Still Bitchin' as Usual

Yet again, it has been a while since I've updated. I am 13 weeks pregnant today. Pregnancy is still miserable. I can't take my allergy medicine, so I am now sick because of all the damn cedar. The all-day-sickness has subsided to just being evening nausea, so that's good. The cravings haven't stopped, though. Today, I absolutely had to have tater tots. My headaches have been getting steadily worse - I have one right now, so I am trying to keep this short. My back hurts like hell, and my chiropractor says it will likely continue to get worse. Lifting anything hurts my back, and my OB has restricted me from lifting more than 25 pounds for the duration of the pregnancy. Every night I come home tired and miserable. I have been living on tylenol, and tylenol PM. I go to bed early, and wake up still tired and sore. And I know it will just get worse. The next person who says, "Oh, you're past X milestone - now you can sit back and enjoy your pregnancy," is going to get slapped. Thus far, I have found nothing enjoyable about pregnancy, and anybody who says differently can bite my ass!

To make matters worse, even though I have not gained any weight, my middle has started to expand just enough that I have to leave my blue jeans unbuttoned. Nobody else can tell the difference, but in order to leave my jeans unbuttoned, I need longer shirts. Nearly all of my shirts are just not quite long enough. So I went to Wal-Mart yesterday to find some longer shirts. I discovered that fat chicks aren't supposed to get pregnant. The largest maternity shirt they had was an XL. There were plenty of smalls, but only like two XL's, which won't even fit me. So I had to go to the men's section and get huge men's shirts to find something long enough. I was so mad when I left there. Oh well.

Last Monday I went to my two doctor appointments. At the first one, I found out the results of my bloodwork. I got a 91 on the glucose test, which means I passed that bitch with flying colors. Hopefully I will do that well on the one at 28 weeks. Also, my thyroid is within normal range, so we don't have to adjust that either. Then I met up with my mom for the NT scan, and everything looked good. We found out that they only do a video at the anatomy scan, so I got some regular pics. The kid is starting to look a little more human, so that's cool. To get the baby to turn over so she could take measurements, she jiggled the ultrasound thingy around on my tummy. Boy, that pissed the little person off. I thought it was funny. I go back to my OB on Feb 23, and back to the perinatologist on Feb 24. Then I find out the sex on March 20. I can't wait. I'm excited about the whole baby thing, but the whole pregnancy thing I could really do without. I'm going to go lay down now -- or lie down -- whichever is the proper way to do it. Anyway, I'm out.

Cycle Update

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Things have been kind of hectic, what with doctors visits every three days. So here is the condensed version of the latest visits. On Monday, 11/10, I went back for another follicle check, and I was still showing 18 follicles: Right - 12,10,8,7,7,7,6,6,5,5,5mm Left - 9,9,8,7,6,5,5mm Endo - 12.6. When the E2 came back from the lab however, it had fallen from 68 to 48, so she raised my Follistim dosage for the next three days up to 150, 100, 100 units.

When I went back on Thursday, 11/13, she just measured the three largest follicles on each side. It kind of pissed me off, because she rushed in and out like she had somewhere else to be, and I didn't get to ask the questions that I had. So the measurements for that day: R - 14,10,7mm L - 13,9,9mm Endo 11.1. My Estradiol had risen to 262, so that was good, and my dosage for the next three days was 150,150,150.

Today, I went back for another check. On the right ovary she measured follicles at 21,14,14,10,9mm. On the left, she measured follicles at 18.5,14,11,10,10,9mm. Endo was at 11.6. Not sure about E2. They'll probably call with that tomorrow. She had me trigger with ovidrel at 5:30 this evening. The IUI will be on Tuesday morning. She said that anything at or over 14mm can release a mature egg, so we're probably looking at 4-5 eggs released... hopefully. Yet again, when I tried to ask questions, she was a little snippy with me, and acted like I was an idiot for questioning her. Sorry, but IMO, anybody who *doesn't* ask questions of their doctor is an idiot. Next time, if she's short with me, we'll have a come-to-Jesus-meeting and I'll let her know exactly what I think. Maybe she just has PMS. She hasn't been like this before this week, but if it continues, I *will* come unglued on her. Oh well. I guess I will wait and see.

