Kaply, Inc

Yeah, I'm Not Fucking Doing That.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:20:22 PST

So, sinus surgery tomorrow. I am both seriously nervous and very excited.

Nervous, because, well, surgery, dudes. Excited because I've had a fucking sinus infection for some six years, and a little relief would be mighty welcome.

My brother, Fathead, suggested the possibility that not being in pain might change my attitude, make me a kinder gentler person.

It's possible, I suppose, but my friends already freak out if I smile a lot ( they call it "creepy") and any hint of sunshine and light would probably be met with derision, disbelief and straight out screaming heebie jeebies.

Bev Kaply suggests that you none of you hold your breath for that.

Also, if you have been so kind as to send me an email over the last week or so, I hereby apologize for not getting back to you and promise to try harder if the doctor can refrain from drilling a hole in my brain tomorrow.

If he drills a hole in my brain, all bets are off.

BOOM! Roasted!

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 13:15:48 PST

This is turning into the Eternal Week.

The surgery turned into a bigger deal than I thought it was going to be, more pain, longer recovery time, etc. I'm having a hard time with this, as my expectation is always that I shall bounce back like an india rubber ball, and I maintain this baseless optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary. THAT evidence proves only that I am far more fragile than my outward appearance would suggest, a fact I not only do not like, I oftentimes refuse to accept.

In addition, there have been people situations.

*sigh*

If you know me, you know that of all the different kinds of situations available, I dislike people situations the most. People situations are about FEELINGS, and I am uncomfortable with such things.

Also, I tend to be fairly straightforward and pragmatic about my motivations as well as other people's and I find that I am constantly having to say HEY. Do not put your expectations of how other people feel onto me. When I say I do not care what you do, I mean I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU DO. I am not angry, as that would imply that I care.

Then someone starts crying and sending emails and it all devolves in the way these things do.

Email has not in any way enhanced my people skills, by the way.

Oh, SO FULL OF HATE I AM.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 17:34:05 PST

I have spent pretty much all of the day completely pissed off.

*sigh*

It's amazing to me how two people can experience the same stuff so completely differently. And also, how crazy and drama will suck you in.

I have previously been fairly seriously crazy and so dramatic that my mother occasionally referred to me as Sarah Bernhardt. Hint: She was an old time famous actress, for those of you educated in America.

But those days are quite awhile ago now, and my tolerance has gotten less and less as time passed. Stuff that used to seem normal to me now makes me want to randomly stab people on the street.

I'm sick of it. So I'm going to bed.

And Thus Do We Begin Our Week

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 08:21:01 PST

So, my surgery was scheduled for 9:30 AM and I didn't actually have surgery til 4PM, which means I went 24 hours without food, but, more importantly, 24 hours without any Coke Zero.

I was pissed.

I told my vascular surgeon that he was on my shit list, and he promised to bring me a Diet Coke after my surgery.

My friend, Cheryl, got me some books for my Kindle and thank god she did, because I read two and a half over the course of the day. Thanks Cheryl, you saved my sanity. And I need that last little bit of sanity.

By the last couple of hours, I was crying from sheer exhaustion, thirst and hunger, but then they gave me goof balls, and that was better. Really hard to cry on the goof balls.

When they wheeled me out of surgery and into the 1st recovery room, the nurse went to the soda machine and brought me a bottle of Diet Pepsi, and I proclaimed my undying love for her, because I was still high, and also, really fucking grateful for the soda. And so I drank that.

THEN, I got up to the 2nd recovery room and they brought me two tiny cans of diet soda and a cookie, which was a really good cookie,even though I couldn't figure out what kind it was. SHUT UP, HIGH, REMEMBER?

Then my surgeon, Dr Johanson brought me a Diet Coke. I love him.

I then left the hospital and proceeded to Mc Donalds where I ate everything, and then, frozen custard. I came home and took some goofballs, and went to bed, but had this dream that I asked my dad if I had money and he said "A rasher of bacon" and that was so very weird that it actually woke me up.

I think the moral of this story is A) Coke is delicious and B) goofballs give you some seriously fucked up dreams.

Trick Or Shut The Fuck Up

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 19:32:21 PDT

The thing about having surgery is that you never really know how you are going to feel afterwards, or how long it's going to take to feel good enough to pick up your daily routine.

So my habit before surgery is to clean the house, make sure I have food that's easy to make, and just generally prepare for the possibility that I'm gonna feel like ass.

Before my shoulder surgery this summer I did these things, and man oh man, was that the smart idea. I still needed help, but it was easier for people to help me because I had set up before hand.

