You like me, you really like me

Apparently I, in fact, have more than 3 readers. Two people at work today told me that they stop by and check out my blog sometimes and one of my girlfriends from SD emailed me and said that she was just perusing my blog -- hi guys! I was shocked. I am now going to have to start sprucing up my material and start making this stuff more palatable. All this time I thought I was just writing for me and my boyfriend, when he feels like dropping in -- hi honey! Who knew? NOW I know why Sally Field made that dorky acceptance speech at the Oscars that she was forever mocked for -- it IS a strange feeling getting recognition for your "stuff".

Unfortunately, the fact that I now have some suspicion that there are people reading this crap STILL doesn't enable me to drum up something interesting to chat about. (Trust, I can chat about uninteresting crap ALL day!) I WILL say that my aforementioned adoration of all things Aleve (my, what lovely alliteration Heather -- why thanks, I got it on sale) dropped at 4pm today -- the same time the 12 hour medication wore off on its 8th hour. They OWE me four hours of clear headedness! And since I got screwed out of it, I would like to request exactly when I will get it!! Preferably sometime just before an incident like January where I narrowly dodged the bullet. Think how handy THAT would have been! Quick speed-dialed call to the Aleve folks, "Hey, I could use some of that owed clear-headedness so I can ace this here breathalyzer thing -- thanks!"

That reminds me of that blonde breathalyzer joke, but not well enough for me to recount it. Just that it was dirty! Hee hee.

I'm getting kind of spacey now because I'm thinking about all the times that some big huge corporate jackass power stole time from me that I rightfully deserved to keep. I paid for 12 hours of clear-headedness, am I wrong for expecting that?? Maybe it's because my weight is above the average amount that it takes to knock someone out for 12 full hours -- I accept that, but let's print that on the box, okay? Something like: If you are a person who likes to consume large quantities of carbohydrates in single sittings -- if you take full advantage of the free samples at Baskin Robbins -- if you consider a light lunch to be having a DIET drink with your super-size Quarter Pounder with fries -- well, you might not get the full benefit of 12 hours of wellness that some of your carrot-eating, tofu-shake-chugging, aerobicizing counterparts might experience. Take another pill sooner and eat less and suck it up Buttercup!

Wow. Where did THAT come from? Have I mentioned, here in Bloggerville, that I am presently trying to quit smoking?? And while I was technically smoking daily for the last month or so it had been cut down to just one or two. Well, since I started getting sick I haven't smoked at all, so I think that some of the grouchiness we are experiencing -- those of us here in Heather's head -- is some sort of nicotine withdrawal, because we are now on day 3 and it's that 72 hour mark that apparently is the clincher. Grrrr... Those of you who are cheering me on let me just tell you that this is not the first time that I have tried to quit smoking as a result of an illness. I quit once after a REALLY bad hangover -- it took me two days to recuperate, during which time the thought of a cigarrette was repulsive and I managed to stay clean for about a month or more. But, work stress and alcohol (also used to combat work stress) put me back on Mr Butts again. The last time was after my surgery -- one would think that having a tumor growing out of one's chest would be sufficient cause to quit for good. I couldn't breathe, for pity's sake. But, once the tumor and the memory of the difficulty breathing subsided, me and Mr Butts -- we had a thiiiiing, going on...

Ok. When you start singing romantic songs about cigarrettes it's time for either your boyfriend to start doing a LITTLE bit extra to sweep you off your feet or at least time to go to bed. Guess which one is the more likely to occur??

Say g'night Mrs. Butts --
HP