Get In, Get Out, Quit F*&%ing About

I had my IUI this morning. It was probably the quickest appointment ever. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am indeed. Hopefully it will produce the desired results (a baybee, in case you hadn't been listening).

I also called my insurance company and found out that they will cover injectable fertility drugs (if the current cycle doesn't pan out). It just requires prior authorization, and that I not be using them in preparation for or in conjunction with an IUI or IVF. Basically, the dumbass insurance company wants to pay for these drugs that will make you ovulate eight eggs, and then they want you to go home and make nookie with your husband so you wind up with a litter. God forbid that they cough up the money to do an IUI to increase the probability of the expensive-ass drugs working on the first round. Or even better, that they ante up the money to do IVF so that you can have a healthy singleton or twin pregnancy, rather than a God-awful expensive set of sickly sextuplets. It's all about the profit NOW, not what's best in the long run. But, if they will pay for the meds, then I will have the doctor fail to mention that I will be having an IUI, since I pay for those out of pocket anyway, and I will go ahead and get them. I'm not saying this cycle won't work; I'm just planning ahead. 

Tomorrow I have a conference to go to at the Texas School for the Blind for work. At least I don't have to do any real work tomorrow. And it will be Friday. And I just realized that even though when I get out of the conference it will be five o'clock somewhere, for the next two weeks, and maybe longer, I will be pregnant until proven otherwise. Arrrrgggghhhh.

Yet Another Effed Up Cycle

Yesterday I went to see the R.E. I typically have been ovulating around CD 16-17, so when I hadn't gotten a positive OPK by CD 16, they had me come in for an ultrasound, since I managed to miss the surge last month (the doctor thinks I did ovulate last month, since I went on to have a period at the right time, but we didn't do any bloodwork to confirm). They said, "We'll see what we find, and most likely write you a prescription for a trigger shot. You go home, trigger Thursday night, and we do the IUI on Saturday morning." Well we got to doing the ultrasound, and the biggest follicle we can find is only at 12mm and the next biggest is at 8mm. At least one has to be 20mm or more to trigger. In addition, my uterine lining was super thick. With one angle she measured it at 18mm, and with another angle she measured it at 23mm thick. That is way too thick for this point in the cycle, unless I already ovulated really early, before I started doing the OPKs. But the estrogen that is making the lining thick has to be coming from somewhere, and she said that it could be an indication of very early pregnancy. So I went in for labwork to test for hCG and Progesterone. The hCG was zero, like I knew it would be, and the progesterone was 0.6, which indicates that I did not ovulate early. So she said to keep doing the OPKs for another 5 days or so, just to be sure, but that I probably am not going to ovulate this month, especially with that weird super-thick lining. And what's really great is that whether I spontaneously start my period or not (which would mean Provera) the thick lining will likely make for a miserable awful period. If I have to do the Provera, of course it will be worse. It always is. And to top that off, they're going to increase my Clomid dosage next cycle. Toro! indeed.

Uncontrollable Rage

This is what the clomid makes me feel like. I am the bull. Also hot and cold flashes, and terrible headaches. It is like some crazy Mexican is constantly waving a red cape in my face and yelling, "Toro!"

IUI w/ Clomid #2, Round #2

Sorry I never updated at the end of August. I never ovulated, either. At least not that I could tell. I did the OPKs but never detected a surge. Either I missed the surge somehow, or I didn't ovulate at all, so we of course didn't get to do the IUI. Now September will be IUI w/ Clomid #2, Round #2. Today is Cycle Day 1. Maybe this cycle will go better. I am scheduled for a baseline scan tomorrow at 9:30am. What fun. I'm going to ask the Dr. if she wants to up my Clomid dosage from 100mg to 150mg. Maybe that would produce a stronger response. We'll see what she says.

