The Good The Bad and the Medical Drama

(This is the third time, my internet ate this twice now)
ahhahahaaa Woh woh woh… (theme to the Good the Bad and the Ugly)

Woh woh woh woh….

For those of you who have either never heard this before or just want to hear this while reading here is a video. For the hearing impaired the them is pretty much what I wrote above.

Today I saw the gynecologist about the font of blood issue and the discussion was as I expected. Though to get there I had to nagivate the world and I woke up feeling a bit fired up. I was going to make them see me even if they tried to screw up. I was prepared. So I donned my hat, today’s selection is my black riverboat gambler hat (the bad guy’s hats in every western or gambling movie) I put on make up so I could try and feel at least a little okay, a barrier between all the crap and myself, and went out. I had to take the sunshade off because the transport vans are too short for it, so I was hiding under the hat and sleeves. The ride was okay but the driver was obnoxious, though I enjoyed making him squirm with my honest answers to his invasive questions including, “Oh crap was that rude of me?” I also explained the ADA to him in detail and by the end of the half an hour journey he was very quiet and thanked me for not being mean about his questions. I shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as I did but I was being straight forward and honest. He did ask me if I thought all technology exists because of disability and I said at least most of the things he takes for granted such as automatic doors and some things on his computer do.

I went into the hospital and popped into the elevator, went up and was immediately surprised that they had renovated the floor plan. So, I turn around and there’s a receptionist waiting to answer my questions. She is here as her first day and doesn’t know where I am going but goes to ask, returns and leads me as far as she can, I read the sign on the door about an alarm and go to back track but a tech saw me and was surprised I didn’t ignore the sign and make loud sounds. I pointed out there is a sign on the door and she said “Well in the two years since they installed that alarm you are the first person to read it.” The last time I came this door was pinned open. I am sure other people read it but they didn’t care about how it would effect other people. I sign in, noting that in this room there are children and pregnant women. One of the little girls is scared, and I am instantly triggered because there is really only one reason I know of for a five year old to be in that office. Heart broken I scribble my information, my eyes letting me read paper today.

I sit and turn my music on loudly, drowning out all but the barest sounds of the room. I don’t want to hear the joys of the pregnant women, nor do I want to hear the sorrows of this child or the frustration of the teenager who doesn’t understand why just because she had sex she has to go in. I did anyway but I tried to be respectful of them because my brain would leap and bound and I will never forget their secrets. Ever. I will try but I know that next time I see a little girl of similar appearance I will think of that girl who looked so much like I did. I think that was what startled me the most. No one, as usual, could tell that something was wrong. That’s what I want. I want people to not be aware that my brain has me in a tail spin where I suddenly connect the new changes in my dreams of demons because of a child’s words in pain, pain she should not feel.

I am pulled out of the dark thoughts by a little boy, I didn’t hear the door and that’s the point of the headphones. Doors make me jumpy and I had parked with my back towards it because that was the best spot for me. I needed to point away from people so I could focus. “What’s that mommy?” “It’s not nice to stare, that’s a wheelchair.” A few moments passed and he was there beside me, “Are you a cowboy?” Not the question I expected. I look up and I can tell his mother is tense, her body is tight and she seems upset. I may have misread this but I instead told her son, “Nope, are you?” He shook his head and rattled of historical details, I could match him and we had a geek fest in the corner. His mother,who I am still watching comes over and asks me why I am willing to talk to him, as if there is something wrong with her son. “Well he started it.” She seems confused by my answer and asks him why he was willing to talk to me. He shrugs, “She’s nice.” His mother now seems worried and tells me he is Autistic, I tell her that’s why he is willing to talk. I am too. I doubt she got why he could talk to me. She seemed stuck on his idea that I am nice and safe when he doesn’t know me. All black head to toe is threatening to the Nuerotypicals, and heavy eyeliner? Crazy goth wheelchair lady appearance doesn’t get nice from them.

I am called in, I wave goodbye to the future cowboy and go into the back. I am lead down a yellow corridor, I am sure there are pictures but I only see yellow, it’s not a bad shade but it is not a pleasing shade at all. It stabs the eye like sandpaper with it’s shade. I had scheduled a specific room because of my disability, and this was not the room we entered. This room was tiny, the door opened and would hit the patient if said patient were on the table which also doubles as Mount Everest. The nurse is confused by the idea of closing the door behind me since I stopped in the middle and look at her and tell her, “This isn’t the right room. I am supposed to be in the procedure room.” It was supposed to be written down but Dr. Receptionist didn’t do this either. I feel frustration, but I am trying to work with people. She goes to check. I try and find a way to park my chair, visualizing first for safety and no, there is no way this room can fit me and a doctor and I won’t park in the yellow hall. That’s not safe for my equipment which I need for daily living.

