Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Brutal start, came good

I awoke with raging IBS. But I swallowed pills, girded for battle and made it in. I came good about 11 am.

I even encountered a hair trigger moment that in the past could have left me gibbering in a corner but is now just merely unpleasant—like a frosted turd by the side of the road.

I've come so far since getting up off the floor. I feel like Neo beset by impotent Smiths. 

That's a pretty kewl place to be, being beset by impotent Smiths. Better than potent ones, I always say.


Monday, October 05, 2015

Well, it's easy to spot at least

I coughed and a goob honked onto my monitor. It was easy to spot it all to wipe up, the borders of the dark goob limed by light.

Lousy goobs.

So I gave birth to a puddle

My IBS is raging. I awoke to gut pain, but liked being in bed so much I hoped it would pass. 
It did not. It built and built and built until VROOM I was off and out it came. 

My stomach and guts still churn and spasm, like the after shocks from a quake. 

I've had to med up big time. Once again I've been saved by a public holiday for had this been a work day I would not be there. The toilet at work is a one minute dawdle, perhaps 20 seconds on the trot. At home it's just 10 seconds from anywhere in the house thanks to our compact domicile. 

That, and the eye-watering gas that came after I returned to bed to moan piteously as I distracted myself with news sites on the tablet. That gas will surely keep on coming—can't inflict that on a workplace.

Mikey—living with tummy upset since the early '70s, man. 

Sunday, October 04, 2015

Oh my stars (waves face with fan)

I just did my daily ride of the SoTPC, an hour and eleven minutes because I rode about two kph less than normal.

I was fucked before I got on, my decaying right hip having given worm sign of an impending replacement for the last several weeks and with arthritic pain flash from my right knee, and the disinterest level was acute.

I feel better for having done it. Not just physically, but mentally. For in the words of Galaxy Quest, "Never give up, never surrender". 

Now The Venga Boys are playing as sweat runnels down my back fur (1).


(1) UPDATE: I'm proud to say I have the Google #1 result for "sweat runnels down my back fur". I could have also added "then pools in the manky gusset of my undies following its slow crawl through anal-hair crevasse" but I didn't because I am classy.

Friday, October 02, 2015

Area man sounds like a cock-spank when he polite-curses

I try not to swear when in polite company but my reflexive go-to words are "willikers!", "biscuits!" and "whiskers!" 

In real-life I look like a creature from a C.S.Lewis or Enid Blyton tale and now I'm adding similar-thematic outbursts or exclamations.

What's next? Doing a crippled skip-hop as I furtle along in the woods?

Killed another keyboard ... or so he was led to think

This time it was the one for the good laptop—needed because I don't like using a laptop keyboard for the way your wrists have to sit upon it and the seeming fragility of the keys. 

I must have murdered about 10 keyboards at this point. This laptop booster just deceased had six characters partially-to-totally rubbed away from the keys tops from my two finger power strikes before the connecting cord broke within and the computer could no longer link to it.

Sometimes at work I type so fast and with such downward thrust-power that I sound like a journo in an old time pre-PC newsroom bashing away at a mechanical typewriter. The frenetic clickety-clack causes the occasional gophering from WTF? colleagues weirded out by the noise (1). 

What can I say? I'm a passionate writer and that passion comes with theatrical semi-physicality.

So adios, cheap black keyboard whose A, S E, I, M and N keys departed ahead of your cord's internal parting, you served me well.

(Mikey prepares to solemnly carry keyboard to throw over fence and into the skip).

Wait, stop everything. I took it out of the grey three socket hub and plugged the keyboard straight into the laptop and it works. 

So the hub is to blame.

Well played, hub.

(1) I also tend to mutter as I type typically whispering the words as they are struck into the machine. So I'd sound like a mentally damaged journalist at and one that the cadets are wary off; "Don't sneak up on him, mate, or he'll scream then throttle you by the tie".

Thursday, October 01, 2015

Went all HH

I let my finger nails get super long and weird looking. I finally trimmed them. I felt a bit like a reclusive hotel dwelling billionaire who spends all day in PJs watching a battery of TVs. 

I've yet to put tissue boxes on my feet though. 

The mass trimming was prompted by the tear off old righty thumb nail which got ripped near down to the quick. 

Two can play at that game, Nature.


Feedback activated

Nearly a year ago I provided feedback on a core issue.

Well, fuck me, I found out the feedback impacted.

Once again something past Mikey did caused wellness to spring forth.

Being a low echelon super competent has its drawbacks—being paid attention when you're low of rank being the biggest challenge. But sometimes you succeed.


Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Nasty old paperwork hurts us!

I had to help a friend deal with some nasty old paperwork that caused them acute distress. I went straight from having done four hours of report generation (1) into assist mode for them then had to groove on some nasty old paperwork of my own when I got back to my desk.

Neither event caused anxiety.

That's wellness and it tastes delish.


(1) I emailed out the first report then had a sudden horrified thought I'd used data from the wrong date and, yes, sure enough the first nine pages were from a different day. It took 40 minutes to repair and resend. It was a public holiday yesterday but the reports are for each day. So as far as reports go that's just work delayed, not denied.

Monday, September 28, 2015

The agony and the ... wait, just agony

IBS flare, a nasty one. Thin worm slivers of green and foul, gut-churning gas. I've munged pills and now I'm going to try and ride some of the pain out. Somewhat ironic as riding itself comes with its own pain and ache.

Thank fuck it's a public holiday 'cos I'd not have been in. I didn't want to be around it, let alone inflicting it on anyone else.

The bike is daunting, like a mountain in the distance a wounded man must climb. Storm clouds gather at the top.

Or rather they will be once I'm on the top and riding. 

(Area man sprays air freshener around shed to take care of what has been and what will come).

UPDATE: I think the ride helped. I had to pause at the two kay mark though for another piece of toilet business then dash back out in time to turn the pedal one revolution lest the bike's timer reset. I collect stats on distance, resistance and even what I was watching or thinking about. But the bike only has about a minute of time once it stops before it resets the clock and you lose whatever stats you'd gained.