I will admit, I'm starting to get a little frustrated. Well, I was frustrated about a year and a half ago, but now it's getting bad. I don't have a clue where to go from here. We're going to keep trying with the IUI's for a while, I guess, but where do I draw the line? I already know that I will likely never be able to afford IVF, and I don't have a problem adopting, but at what point do I scrap my plans, and say enough is enough? Because here's the deal: I have always planned on adopting. Ever since I was a small child, adoption was part of the plan. Probably because a lot of the people in my family are adopted, it has always seemed like a normal thing, and like the right thing. I know I am capable of loving any child, whether I spit it out or not. But here's the problem: My plan has always been to have two children, and then to adopt two children. Why is this a problem, you ask? Why not just adopt 4 children? Because I want at least one of them to be a baby. But I will not adopt babies. It goes against everything I believe to wait around to adopt a baby from a private agency, when there are so many older children out there in state care who need homes. Let the babies go to the people who are even more infertile than me. There are older children who have to sleep on cots in the Child Protective Services offices at night because there are not enough homes for older children. So my plan has always been to have two babies of my own, and then to adopt two older children, most likely a sibling group.

So, stopping fertility treatments for me would not only mean giving up on the idea of having a child of my own, although that was never really the issue, since I planned on adopting at some point anyway. Instead it would would mean giving up on the idea of having a baby, since I am not willing to adopt a baby. It would mean giving up the first few years of all my children's lives, and not getting to take part in those formative years at all.

I don't know how long I can keep going with the treatments before I give up on them, or the money runs out, but even if they don't work, nothing will stop me from having kids. But I may still slap the next person who asks me, "Why don't you just adopt?" I plan to, but on my own schedule, and if I choose to try to spit out a couple before I do, that's my business.

Ok, rant over. Enough for now.

Ummm, okay...

I have Google Analytics installed for my blog, to track various statistics, and the latest Google search phrase that directed someone to my blog was this:

cute babies discovered early obsession with boobies

WTF? Why would somebody do a search query like that? It's a little disturbing that it directed somebody to my blog, as well. What does it mean? Weird.

Still not knocked up...

It's official. I am still not knocked up. Today is Cycle Day 1. Aunt Flo has arrived, cramps and all. So here we go again, IUI with Clomid #2. What fun.

In other news, I took my two nephews to Schlitterbahn on Friday. Overall, we did manage to have a good time, but because we had to wait in the lines for so long, we only got to do 3 rides. In my opinion, it was not worth the $100 for the tickets. If we had been willing to spend the entire day waiting in line for the big rides, the most we could have possibly done would have been 6-7 rides. Max. Soooo not worth it. I guess they don't take into consideration that 1-2 hour lines are miserable for little kids (9 and 6), and absolutely unacceptable for their flustered, hormonal, infertile aunt. Uggghhhh. I went on a weekday, for crying out loud. It shouldn't have been that bad. At least the boys had a good time overall. I was about ready to demand my money back. They shut down the entire section of the park we were in, during the middle of the day, for 45 minutes, because they had to clean the water. Apparently, some kid puked in the water on the other side of the park, because he got too overheated, and they had to shut it down and make everybody get out of the water for almost an hour to clean the water. Do they not realize that: 1. little kids spend all day pissing in the water; 2. there is enough chlorine in that water to kill a horse; and 3. Nobody gives a fuck. It is a water park. People want to be in the water. I mean, did they never notice that the water is always warmer in the kiddie pools? That is not a coincidence. I'm all for cleaning up the chunks and letting the chlorine do the rest. Idiots. They let people swim in the water without blood tests, because of the chlorine. Do they really think that anything from a little kids stomach could be more resistant to chlorine than Hepatitis C or HPV, not to mention other bodily fluids? Oh well.

Yesterday, Brad and I laid around the house all day, being lazy bums. We watched TV most of the day. It was kind of nice. I needed to recuperate from Friday, anyway. Now I need to get up and call the fertility clinic to let them know it is CD1, and schedule a CD3 ultrasound. Then, we need to do some work around this house. At least, that is the plan for now.

I don't really feel any older.