And now you know how I spent my Halloween.

Leprechauns Are Fuckers, Trust Me OnThis

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 20:43:03 PDT

So.

Monday the 2nd of November, I shall be busy having my veins rearranged into a more pleasing semblance of a zen garden, and then at some point I need to get my head scanned (insert joke here) and then the following Monday, November 9th, will find me once again on a slab with someone up to their elbows in my sinuses, which, by the way, is perilously close to where I keep my brain, and so, is unnerving, especially since I just got that brain working the way I wanted it to.

This weekend is apparently Halloween, which is an amateur drinking holiday and one of the many so called holidays that I do not celebrate.

What holidays do I celebrate, you ask? I celebrate many holidays of the gift giving variety, and also Veteran's and Memorial days. I do not celebrate any holiday which requires me to dress up, so screw Halloween, Easter and Fourth of July.

So I will do what I normally do which is watch terrible slasher flicks and take ativan in preparation for Monday. It'll be AWESOME.

I Really Need To Refill My Ativan

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 19:40:43 PDT

OK.

I am having vascular surgery next week, likely on Wednesday. This is outpatient surgery, and I should be out the same day and home.

I am having sinus surgery on November 9th. This is not going to be outpatient, due to my multitude of health issues, so I shall be in the hospital overnight. And apparently high as a kite for about a week after.

I am flying to Maine on December 22. This, I hope, will give me plenty of time for the many possible complications to arise and be dealt with. Also, my doctor assures me that he will not drill a hole into my brain either accidentally or on purpose. He seems fairly sensible, so I have decided to trust him.

I appreciate any gifts in the form of books, kindle or otherwise, and anything else you think I may like. Especially stuff that will be amusing while I am hopped up on the goofballs.

Fathead Told Me What He's Getting Me For Christmas. I'll Sing It To You

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 20:01:00 PDT

I'm getting the sweater for Christ-mas
I'm getting the sweater for Christ-mas
The two hundred dollar
100% Inner Mongolian
Cashmere sweater
For Christ-mas!

In Hea-ther Grey-yay!

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Of course, I am also having surgery.
The fistulagram was not enough and the angioplasty they did last time only worked for a bit. Now we are back to whatever you are on if you are before square one, and so one of two things will happen now.

They will either put in a stent, which is challenging to do without wrecking the vein, seeing as the narrowing is at a junction of two veins. OR they will resect the vein, cutting off the narrowing bit and reattaching the vein to the other vein, but slightly lower.

We will be doing one of these two things next Wednesday, because I was all You need to get this shit fixed before I need to travel. That is your mandate. *sigh*

Toaster oven, here I come.

Because Of Watergate

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 22:33:00 PDT

So, on Sunday Sizzle and I stormed the IKEA.

Our battleplan was well executed, but that was mostly because Sizzle had a list. I was well prepared only in my determination to eat meatballs, but that determination was ROCK SOLID.

The bad news was that the motorized carts were all gone, and that was because Sunday at the IKEA is a lot like Black Friday at the Mall. Any mall, really.

I use the carts because the IKEA is like a giant Swedish mouse maze. It's crazy and exhausting, and that would be true even if I HAD kidneys, but since I don't I get to use the motorized carts. One of the many benefits of kidney failure, my friends.

Have I mentioned my firmly held belief that all malls are actually owned and operated by zombies? This would explain why I don't go to the mall. EVER.

We got some stuff, and looked at some things and then went to the restaurant in the middle of the IKEA. Because Sweden knows that the secret to a successful day of shopping for things you need and buying things you don't is lingonberries and meatballs. The Swedes, they are cunning.

Amazingly, Sizzle had NEVER had the IKEA meatballs, which are AWESOME and come with GRAVY and mashed potatoes that are ALMOST BUT NOT QUITE as good as homemade. AND are only $4. They are like the Holy Grail of meatballs, people, and Sizzle, a woman who makes regular pilgrimages to the IKEA had NEVER HAD THEM.

THE HORROR.

So I made her taste some of mine, after which she was converted to the Holy Swedish Church Of The IKEA Meatball.

Then we bought some stuff.

Then we had a soft serve ice cream cone, which IKEA does very well, not as good as the Meatballs, but still quite good. And I was enjoying my ice cold delicious soft serve treat which Sizzle had procured for me, and, being well brought up, I said Thank you, Sizzle, for my delicious Ice Cream treat, to which that heinous bitch replied I MADE IT WITH MY VAGINA.

Thus ruining my delicious soft serve ice cream treat.

