of piss.

33) I have done many different kinds of drugs, and I can take them or leave them. I have a hard time understanding how people get addicted.

34) Ditto with cigarettes. I quit cold turkey when the Spouse Sparrow asked me too, and have never had a problem.

35) That being said, if someone offers me free food I will jump at the chance. Even if it's crap food.

36) I was date raped when I was 13, and that's how I lost my virginity. I don't recommend it, even as a conversation piece.

37) Yes, I have issues. Many, many issues.

38) I carry an umbrella with me when I'm out, because I am pale and can get a very bad sunburn in less than 10 minutes.

39) My grandmother was Cherokee, and my grandad was a mix of a couple of different tribes. Not that you could tell by looking at me. White bread all around; I take after my dad's side, mainly. The Native American's on my mom's side.

40) I always laugh when I hear Prince Charles or the Queen speaking on television, because they look like my Okie relatives, and so I expect them to sound like my Okie relatives.

41) Black people with British accents also make me laugh. No matter how many times I hear it, it's still unexpected.

42) I have a love/hate relationship with Disney movies.

43) I fucking well love all the "Harry Potter" books, and would happily go off to live in that 'verse. I don't want to hear any of you Muggle cunts giving out about it either, or I will kick your shit in.

44) I'm a lot like Hermione, but fucked in the head.

45) I was really into Hinduism for a while (see #6), and I love saris and bangles and Indian music and all of that.

46) Unfortunately it dawned on me that I would never fit in, a) because I was white, and b) because while I was able to abstain from eating meat during the summertime, once Thanksgiving came around I became a ravenous carnivore. Plus I have no compunctions about squashing bugs mercilessly. Fuck, if I was a cockroach, I'd want someone to put me out of my misery.

47) I don't watch much TV, never have. I was in to "Twin Peaks," "X-Files," "Buffy," "Angel," "Futurama," "Firefly," and now "House," "Battlestar Galactica," and "Dr. Who." We don't get BBC America, though, so no "Torchwood" for me.

48) I thought Christopher Eccleston was pretty good as the Doctor. I don't much care for David Tennant as the Doctor. The Spouse Sparrow says I'm not allowed an opinion, as I'm a bloody Yank.

49) I love Jane Austen. I saw "Pride and Prejudice" recently, and it really chapped my thighs. Stick to the fucking book, you twats. There's a reason it's a classic.

50) I saw "The Virgin Queen" on Masterpiece Theater, and got the hots for Tom Hardy. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. He was in some awful movie on the Sci Fi channel that the Spouse Sparrow was watching, called "Minotaur." That really helped put me off him.

51) I used to have the hots for Ben Stein and Dave Navarro. I know, there's no accounting for taste. The Spouse Sparrow bugged me so much about Ben Stein that I went off him. I went off Dave Navarro when he hooked up with Carmen Electra.

52) The Spouse Sparrow is very jealous, and gets a perverse pleasure in making me go off my Honeys. He has been trying to convince me for years now that Hugh Laurie is gay. He doesn't seem to get it; I don't care if Hugh Laurie is gay, I have the hots for House, not Hugh Laurie. The Spouse Sparrow doesn't give me shit about liking Jason Bourne or Spike from Buffy, as I secretly suspect that he would do them, too.

53) I am a flirter. I don't even realize I'm doing it. I've tried to rein it in, as men seem to think that it means that they're getting somewhere. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. If you think I'm chatting you up, I am so not hot for you. If I was hot for you, I would be all tongue-tied and shy and doofus-y. If you're getting my full-wattage charm, you don't stand a chance of getting the ride. Er, Spouse Sparrow excepted. He was the only one.

54) I never pick up on it when men are hitting on me. They have to be really blunt about it and tell me "I like you and I want to fuck you." So shy, subtle men need not apply. Not that I am taking applications.

55) I am attracted to brainy men but I have found that they cannot fuck. The Spouse Sparrow is my perfect combination of brains and rough trade, my bad boy with a heart of gold.

56) The Spouse Sparrow had a dog that had my mom's name, and I had a dog with his mom's name.

57) I have this need, deep down, to fit in with some kind of group, but I have never been able to find them. Then again, I hate fucking groups and I hate people.

58) I am built for gymnastics and not ballet. I wish I was built for ballet. I can do ballet, but not gymnastics. I am not limber.

59) I am a klutz, and have been one all my life. There's a reason my parents didn't name me "Grace." I trip over invisible objects. I do much better if I walk barefoot. I used to go barefoot all the time when I was a teenager, and the soles of my feet got to be about a half-inch thick. I could walk over a long, long stretch of asphalt when it was well over 100 degrees out, and not feel the heat through my feet. I used to get detention every day in 10th grade for going to school barefoot.

60) One time when I was in high school I walked out of the locker room after P.E. class with my dress tucked in to my nylons and my knickers showing. No one told me and I didn't realize until I went to my next class and sat down on a cold seat. Nobody bothered to make fun of me, because they knew I wouldn't care, anyway. They still should have told me, the cunts.

