My house is being taken over by TICKS!

Gross.

I don't think I can stress how disgusting a matter this is. I love in the boonies, with fields and woods aplenty. I'm used to ticks and have often taken them off my dogs, but in just one weekend, I have been the discoverer of 4 out of the 5 ticks we have found.

The thing that puts me off guard is that they are just crawling around. Usually they are just fat ugly creatures attached to the dogs or cat, but the other day, the first tick of the season was on...

ME!

Just crawling around my thumb. I was laying in bed just watching TV. I looked at my hand and thought there was a tiny spider and I was about to freak out when I saw the tear drop shaped belly. Interesting though, I have been doing muchos research on these foul things and have come to learn that they are related to the spider family.

I didn't flip out when I found out it was a tick because I didn't want to fling it somewhere unknown in my bed, so I just grabbed a tissue and squashed it. It wouldn't die though because it was a flat belly, remember, it never attached to me.

So I went to tell my rents I found a tick, even though it was the middle of the night. I thought they might be somewhat concerned seeing how ticks can carry Lyme disease and other repulsive infectious bacteria. Nope... more fascinated by sleep.

That's okay though because it wasn't a huge deal, we've just never had them crawling around before and I wanted to warn them that it was now officially tick season. Which until this weekend I thought only occurred in the summer/fall. But I get mixed up pretty easily with time and seasons and when certain events happen.

MUCH freakier the next day (today - Wednesday [I'm still up so I consider this Wednesday night even though it's technically Thursday].

I wake up to get ready for school and my mom tells me that my DAD had a tick. What? A tick? On my dad? We've never had ticks before. Ever. Not on us, not on the impenetrable perfect human flesh that surrounds our very being. Gross.

Apparently it was on his thigh and was dead yet still attached. I've never even heard of that. And still after my hours of research, I have not heard a similar story.

THEN, I'm petting my doogle and find a bump. Yay! Another one! First thing in the morning, no WAY I'm dealing with it. I want to eat my breakfast without vomiting, thank you very much. My mommy takes care of it and all is well. My dad is out at a meeting so it seems that he's alright and his leg can be checked out later.

Later that morning, after showering, beautifying myself and all that jazz, I again go see miss Frankie, the wonderfully cute but not so smart dog with the under bite. I see something shimmying around on her thigh and look closer. It was like the thing I had on my hand the other night!

"Wait here Frankie, don't move an inch."

Of course she moves in the less than 5-second time span it took for me to run to the bathroom and get a tissue. She had her head on her leg, but luckily, she didn't lose the little sucker. It just went to her cheek. Flushed it down and warned the cleaning lady that I found another tick, so she would be on the lookout.

Here's the fun part of the story: I come home from school and thank the lord my dad is home. He shows me the bite which I then inspected for a bullseye. It wasn't at all what I expected. There was like this black crater surrounded by red. The red could have been a ring, or maybe inflammation. I have never seen anything black like that, though. So I am immediately freaked out, tell him to go to the doctor. He tells me he's going to go chainsawing, so I GOOGLE tick bites to compare the marks to see if he will get weak and pass out in a short amount of time.

The information we found led him to call the doctor's office. Nobody was there. Why would nobody be at the doctor's? That is THE stupidest thing I have heard of in a looong time.
It's just like, hey I'm having a seizure, but I'll wait until tomorrow when you return. Oh, I guess I'm not that allergic to bee stings... maybe the venom won't flow until you return tomorrow. This severe food poisoning? I should be able to hold out until tomorrow...

Anyway, my dad hasn't gone to the doctor and I am super paranoid that he is going to have paralysis or something severe. The closest resemblance I found on the internet is:


Minus the little red bump at the top. But, uh, the name of this kind of worries me: African Tick Bite Fever.

I don't know if that's what my dad has, necessarily, but I'm thinking the worst so I can't be surprised if it turns out to be something REALLY bad. And this picture = pretty much what is on my daddy's leg. Although, I would like another look, especially after all the pictures and different bullseyes I've seen since I first saw it.