I swear to god, I can't take that girl anywhere.

Oh, Fer Crissakes. Shut Yer Gob.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 11:11:24 PDT

LOVE.

I Have To Get A Different Kind Of Dry Food For Los Gatos, Preferably One That Doesn't Make Their Poop Stink Bad Enough To Raise The Dead

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 19:36:06 PDT

Things I am currently in love with:

PopSecret Homestyle popcorn

This sweater in heather grey

Scoopable cat litter

My new phone (mine is blue and silver)

Baked potato smushed with bacon and extra sharp Tillamook cheese

Bolognese sauce

Terry Pratchett's latest

And, as always, toast.

I am going to have to have surgery on my fistula, YET AGAIN, and I am starting to believe Fathead's theory that my fistula would work better if my attitude weren't so bad. I'll know for sure on Tuesday and will probably have the surgery the same day.
I have an appointment on Monday with the Ear Nose and Throat doc, to find out if I have to have sinus surgery.

If I have to have two more surgeries this year, I am going to try to get that damn sweater. I already have a toaster oven, you know.

I Actually Think That The Government Should Stay Out Of The Marriage Business Entirely, But Until That Happens:

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 21:30:00 PDT

I don't often get political, but this made me proud to be from Maine, and determined to pass Washington State Referendum 71.

I believe that all Americans deserve equal treatment under the law. Vote yes on Referendum 71.

Today I Bought A Skirt. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 19:46:23 PDT

So, due to mania brought on by the steroids, I am now the proud owner of a pair of boots, two pairs of leggings, assorted make up, a skirt and four shirts. Disconcerting, but a welcome boost to what I laughingly refer to as my wardrobe.

I don't know, man, can two pairs of sweatpants, two pairs of pajamas and six shirts with ironic sayings even qualify for a word like 'wardrobe'? I think not.

I also booked my tickets for both the Christmas trip to Maine and the January trip to New Mexico. If you live in either of those places and want to blogger meet up, shoot me an email and we can hook up. Not "hook up" but you know, hook up. I mean get together. YOU GUYS ARE PERVERTS.

Also, the other day? When I voted? Well today I got my ballot back in the mail. BECAUSE I FORGOT THE STAMP. I am retarded, and also never use the US Mail anymore, as my grandma will tell you. Well, I receive stuff, but never send, as, once again, both my mom and grandma will attest.

In other news, my sinusitis is much better, due to the hideously mood destabilizing steroids and the antibiotics, which only ever seem to come in pills the size of my fist. Why is that? I have a very aggressive gag reflex, and almost puking each time I have to take meds does NOT make me feel BETTER.

DO NOT MAKE THE SWALLOWING JOKE. I swear to god, it's like dealing with twelve year old boys sometimes around here.

You Rarely Read About Penguins Savaging People. Because They're CUNNING.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 14:04:35 PDT

Here are some things that happened today.

First I woke up. Then I voted, because Washington is a state that does their entire election by mail. This, as you might guess, is fucking AWESOME. I voted for Ref 71 and against Ref 1033, because I firmly believe that Tim Eyman needs to find better things to do with his damn time than fuck up my state.

Then, my friends Bob and Jim picked me up and we went and had dim sum. It was delicious, especially the hum bao, or bbq pork bums that have been steamed. It was Jim's birthday, but even if it hadn't been, dim sum is totally celebratory in nature. Also, we were pretty early, so the little Chinese cart ladies hadn't gotten really screamy yet. Dim sum is one of the many reasons I will always live in a major metropolitan area.

Then, when I got home, I booked all my plane travel for the next three months, and then emailed, texted and phoned the various and assorted people who are inexplicably excited that I am coming to their area.

Then, while I was trying to relax all covered in cats, the fire alarm went off, and unlike some times here in the hood, there was actual smoke. Apparently, a microwave on the second floor exploded, and even though this completely fascinated me, I was unable to find out any other details because A) the fireman weren't talking because B) they kind of hate us.

I don't really blame them.

And now it's 2 in the afternoon. How the hell could I possibly top that morning? Well, I can't, so it's FUCK ALL on the schedule for this afternoon. Woohoo! Fuck all!

Dude, That Was All Taken Out Of Context, And Other Excuses And Backsteppings

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 08:23:46 PDT

I feel like I've done a bunch of stuff this week, but that can't possibly be true.