61) I wear bi-focals. I've worn bi-focals since 9th grade. Some people take them as a sign of getting old and won't wear them, but that's just stupid, as they're damn handy. It was really inconvenient having to take off my reading glasses to look at the board, and then put them back on to copy the notes from the board, and then take them off, and them put them on, ad infinitum, so I told my eye doctor I wanted bi-focals.

62) I thought I would deal with aging really well, but now that it's creeping up on me I find that I am not. Still, no one in our family looks their age, and people who meet me in real life don't think I'm as old as I am.

63) I love Volvos. I miss my Volvo.

64) I love RVs. I am fanatical about RVs. I favor Class C motorhomes, but I am well versed in the ins-and-outs of Class A's, Class B's, Fifth Wheels, Toy Haulers, Vacation Trailers, Travel Trailers, Tent Trailers, Vintage Trailers, Pop-Up Trailers.... You get the idea.

65) I am a flake and a procrastinator. I mean well, and I get fits of energy and start a million projects, and there they sit, years later.

66) I have a very small birthmark on my right cheek. It's a reddish-pinkish dot. My mom has it and my grandma had it, too. It pissed me off because in some school photos, they airbrushed it out, thinking it was a zit, and I am strangely proud of my birthmark.

67) My parents both worked full time, and mom had to return to work 6 weeks after I was born, so my Great-Aunt took care of me. I was with her for about twelve hours a day, and she was wonderful. I used to feel guilty because I loved her more than my mom, and when I was a kid, I thought I might go to Hell because I loved her more than my mom. Auntie died a few years ago, and I still miss her terribly.

68) I miss my Grandma, too. She died 11 years ago, and I still haven't gotten over it. I was there with her when she died. I still get teary-eyed when I think about her.

69) I don't see much point in 69. Neither party can concentrate properly.

70) I had my first orgasm when I was ten years old. I multiple orgasm very easily. My record's 37, but that was on my own.

71) I would like to go on a cruise, just for the all-you-can-eat lobster and buffet.

72) I'm not a big drinker. I do not like to get drunk, and will stop drinking long before that point. I like wine, especially mead, and Midori Sours, 7 and 7's, and that's about it. I like having Bloody Marys at home, but I don't order them when we go out, as very few places have good Bloody Marys. The Spouse Sparrow and I went all through Vegas without finding one single place that had a decent Bloody Mary. Caesar's Palace came the closest, but was still piss poor, and Excalibur was the absolute worst. I can't drink tequila at all. It comes back up as soon as it goes in.

73) I used to be very in to Ren Faire. That's the Renaissance Faire, for you tourists. I dressed as a respectable peasant-type. Peasants have more fun, as we can sit on the grass and show more cleavage than the middle- and upper-classes. Cleavage is something I have a lot of, and I would put it to good use at Faire. I can just set my plate on top of it when I'm eating, and it's useful for me to take a nap on, too. Huzzah!

74) Some of my favorite movies are "Shaun of the Dead," "The Mosquito Coast," "The Year of Living Dangerously," "Lost in Translation," and "Until the End of the World."

75) I just saw "Marie Antoinette," and I am now convinced that Sofia Coppola could shoot film of someone having a shite, add a soundtrack, and I would fucking well love it. It does crack me up to hear her give direction or interviews, though, as she is so, like, um, non-communicative in a Valley Girl kind of way. How on earth does she get the actors to do what she says? How the fuck can they tell what she wants? It's all very strange.

76) I laugh at fart jokes, and am impressed by comic timing. The other night, we were putting the Nestling Sparrow to bed in his crib, and I kissed him and asked him if he needed anything else, and then turned to go. He said "Wait, I forgot something!" and then ripped off a really long fart. I laughed so hard I cried. I have high hopes for him.

77) I myself do not fart. Okay, it's kind of like that "If a tree falls in the forest, and no one's around, does it make a sound" kind of thing. But still, I fart very rarely. I read that the average person farts about 15 times a day, and I can go days without farting.

78) People always describe me as "cute." Not pretty, not beautiful, not striking, not stunning, but "cute." God must have a sense of humour, giving me a cunning and twisted interior, and a "cute" exterior, the fucker.

79) My high school yearbook is filled with "You're so sweet, don't ever change!" No, they didn't know me very well.

80) I bitch and moan about being called "cute" and "sweet," but let me tell you, you can get away with a lot if you look innocent and no one thinks to suspect you. Oh yeah.

81) I have naturally curly hair. If I get out of the shower, and scrunch it slightly, it will go in to perfect corkscrew curls.

82) It really pissed me off when "The Breakfast Club" came out, because I had red, curly hair, in a semi-bob just like Molly Ringwald did, and I DID NOT COPY HER, SHE COPIED ME, dammit. Fuck that pissed me off to have people thinking I copied her. That was probably why I started having it straightened and went blonde.

