Zombies on a Plane
I really want to see Flight of the Living Dead. I'm not really sure why. I mean, I loves me some cheesy horror flicks and all that, but needless blood and gore (as opposed to the necessary kind, of course) isn't exactly my thing, so why I want to see a movie whose high blood content is so readily ascertained from the trailer alone is almost beyond me...I say "almost" because I'm pretty sure that I am half expecting to spend the entire movie waiting for Samuel L. Jackson to pop out of some cubbyhole with a machete in one hand and a ratatat gun in the other, strike a studly pose and staunchly declare, "I am sick of these motherfucking zombies on this motherfucking plane" then unleash all sorts of hell upon the rampant "zombies running amok" -ness going on at 30,000 feet. He'll kill them all then land the plane with nary a scratch, and we'll all live happily ever after...until the next wave. (I'm just waiting for James Gunn to pitch "Werewolves on a Plane," because I'm pretty sure that he's the only one who could pull it off with any level of respectability.)
Yeah.
So it's been a weird week.
Granted, I've only worked four days of it (with tomorrow being a possible fifth), but I've managed to pack an entire month's worth of idiocy into these four days thus far. Seriously. I've got a VP who thinks I'm an utter moron countless times over because I can't seem to get his set-up correct regardless of how much I try. I sent someone's paycheck to the wrong address...twice...then got upset with her because she didn't have the patience to wait for the mail system to return it. Oh, and let's not forget the scheduling of a major help desk appointment because a huge report wasn't working correctly only to find after connecting with the tech gods that I had been reading the stupid thing wrong...and it wasn't even my report. Le sigh. My boss is convinced that my temporary imbecility is a combination of my need for a vacation and the lingering effects of Too Much Advil. I'm inclined to agree with her at this point - nobody likes to feel as though they are a natural-born moron....
And speaking of the Advil, my stomach is finally settling. I was beginning to get worried toward the end of my sojourn in Painville, but I figured that since the Advil continued to -almost- work on the tooth pain I'd rather chance an ulcer than go cold turkey, but yay for me and my dentist in that I now have neither tooth pain nor ulcer, and halle-freaking-lujah for that one...but there was a catch. As with the last one, I apparently infect far too much far too quickly, and the root canal could not be finished in one sitting, so I go in to finish it up three days before I hop onto my southbound plane (sans zombies) (I hope) (unless Samuel L. Jackson is on the same plane and fully prepared to save us non-brain chomping folk).
For once the marcaine worked the way it was supposed to, keeping me numb for over eight hours as opposed to the two to three I normally work with. The bad part about that was that the appointment was so early in the morning that I didn't get to eat breakfast pre-drilling action, and I was too numb to eat afterward for fear of chewing something off without realizing that I might have done so. I eat five times per day, three of which should have occurred during that eight hour period, so you can well imagine how hungry I was by the time I felt that I could eat again.
That time was six hours into the numbness. I figured that since my tongue was fully-functional I'd be fine - I'd be careful, and all of the body parts that involve eating would survive intact, because I am a careful, careful human being...and also a moron. I ended up chewing my lip bloody because I couldn't feel it at all. Nice. Strangely, the tooth appears to be healing up a lot faster than the lip is, although I enjoyed a fleeting Angelina moment with my bottom lip wearing this sensual bee-stung look until the numbness wore off completely, after which I just whined and pouted some. The bruising should fade with time....
The cool part of hanging out at home due to pain (aside from the whole "I'm totally not at work when I should be" part of the equation) was that my boyfriend brought my granddaughter over to see me, which brightened my day to the point that Advil was wholly unnecessary...for all of about ten whole minutes.
At three months old Mia is able to hold her neck up with only a little of the chicken-like headbobbing of the newly born, and she spent the entire time that I had her laughing and giggling then coyly hiding her face in my neck before looking around again because Grandpa was making funny horse noises at her, and I loved every single second of it! It is insane how much I love that little girl and can still say beyond a shadow of a doubt that I want no children of my own.
Although I did mention that maybe down the road we could adopt....
Like I said, weird.
Let's chalk it all up to the need for a vacation and the lingering effects of Too Much Advil, shall we?
Yeah.
So it's been a weird week.
Granted, I've only worked four days of it (with tomorrow being a possible fifth), but I've managed to pack an entire month's worth of idiocy into these four days thus far. Seriously. I've got a VP who thinks I'm an utter moron countless times over because I can't seem to get his set-up correct regardless of how much I try. I sent someone's paycheck to the wrong address...twice...then got upset with her because she didn't have the patience to wait for the mail system to return it. Oh, and let's not forget the scheduling of a major help desk appointment because a huge report wasn't working correctly only to find after connecting with the tech gods that I had been reading the stupid thing wrong...and it wasn't even my report. Le sigh. My boss is convinced that my temporary imbecility is a combination of my need for a vacation and the lingering effects of Too Much Advil. I'm inclined to agree with her at this point - nobody likes to feel as though they are a natural-born moron....
And speaking of the Advil, my stomach is finally settling. I was beginning to get worried toward the end of my sojourn in Painville, but I figured that since the Advil continued to -almost- work on the tooth pain I'd rather chance an ulcer than go cold turkey, but yay for me and my dentist in that I now have neither tooth pain nor ulcer, and halle-freaking-lujah for that one...but there was a catch. As with the last one, I apparently infect far too much far too quickly, and the root canal could not be finished in one sitting, so I go in to finish it up three days before I hop onto my southbound plane (sans zombies) (I hope) (unless Samuel L. Jackson is on the same plane and fully prepared to save us non-brain chomping folk).
For once the marcaine worked the way it was supposed to, keeping me numb for over eight hours as opposed to the two to three I normally work with. The bad part about that was that the appointment was so early in the morning that I didn't get to eat breakfast pre-drilling action, and I was too numb to eat afterward for fear of chewing something off without realizing that I might have done so. I eat five times per day, three of which should have occurred during that eight hour period, so you can well imagine how hungry I was by the time I felt that I could eat again.
That time was six hours into the numbness. I figured that since my tongue was fully-functional I'd be fine - I'd be careful, and all of the body parts that involve eating would survive intact, because I am a careful, careful human being...and also a moron. I ended up chewing my lip bloody because I couldn't feel it at all. Nice. Strangely, the tooth appears to be healing up a lot faster than the lip is, although I enjoyed a fleeting Angelina moment with my bottom lip wearing this sensual bee-stung look until the numbness wore off completely, after which I just whined and pouted some. The bruising should fade with time....
The cool part of hanging out at home due to pain (aside from the whole "I'm totally not at work when I should be" part of the equation) was that my boyfriend brought my granddaughter over to see me, which brightened my day to the point that Advil was wholly unnecessary...for all of about ten whole minutes.
At three months old Mia is able to hold her neck up with only a little of the chicken-like headbobbing of the newly born, and she spent the entire time that I had her laughing and giggling then coyly hiding her face in my neck before looking around again because Grandpa was making funny horse noises at her, and I loved every single second of it! It is insane how much I love that little girl and can still say beyond a shadow of a doubt that I want no children of my own.
Although I did mention that maybe down the road we could adopt....
Like I said, weird.
Let's chalk it all up to the need for a vacation and the lingering effects of Too Much Advil, shall we?