The nurse comes back and says that they are waiting on a call in to the patient scheduled in that room in a half an hour but leads me to it, because there is no other way. Which is why I specified when I called in, and asked for the accommodation again. There is no other way even with an army of nurses that room will work and the others are full. The procedure room is used for the disabled and cancer diagnosis. It’s no a pleasant room and it effects the nurse. I can tell this. That’s not good but I noticed this last time. There is trepidation with this room. I don’t understand that, because cancer diagnosis can save a life that is lost without it so it’s good. The cancer is the bad.

I am told I can change, the patient isn’t here yet and said it was fine with her to wait. I am honored by this because waiting to know if you have cancer is tense, scary and I have done that a few times. I trade pants for a sheet and perch on this table, which is a safe distance from the ground so if I bungle this? I am okay. The doctor comes in. I find her oddly short. She is kind and we discuss my symptoms and she agrees with my theory that the lining of my uterus got to be too thick and tore things that shouldn’t tear. So we proceed with the testing.

I hate this part because it’s awkward, I feel self conscious and they poke you with sticks. I don’t know of any procedures for men that include as many sticks as when I see a gynecologist. Q-tips are sticks. The biopsy which they attempted to perform includes more sticks. The tool is a stick that sucks things into itself, which is better than cutting. The biopsy failed because my uterus just wouldn’t let anyone in. I did tell her I was having cramps still, and she warned me they would be worse and even the attempt at the biopsy causes bleeding. Which I knew going in, from the last time. It was unpleasant but instead of a hysterectomy there is one thing to try before we go that route. This is good.

Provera and Metformin are both known to force a period in women with my conditions. I cannot take metformin, so we will try provera when I don’t have a period by January. She says if. I know better. I don’t have a minimum of two periods a year and that is part of the issue. My body will let itself go for years, a part of me is fine with this for obvious reasons but the side effects are bad. If I didn’t eat a diet of meat and meat with a side of meat, I would have needed a blood transfusion in the ER from blood loss and my doctor was upset that they did not run all the tests they should have including an ultrasound. I will be getting one of those for my birthday, as three days before said birthday next month I have the appointment. More unpleasantness but I’ve been there before. The worst part is having to pee while they use more sticks to figure out what your guts look like.

I should have been admitted in the ER, at least for observation but I think that was clear from my symptoms. The doctor asked if I was considering suing, and I did not answer. I know I can and I am going to try working with the hospital first to prevent more bungling idiocies in their future. I don’t know that this is possible. I have to try.

I am still stunned at the differences in level of care, but at least in the last ten years there has been a shot at a treatment. For ten days in January I will take provera, this will trigger a period. IF it fails to do so then I get the scissors treatment. I think I know what will happen, and it ends in snips. However, I could be wrong. That feeling in my bones could just be my frustration and tiredness. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of not being able to eat food. The good news is having a period every six months should reduce my acne, abnormal body hair issues and may stop my voice from dropping anymore. I used to sing soprano and now I am an alto. Even when I speak my voice is lower. The one bonus is also a curse in some ways as I have a “male” sex drive, as in the way I desire sex has altered itself. There isn’t a slow cooking of want and thought, there is instead a visual and then an instant need. We discussed this too, I don’t know that I want the ease of pleasure to go away but cancer is bad. Especially cancer in your body where they would have to cut you wide like a fish. If we do a preventative hysterectomy my chances of healing are better. So that’s the plan, if this drug fails then we cut out my sugar and spice. Well at least the sugar. Spice and everything nice should remain, as will at least a remnant of a puppy dog tail.

I have been preparing over the last six months for surgery. Not a specific one but there are several broken things which the only fix is to either leave it be and suffer which won’t work forever or surgery. I have three potential surgeries. My jaw, my uterus, and my spine. Someday they might want to cut around there. So I am gathering things to keep me going when the time comes. The fact that I have avoided most major surgeries until this point is quite amazing medically speaking, because of how much of my body works “correctly”.