83) I dislike most types of music. That being said, there could be all kinds of new stuff out there that I like, and I'd never know, because I can't afford CD's and I can't stand listening to the radio or watching videos. I just don't have the patience.

84) The phrase that comes to my mind a lot lately is Danny Glover's, from "Lethal Weapon": "I'm too old for this shit."

85) My whole life, everyone keeps telling me to write and get published, but I know my own limitations and I really have nothing to say. I think I would enjoy being a ghost writer.

86) I admire Rose Wilder Lane, who ghost wrote the "Little House" books for her mother, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Rose led a very interesting life, and she's an excellent writer. I identify with her a lot.

87) Speaking of roses, if I'm not wearing Paloma Picasso perfume, I'm wearing rose oil as a perfume. I love roses.

88) I'm not too sure about men giving me flowers. I like the idea, and it's very romantic, but my ex-fiance used to give me flowers. I thought it was just because he loved me. I finally sussed out that he gave me flowers every time he cheated on me. He gave me a lot of flowers.

89) I am the type of woman that would appreciate home appliances or power tools for her birthday, anniversary, etc.

90) My dad was an engineer, mechanic, and all-around handyman type, and I always wanted to learn. Whenever I tried to get him to teach me things, he would tell me to go help my mother, and then he would make my brother come out to help. I finally learned to just not talk, stay on the sidelines, and learn by observing. I don't know why my dad was like that with me, as I was his favorite kid, and he definitely didn't think that chores or tasks fell along male/female lines. Years later, I'm still puzzling over that one.

91) I really miss being able to afford sushi and sashimi. I love Japanese food.

92) I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I'm not doing anything with it now.

93) I like to play Pente. I've been playing it since 1984. It's kind of like Go. I'm pretty good at it.

94) I hate all sports, and know absolutely nothing about them. Thank God, the Spouse Sparrow is the same. I couldn't stand being married to someone who's in to sports.

95) I like archery, and I used to be really good at it. No, that doesn't count as a sport.

96) I love horses, and used to go over to my friend's grandparents' house every day to take care of their ponies, cows, chickens, and goats. I used to try to convince my parents to turn the garage into a stable so I could have a horse. I can milk cows and goats, candle eggs, trim hoofs, and do all that farm-type stuff. All of this in spite of being allergic to hay, and breaking out in large welty hives every time I touched it.

97) I am a keyboard pounder. I took typing for two years in 7th and 8th grade, and we learned on old manual typewriters. According to the Spouse Sparrow, I still sound like I'm on a manual typewriter.

98) My taste in decorating is fairly eclectic. It's like if a Cost Plus World Market truck and an Ikea truck collided and then crashed in to a Victorian library that someone was holding a rummage sale in. Most of my living room is bookcases, which are crammed to the gills. I need more bookcases, but there's no room. I don't like having my neighbors over because they ask dumb questions like "Have you read all of those?" Of course, these are people who don't own any books, or if they do own a book, it's the Bible.

99) I love "The Twilight Zone," and my favorite episode is "Little Girl Lost," that one where the girl falls out of bed and in to another dimension and the parents barely find her in time. I still get chills when I watch it. And I still cringe over that one where Burgess Meredith's glasses break, poor git.

100) I like shiny glass things. When I was 1, my mother tells me I bit into a glass ball ornament for our Christmas tree, even though I knew better. They rushed me to the hospital and I was just fine.

101) I hate to cook. Love to eat, hate to cook. I mean, I can do it and all, and fancy stuff, too, it's just that I consider it a pain in the arse. I'd much rather go out to a restaurant.

102) I hate doing dishes, too, but I'm always the one that does them, because I'm really, really anal about the dishes getting clean. I wash the dishes before they are put in the dishwasher, and I consider the dishwasher to be an autoclave. My ex-in-laws used to not even rinse the dishes before they put them in the dishwasher, and they used cold water for the dishwasher, and barely any soap, and then they let them air dry. When they took the dishes out of the dishwasher, they would just flick off the bits of dried food that were left on, and then put the dishes away. And they wondered why I didn't want to eat there.

103) I am a wanna-be artist, and used to dabble with charcoals and also with pen and ink over watercolors.

104) I suck at math. I used to ditch my math class in 9th grade to go and sit in on my friend's physics class, and then I would discuss theoretical quantum physics with the teacher. He thought I was brilliant until he realized that I wasn't on his roll list and that I had flunked Algebra I. Oh well. I ditched Algebra because my teacher was an asshole who liked to brush up against my tits while he was "helping" me, and he called his T.A.'s "Bimbo 1" and "Bimbo 2." He was also the football coach. I tried reporting him, but sexual harrassment was not a concept back then, and my counselor told me I was imagining things.