So I'm 25. My birthday was on Saturday, and I'm now 25. I don't really feel any older. Saturday morning, I slept in. When I woke up, Brad had already gotten back with my favorite breakfast items - 2 sausage, egg & cheese McGriddles, 2 ham, egg & cheese croissants from the donut shop, and 2 big, gooey cinnamon rolls from the donut shop. Yum. He had also been out garage-sale-ing, and had bought a whole bunch of old Disney VHS tapes. I'm starting a collection. So then we sat and watched my favorite Disney movie, Beauty & the Beast. After that, we got up and got dressed, and headed into Austin. My birthday present from him was a $200 shopping spree. He was my chauffeur and purse-holder for the day. I dragged him all over Austin. One of the things I was looking for was a new pair of black sandals, to go with the dress I was wearing. It turns out that the DSW in North Austin has closed down. Crap. So we went to Shoe Pavillion, where they don't carry anything above a ladies size 10 shoe. I wear an 11.5 wide, but can sometimes get away with an 11, and usually a 12. But, no luck at any of the stores we went to. They discriminate against girls with big feet, big boobs, and big heads. I have all three. Shoes and bras are very hard to find, and forget finding a ladies hat if you have an abnormally large head (It all runs in my family). Bastards.

So after unsuccessful shoe shopping, we went to Ross and I bought new towels for my bathroom. They are a nice sage green, and they do not have that annoying woven band at the end. You know, the one that always shrinks more than the rest of the towel (it's called differential shrinkage). That band is absent. Now my towels fold nicely. Yay! I bagged up the old, mismatched towels this morning, and they are sitting in the donate pile. Woo hoo!

After shopping all afternoon, we went to The Boiling Pot on 6th Street, where we met up with my Mom & step-dad, and my Aunt Jan and her best friend Linda. First we had a few dozen raw oysters, with crackers and horseradish. Then we had a good cajun seafood boil with shrimp, crawdad, blue crab, stone crab, snow crab, king crab, sausage, potatoes, and corn on the cob. They boil all this stuff in one big pot, then dump it out in the center of the table (it's covered in butcher paper) and everybody digs in. No dishes or silverware, just crab mallets and your hands and a roll of paper towels. Oh, and a plastic bib. It's great fun. Expensive, but fun.

Then we came home and watched TV. Yesterday, I bought groceries, and school supplies for my two nephews. Last night we had steaks on the grill. Now I need to go write thank-you notes to my Mom, Jan, and Linda, for the gifts they brought, and for coming to dinner in the first place.

Waiting... again.

On Friday, 7/18/08, I finally got a positive OPK, so I called the clinic and scheduled the IUI for the next morning. Of course services are 20% more expensive on the weekends, but whatever. Saturday morning we got up at 5:45 so I could get ready and make it to the clinic by 8:00 for the hand-off of the little brown bag. Of course, we don't live within an hour of the clinic, so there was no collecting it at home. We had to drive up there and let him go use their facilities. Then we went window shopping for two hours while they did the sperm washing. At 10:30, I went in for the IUI while Brad napped in the truck. The doctor did the IUI, and I must say, her technique is flawless. Didn't feel a thing. I laid flat on my back for 15 minutes, and we were on our way. We drove to Marble Falls to visit Brad's parents (the most boring people in the world), and spent Saturday night there. I spent most of my time knitting and napping, while they went on and on about shit we couldn't care less about. His parents are both about 70, and have decided that they are old, so they sit at home watching TV, and bickering with each other. That's all. They don't do anything else, or go out anywhere, or visit anybody. Blech. My grandma is 74, and is far from being old. She is always keeping her great-grandkids, or volunteering at the elementary school, or volunteering to drive the "old" ladies from the local nursing home to their doctor and hairdresser appointments, or going out somewhere with her boyfriend. It's like she refuses to get old. And she is one of the most fun people to talk to. She's smart and funny, and sharp as a whip. I would much rather go visit my Grandma, if given the option.

So after visiting his parents, we went and visited Brad's best friend Jay, and his wife Misty. Misty is finally pregnant, after years of trying, and lots of fertility treatments. I'm happy for her, and hopefully I will get pregnant soon, too. For now, I'm back in the 2ww, and I hate waiting. Patience is not one of my strong suits. I may take forever to make up my mind about something, but once I do, I want it right then. Oh well. By nature, this is primarily a waiting game. But nobody ever said I have to like it.