The story doesn't stop there, oh no, that would be too convenient for this house. My cat, of course had one HUGE tick that I found right before I was planning on going to bed. I of course never ended up falling asleep because I had to take care of the situation and had the curiosity to do more searching on GOOGLE. I got to try a different removal technique. I didn't know that they let go on their own, but that website helped with this advice:

"To remove a tick from your skin, the proper way is as follows:
First, using tweezers, grasp the tick as close to its head as possible. Gently lift the tick away from your skin until your skin puckers.Hold the tick in this position until the tick lets go. This may take a few seconds to one minute."

There are products that help one to remove a tick without squashing it. If you do squash the tick's belly, it will release its contents back into the bitten animal which puts the pet (or person) at higher risk of infection. Another thing I learned, although I never tried any of these methods, is that contrary to popular belief, one should NEVER use alcohol, nail polish, nail polish remover,a lit match, a just blown out match, etc. with a tick. What happens is the tick senses something is trying to attack it and as a result, it regurgitates back into the animal. Again, putting the animal at higher risk...

This website, although having many bad suggestions, has insightful ones also. I did not know that you can tell you got the whole tick when you see something that looks like a "long white tube" coming from its head. When I pulled the tick from my cat, I looked for that, and sure enough, I got it out correctly.

I love learning new things via the internet, but also love hearing real testimonials of what is actually good advice or a bad product. So the last little tidbit I am going to add is that this final website was consistently the most knowledgeable one and although I had the misfortune to find it AFTER my last tick removal of the day, it is still an interesting read and I now know that flushing ticks does not kill them.

I can't wait to see where this great tick adventure will take me tomorrow.

Oh, wait. Yes I can.

"Guarana? Tsk, tsk."

You know that 5 Hour Energy commercial? I know you do. It talks about how bad guarana is. Well actually, it talks about how the other pick-me-up drinks have guarana - "tsk tsk."

My mom and I were watching TV when this commercial came up. She asked, "what's guarana?" My response was: "I don't know. I've been wondering that for awhile now."

So here come in my two favorite sources, GOOGLE and Wikipedia. My findings were shocking: guarana is a seed that comes from a plant native to the Amazon and Brazil. It has three times as much caffeine as a coffee bean.

Funny, according to 5 Hour Energy's ingredients, the formula includes caffeine. So why is the ad dissing guarana?

Furthermore, and this is my favorite part, taking 37.5mg or 75mg (based on studies) of guarana increases memory retention, alertness, mood, physical endurance, and other general cognitive effects. Tests were done both on rats AND humans.

"Other laboratory studies showed antioxidant and antibacterial effect, and also fat cell reduction from chronic intake of guarana."

Well, guarana doesn't sound so awful to me. Does it sound that bad to you? Just remember the power of advertising and bogus suggestions that people assume to be true or just don't give any second thought to.

*One negative side effect is that guarana CAN cause seizures in SOME people in excessive amounts. I feel common sense is one huge thing to have and anybody who drinks too much soda or caffeine or anything like that is pretty much asking negative things to come to them.

I'm getting sued by a Corporate Company? Not uh!

So I've been selling these really sweet shirts that I designed and made in order to support the Obama campaign. I have sold some to family friends who actually don't live in the state I'm advertising.

Anyways I guess these shirts have been gathering debate among the buyers and those who notice them. I had based the logo off of a famous company's logo, same shape, colors, different design. Poor friends think I, a tiny little college girl, so alone and lost in a giant confusing world, am gonna get sued.

Fortunately for me, I have a live-in lawyer whom some might call my daddy. The other night, when we went out to eat at the local pub, he started telling me about his friend's worries. He started telling me about Andy Warhol.

I love pop art, by the way. I am currently making this layered construction paper collage-thing of one of Lichtenstein's comics. It's pretty amazing. I'm just awesome at thinking of cool new things. Back to mon novelle.

Andy Warhol, if no one remembers, did that Marilyn painting, the very colorful one? That's one thing he's famous for, but we're gonna talk about soup cans.

Campbell.

Andy Warhol was sued. He also painted soup cans for commercial publicity and probably other reasons, like the fact that soup cans look cool. But he was never charged with anything because of this little thing called the "fair use" copyright law.

Which I guess means if you take something and make it your own, everything's good in the hood. The only thing I would ever be afraid of if I was sued would be bringing negativity to the Obama campaign. Of course, like his pastor, Obama has no controlling of what I do and so it would be non of his fault. Would be pretty cool if he knew who I was, though.