105) The only bone I have ever broken is one of my ribs. I originally broke it during a coughing fit one of the many times I had pneumonia and bronchitis, and then I broke it again during sex with the ex-fiance.

106) I started out left-handed, and was trained to write with my right hand. I still get my left and my right mixed up. Up until the time I was an adult, I could write with either hand, as long as it was print and not cursive.

107) I have no sense of direction. Wait, I do have a sense of direction, but it's the wrong one. Whenever I'm really, really sure that something is this way, it is sure to be the opposite way. I have often wondered if that has to do with that right/left mixup thing I have.

108) I am a very fast reader. And I can read upside down or backwards writing faster than most people can read regular writing. I also invented my own phonetic alphabet, that was based on the English language, when I was about 12, so that I could write in code. I had a nosey brother.

109) I have not forgotten about your tag, Devin, this one was just easier and is buying me some time, as I am a slack fucker.

Fat Sparrow

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Marriage: Probably not worth it

So, there I was, on my so-called summer blog vacation, supposed to be getting shit done, but I wasn't. I did manage to go to doctor's appointments and what-not, but stupid me, I forgot it was Migraine Week, and I picked up some kind of a bug that made the lymph nodes in my neck all puffy and made me all tired, so I was just sleeping a lot.

I did manage to do one thing, though; I made broccoli salad. I had been meaning to make some broccoli salad for a while, as I had tried it at the deli in Stater Bros., and I was pretty sure I could make it for far less than the $5.99 per lb. they were charging for it. So, I got all the ingredients, about $10 worth (which may not seem much, but we are on a budget) and made a huge batch. So that was what I had done tonight.

But now, sadly, I will never be able to eat my broccoli salad. I have gone off it.

"Why?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you why. The Spouse Sparrow, who had been slagging off my broccoli salad all night, telling me how minging it was, decided to have some.

Of course, I didn't find this part out until he boked it all up over my side of the bed, my pillows, and my side of the bedroom, floor and walls and baby crib included. Oh no, I never would have known he had eaten any broccoli salad if the entire bedroom, including exercise bike, shoes, dressers, and spare blanket were not covered in little broccoli florets. The carpet is drenched, as before he ate the broccoli salad, he drank an assload of vodka, followed by a lot of water, apparently.

He then went on to liberally coat the hallway and the bathroom in tiny chunks of greenery. Yes, there was also carrots, as the broccoli salad had carrots in it. My only saving grace is that I was at the computer, and not in the bed when he horked. The baby, asleep in his crib, missed getting puked on by about 6 inches. Nice.

I could kill the Spouse Sparrow, I really could. It's left to me, the one with the horrible headache, to mop up the mattress, bedroom, bathroom, etc., while he is passed out on the couch. I'm the one that will be up all night washing pillows, sheets, and trying to pick chunks out of the carpet. I'm the one who'll spend the next 3 days shampooing the carpet in the bedroom and the hallway. I'm the one that is scared of bugs, and now I have to go back and forth to wash all the stuff, out in the garage with all the flying, crawling, and hopping things.

And it really, really chaps my thighs because he fucking well knows that I have a serious phobia, an actual phobia, about people barfing, and he really, really knows I don't like him to drink that much. I don't care if it's part of the British/Irish culture, he's fucking well in America now and he should adjust.

He is passed out on the couch at the minute, as the mattress will have to dry out for a day or so (and will still smell like shite when it does, and let's not forget that smell will be on my side), and I am tempted to smother him with my puked-on pillow. And do you know what's stopping me? The thought of him shitting and pissing on the couch when he carks it from me smothering him. I would kill him, but I'd just have another mess to clean up.

And he actually had the audacity to give me a dirty look when I ordered him out of the bedroom and on to the couch, and provided him with the barf bucket.

Truly, the thrill is gone.

Fat Sparrow

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Like summer vacation, but without the vacation part

I'll be taking some time off from the blog circuit for the next week or two, as I have doctor's appointments and tests for me and the sprogs, and I need to get the kids' room sorted out so that we can finally start to get the Nestling Sparrow out of our room and into the other room with the Fledgling Sparrow. That will involve stripping and repainting a bed, cleaning the carpet, painting, renovating, and boxing up two tons of crap, not to mention the wailing and gnashing of teeth on my part.

I also need to sort out all the crap my parents dumped on me when they downsized, sort stuff for a yard sale, patch and paint our bedroom, clean the upholstery in the living room, and.... Well, you get the idea. I've been feeling a tad better lately, so I figure I should get stuck in before the weather gets too hot to be able to do anything (we only have a swamp cooler for the house), or my healthy spell wears off.

So, posting will be sporadic to non-existent, along with me making the blog rounds to all of yours. I'll try to sneak in to visit you lot whenever I have some spare time.

If you simply cannot bear not knowing when my next post will come out, you can scroll down in my side bar to sign up for Feedburner e-mail notification when a new post is up. And I can still be reached by e-mail, of course, if anyone needs to get a hold of me.