Mad Cow Disease

Why do they call that time before a woman's period PMS?

Because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.

The name Mad Cow Disease is definitely a more accurate descriptor of what I am feeling, though. I guess all of these *symptoms* were just the worst PMS I have ever had in my whole life. Why would Mother Nature choose to make the symptoms of PMS the *same* as the symptoms of early pregnancy? Why? It just doesn't seem right. Sore boobs, awful bloating, terrible mood swings... the whole meal deal. Which I normally don't get nearly so bad. And to top it off, I'm not even knocked up.

No, I have not started my period. I went for the bloodwork today, and the pregnancy test was negative. You know, I'm past due to start my period, and that would have been just as reliable an indicator of a negative. But of course, that would have been cheaper than bloodwork, and Mother Nature is still conspiring against me. I swear, she must have some sort of deal worked out with the doctors so she gets some sort of kickback for fucking with my life. Bitch.

So now I get to wait for the inevitable flood, schedule a CD3 Ultrasound and an HSG for me, and a semen analysis for Brad. Yay - an ultrasonic dildo and radioactive dye up the twat, and romance in a cup. What fun.

So here we go again. Ding ding, round 2. Clomid with intercourse. If his swimmers need help we'll switch it to Clomid with IUI.

To Pee or Not To Pee...

I am still firmly entrenched in the 2ww, and it sucks. I have HPTs in my bathroom cabinet that are, only through sheer force of will, undrenched. I discovered a nifty little website called PeeOnAStick.com, and I know it is still too early to test, but Dear God, I really want to. Just a few more days... It's driving me nuts... not that I really had far to go, but still. The site has all kinds of cool info about HPTs and OPKs. Still doesn't help with the waiting, though. Gee, thanks, Dr. Google.

I did get news from the blood work I had drawn yesterday. Drumroll, please... The results show that I did actually ovulate. Yay! I knew (hoped) Lucy & Ethel could do it. Good job, girls! Maybe the problem before was that they were jealous of my boobs having names, but now that they are getting some of the attention, they're willing to perform. Apparently, ovaries need love, too. Who knew?

So, on to the *symptoms.* I have *symptoms* - ssshhhhh! Granted, it's probably just PMS, but whatever it is, it sucks. My boobs are so tender it feels like Eddie & Earl are going to fall off onto the floor, and my nipples are killing me. I'm bloated, and exhausted too. On top of all that, I'm bitchy, whiny, and lazy... oh wait, that's normal.

And I've been googling baby clothes and baby names, which I normally avoid like the plague, so I can pretend that being infertile doesn't bother me, because hey, I'm not baby obsessed. No babynames.com or Gymboree in my web history, nosirrrreeeee. Until today. Effin' nesting. So visit my name list and vote. Or look at the disgustingly cute baby girl clothes with me... come on, one hit won't hurt.

I'll tell you a funny story though. Remember how I said my nipples hurt? A bra doesn't help the pain, and my anatomy is such that they poke outwards if they are not restrained. I was in my kitchen cooking a couple days ago, and I reach for the can of Crisco cooking spray, to spray the casserole dish. First, I go to shake it though. It goes successfully upwards, but on the downstroke, I manage to hit my protruding right nipple with the edge of the can of cooking spray. Hard. The thin T-shirt I was wearing did not afford me any protection at all. First, I screamed, then crumpled on the floor in a crying, gibbering heap. It hurt so bad. Brad comes running, and is laughing at me as I explain what happened. His response: "You want me to kiss it?" Bastard.

Welcome to Hell...

...a.k.a. the Two Week Wait, or for those of you who have had to put any extra effort into getting knocked up: the 2ww. I got a positive OPK on Sunday, 6/15/08, so Brad and I have made like bunnies, as per the doctor's orders. I go for blood work on 6/23 to confirm that I did actually ovulate, and then more on 6/30 for a pregnancy test. Now I am in the phase where I am stuck waiting for two weeks to find out if I am pregnant. It sucks. I am a worrier, and very impatient, so this feels to me like marking time (for you non-band-nerds, that means marching in place) in the hot Texas sun, while sweat trickles down my back. It's miserable.

