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Date Time WebPage
14th June 2006 **.**.** shrinkmamma.fmg.ro/2006/06/12/itchy-and-scratchy/
blogsearch.google.com/blogsearch?hl=en&ie=UTF-8&scoring=d&filter=0&q=scabies scratch OR scratching OR scratched OR scratches
I woke up with a sore throat and a running nose. Therefore, I went through the whole day in a state of semi-sleep, ocasionally interrupted by the aching of some muscle I wasn’t aware I had since freshman Anatomy classes in University.
I also find thinking an increasingly difficult process. Proof can be found in today’s Yahoo Messenger talking with my husband, the WebDesigner:
Him: So should I draw a CD near the menu or when you click on a link the *insert increasingly complex and longish description of somethizzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzz zz *?
Me: Go with the first choice.
Him: What?
Me: That you should draw a CD near the menu.
Him: Honey, you weren’t supposed to choose anything - I wrote ” should I draw a CD near the menu and when you click on a link .. ” I asked you for an opinion, not a choice. So why have you chosen the first, anyway?
Me: Because it was short and simple! The second looked long and incomprehensible! and..and mean too!
Him: …. I see. Anyway, I’m leaving for home. Should I buy anything besides a huge box of tissues?
Me:*whining emoticon* I don’t know! I don’t know! Why are you asking me such complex questions ??????? Why are you so mean to me??????
Somebody put me out of my misery, please.
The newest winner in the “You think your life sucks? Try mine” category - Gipsy woman, 13 kids, all over 18 years old - 1 severely handicapped, 1 in jail for murder, 10 unemployed and one working. Husband dead, sole income is the oligophrenic kid’s handicap money.
Folowing Brian Molko’s appearence at my hospital, I spotted today Orlando Bloom - in his teen years, pushing an old lady’s wheelchair. Cute as a button. I should have brought the camera, dammit.
As for the pup, he was brought into my cabinet by Dana A - apparently she followed a lady into our yard. We gave her food, water and she slept for a while on my shoe, rendering me incapable to move because I didn’t want to wake her. We tried to find her a home but nobody wanted her because she was female ( Nobody’s willingly spaying/neutering their pets over here because that’s considered cruel. However the resulting pups / kittens are burried alive or sent to sail on the nearest river without any remorse. Drives me bonkers.) In the end, while I was away, Dana put her out the gate of the hospital. I searched for her when I went home but I saw no black furred, white pawed little creature.
Tomorrow is my better half (otherwise known as Robi)’s birthday. Any ideas for gifts?
My favourite owlspotter has this excellent post about the latest events concerning gays in Romania. For those of you lazy slobs that don’t feel like clicking: gays are actively protesting to be alowed to marry. Romanian government is between a rock and a hard place, since they want to please the EU by appearing as progressive as possible but in the same time they would also like to keep the population’s vote, and the population is very, very anti gay.
Romanians are mostly Eastern Orthodox christians. Churches are full on Sundays, I get angry looks from the patients and advice to stop sinning when they see me needleworking on red crossed holidays (those being the big holidays, marked with a red cross in the Orthodox calendar). What’s the sin in sewing, you ask? Well, apparently you aren’t supposed to do any kind of work on holidays. The fact that it’s Monday, I’m consulting patients and they are using my services therefore forcing me to “sin” somehow eludes them.
Now the church, being a traditionalist church, tells people homosexuality is a great sin, that will land the gays in the deepest pits of hell. Forget the sugarcoating “hate the sin not the sinner” style -it’s all brimstone and flames over here. So naturally when the gay parade was protested against, along with the skinheads there were the li’l old ladies, all looking very much like your own granny.
I did my own research in the hospital. Says the big chief doc’s secretary “I don’t have anything against them. They can screw each other as long as they like. But not in public. And how could we let them marry and then explain to our kids why a guy tongue-kisses another guy, or a man is dressed like a woman?”
Dana A, talking to one of the maintennance personnel “I don’t get them. Why do they put it in a hairy ugly man when there are all those beautiful girls running around? They’re sick in the head”
Maintennance personnel’s answer (flexing his pectorals)”I’d just shoot them and finish the problem once and for all”
We still have a long way to go.
If you see comments praising my site and not sporting a web adress, don’t assume I’m self-promoting - they are probably just spammers my spam catcher has de-linked, leaving only the message. After all, they might have really, really liked the blog.
My mom has four cats - a siamese, a half-birmanese and two of the ordinary kind. Being outdoor cats that enjoy meowing around with the local strays, it didn’t come as a surprise they caught scabies from them . My mom didn’t do much to make it go away - she sporadically rubbed some dubious ointment the vet pharmacist gave her on them, and that was about it. Needless to say, the ilness didn’t go away and two of them look like pissed-off bulldogs now. On Sunday I had enough and asked her why doesn’t she get her vet neighbour to pay a visit. After hearing it’s because she forgets all the times she meets him and recognising a real genetic trait she passed on to me fully, I offered to go to talk to him myself, and she was glad to delegate.
So me and Robi go to the neighbour’s house, where we are greeted by two birmanese, the smaller one having the most “scratch-me-now” blue eyes I’ve ever seen in a cat . I leave Robi to look for the vet and proceed to scratch every bit of fur on the smaller cat’s back and shoulders, realising just how much I missed a proper cat scratching since ours got ill. Robi finds the vet, who tells us that at this stage only the injections help, and gets his kit to treat the cats immediately.
We go back to my mom’s, where we inform her that she needs to fetch the cats one by one so they’ll be injected. First comes Nookie (Yeah, we have a cat named Nookie. Blame my sister for that.) who was asleep near a flower pot. She wakes up a little for the injection then goes back to sleep in the sun. Then comes Netty, the siamese, who tries to protest but my mom holds her. After Netty it’s Freddy, the half Birmanese’s turn, who being the young male of the pack takes it like a trooper. And then ..well, then comes Moritz. The big, almost feral male. Who, using his feline superpowers, senses that pain is coming his way and tries to escape. My mom grabs him by the shoulders while the vet tries to push the needle under the skin. The five kilograms of fur don’t like it, so he scratches my mom’s hands as deeply as possible, missing an arthery by a centimeter or so and runs away.
Two of the cats (Nookie and Moritz) haven’t been seen since. And we’re supposed to inject them again next weekend. I think I’ll hold them for my mom (while wearing gardening gloves, for I’m prudent and would hate to die from a cat claw induced exsanguination)
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