Fat Sparrow

Thursday, July 12, 2007

An open letter to the dirty minger that used the toilet at Stater Bros.

Dear Dirty Minger that used the toilet at Stater Bros. --

Thank you so much for leaving the bathroom in Stater Bros. in such a state, as there is nothing I like more than to use a bathroom where someone has left a snail trail all over the toilet seat.

Even better is when it is a bloody snail trail, like the one you left when removing your tampon.

Even better than that is seeing where you have flung your used, bloody tampon, as you tried to get it in to the bin. Rest assured that when it comes to wall art, Jackson Pollock has nothing on you.

Looking at that wall, I could truly feel your state of mind when you tried to chuck that unwrapped, used snatch plug into the trash can. To you, that state of mind says "I too can be empowered just like Sheryl Crow, and not use unnecessary toilet paper." To me, that state of mind says "I am a precious fuckwit, and I think I am too good to touch anything that comes out of my body, as it is icky."

Grow up. If you don't know by now that you need to wrap up your vampire's teabag after you have rooted it out of your stench trench, you are not mature enough to be using one anyway. You weren't beyond touching yourself when you shoved that cotton version of the Hoover Dam up there, so you certainly aren't too good to wrap it up in bog roll when it comes out.

If I see you in the street, I will drop trou right then and there, squirt out my Tampax Slender Regular, and bitch slap you with it.

And for fuck's sake, wipe your fucking piss flaps already, and use more than one square of toilet paper while you're doing it, you dirty, dirty minger.


Fat Sparrow

Monday, July 09, 2007

Really? You don't say

Your Anti Climactic Fortune

In the future, I foresee.... Continued human stupidity, in the form of bloggers who like to hide behind various personalities, and have nothing better to do with their time. I also predict that these same bloggers will be exposed for what they are, i.e., a pack of lying and denying cunts.

Live Earth? Not for long

Boy, nothing says "I want to stop global warming" like setting up concerts all over the world and encouraging millions of people to drive or fly to them, not to mention the gazillions of kilowatts of electricity being used to light up and power the concerts. And let's not forget the gas that's being used to truck in the beer that is being sold for $7 a cup and truck out the boke, piss, and shit.

I suppose "Live Earth: Let's Stay Home And Listen To Music" just doesn't have the same kind of ring to it.

Al Gore is really, really on my list, the cunt.

Fat Sparrow

Saturday, July 07, 2007

I knew he wanted me

I have been trying for ages to get the ride off Philip, and finally, he has at least fingered me. I am encouraged at this sign of foreplay, but also disturbed, as it seems he is in to the really perverted stuff: Memes.

Now, quit gasping in horror. Some people just consider them "kinky."

Either way, I get to do it 8 times, and here it goes....

1) I never heard the word "fuck" until I was 12 years old, and I had no idea what it meant. I dare say I've made up for that. And to think, people say that kids don't learn anything in public schools.

2) I was a child prodigy, and I learned to read at 9 months, and could read a newspaper by the time I was 18 months old. I have done fuck all since then.

3) My pinkie fingers on my hands are abnormally short. When I was a child, my mother had to sew up the pinkie fingers in all my gloves because of this. You would think that this would have clued her in to the fact that piano lessons were not for me, but oh no, it did not.

4) I have nipples like JCB starter buttons, and I like anal sex. Those two things may be completely unrelated.

5) In my youth, I memorized the New Testament, which was a complete waste of time. I did win a prize, although I can't remember what it was. Anyway, the important thing was: I won!

6) When I first started driving, I came upon the scene of an accident on the freeway. Traffic had slowed to a stop. For 5 minutes, I looked out my car window at a severed head. I couldn't have gotten out of my car without kicking the head out of the way. I can still see that head, in my memory. It had a rather shocked expression on its face.

7) When I was a child, I read unabridged dictionaries and encyclopedias for fun.

8) My dentist tells me that my mouth is too small and my tongue is too big. I'm beginning to wonder what he has in mind by telling me all this.

Fat Sparrow

People I am fingering: First Nations, Fumie, Devin, Annie, Sassy, Gimme A Minute, and Old Knudsen. I know Old Knudsen won't do it, but I just like to finger him. Oh, and let's toss Eddie in too, as I suspect he secretly wants a three-way with me and Footie, who has also tagged him.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

An inconvenient truth: You're a fuckwit

Al Gore's son was arrested, as I'm sure you've heard.

Personally, I am shocked.

I had no idea that a Toyota Prius could do 100 MPH.

Fat Sparrow

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Happy Fourth of July!

I've had a valium, and am feeling a tad mellower.

I ran across a quote that I liked, from Erma Bombeck:

"You have to love a nation that celecbrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism."

I'm off to be patriotic fat fucker. If I don't eat, the terrorists have won.

Fat Sparrow

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Forced patriotism and family gatherings

Neither one is valid.