Monday: Went to the doctor, went to the Kidney Center, got flu shot and pneumo shot, got iron and turned in my blood for labwork, then went to the pharmacy.
Tuesday: Did fuck all. And dialysis.
Wednesday: Took a shower, went to the Costco, went to the bank, went to the Trader Joe's, cleaned out my fridge, took out the garbage.

And that brings us to today, a day when I fully expect to do fuck all again, and also, dialysis.

Hell, Sizzle does more than that each morning. Of course, that's cuz she's a dynamo, but still.

A Man That Doesn't Cry Doesn't Have A Heart. At Least, That's What Dog The Bounty Hunter Says

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 21:28:33 PDT

So, last week I got a new pair of flannel pajama bottoms from the Costco, and I LOVE THEM. I practically lived in the fucking things for a week. Then I had to put them in the wash, and LO! I was pantsless, but not in that good way.

So I went back to the Costco and got me a new set of pajamas. With plaid pants.

Now, when I talk about pajamas, I do not mean that I sleep in them. In fact, I sleep in the nuddy. Naked, as it were. Again, not in a sexy way. I just get really fucking hot. I am a hot sleeper, and unless I am nude, I keep waking up. This does not bode well for successful sleep. This would also explain why I leave the bedroom window open year round, although don't worry, any would be robbers, I am three floors up and put bear traps under my windows. For reals.

Anyway, pajamas are what I hang out in when I'm just schlepping around the house. The two new pairs are very festive, in a plaid flannel sort of way, and one of them comes with a t shirt top. SWANKY.

So what I'm getting at is that I'm comfy. Seriously motherfucking comfy. SHUT UP.

The Problem Is Not Discussing Erectile Dysfunction, It's Discussing It With Your Reflection In A Store Window

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 09:48:25 PDT

So I haven't killed any of you while screaming TRAITOR. I'm thinking the steroids may not make me psychotic. I'm trying to look at that as a good thing.

It's hard, though, because the other thing the steroids do? Is make you want to eat. Everything. ALL THE TIME.

I woke up in the middle of the night, hungry and dreaming of sandwiches. That shit just ain't right. So I had a couple of Hershey's caramel kisses and went back to bed.

Right thinking, non dope smoking people do not make sandwiches in the middle of the night. SHUT UP.

Now if you will excuse me, I must have a delicious and satisfying shake for breakfast. I said, SHUT UP.

I Think The Steroids Have Stolen My Funny. Fuckers.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 17:21:46 PDT

So I have chronic sinusitis, which basically means I have a permanent runny nose and pain in my face, and it's all a bit much so I went to see my ear nose and throat doctor.

According to him, we have two options. We could put me on steroids and antibiotics and see if that clears it up. If it does, we can keep doing it every time it pops up, to infinity.
If it doesn't work, or only works for a short time, it's into surgery (again) for me.

Who out there thinks it won't end up in surgery? Yeah well, YOU ARE WRONG.

Historically, all roads lead to surgery. And also, I have plenty of time to squeeze a couple more in before the end of the year, possibly winning me a toaster oven.

That was joke. Nobody just gives away toaster ovens.

And let us not forget the unusually high odds that the steroids will drive me to a psychotic break. Won't that be interesting? If you get an email or a phone call from me accusing you of betrayal and skullduggery, and planting bugs in my house, that is a sign. A sign of psychosis. Be grateful you don't live near me.

Also, steroids make you hungry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to empty my fridge.

Iso Active Toothpaste Is Fucking Fabulous

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 13:02:55 PDT

So I pretty much finished my Christmas shopping on Friday.

We will pause so that you may hate me now. Feel free to curse.

This year I decided that I am only getting presents for the nieces and nephews, Fathead, Bev and Len Kaply and Grandma. There just isn't any money to buy for everyone, so I had to scale down.

And, out of all of those people, the only one that is going to be a pain in the ass is my Grandma.

You know how, when someone says 'Grandma', you think of a sweet little old lady? Yeah, my grandma isn't like that.

I started calling her every week about ten years ago. For the first year, she yelled at me every time. She would say stuff like "Why are you calling me? I don't have anything to talk about!". She ain't easy, I'll tell you that.

Now, however, if I miss a week she starts to worry. But does she call me? No. She calls my dad and asks him what's going on with me. Then he calls me and tells me to call her.

We totally put the FUN in dysfunctional.

So you ask her what she wants for Christmas/birthday/Mother's Day and she says, of course, Nothing.

*sigh*

Last year, I made her listen to every flavor of jam and jelly in the Stonewall Kitchen catalog until we came upon one or two that she would admit didn't sound too horrible.

This year, food is out of the question, because she is on a soft food diet and is kind of pissed about it, and so food would just be mean. And possible challenging to my health.

