I’ll be leaving early Thursday morning en route to Skinny Bitch’s city. I’m travelling much lighter than I usually do because of the nerve irritation in my neck. I’m not supposed to lift much.

So I got me a toy computer to record my sound files on, and since it has a wireless card that is speedy, I can upload them to the server. Built in mic and webcam, so less to lug around. It fits in a normal sized purse. It’s kind of the Bic of computers. It was so cheap I wasn’t about to shell out an extra $80 for two more years factory warranty. Bic.

Of course, it takes forever to bookmark sites and type in old passwords to web admin sites. Luckily for me, I had the good sense to write them down in my little six ring binder that also serves as a mobile datebook. The only way the data will be lost on the datebook is if I can no longer decipher my scribbles. Or if there is a flood or fire. Still, flood or fire will so scroo an electronic keeper of information.

Ass Burger Boy is ecstatic and has already transferred all of my data off the clunky big laptop, which he has dubbed ‘his precious’ and promptly taken to work with him. I don’t think he’ll miss me.

Of course, I will be staying with Skinny Bitch. Any time I go to her city, it’s a given I will stay with her. I desperately need to laugh my self silly, tears streaming down my face, maybe even peeing a little. Now that we don’t have torture to plot for the now ex Mr. SB, we will have to find other ways to amuse our bad selves.

I may or may not get kidnapped after the show.

There will only be internet access at the venue, where I’ll probably be busy with work. With any luck at all. I may be tweeting like a dirty little bird, but probably won\t be posting here while I’m gone. I linked this post heavily to give you something to catch up on while I’m away.

You know those people you just play off? And egg one another on in silliness? Skinny Bitch and I are like that. So are Krissa and I.

To demonstrate, I bring you the second portion of an email exchange which started with me saying I hurt myself in my sleep and she was urging me to describe it as a sex injury. Where, really, I probably rolled over onto my physio targeted shoulder, which is being mean to me. But? It had to be a sex injury, because it happened in bed. That’s when I shared that I had never had a threesome, my last twosome was a decade ago, and now I only have onesomes, since I got all discriminating with my sex partners and all. She’s pretty sure I should describe it as a sex injury though. Sheesh, she’s bossy. Which would only be annoying if I were obedient. So you’re welcome for the background. Maybe you had to be there.

Krissa: I dunno…. the true test is sleeping in the same bed with yourself. Heh.

witchypoo: I keep getting annoyed. Bitch snores.

Krissa: Get her some of those nose strips.

witchypoo: She’s selfish. Says it doesn’t bother her sleep any.

Krissa: WHAT A BITCH! I wouldn’t put up with that.

witchypoo: If she’s not careful, NO SEX FROM ME!

Krissa: Oh shit. You need to get into couples counseling. I mean you can’t let this effect your lives like this. It’s not fair to either of you! Heh heh.

witchypoo: I’d sooner just buy her the fucking nose strips.

Krissa: (The voice of Little Mary Sunshine), It’d be cheaper!

Oh. Hi! Remember me? I’ve been one big sweaty ball of pain for the last six months or so. Which might account for my minimal posting. Or not. But I have finally got me a diagnosis, and with that, a plan. Plans are good. They give me confidence. Confidence that I can manage this pain without killing my liver any deader by using anti-inflammatories and wine in combination. Well, dead is dead, of course. What was I saying?

Oh yeah. I have a diagnosis for the pain in my neck and shoulders and arms and OH GOD I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE. Did I shout that? I’m sorry. Put your eyeplugs away now. It basically is a degenerative condition involving my C4 vertebra, which is odd, because you all know my aversion to bras, and I wish I had been kinder to this one. The good news is that I can take steps to really slow down or even stop the degeneration, and that is why I am excited about the plan.

Today, I saw my physiotherapist, Selda, who is totally not a sadist, so score! Over ten years of pretty steady computer usage (remember I went to geek school? I totally did.) and being unaware of my posture actually causes damage. Who knew? They should entirely cover how to sit so you don’t kill your liver in geek school. The geeks would be so grateful. Well, maybe just the older-than-the-instructors geeks.

Anyway, Selda was totally patient as she explained what was going on, and how I could benefit from the exercises. She told me what the goal of each exercise was, and how to modify the way I had been doing them the past week. And why. Why is important. I committed to 100% compliance to the schedule of exercises between last week and this week, and hot diggity, I saw some results! Small results, but it gives me hope. And my liver is gasping in exhaustion, but proud of me. Besides, I’ve been taking a product that is similar to glucosamine without the pesky side effects, and I’m convinced that I can keep this thing from getting worse.

So now that I have hope and all, I also have a plan to dig myself out of the financial hole the pain put me in. Well, that and that pesky trip to visit Skinny Bitch and get together with my father’s side of the family, including Grammie! We all love us some Grammie. It won’t take me long. I can do this. Shut up, I can. Ass Burger Boy is helping tremendously. On all fronts. I’m so proud of him.

And the pain in the butt? Has a name. Herman. (Thanks, Krissa.) We’ll address Herman when he is screaming for attention again. You’re welcome.