At the Peacejam thing, several people said I should market my shirts. And I'm not gonna take any legal or executive action, just continue making them. But I may throw an ad in the back of my car and drive to a much bigger town. First I gotta make a bunch, because as of now, I have none.

Until I have chance to pick up some more tees for a custom order, my shop is on hold. But for shameless commercial purposes, if anyone is interested in finding out more (I don't write details because I don't want people to steal my idea that I worked so hard on), just leave a comment or something. Selling them for $15, or about 20 including shipping, with ALL proceeds being DONATED to Barack Obama's presidential campaign.

It's the little people like me that makes Obama so revolutionary, not to mention Obama himself. Vote for the one that didn't grow up as a politician!

It's been over 3 months and I STILL can't believe I have a giant bar in my ear!

Industrials.

Not just a term for machinery. Nope, in the piercing world, industrials refer to a double piercing, most commonly known to be in the ear:


That's my ear! Courtesy of the wicked high quality webcam on my laptop.

Pretty much I'm a chicken. I hate needles. Hate them. Probably not as much as my sister (who hid under the doctor's table thing when she was younger to avoid getting shots), but I've been known to be quite threatening when approached with a syringe.

The last couple experiences with needles initially didn't seem so bad, but I have pretty bad reactions. Last summer, I had my blood drawn. Not fun. Would NOT recommend it. EVER. They didn't tell me they would need to fill up 3 vials. And neither did my RN mother. She said it would take 10 seconds.

Thanks mom.

Not quite, it was like forever in my mind. And it didn't feel nice. An achy kind of pain that you just want to cry through. Like a really bad day, not so much a sharp pain, but a dull, ebbing pain. I would absolutely not have agreed to the blood drawing if I didn't feel like such a toughie for getting my tattoo a week earlier. And it was either two days before or after that that I had my meningitis vaccination.

The meningitis shot is exactly why I hate getting poked and prodded. I use the shot guard thing, because, again, I am a chicken. So it hardly even hurt. I was like "Oh wow, that was nothing, I don't know why I've been scared of needles for so long."

I got a wake up call later that night. I had a REALLY bad reaction where my right arm started cramping and aching and numbing. Then that pain jumped to my left arm as the right got worse. And my mother, the RN, wouldn't help. I even went into my rents' room bawling and nobody cared, all the while the cramping continued to take over my entire body.

Things like that are just scary. My sister ended up taking care of me, bless her soul. Gave me a few benadryl and ibuprofen and I was out in about half an hour. Thank science for (legal) drugs that quickly take pain away.

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Anyway, I meant for this story to start at one point and go forward, but it seems to be going backwards in time. Oh well.

Ever since fourth grade I had wanted my belly button pierced. My mom did too (mine, not hers) for some reason, even though she wouldn't let me get my ears pierced a second time. At age 13 at the end of 8th grade, I was given a paid appointment for my birfday. I ended up chickening out, which I am SOOO glad for because as it turned out, the place I went to never had a license for navel piercings. I found this out when I called up 2 years later and was told they no longer did piercings. The guy who did end up piercing me told me all these horrific stories about the woman there. Eck. He was awesome though, Pat. With the giant earlobes. My sister recommended the shop after getting her tattoo (really brave of her, but I would guess symbolic reasons and emotional connections helped to encourage her).

So my navel piercing was really my first big step in facing a needle phobia. It was the MOST intense pain, like I knew the meaning of the word "pierce," but that feeling was the shortest moment of time. Like the snap of a finger; a millisecond. So I thought I was good because after that I didn't feel a thing.

But then I was told to stand. And I passed out.

I guess something about blood running to and fro or something like that, it leaves your brain and bam, you're falling with no intention of doing so. Fortunately the chair/table thing was behind me AND so was my dad! Who caught me before I like hit my head or something.

So the rest of the day I feel faint, although, it was one of the best days of my life. Also I got really good ice cream afterwards.

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So last year, I figured "if I could get my belly button pierced, I can get a tattoo, especially if Libby could get one too."