Anything else she has ever gotten has been returned. Sometimes she doesn't like it, sometimes it's 'too nice' for her. Last year, my mom got her really good thread count sheets, and washed them, then sent them to her so she couldn't return them. WITHOUT the package they came in. Grandma grudgingly admits that she likes them, even though they were "far too expensive and you shouldn't spend so much money on me."

It's a problem, see? Suggestions?

I Will Rip Off Your Head And Shit Down Your Neck.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 12:20:22 PDT

So I'm talking to Fathead, about my grandma, who's in the hospital having stomach surgery, because her stomach is up against her esophagus and they were doing a kind of reverse lap band surgery, and before I could tell Fathead that part he was all Did they remove her stomach? And I said the first thing that popped into my mind, which was Do you think they could make haggis out of Grandma's stomach? Grandma haggis?

Yeah, my brain has been a little...funky. And in the words of I'm Not Benny: Yeah, so that happened.

You Are Like The Professor Of Advanced Crazy Bitchology

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 20:33:41 PDT

For the last few weeks I have felt unsettled and off. Not bad exactly, just disconcertingly...off. It hasn't made for pleasant thinking, living or blogging.

Things are good, for the most part. Weather changing, but in a good way. Cats annoying, also in the aforementioned good way.

Sorry guys. I'll try harder to fall down or aggravate the cable company or something.

This Morning Was A Toccata On A Theme Of WHAT THE FUCK?

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 15:45:31 PDT

I was going to write a post today except that THE NEW TERRY PRATCHETT ARRIVED! So the internet can suck it until I'm done reading it. I should be back tomorrow. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Man Cheese Was Just Too Horrible To Contemplate

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 22:54:02 PDT

Tim of I'm Not Benny fame just got a cell phone, and civilization is now doomed. I actually had an 8 text conversation with him before he finally figured out who he was talking to.

Fortunately, all parties involved have unlimited texting, or we'd be fucked. Of course, the downside of his ascent into the 21st century is that he gets texts like this.

Me: So, say you're a cannibal. Which part of the human is the steak? Wouldn't the ass be the roast?

Me: It's really amazing I'm single.

INB: Well I think that human probably tastes more like chicken.

INB: You should stop eating people. Dudes don't dig that. And I think the ass would probably be the roast, yes.

Me: Well, you certainly can't roast a human whole. Unless you have a spit. Not rotisserie, of course.

Me: Not me, dude, I stick to cheese. And shellfish.

INB: I think a stew is probably the best way to go. I'm not sure you can make people cheese, though.

Me: Anything you can milk you can make cheese. But then you'd need like a people farm.

INB: I think those are called concentration camps, dude.

Me: Um, yeah. Nevermind, I don't think I'd want lady cheese anyway.

INB: Dude, that was hilarious and disgusting all at once!

Me: I KNOW

All this just in the first day of him having a cell phone. This also pretty much explains why me and Tim are friends.

My Allergies Have Decided To Kill Me, And Have Recruited My Sinuses To The Cause

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 21:12:51 PDT

So I called Fathead to ask if his Eldest could come to Seattle for the holidays, and after he said that I sucked for taking his kid away at Christmas, he started the push to get me to come to Maine for Christmas. It would be great, I could see the Littlest and even Middle Daughter might deign to come up and visit. Come on, it would be a FAMILY HOLIDAY. There would even be snow.

And at some point in the midst of this wheedling scenario, I lost my damn mind and said I'd come for a weekend in December.

*sigh*

I don't like snow, and I'm not sure you guys realize this, but it's FUCKING COLD in Maine in December.
Plus, Bev Kaply would not be ok if I went to Maine and didn't come to New Mexico, so I'm also gonna go to the desert, which has the benefit of not being cold, but the drawback of not being my house. As a preventative to the Mom guilt, I'm gonna have to schedule that trip first. It's just easier than the alternative, believe you me.

Damn you, Fathead. DAMN. YOU.

I Am In The Kind Of Mood That Would Make St Francis Kick Puppies.

tracy.kaply@gmail.com (Tracy Lynn Kaply) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 10:24:21 PDT

I am just not doing very well today. I am feeling like I'm coming down with something, I can't seem to get warm, especially in my extremities, and you know, I could go on in this fashion but I'm not going to because two sentences in and I am already boring myself.

Some days, I submit, one is better off just conceding defeat at the get go and going back to bed. This, in fact, is what I intend to do. Fuck this shit. Bed time for bonzo it is.