I am even working on a plan for Sprite and Nymph. My fear is Sprite’s needs not being met. My having been away for hours today has her draped over my knee, a white hot sleepy kitty. She needs me. I need her. My doctor having anaphalactic reactions to cats doesn’t help things either. I am not resigned to surgery but would rather that the provera works however that is not what my body tells me. At this point I hope that sense is wrong but it has yet to be wrong. I will know before this time next year if it was right and that is enough for me, at least for now.

I will not miss having a goatee if I don’t shave. I will not miss cramping even after the period is over. Both of those should go away with a “withdrawal period” as the forced period is called. My doctor was shocked and called it malpractice that no one had even tried anything in the last ten years because both of the aforementioned drugs are not that new, sometime with in the last five years they should’ve been brought up. Metformin was tried for a non uterus related ailment. Doctors are so tiresome at times. If all doctors followed their own protocols so much would be better. They are simple little things that are ignored and often make the difference.

I am too tired to be angry but I am very disappointed. There is a sense of betrayal here with in me. I trust these people to protect me from my body but they do not. Yet this is what I expect of them too. I have that sense of wanting to just flee this state again. If I could land safely anywhere I would go right now. I wonder if that urge comes from the growing knowledge of just how broken this state and it’s systems are? I am not sure. I just know that my future isn’t set in stone and I am hoping that no one tries to argue with me about having a kid first. I am sterile anyway, but I was told today that medicaid will pay for me to get my eggs scraped. Since that’s just what medicaid should be covering? I almost cursed.

The doctor as she poked me with sticks, for some reason female medicine is an endless line of sticks, she brought it up. She said she has to make the offer. She didn’t seem shocked at my scoffing at the idea. I don’t understand this however. I also am left trying to imagine medicine for women if we were men. There are similar men’s issues to my problems but they have all sorts of treatments from the physical non surgical to a myriad of drugs. Why is it that my medicine for my body has to be archaic because I have a vagina? This is illogical nonsense. The patriarchy just screwed me vaginally, that was my literal thought when I had that revelation. If in ten years the only thing is another form of BIRTH CONTROL? That’s IT? No one tried some sort of other thing? I have ideas that could help medically I think but I don’t have the science to know if I am right.

Once more they have me wanting to go to school. Once more they have me feeling frustrated. I was triggered and in pain and again had people questioning if I hurt as bad as I say I do because I am not screaming. It is exhausting navigating around these iron poles of nuerotypicality. How do they expect me to react? Does everyone have to scream and cry like a baby?

Oh yes and I had an allergic reaction to betadyne in my cunt. That’s not pleasant but not as bad as latex. Turns out that the ER should have also asked if I am allergic to shellfish, and as I haven’t used betadyne in years and always was sick anyway when doing so I didn’t know. The reaction is minor, just a rash and my doctor was very quick to treat it and change the sterilization stuffs but still. Why wasn’t that question ever asked before? I know that shellfish and eggs now have to go on my allergies list for the short list or I am screwed and rashy.

I am going to cuddle this ball of fur named Sprite, she’s currently in her dreams but her body is adorable and soft. Her paws are hanging off into space, her body is curled against my leg and between the two of them and she looks like she is smiling. She isn’t snoring yet but I am going to hold her for a while. I haven’t been able to do so for the last month due to cramping but she is worth it and I think I need her too. After all she always treats me as a person and loves me, with her I don’t have to be stunned at the rarity of a doctor or nurse who realizes I am competent and independent. Even if that happens only once they realize I got to the table my self, without their help. I changed and did it all because I can do it on my own mostly, and the nurses weren’t willing to assist me so I dealt with it to get on with my day.

911 Fail (Ableism Warning)

Yesterday because of a mistake in the office where my caregiver gets paid, I was told I had no carer.I have a bill I must pay on the first or my phone is turned off. There is no flexibility with in the system for me there, and so I grabbed money from my change jar and went to pay my bill. The harrowing five mile trip (plus whatever I do in stores) drains my chair battery, my battery, and can be scary enough when it comes to crossing the streets but the side walk is not up to ADA standards. I’ve said over and over once a certain someone returns my video camera I am going to video it, then push for changes. I don’t trust my city to take my word for it.

