Mim's Rant Page

The Rant Page

This is where I rant and rave. There's no point to it...just venting. This is my place to speak whatever pissy little thoughts come into my head (without reprisal). What more could a girl ask for, aside from unlimited chocolate, german butter cheese, her own power tools, a daily massage, personal trainer, good health, people worshiping at her feet and cabana boys (or cabin boys, I'm not picky) to do her bidding?

For you people out there who care...if haven't changed anything on this page in ages please do not feel the need to give me something to rant about!

Back to Quiet and Well Behaved

I'm all for holistic medicine....anything that can help without harming you is a great thing. BUT....why is the cure the same for cancer as for fibromyalgia? If you eat like a cow (except for wheat....bad bad wheat), take lots of expensive vitamins and avoid dairy products, yeast and anything that tastes yummy, then all will be cured (including cancer).

And what the heck is this about "leaky gut phenomena"? Leaky gut? Where the cells in your gut are too far apart? Okay, it may be true, but it's not the cause of fibromyalgia. Not one scientific document has ever suggested it. Be careful all you who own pigskin luggage.....the pores are far apart, you may lose your satin underwear. Only pack brown rice and tofu in that suitcase, just to be safe.

Note to self: tell the BC Hydro it's possible my payment leaked through the pores of the hemp fibre envelope, causing a backup in the postal system and poisonous attitudes in its workers.

What the heck is wrong with believing in fairies? Most people believe in God or the devil...put some milk out for the pixies.

Little fibromyalgia update. "Fibrofog" makes you kinda .... stupid at times. You search for the words but they're just not there. Your family and friends become your psychic helpers by finishing sentences for you. Bonus! You can mess with them when you're bored...just stop near the end of a sentence and see if they can figure out what the next word would have been. Your own little private game show. Keep a secret score on which of your loved ones knows you (or your language patterns) best. Every once in a while disperse gifts to the winners and tell them it's just "because". So noone thinks you're playing favorites, also occasionally give out consolation prizes and parting gifts.

"My love is neither blind nor in conflict with the truth. For my love is always wedded to my wisdom, the marrow of my very being"

Why do motels put on new siding and spruce up the outside then neglect the place where you have to sleep? Like a good looking man with no substance, they lure you in then you spend the night feeling like you're in the Highway Cafe of the Damned. Mildew and a phone that has the name of another hotel written in felt pen....a bathtub with the last person's hair still in it Reading material from years ago? Good lord, the real estate and tourist guides are free, replace them every few years! All that was missing from this place was a black velvet painting of the king of rock and roll.

AAARGH "Indigo Children". Let's get this straight: The term was coined by the medical profession to describe a new trend showing up in children. These Indigo Children are intellectually gifted but behaviorally challenged. When New Agers picked up the term these children became "saviors" of the Earth. Do not treat your children like saviors, people, that's a bad bad idea. These children, like all children, are special individuals. Please don't complicate their lives with grandiose expectations. New note: this applies to "crystal children" as well....for God's sake, people, get a grip!

my usual state of being...muahahaha

Saturated, unsaturated, trans....it all changes every couple of years. Remember when everyone was pigging out on pasta cause that was the healthy way to eat? Butter's bad, butter's better. How about, instead of leaping on the latest diet fad, we just eat well balanced meals in well balanced amounts and get balanced rest and exercise? Work and play, learn and laugh. You know that team of expert scientists is going to change its collective mind about this whole thing in a couple of years anyway. Besides, transfats have always been the drama queens of the fats world. You never hear about heterofats clamouring for attention, do you?

So I go to the clinic and tell the doctor to renew my prescriptions and by the way I can't bloody breath. He looks up my nose (I do NOT want his job) and tells me of course I can't breath, my nose is so swollen by allergies no air can get past there. I didn't ask him, "what allergies?". When I went to the allergist many years ago he told me I wasn't allergic to anything non-food related because I wasn't allergic to dust. Seems even if you react to 5,000 different item on the lovely scratch test, if you don't react to dust, you're not allergic to anything. And even if I was allergic there wasn't much to do about it, I'd just have to live with it. I asked him what he got paid for. He ushered me out the door with a mumbled comment about my sensitive nose. The testing wasn't a total waste of time, though, as the nurse told me I have a high pain threshhold. A matter of pride. Anyway, back to the present. I was told if I sprayed these nice expensive steroids up my nose twice a day, in "just a couple of months" I should be able to breath again. Great...sometime in November I can go out in the snow and buck up my firewood. I may be late getting the firwood cut but I'll have the nose of a warrior. I'll take pride in my masculine nose. I'll be unable to pass the drug testing for the Nose Olympics.

I watched Velvet Goldmine a couple weeks ago and was just thrilled. At last I had the secret to my happiness. I called my daughter with my proposition. "I have a deal I want to make with you," I said. "Yesss?" she said, suspiciously. So I told her I'd watched Velvet Goldmine. "EEEEE," she said, "there's a movie?" I was patient with her. Yes, there's a movie and it's not that great really EXCEPT. "Except?" (Again, suspiciously). Well, this is where the deal comes in. I offered to trade her, Johnathon Rhys Meyers for Johnny Depp. Johnathon is PRETTY. I mean girl pretty. My daughter goes for that. He's too pretty for me. So.....the deal is, she takes Mr. Rhys Meyers and leaves Johnny Depp for us older women. Mr. Depp is closer to my age anyway and it only be fair. I can't dream about someone as young and pretty as Johnathon Rhys Meyers, it would be .... well cradle robbing. The was silence on the phone. I still don't have a reply. I wonder if she's waiting for me to sweeten the pot? What else do I have to offer? I wonder if she's even found a copy of the movie yet.