So tattoo, no whoop. I was surprised. Yeah, it hurt, but nothing I've never experienced before. I went to the same place that I got my piercing. Turns out, everybody there remembers my daddy because he wants this lame-ass Boston "B" on his bicep (I lie, the Boston "B" could never be lame, even on a bicep) and I guess that stands out in people's minds. I think it was also the fact that he made such a big deal about actually being with me when I got it done. He's a big wussy: can't stand wiggly teeth and other little weird things like that.

My tattooer said that people describe the pain like a cat scratch or a beesting. And it pretty much felt like someone was carving up my arm. The best way I can describe it was that it was the worst tolerable pain. I hadn't had a beesting since I was like 5 so I don't remember what that feels like but after it was all done and wrapped up and paid for and ready to go, it had this annoying burning sensation that I can only imagine is what people felt when they described tattoos as beestings.

When I got a touch-up, I didn't get that burning feeling so hooray! I would totally just ink up my entire body if I had the money (and if that appealed to me) because in the end, it was really no big deal. I though I would feel weak like when I got pierced, but I felt pumped and ready to go. "Slow Ride" was playing on the radio and lasted for like ever and I think I spent the rest of the day playing video games.

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So one good experience and I'm all "needles can't be that bad....and if I could get a tattoo...and a piercing...I could go ahead and get health-related vaccinations."

Then I had those terrible experiences...

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Main point of the story:

I had seen an industrial for the first time my senior year of high school and immediately I KNEW I wanted one.

So finally, I'm 18, I can do whatever, I just got money from Christmas and my friend is getting a tattoo. The guy who pierced me before has left "my" shop, so I have to go international (outta state) anyway. My friend and I make a pact to get art-ed together so we go to her choice shop a few days before New Years.

Oh My Geezum. The industrial is supposed to be one of the most painful and most highly rejected piercings. I thought I might chicken out, but as you can see, I didn't.

In fact, I didn't get the chance to. The piercer, a woman with horns surgically implanted in her head, made fun of me when I freaked out when she brought the pen to my ear. I didn't know it was a pen. But she goes and makes fun of me, and I relax a bit because I'm thinking, "Oh, she's making the placements, so I'll still get to look in the mirror before needle time."

My lobes (I think), b-button AND tattoo were all "placed" and I got to have the ultimate decision if things were placed just right, so I just assumed that this would be the same case.

Nobody warns me that she's about to stab me with a giant hollow needle. I think she planned it that way. Seriously genius. I wasn't even given a chance to chicken out. She has one hole done and I hardly felt it, it hurt less than my belly button. And before I can truly comprehend the situation, she says "take a breath" and the thought that I'm halfway done and there is no backing out ran across my mind and I automatically did what I was told. The second one didn't feel as sharp of a pain, but was more wide spread.

So then I made new friends in my new semester and one of them has hers done. I guess it had started to reject so she went to some wicked good lady to consult who told her that she shouldn't have had it pierced in the first place. She apparently doesn't have the right kind of ears.

And get this! The lady she went to go see turns out to be the lady who pierced my ear! AAAAND... I guess she is like one of the best piercers not only in the area, but in Massachusetts. In New England.

So I got pierced by the best of the best. A great experience, but seeing that I'm still surprised that I have a permanent piece of art on my arm and it took me forever to get used to my navel piercing (which is now weird for me to be without), I'm still not used to metal rod in my head.

And I still can't believe that I went through with it! I'm so surprised with myself on a daily basis now. And I'm currently looking for the perfect picture of a dragon to get tattooed on my hip. I had originally thought that would be my first one, but the rose is MUCH more meaningful to me.

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On a completely unrelated side note: The Wedding Singer is just about the greatest movie ever. I think it was the first movie I ever saw at this house and is just a great classic with great songs. It's on ABC Family right now and brings back quite a bit of memories.

Stephen Colbert, will you Marry Me?

Dancing to "Funky Town" at 15 till midnight is just about the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Getting that song out of a fish? Even better.

After months of watching your show, I have become addicted. Yes, every single night. I'm hooked, there is no living without "The Colbert Report." I must admit, however, that I first fell for John Stewart's show.

