Midnight Munchies with my buddy, Ambien

Well, crap. Here I am awake at 2:00 in the morning typing like sissy fingers on the iPad. This typing screen is a crock of shit. Anyway, I've taken my usual nightly load of Ambien and one Lorazapam to get me kick started in that thing called sleep, slumber, whatever. I've noticed lately, and I call it the power of suggestion, that I'm now developing Munchies after my nightly cocktail. I have only become aware of it after another "survivor" told me she got hungry every time she popped an Ambien. Out of bed and swerving through the house like Bill Murray driving a golf cart in a foreign country with a dozen or so occupants, I come crashing into the kitchen filling up a glass of dark chocolate baking chips and a glass full of lemon-limeade. With a straw of course because I just brushed my teeth. So, I've been all caught up in the Shunick case, practically glued to the laptop, cellphone, and that glorified iPhone, also known as an iPad. I'm not invested in the case. I don't think i know her family and friends. I do suspect that I have worked for people who know her family from kids attending the same schools and a few people I know in the horse show/riding who's kids rode with her. I know where her family lives, because I know half a dozen people who either live in the same neighborhood or within walking distance. But I have a stronge interest in the case. I lived in Lafayette for all of my life. I only left from there about 4 or 5 years ago. But I was there during the Derrick Todd Lee murders. It seemed a bit chaotic, not knowing if he were black or white. Profilers generally label serial killers as white males. But DTL was not white. We weren't sure (or at the very least, I WASN'T SURE,) who or what to be aware of. I could associate myself with something of these women whom he victimized so brutally. But the one who most left a hole in my heart was Trineisha Dene Colomb. A young woman taken right from the grave of her mother who had not long passed away. This brutal beast, for a lack of better words, added insult to injury to her father, Sterling Colomb. Wounded by the lost of his wife and now only to have his daugher taken by this SOB. My heart is with Mr. Sterling tonight. May he be in peace. My hope is for closure for the Shunick family.

Dude, seriously??

Can't blog right now. Too busy laughing.

http://www.katc.com/news/three-arrested-in-intracoastal-seafood-check-cashing-scheme/

"It's all about the body, not the brain."

October has been known as Breast Cancer Awareness month. Lately, it's been looking more and more like Breast Awareness month. There have been slogans that sound like they were coined by a bunch of "dudes" at a frat party, Save the Tatas, Save Second Base, Rack Runners, Dr. X's Hot Pink Hotties, Rockers for Knockers, I Heart Boobies, etc.

Here is a bottle of Fat Bastard that I came across in the store yesterday.

That's right, two wine glasses placed together and formed to look like breasts.

I think the following video provides a good example of how October has become Breast Awareness month.



http://vimeo.com/28066212

P.S. I seem to have trouble linking it. If the link does not show up, please copy and paste in your browser.

More Thoughts on "The Race"

What, exactly, does awareness mean?

As I already mentioned in an earlier post, it appeared to me that the vast majority of participants in last weekends race were not breast cancer survivors. Maybe they were, but just didn't want to wear the pink survivor shirt or the gay truck driver cap. (The hat was so ugly that I just threw mine in the trash can last year).

So, if the majority of participants are family members, friends, co-workers, etc. of someone who had been diagnosed with breast cancer, then aren't these people already aware of it? Who are they bringing awareness to, themselves?

Are they hoping to bring awareness through the media? The media only takes and publishes pretty pictures.

Do they think they will raise awareness by wearing a pink blob bob wig or a pink mohawk?

Or that pink bicycles will bring about a cure?

Maybe they think that wearing pink seashells will raise awareness of the disease

One thing was certain. This definitely raised awareness.

I thought I would approach her and ask her to pose for a photo, but some guy beat me to it. Good thing he did. It made me all that more aware of the actual issue here, boobs. All I heard from his mouth was, "that's awesome. that is so awesome." And he wasn't some college kid wearing an I Heart Bobbies t-shirt, either.

I run like a hottie - Cashing In On Cancer

My God.

I awoke this morning at 5 a.m. in order to board a bus to a pink race. My mind seems to be spinning as I sit here now thinking back on what I saw. Trying to put this in some kind of order.

Here are just a couple of things I noticed.

When crammed into a small area, it would appear that there are many survivors. Not so much so when the race begins. There are thousands of people. THOUSANDS. And a handful of women wearing survivor shirts.

It had me wondering what percentage of participants were survivors.

And it had me wondering why.

Why so few?

Did they sleep in for the cure? Do they not participate in this event? Are they tired of spending $25 or $30 for a pink t-shirt and the opportunity to sit in the Survivor's Cafe? Or at worse, are there so few survivors?

My hope is that there are millions of survivors and that they just don't participate.

One thing that has always ticked me off about Breast Cancer Awareness month are the people who "support" the cure with the word "hotties" and "ta tas".

As I was thinking back on this morning, one thing led to another. I came across a team participant's profile and read this...

"Our practice is focused on both cosmetic and reconstructive surgery. We are blessed to help many breast cancer patients on their journey to well-being and looking fabulous!"

"We named our team "Hotties" because it best describes our patients! Dr (who I wont name) gives them fabulous cleavage and they give us a lifetime of inspiration. I run like a hottie..."

I don't know how much more I can comment on this sexist crap.

Why I'm Not In Sales - The story of a t-shirt

There's a reason why I'm not in sales. I suck at it. My attitude about selling has basically been, if I wanted to be an actress, I would have moved to Hollywood a long time ago.

It seems like every where I look, people who've gone through cancer have found their creativity. I've been trying to find mine.

Last Christmas my husband gave me a set of crochet hooks and knitting needles. They're still in the package in my nightstand. The yarn I bought last year is still sitting in the bag in a drawer. My sewing machine? It keeps traveling around our office. I have a scarf from Target buried somewhere in my closet. My plans were to do some ribbon embroidery on it.

I have a plastic storage container in the spare bedroom with a ton of patterns, fabric and various things that I think I will one day use. For something. There's also a couple of sketch books too, somewhere in this house.

One of the things I also attempted last year was a t-shirt. I didn't know how to sell it. I posted a link to it on my personal Facebook page. Then, a day or two later, a former schoolmate of mine suddenly started pushing some "ribbon" t-shirts. I should have known better. I lost my drive after that.

I don't like being pushy.

And with the exception of my husband and my cancer, everything in my life has seemed to have been a day late and a dollar short.

So, I have something to ask of you.

Please look at my t-shirt. I know everyone has bills to pay and that we're not made of money. If you like it and are willing to spend the money, please buy one. If you like it and can't buy it, then please pass it along to someone.

But, the biggest favor I ask of you... please don't take my idea. God knows I come up with a bizzillion ideas in my head. Very rarely do I ever actually act on them.

Oh, and I plan to wear this to "the Race" this Saturday.

Thanks!

http://www.cafepress.com/thepinkbirdie