Over the bumps that bruise me and put me in enough pain that I get pale and shaky I go. I paid my bill, I bought some food that was easy to eat (deli meat, a rare treat) and I picked up a few things I wanted at Walmart, and priced a few others I need but must budget for first. I got asked out, flirted with a person and then headed home. About half way on my trip there is a curb cut so dangerous that I have mentioned it to my carer before. It is unavoidable, for the other side of the street has worse curb cuts. If I hit this curb wrong I could be thrown into the street. I hadn’t until yesterday.

I managed to keep out of the street but my chair ended up stuck. I tried reversing just a touch but that sent me going back at dangerous speeds towards the street. My chair was unable to go forward or backward. I waited ten minutes, full of trying to maneuver myself back to the safe spot (you have three inches to land in or you risk dying here, not a joke). I called 911,

I am already fighting off tears, I am at a bad angle that has me wanting to vomit and I have a big bag on my knees. The 911 operator answers, I fill her in and tell her where I am (I memorized the crossings just in case) and then she asks “So can’;t  you just get up and push your chair to a safe spot?” Now, I know some people like me can walk a bit without our chairs, but no, I cannot do this. I am hanging by my antitip tires, I can feel myself falling a bit more and she wants me to merrily pop up and fix it.

“No, it’s a wheelchair.” Valid response.

“Uh… well okay I’;ll send someone.” She was annoyed. She didn’t want to bother with a wheelchair user that surely must’ve done this on purpose.

She has me on hold, and while she is trying to find someone to send (this took about thirty seconds, she did work fast but none the less ableism much?) a truck drives up, I saw this truck pass me ten minutes before, because I remembered liking the color and lines. I like cars, I remember them. Out steps a really hot guy. I mean, wow. That this was my first thought should indicate how hot he is. Mr.Tattoos says, “I’m here to help!” Swoon? Only because I am really dizzy from bad angles.

He looks at the problem and then says, “Hold on.” He LIFTS MY CHAIR (that’s not a small feat) and plants me where I need to be. He then says, and this is the part that makes me go huh what? “Hmm, this curb cut is dangerous, I hope you are almost home.” Then, “I would like to ask you out.” I got his number, and appreciated that he understood this was not the right time to set up anything. He said a part of my charm was that I wasn’t crying and was trying to save myself first.

The 911 operator fails more here, because she did wait to see if he could rescue the damsel in distress, “Well see you didn’t really need to call us. You should’ve just waited for someone to come along.” Right, with the sun setting, I want to wait to see if a stranger may stop. I am stuck outside of a business that has been closed for over a year. I am in an area where I have NEVER seen anyone stop. The reality is, this man saw a person in trouble and could identify it and stopped. It took him ten minutes to find a place to turn around. I did the right thing by calling. I even told her all of this. “It’s a shame I am going to have to make a complaint against you and will probably be suing the city.” Then I hung up. Let her wonder. Let her fret. (I did file a complaint this morning, her boss is NOT pleased at all.)

Mr.Tattoos did not fail. In fact I had an oddly ableism free day excluding 911 lady. I was treated like a person all day, instead of like I had wheels for a face. Even the cashier at Walmart this time was so awesome. She asked me how I wanted my bags arranged, and she presumed I knew exactly how to maneuver myself. No one once made me feel like I should apologize for existing.

Now there is something more. My journey wasn’t complete after all. I made it home, and decided to check the mail. This is a ritualistic thing for me, and is part of my set of complusions. I am compelled with mail, it brings me solace. Mail means everything is okay. I had mail! and then dropped my keys… a man was walking past so I asked for help. He helped me get the package out of the box, my keys and then asked me out. “Wow you have such pretty eyes.” I entered my home with three numbers, while blushing.

So not only did the 911 person fail but man three hotties to date! I am taking this as a sign on dating, it is time. Which I knew already but wow. Silver platter me much?

Green Lantern’s First Flight Review

Green Lantern’s First Flight

Hal Jordan holding up his glowing power ring, glaring at the viewer through his green mask. Hal is a white man with brown hair.

I am an avid Green Lantern Fan. My DC comics reading goes Batman, Birds of Prey, Green Lantern. Darkest Night made me one happy fan girl. I finally sat down and watched First Flight. I am going to tell you now, I do not have anything really positive to say about the film. In fact I have several questions for the Warner Brothers.

  1. Have you ever cracked open a comic book in your life?
  2. Are you all really that sexist?
  3. Do you hire writers who also are unaware of source material and or don’t know how to put together a story?