I just got home from a gathering of the clan. The first leg of the trip was planned so I would meet up with my brother, Dizzee, at Skinny Bitch’s house. I didn’t quite know how it would go with the family (these things can vary, since I’m a Tool of Satan and all), so I felt it would be good to start things off well.

Skinny Bitch wanted to be sure I felt welcome, since I arrived while she was still at work. My brother arrived later.

(She calls me Gracie) It made my heart glad.

Somehow, with all the cameras present (but not mine) I only got a few images captured in time to share with you. The first thing I saw when I came in the door was a sign she displayed in the entryway: “Crazy doesn’t live here.” That sign summed it up. SB had created her own haven of peace that totally reflected who she was. Bliss.

She was so relaxed living by herself in her own home that her OCD was not in full force. The place mats on her dining room table did not line up precisely, and this did not bother her enough to correct it.

Who knew?

The house was beautiful. It could totally have been a bed and breakfast inn if it weren’t for the pesky cooking thing. Oh, yeah, and guests who would mess her house up. She doesn’t much care for that.

She had bought a bed so I would have a place to sleep, but it was so pretty, and the bedding and pillows so crisp, I was afraid to sleep in it and drool on the pillows. Instead, I slept on the far side of her king-sized bed, just far enough away that she couldn’t reach to kick me if I snored. It was the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on. Bar none. From her bed, we could watch the firemen across the street in their workout room. I know! The way she makes me suffer!

The only thing that struck me as out of place was this:

I had to ask. The explanation did not disappoint. These are new shoes, not to mix with the others in the shoe museum. (How I wish I had that image to share with you!) She wants them to feel special, at least until she has worn them outside. She puts them on top of the tv so she can admire them while she is relaxing. Then, and only then, will they take their place alongside the pedestrian (HAH!) shoes in the shoe museum.

There has been so much drama in my life lately that I needed at least one evening of gut-splitting laughter. Skinny Bitch is a healing balm in my life. We left after she had gone to work the next day.

I left her a message that I knew she wouldn’t completely understand, because she is so not computery. But I wanted to share it with you, too.

And you? Are all computery.

We’ll see if I blog about the family reunion. It went well.

I had a TMI post all written about how Herman got his name, but then I recalled two things:

• I had stupidly sent emails to the people where I do my banking (Hi! wonderful banking people!) that contained a link to my blog in the sig line. Since they have met me in person, I knew they would associate that post with me every time they saw me.
• I had promised Kelley, who is having blog problems, a guest post, even though I, myself, have been posting maybe once a week. But I love her and she is all kinds of the awesome, so someday, Kelley will let you know about Herman. He has a twitter account, really.

Did you know it was mercury retrograde? Consider yourself warned. Back up your data. Expect miscommunications, misunderstandings, and old issues to resurface. Travel plans, especially short term travel plans, are certain to be a fool’s errand.

I am embarking on a fool’s errand tomorrow. I was supposed to leave today for a sibling type reunion, but hello?? Merc retro.

A client had insinuated herself into my life because she was hurting so much. I didn’t give much thought to the fact that she had ABSOLUTELY NO EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. (She had alienated everyone else in her life. Hah! How smart was I? But, she was suffering. She really had some terrible things happen in her life.)

As a result, I worked less hours (logged on) than usual to accommodate her many visits, even though I was trying to collect enough hours to take a week off. (I need to be firmer with my boundaries)

Then last week, (full moon in scorpio, uh oh) she showed up (while I was logged on) and proceeded to berate me with all the crazy ways that I was not BEING HER FRIEND. (Did I mention boundaries?) How does a client I felt sorry for become a friend? A “friend” that gets extremely unhinged if you don’t meet her needs in the way that she wants them met? I would say see a therapist, but a therapist has those pesky boundaries where you have to actually make an appointment, and can’t just drop in to dump all your shit on because you have been dwelling and DWELLING on it and cannot stand it another minute unless you share the misery RIGHT NOW.

After placing the entire blame on ME for her being so stressed she had to take a leave of absence from her work, she stormed out. Great. It usually takes me about three days for my energy field to clear itself after such an intense encounter. I was useless to work. So, I took a mini stress leave, because I didn’t feel I could serve my clients properly.

That might have been over and done with, but she wasn’t finished with the demands. By email. My refusal to meet these demands were met with vicious assaults on my character and psychic abilities. I had to block her email and instruct her not to call or drop in ever again.

I don’t know why I let her upset me so much, but I continued to be unable to work. I was planning for last week to be a humdinger, so I could make up for the week I was planning to take off to visit with siblings a short journey away. (Siblings and short journeys are third house matters, which are ruled by Mercury, which is retrograde.)

Now I don’t have the reserve funds to travel that I had, and am trying to contact my brother, Dizzee, who I cannot reach by phone. We are supposed to meet up at Skinny Bitch’s place, and we can travel to the gathering together, then afterwards, he and his long-lost daughter, Hidden Treasure, will come to my place to visit, driving me home. Except I can’t reach him to determine if he will be also travelling with another brother, Mr. Trick and his daughter, Cutie Pie,in which case there would be no room. Mr. Trick is not answering his phone either. Damn you, merc retro!