Speaking of heat, this is turning out to be one of the hottest Junes on record. We have been remodeling, inside and out, and the exterior of the house only lacks a few pieces of drip-edge flashing, and a paint job. But it has been too damn hot to go outside to finish it up. This morning at 10am it was already 92 degrees out there. Even after dark, it's uncomfortably hot. It's comparable to being on house arrest. And I can't imagine that it will get any better any time soon, as we still have 10 days left of June, all of July, and August, and most of September before we typically get a break in the heat around here. We are already in a drought, and no rain in sight.

Like I said, welcome to Hell.

Yes, I am screwing my husband.

So I got the situation with the fertility clinic all sorted out. Apparently, they weren't even going to submit the claim to my insurance. They just interpreted my benefits how they wanted to and billed me based on that. They decided that my insurance covering infertility testing, but not infertility treatment, meant that only the first appointment when the diagnosis of infertility was made, would be covered. What a bunch of idiots. And, they marked my chart as 'infertility-unspecified origin' instead of 'PCOS', which is more accurate, and more likely to be covered. I had to explain to them that in the future they needed to mark the reason code as PCOS, and always submit a claim, whether they think it will be covered or not. You never know unless you try, right?

Also, they didn't read the fine print, or didn't read my chart, because my insurance specifically excludes IUI and IVF, but it does not exclude clomid with intercourse. I was trying to explain this to them and they're like, "You're using intercourse? Are you sure?" And I'm telling them, "Yes, I'm sure I am having sex with my husband to try to make a baby. " As if I might be confused about what we have been doing all this time. (I'm pretty sure we have been doing it right, although it's obvious that information from my middle school health teacher can't be trusted. She told the class that girls would get pregnant easily, so she might have been wrong about what hole to put it in, as well.) The nurses said the word 'intercourse' like it was a bad word, or some sort of freaky fetish that they would rather not hear about, instead of the normal way of procreating. I guess working at a fertility clinic will make you forget that not everyone can go for the big guns all at once.

Once I made them understand that I was going to continue to try to reproduce with the normal method, plus a little chemical assistance, they were like, "Oh, well your insurance will cover that! And your next appointment, too! We'll just put it as a credit on your account. Minus the co-pay of course. Have a nice day!"

But I got it sorted out. Insurance will pay. I win. Yay! Now over to google to verify that the information my middle school teacher gave me is correct. Just kidding, I know we've been doing it right. Although I am always amazed by how often people, upon learning of my infertility issues, ask, "Are you sure you're doing it right?" What idiots. Yes, I am screwing my husband, and I am doing it properly. Jeez!

Paying For the Pleasure

So I've been really remiss lately in my posting, or lack thereof. I will try to improve the frequency. On Tuesday 6/3/08, I went to my appointment to check for cysts before beginning clomid. Traffic was hell, as usual, but I made it on time (not early though). I waited in the waiting room for about 10 minutes, and had plenty of interesting reading material. There was a wide variety of magazines: 3 issues of Tropical Fish Hobbyist (which I love), Time, Nat'l Geographic, several hunting and golfing magazines and various others. Blessedly few parenting magazines. One thing I feel it is important to note is that there were no copies of the obnoxious Conceive magazine (check here for more about Conceive - (Maybe If You Just Relax). Another magazine I noticed was missing was Infertile Whore. I bet a fellow infertile stole it.

After waiting for the briefest of times, I went and had my Cycle Day 3 vaginal ultrasound. Yuk! Whoever thought of putting an ultrasound wand there while a woman was on the rag was a brave muthafucka, let me tell ya. And then, they had the balls to tell me that it would be $180, instead of my $35 specialist copay, because my insurance doesn't cover fertility treatments, only infertility diagnosis. So I'm standing there arguing with this lady, trying to make her understand that an ultrasound is a *diagnostic* procedure, not an infertility treatment. And because this was CD3, the conversation went something like this:

Me: An ultrasound is a *diagnostic* procedure, not an infertility treatment.