I get it, this movie is for kids. I hate that excuse for poorly written slop. You know why? As a child my reaction was the same to poorly written slop. I am not going to bother seeing who acted in this slop, who wrote it, nor can anyone convince me that this film was worthy of my time.

My first complaint is the sexism.

Only two female characters speak and they are really treated as after thoughts. Carol Ferris is the ball buster, she was written as I perceive her in comics mostly, except there was no show of her softer side, her connection to Hal. Boodika was turned evil. REALLY NOW? REALLY? Not only was she poorly drawn and miscolored (as most of your aliens were) but she had to be evil? Sinestro had no side kick in the comics and that took away from his actual and abhorrently Hitler based evil.

Second point on the sexism. Abin Sur: “Find HIM.”

Do human males really have the only capacity for Will Power? Let me see… NO. I am always told I would be a ring bearer because of how much will I have. I know plenty of women with AMAZING will. I know plenty of people that would be Green Lantern Corps material. Most are women.

Third

Arisa looks terrified the entire time, has no lines, I am fine with the costume change but good lord… she is a Green Lantern. She has to be rather TOUGH.

Second:

Sinestro. This is where the crappy writing shows. It would’ve been passable writing otherwise, or maybe even fantastic writing. You see, Sinestro is written to be as obtuse as a brick wall. You can see he is the villain from the get go. Sinestro’s evil came from his oblivious lack of free thought. He was blind to any flaw with the Guardians, and wouldn’t talk about them ala Guy Gardner. Well he was more bitter than Guy would’ve been but calling them gnomes et al is a Gardner tactic. Sinestro was the perfect lantern, he was the one that set the bar before Hal Jordan outed his evil. A good Sinestro blindsides a new reader/viewer with his evil. You know, you could even make him likable to make it sting more. It is supposed to hurt. Instead I was bored with waiting for the villainy to start so the movie could be OVER.

Continuity Errors:

Lets just talk about the ones in the film. Obviously no film can be completely perfect when based on another medium. I didn’t expect perfect. Continuity errors include the whole yellow impurity, a vague mention of a green impurity and then the writers ignoring this and having EXPERIENCED Green Lanterns blasting at Yellow. Yellow being effect… there were more but this was the most cumbersome.

Lots of the voice acting was crappy, there were words that were mispronounced. Poozer was pronounced POSER repeatedly. This was just an element of bad acting. The voices were all awkward, jarring, though I admit the Hal Jordan voice was better than when David Boreanaz took the ring. Geesh.

Another element of this movie that sucks is that the Green Lanterns wait, even after rings are powered to act while Jordan gets his rear handed to him by Sinestro. Not only do I have to endure really poorly designed constructs (a construct is anything you imagine and it’s wads of light and clamps?!) but there is also the issue of these folks having Will. The entire corps is portrayed as if it lacks will. The guardians have names, which I guess makes them identifiable to kids? Not sure why but it was weird to hear the varying styles of names used.

The main writing issue however is again the Alien’s use of earth colloquialism. It is understandable in the comic after a time, as the Corps has been exposed to human idioms and therefore assimilation on both sides occurs. It is not okay in this film because not only does it destroy various character personalities (as does the abject cowardice portrayed) but further more even with a translation by the ring the phrasing wouldn’t BE with words used in slang it would be a grammatically perfect translation. I somehow doubt Sinestro’s world has gnomes.

Over all this was a waste of my time. This was a waste of your funding, and for anyone new to the Green Lanterns it is a waste of enticement. This film does not entice new fans, but instead drives existing fans away with it’s horribleness. A climactic laxer light show does not make up for an hour and some odd minutes of BAD WRITING. I wanted to see a creative construct. I wanted to see a good movie. I expected less. This was still below my basement level expectations.

It’s enough for me to give in and write out my comic character proposal to challenge Warner and DC’s blatant sexism. There was a moment in Green Arrow and Green Lantern’s team up book where Hal’s racism is called out. It looks like time for a girl to hand Guy, Hal, and Kyle’s butt’s to them on a platter of green glowing light.

Another One Bites the Dust (Trigger Warning)

I find it a bit odd to be writing this post. It isn’t odd that I would write about caregiver abuse, but that I would write about it again so soon on a personal level. I’ve been quiet about it because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for my not so perfect now ex-caregiver K. Remember when I posted that the Honeymoon was over? I didn’t talk about the whole there, nor did I mention that K was going to be fired from that moment, as soon as I could find a replacement.