I found out yesterday that all of our little happy family plans for the 4th have been shattered. Why? Because my brother's a cunt. In fairness, it's not completely his fault, but he's still a cunt.

Some background:

I made a really dumb mistake years back, and hooked up my brother with my daughter's babysitter. My daughter's babysitter used to live next door to us, and her mom still does, although her dad died recently. My brother married her, and so now what was previously just my next-door neighbors turned in to my brother's in-laws.

Spouse Sparrow and I had planned a nice little Fourth of July celebration, just us and the kids, as this is the last year that fireworks will be legal in our city thanks to the city council, the unbearable witless mongs. I can't believe I voted for them. I saved my receipt from voting, and I am going to demand my money back, the fuckers.

This being the last year that fireworks are legal here is kind of a big deal to me, because we have the sprogs, but no car, so it's not like we can go and see the public fireworks displays. Spouse Sparrow even humoured me and splurged and bought a nice little assortment of fireworks with the last of his birthday money that his family had sent him. He set some money aside for some beer, and we were going to barbecue, veg out, and set some explosives on fire. Nothing fancy, nothing involving any cleaning of the house, or dressing up, or even wearing a bra.

Then my next-door neighbor came to the door to invite us to a party and barbecue she's having. My parents (thanks a lot for the heads up, Mom!), my brother and his wife and their three girls, the Hell Kittens, will all be there. It's right fucking next door, with all my family, and so there's no way I can get out of it. I'll have to spend all day listening to my idiot brother (we'll call him "Shane"; if you're a fan of "The Shield," this should give you some clue as to his personality, bearing in mind that Shane on "The Shield" looks like a fucking genius and a liberal compared to my brother) mouth off about absolutely everything, including all his little racist tirades and xenophobic crap, not to mention his foul fucking language (I'm a perfect fucking laydee except on this blog, I'll have you know) and I'll have to put up with all of it in the name of family harmony. I'll also have to put up with a whole bunch of stupid, forced patriotism and probably some religious crap, too, thrown in for good measure.

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm fond of my country. No matter how much I slag it off, I still think that at least we're trying, and no one's perfect, and furthermore, there's lots worse countries out there. I just don't like to be forced to be patriotic, or risk looking bad. It's like Mother's Day and Father's Day; you're over a barrel and have to pay 6 fucking dollars for a card or you look like a right cunt. It's not fair. What's also not fair is that all of my white trash neighbors look well patriotic, with their stupid huge flags and their strutting and their yellow ribbons, but none of the stupid twats vote, while I do, so who's more patriotic? I do believe that would be me, even though you won't see a flag in sight and even though I am constantly taking the piss out of America.

I have to clean my house, because the nosy bitch that is my sister-in-law will come up with some excuse for wanting to come in and poke around. I have to turn on the oven and bake a cake, even though it's going to be 90 degrees in the house before I even fire up the oven, and that's with the swamp cooler on. I'll have to smile and act cheerful and not slap the Hell Kittens when they push and shove the Nestling Sparrow, and I'll have to wear a fucking bra. And to top it all off, it's supposed to be 109 degrees on the Fourth.

The Spouse Sparrow has informed me that he is boycotting this family gathering, and I would too, if I could get away with it. Instead, I'll have to be out there, exposing my kids to a bunch of crap I'd rather they not hear, with the Nestling Sparrow picking up all kinds of bad manners and habits from the Hell Kittens, and my digestion being totally ruined from having to be around my brother.

The next-door neighbor told me that my parents are bringing fireworks, so I suppose we'll just save ours for next year and risk getting a ticket. It's not like you can see our house from the street, anyway, and ours are just little quiet fireworks, as the big noisy whistling ones scare the Nestling Sparrow. I'm sure my parents will have sprung for the really big expensive collection of fireworks, with all the noisemakers, so I'll probably have to bring the Nestling Sparrow back in the house beforehand, so I don't have to listen to my dad and my brother rag on him for not being tough enough to take the fireworks.

So much for our lovely holiday.

Fat Sparrow

Friday, June 29, 2007

Dr. Love, baby

Some of you may remember my doctor from previous posts. For those of you who are hot for her (you know who you are, Fumie), you can see her picture here again, just in case it is not stored in your wank bank. I fondly refer to her as Dr. DeVil. She is an evil sadist, an Asian with a Valley Girl accent, a clueless college post-graduate with the attention span of Dori from "Finding Nemo," and continually overbooked.

She also has a crush on the Spouse Sparrow.

She's not my Primary Care Physician anymore, but since I go to a group practice I do occasionally get her as my doctor if one of the others is not available.

The last three times I have seen her, she has asked about the Spouse Sparrow. By name. And then she blushed.

Oh, she also asks about the Nestling Sparrow and the Fledgling Sparrow, but she can't seem to remember their names, even though they are also patients of hers and she has seen them for years now. The Spouse Sparrow isn't even a patient of hers, but she manages to remember his name. I'm pretty sure the only reason she remembers my name is because I have an unusual name.