In my social studies III (roman numerals - so fancy!) class in high school, my teacher, who in a pinch could BE John Stewart, would have us watch John Stewart. He would tape it the night before and bring it in the next day. Of course, the clips he would show would be completely relevant to what we were discussing in class that day... Or of Bush being in idiot.

I never used to watch these shows on Comedy Central. I'm a South Park/Lil Bush kinda girl. I would watch bits and pieces of "The Daily Show" every now and then when I was flipping through channels, but it never interested me, even though politics always has.

After my social studies class, I started to watch Stewart. Sometimes record it on my DVR, most of the time, not. I would always change the channel after that. But then, you know how TVs always manage to mess up things somehow? Your show became one with "The Daily Show" in its own little news comedy hour long fun package. Or it could have been me being bad at recording, this was over a year ago.

I started watching "The Colbert Report" quite often as well. It probably wasn't until the writers strike that I started watching EVERY day. I really got to see how great you, Stephen, and John are at improving. I honestly think that the shows became much better and really took off during that time. You guys were wild and could let loose and talk about anything, ANYTHING.

Unfortunately, after the strike, when the writers came back, Stewart's show started to, well, kind of lag.

But yours Stephen, oh wow! It still REALLY soared. Being quite the sarcastic person myself, I have really fallen in love with your asstitude. I am in awe with your over flowing abundance of personality and charisma.

My mother often finds you to be insulting and rude, but she also doesn't know anything about anything. And she talks back to the TV, which I might add is one of the MOST annoying things people can do. Unless they argue with it, because that's just funny. But no, she agrees and says stupid stuff that just irritates the skin off of my body.

Getting back to the point, I know you are married, and I am not wickedly attracted to you physically (no offense, you know you're charming), but holy cow. Being with you must mean never going to bed angry.

Well, I guess that isn't much incentive, because that is already true for the here and now. Watching "The Colbert Report" right before bed, who could be mad?

Maybe my mother.



That was meant to be rhetorical, but oh well, I answered my own don't answer question. You closed the deal for me tonight with this little black fishy (which is now on pause because I felt I HAD to write this RIGHT now with NO time to waste).

Funky Town is just one of those wicked funny songs. Towelie = the best person making fun of it (until tonight) in that one episode of South Park. "That's it. That's the melody to Funky Town."

But he doesn't dance. And he only finds the music through a code thingie, like the telephone tones. You found the music through a fish. A fish! Which apparently had just been discovered to make sounds.

A fish. Jeez, Colbert, you are a genius. My respect for you is forever undying.

Peace Jam Northeast! Spread the peace!

Yep. Chilling in Springfield/Chicopee in support of my auntie. And, of course, world peace. I mean, why not?

Last night she spoke at this opera house building. Funny story: I get to drive there because I'm the automatic DD. Well, we took two cars, but I parked the CR-V in a pretty close parking area, same one as the other car. The other car gets to park in handicap because I guess my grammie has a hanging thingie (you know what I mean). Like five spots down is one car, empty spot, one car. This is the extent of the parking area; it is quite small.

I had no choice but to park in between the two cars because the rest of the spaces were handicapable. I drive on over to my designated space which is TINY. I mean TEENY TINY. The car on the left is not only right on the line but also angled in. The car on the right was not so much on the line but was also angled in. It was like I had to park straight in a triangle. In a mini-suv.

I have to warn you right now that I have road rage. Not like a "Oh I'm mad, that car just cut me off," but more like a, "Don't do it m***********! It's MY turn. Stay there, stay, don't pull out.. oh F***! You little B****!" Then I would go on yelling about how he better speed up fast because I'm not going to slow down. My theory is that if you are going to pull out in front of someone, you should quickly speed up to their pace before they catch up to you. Aaaaand, if they didn't, I would get right on their bumper, because they so could've waited, there was no one behind me.
Stupid drivers. Huge pet-peeve of mine.

Anyway, no one cut in front of me, that was just an example of how I would react. You don't want to see me around tractor trailer trucks. Actually, I don't know if I already mentioned this, but my dream way of dying is in some crazy car accident involving a tractor trailer truck and it would be the LAST accident because they would then BAN trucks from roads and highways in accordance to the Emma Law.

Yes, quite off track, but that is my dream. Hopefully way down the road, I am still quite young.