Scared Billing Clerk: But it's part of the treatment, so they won't pay for it.

Me: Look, how can I explain this. It's not, under any circumstances that I can think of, a *treatment.* Yes, I am undergoing infertility treatment - Clomid. The ultrasound is simply to monitor my health while I undergo said treatment, and to diagnose any additional infertility issues. Y'all can stand around and jab me in the twat with an ultrasound wand all day long, and it will not make me any more fertile. You get my husband in on the action and it might improve your chances a little, and certainly make it more fun, but the ultrasound will not *treat* my infertility.

Scared Billing Clerk: Um, ma'am can you lower your voice? Feel free to call your insurance company and see if they will cover it. Today's total will be $180. Have a nice day.

So I wrote her a check, walked to my truck, and had a nervous breakdown. I sat and boo-hooed til I couldn't cry any more. I was so mad and frustrated. I knew all of this would be expensive and stressful, but from appointment no. 2? And I didn't even see the doctor! If I had been looking to get screwed, I could have gone down to Rundberg & Lamar, stood on the corner for a few minutes with the other working girls, and had somebody *pay me* for the pleasure.

What a bunch of bullshit! Arrrggghhhh!

Personal Service

For the past few months, there has been a radio ad playing that is an advertisement for car insurance with "personal service." In this commercial, someone is trying to sell the insurance to a guy based on this personal service, and the guy responds with something like, "Well, I don't really like service, and especially not *personal* service." It is supposed to be funny, and on the surface it is, because everybody wants personal service, right?

Well, today I figured out that I really don't like personal service all that much. I had been looking for a specific kind of paint at the local big-box home improvement store, and I couldn't find what I was looking for, so I went to two different paint stores. At both, it felt like they were trying to sell me a new car. Most of the things they had out on display were just accessories and specialty items. For regular paint, you pick a color, tell the salesman what finish and use you want, and they sell it to you without you even seeing a can of paint. Now, I understand that most of these stores are designed for the average joe-blow consumer who doesn't know his asshole from Jesus, but that's not me. Possibly because I have a higher IQ than a radish, or maybe because I am the queen of indecision, I actually want to evaluate all of my options, without some car salesman standing over my shoulder. I don't have a problem with somebody greeting me when I enter the store, and asking me if they can help me, but when I say I'm just looking around, I want them to go away until I request their help. If I want to compare labels for an hour, then I will. Because I am a very tactile person, I like for stores to have everything out on display, so I can see and touch all of my choices.

It's the same at shoe stores where they have one of each type of shoe displayed, and the salesperson will bring you the correct size. I don't really like having to wait for somebody else to get things for me, and I don't like people to be waiting on me to make a decision. Maybe I grew up middle-class enough to not really shop at stores where you get personal service, and so I can't get used to it. Who knows... All I do know is that I'll stick with the big-box stores and their crappy service. After all, who really wants personal service, anyway?

Coronary In A Can

I'm going to kill my little sister. We went to Garden Ridge Pottery last weekend, and as we were going through the check out line with our cart full of goodies, I hear Erin squeal in delight. I turn to see what the fuss is about, and she is holding up a kit labeled "Carnival Funnel Cakes." It has two cans of powdered funnel cake mix and a funky looking pitcher with a spout. She says, "Stacy, you have to get this for me!" It looks something like this, minus a can:
Being the sensible one, I refuse to pay what they were asking for that crap (now I don't remember the exact figure). But, of course, Erin keeps begging. So I compromise, and agree to buy her one can of the original flavor that they have as a refill, sans pitcher. After all, what idiot can't figure out how to pour batter from a pyrex measuring cup? We then proceed to checkout, and then on to home. Later that evening, Erin and her hubby depart to go back to Huntsville. The next day, I realize that Erin left something behind, aside from the usual dirty dishes and odd sock. She left this:

So I put it in my kitchen cabinet to save for her. That is, until this evening when I got the munchies. So much for my diet. Now my kitchen counter looks like this:


Whoever came up with this idea needs to be shot! I can feel my arteries clogging, just thinking about it. It really was pretty darn good, though.