I'm wondering if this crush of hers might have anything to do with her not caring if I cark it, quite frankly. The first time she specifically asked about him, she was quite surprised to hear that he was my second husband, and that the Nestling Sparrow was a planned baby. The expression on her face said "How did someone like you manage to catch someone like him?!" Really, it was most unflattering to yours truly.

I have told the Spouse Sparrow all about it, of course. He's getting fairly used to the attention from womenfolk here in the States now, as they throw themselves at him, even with me standing right there. I mean, I am obviously his wife, we obviously have a kid together, as he is right fucking there in the stroller, and the Spouse Sparrow will still get women hitting on him in the shops. Right in front of me. Did I mention the "right in front of me" bit? Because the hotties are doing it right in front of me. I mean, I understand the attraction, really. He's cute, witty, has a really good accent, and they can see that he is great with kids and is a hands-on dad. Still, if the stupid bints could just manage to restrain themselves until I walked over to the next fucking aisle I wouldn't be slagging them off half so much, the stupid whoring twats. It's a good thing I'm not the jealous type.

(waits for laughter to die down)

Now, the Spouse Sparrow is quite shy and modest, and blushes easily. It's taken quite a lot of totty being thrown at him, and me harping on about it, before he even realized what was up. And now this, with Dr. DeVil, on top of it all.

I think that next time I have an appointment with Dr. DeVil, I will bring along the Spouse Sparrow, and then she can see him turn bright purple and stutter in embarrassment and maybe then she will go off him.

No, dammit, she will probably just think that is "cute." Fuck, she may even think he likes her.

Maybe I will just start smearing him with shite before he leaves the house.

Not that I am bitter.

Fat Sparrow

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The drugs don't work, they just make things worse

WARNING: Long and boring post ahead. Money will not be refunded.

Thank you,

The Mgmt.


A few people have e-mailed me to ask me about the state of my health/test results/promised nude photos,* and I figured I had better get off my ass and post about it before I got any more e-mails. For those of you who have already received e-mails about this, you're in luck; you get to read my brilliant writing once again.

Re: Lupus.... So far, the doctors have not definitively ruled out Lupus, buuuuuuutttt.... It looks like the majority of the Lupus symptoms I was having were due to side effects from an allergy/asthma drug I was taking called Singulair.

Mind you, I saw several doctors and none of them were able to figure this out. Oh no, it was me that figured it out. Do I get paid $175,000 a year for it? Like fuck I do.

I had a few really bad days a while back, days where my stomach was so bad that I couldn't eat. And because I couldn't eat, I couldn't take my pills, either. After a few days, it dawned on me that I felt much, much better. I had a sneaking suspicion right then and there, but being a fan of the scientific method I started taking the pills again. Lo and behold, I felt like shit.

I went on the Internet and pulled up the list of side effects for Singulair, and there they all were -- fever, nausea, joint aches, kidney pain, unusual weakness, vomiting, dizziness, headache, hallucinations, muscle aches, irregular heartbeat, numbness/tingling of the hands and feet, general swelling, excessive thirst, and extreme fatigue, just to name of few of the really fun ones. Fucking hell. Months of torture, and it's due to a prescription medication.

I started on Singulair last August, and I suppose the first symptom I developed was fever. Unfortunately, I didn't notice it at the time because I already had a fever. When I went to the doctor in August, it was for a sinus infection and fever, and that's when she put me on the Singulair. The other side effects came along a bit later.

Still, the doctors won't rule out Lupus, because Drug-Induced Lupus does not cause the facial rash like regular Lupus, and I have the facial rash and the photosensitivity. I did read on the Internet forums that some people have developed other auto-immune diseases while taking Singulair, and other people who already had Lupus and other auto-immune diseases had to stop taking Singulair, because Singulair caused flare-ups and made them worse. So it is possible that I am susceptible to Lupus, as I had been tested before when I was 10 or 11, and the Singulair may have triggered it or at least triggered an episode. Come to think of it, when I had problems and they tested me for Lupus before, they were also guinea-pigging me on new asthma/allergy meds. The problem is, Singulair works wonders for my allergies, and when I'm off it, all the other problems go away, but I'm incapacitated by constant sneezing, wheezing, runny nose, runny eyes, and all that shite.

My new doctor and I are filing an official report (MedWatch) to the FDA (Food and Drug Administration, for you Brit-type people), and it would not surprise me in the least to hear, some 10 years from now, that there is firm scientific evidence that Singulair can trigger Lupus in susceptible patients, as Singulair works on the immune system.

So, that took care of most of the symptoms, but then I was still was getting kidney/bladder infections even after going off the Singulair. Guess what, turns out that another of my fucking prescription meds has been messing with my pancreas, kicking out sugar into my urine and causing those kidney/bladder infections. Again, it was me that figured that one out, without help from the doctors.