When I park, I have to readjust several times to squeeze in. This big gang member in the back of the car (yes, my car) was like, "maybe you should let me out first..."

So I park, next to no space. Once I open my door, I have like six inches to get out. Sometimes I have to do this at school, so it doesn't really bother me, but when you're in an actual parking lot in an actual public place, I feel like someone has to be such a huge ass to not be considerate enough to fix their parking. So I am angry in this instance. I would also like to say that I am not stick skinny, so I do have to do a little shimmy-ing.

I locked my door and started shouting at the way bad parked car to my left (where I just got out) and then to add insult to injury, or vice versa (that's how I was raised to say it, I guess it's wrong - oh well, get over it), I went and kicked the bumper of his stupid blue trash heap.

I go over to the members of the other car: my mother, grandma, and aunt (a different aunt) and start complaining about how it's WAY to close, the other guy is stupid and he would probably scratch the car on the way out. Or on purpose.

We are in Springfield. Shady place.

We see my aunt Jo-jo speak, then mingle upstairs at a little reception thing. My sister and I get back to the car, and to my delight, the other car isn't there. We get in all ho-hum and then Libby notices that one of the wipers is up and puts it back down. I'm like, "Why was that up??"

Then she starts the car (she's driving this time), and I hear this weird noise. I look back and the wiper in the BACK is going (it was raining earlier). The wiper was also snapped. in half. with the hard plastic still hanging on being pushed against the window.

I go, "Libby, the back one's broken."

"Crap. Someone messed with the car."

Now I know it was not broken when we LEFT the car because I was driving and I often look in my rearview mirror, and sometimes watch the wiper in awe. My car does not have one. I was impressed with how well it pushed the water away. My front wipers don't even work that well.

So, using deductive reasoning, I conclude that it MUST have happened sometime between leaving the car in the lot and coming back to it. My ultimate thinking is that the car next to me was pissed that I parked next to him. Perhaps it was the passenger who had a hard time getting into the car. Maybe they tried to break the front wiper but couldn't, so they deigned to snap the back one. Cool.

I hope they think they are tough.

I mean it takes SUCH a big and decent person to park badly on their own fault and then beat up the car that parks next to it.

Big heros. They really helped themselves out there.

It just infuriates me that people have to be so destructive to make themselves feel better. Being the psych/criminology student that I am, I'm gonna go ahead and guess that daddy wasn't there during his child hood. Maybe he was and slapped around the lady. Poor kid couldn't deal and has to start acting out in forms of obnoxiousness (bad parking) and destruction (wiper) and maybe even stealing here and there.

The thing that really bugs me is he doesn't know me. Maybe I'm a struggling teenage mother with a really sick kid who was amazingly able to get me a car through make-a-wish so I could drive him to his hospital appointments. Maybe, if that stupid punk got to know what I could be, he would feel SO bad that he did that.

I feel like kids these days have NO common sense OR decency. It makes me so angry. Fortunately my story above is not true, but people need to seriously start THINKING before they do stupid stuff like that.

I bet you twenty bucks that my life was at least twice as hard and depressing as his and I turned out find. I obviously relieve my stress by writing, which is sooo the opposite of destruction. I have NEVER stolen in my LIFE. Not even a candy bar or a pencil when I was little. I have never egged or TP-ed anybody's house. I have never purposely done anything harmful to a car especially out of vengeance. Surprisingly, the only car accidents I have ever been in (besides benign "fender benders" that did NO damage) were completely other people's faults. I have never been in a fight that I started. Basically, what I'm saying is that I don't do mean things to people who don't deserve it.

UGH. Springfield. Can't wait to leave.

Fun for me though, we're staying one more night than I was told. I have no clothes, no supplies, undies, anything for another day. I packed as lightly as a possibly could, which was very little considering I brought only a backpack that had my laptop, binder, notebook, textbook, and power cords already in it. I could re-wear something, but since I've seen the same people for two days, they could tell, and yes I am that shallow. Plus I have to look good, I'm part of "The Family."

This one kid asked, "do you wake up every morning and say, 'oh my god, Jody Williams is my aunt.'" And since this is a college aged event, my sister and I socialize with the HUNDREDS of kids here to see Jody. Just saying. We're kinda a big deal :)