I started doing research on the Net about the other prescription drugs I was on, and found a new study done by the NHS there in Britain which shows that Inderal (a common beta-blocker, which I was on for prevention of severe migraines and it did away with my anxiety attacks too, dammit) can trigger Type 2 Diabetes in susceptible patients. Jesus wept. Of course, my doctors hadn't seen this study, because it hasn't been published over here.

Lovely. Just what I need, Type 2 diabetes.

My new doctor tested me, and yep, I'm pre-diabetic with a super-sensitivity to carbs. Off the Inderal I went.

I'd already been on a self-imposed diabetic-type diet since last November, due to all the kidney/bladder problems I had been having, and there's been no temptation to break it as if I eat something with sugar in it or what-not I become violently ill.

I'll have to do another fasting, 3-hour Glucose-Tolerance Test in 2 months, and we'll see how I'm doing then. In the meantime, my allergies and asthma are back full-force, as the Singulair and worked really well to control those. I am not taking another pill. I'll just put up with it.

I will have to do something about my migraines, though, as they are completely out of hand. God only knows what, as the doctors have put me on pill after pill that didn't work, already. $342 for 10 fucking pills, if you can believe that. Thank God it's not me paying for it.

It positively amazes me that I have been seen by scores of doctors, who all knew exactly what meds I was on, and yet not one brought up the possibility of side effects. And it's not just that; not only did the doctors not pick up on it, their response was to put me on more fucking pills, to control what was actually side effects from the pills I was on.

Oh, and while I was researching all those other side effects, I found out that it could be that the Aciphex, which I take for my ulcers, could be eroding my hip joints, causing my hip pain. Nice.

Basically what I am hoping for is for me to get back to the same level of illness I was at before they started prescribing all those helpful medications, and then I will bang my head on a wall, repeatedly.

So much for modern medicine. And the doctors wonder why I question them all the time. Jeez.

I will leave you all with this little gem.

Fat Sparrow

* Yeah, right. Where's my money, bitches?

Sunday, June 24, 2007

My new Internet campaign: Free NiolK's balls!

After a lot of harassment,* NiolK recently posted a picture of his balls, and I have seen hostages in the Middle East that have looked happier than his balls do. The way he has kept them trapped and caged is simply appalling. Just think how his poor testicles must feel, never being able to run free and let their true beauty shine out to the world. Old Knudsen has speculated that NiolK has even been keeping his balls trapped in cycle shorts!

As you can see, he has not even fully freed them to take this picture. God only knows where his poor willy has gone to....

Please join with me in my new Internet e-mail campaign, Free NiolK's Balls! Here at Campaign Headquarters for Free NiolK's Balls!, we are demanding that NiolK free his balls, and to prove that he has freed them we are also demanding that he post a full-frontal nude picture (face included) so that we can be sure that NiolK's balls have been freed. At this point in the campaign, it may be too much to hope for that one day we might see NiolK's balls freed at parks, shopping malls, and even workplaces, but we can have hope for the future when NiolK's balls will be free everywhere, all the time. Please go to visit NiolK right now, and let him know that we will not give up until our demands have been met.

Additionally, Free NiolK's Balls! is demanding that NiolK come up with some badges** for Free NiolK's Balls!, as we here at Campaign Headquarters do not have PhotoShop or any type of graphics programs. Thank you.

Fat Sparrow

* Not really. It only took two comments on one of his posts.
** He came up with a badge for those of us who are Banned by NiolK!, so we know he can do it. You can see the "Banned" badge in my sidebar, just keep scrolling down.

Friday, June 22, 2007

Like Tony Blair, I am converting blog over to the new widget-type thingie version on Blogger. Up 'til now I've done everything in my sidebar and what-not in HTML, and the Spouse Sparrow has been telling me how much easier it is to do all sorts of things on the blog once it is changed over, so.... I'm sucking up my courage and I'm gonna have a go.

I've been dealing with massive computer cuntery this week already, what with the computer crashing and losing everything. It seems to be going around lately; I know a few other people have posted about it, too. We had to do a lot of incantations involving anal sex, the blood of a black cock, and the horrible ancient deity Factory Settings. I happen to like bum sex, and the black cock thing was easy, as we live in the 'hood, but having to invoke Factory Settings was simply awful.

Hopefully everything will work out all right, and I will not lose my Site Meter count, and it will not take me too many weeks to add back in all my links and badges and tags and and and. This may be a work in progress for a while, so please bear with me.

Fat Sparrow

UPDATE: Success, M'lud! Fuck, that was traumatic. I still have some kinks I'm working out, but everything seems to have gone okay, for the most part. I'm still trying to get my links to open in a separate page, like they used to, instead of having to right-click on them, like I have to do now. If anyone notices any other problems, please let me know, either by comment or e-mail ( Thanks!