K was not as bad as the other abusive caregivers I have dealt with, but, she was worse in some ways. She was abusive to my neighbors, not just me. No one should be abused but I have always felt it should just be me, if anyone at all. Not heroically but I don’t want anyone else to hurt. I also was a bit unaware of some of the abuse, still in survival mode. It all hit me at once the other day, but a couple of days ago (That’d be a Monday) things exploded.

Before going into that I want to list all the ways K was abusive that I can think of, partly because I still feel this little niggling doubt, these caregivers can’t be all bad right? This is a symptom of abuse itself. It springs from that old addage, that if the problem keeps reoccuring it must be you. I realize that there may be truth there, but, with abuse it is not the fault of the victim, no matter who they are.

K’s Ways of Abuse:
Tardiness. The instant she was aware that I couldn’t just fire her, she became so unreliable I spent the next few months literally just waiting for her. This meant no appointments unless I wanted to risk punishment, this meant missing religious activities, personal activities, and put me back into that pocket of isolation that I had fought so hard to get out of. This meant also that I couldn’t schedule appointments with other caregivers to interview them.

Offering the Forbidden Foods. Forbidden foods do not just include allergens, which she filled my new kitchen with as she put her own food in my fridge and freezer. This includes offering me food that I specified triggered a PTSD response. Turkey and Quesadillas both to me are the worst food in the world. It’s a bit ironic on that last one but, it is no longer one of my favorite things. I told her clearly when I hired her that these foods were not welcome in my home. If I pissed her off, she would offer it to me, then mock me for being upset if I showed it.

Emotional Abuse. This is a bit of a borad umbrella, springing off of the specified torment above, she’d ask if that was Paul outside, she’d mention how hard it would be for me to escape in this apartment with there being a limited number of exits, she made sure to tell my mother I think she’s a bad mother, she did a dozen little things JUST to hurt me. This included losing things, hiding things, and accessibility challenges though that over laps into…

Physical Abuse. Being denied the ability to bathe, clean clothes, food, etc is physical abuse. So is spiking the heater up to 90 on a heat sensitive person, when they are asleep it is more dangerous. Putting piles of boxes infront of the refridgerator and then not showing up for a few days is also abuse. Making the home in accessible by arguing about where things go and then just putting it where you feel like is abuse. Throwing things, is abuse. Burning food to punish someone for not letting you make up hours you missed by being a lazy (censored) is abuse.

K I sure as hell hope you read this, because I never got to explain to you why what you did was wrong, and your mommy sure as hell never will. It’s also wrong for you to not buckle your child and enforce her seat belt time. If she dies you are liable for her death as Murder. It’s a cold hard fact, and one I hope you never face but, with the way your kid runs around a  moving vehicle and distracts the driver, her danger increases. Oh and that warrant for your arrest? Who will take care of her if you never resolve that….

Snarly side note aside the abuse list is a lot longer but it’s hard. I feel like I lost momentum in my writing. So, since I can’t list every abuse let me tell you why she wasn’t given a nice ejection. The last day with K.

It started out on a somewhat cloudy day, I took the weekend to myself, because the endless waiting has left me a very angry client and Friday she was so late that after asking me to get up early so she could come in and have the afternoon off, I said screw it and locked up then went to sleep. I told her I was doing so. I worked it out with the people who are helping me change agencies, the original plan to ditch the pain in the butt, and they agreed with my choice so I gave K the weekend off. She always complains about how hard the work is, how we never have fun etc, so it seemed like a good idea. Side note here, you can’t have fun if you are late and MISS the fun.

So, Monday comes, I slept a bit late, took my time getting ready, I didn’t know if she would show or not. I unlocked the door, go to the bathroom, and the banging starts. An Unlocked Door is impossible to open you see. So I finish my business and go to open the door. She is HOLDING the knob so I can’t help her. I have to work hard to not show my disgust at this and I go and sit down. First things first I give her a chore, the litterbox. Not to punish her but because after five days it is rank. Five Days. She didn’t do it when she was told to the last time.

Then, I decide to ask for food. This is where it all starts to go wrong, apparently my wanting her to do her job is a bad thing. I bought pizza recently, and decided to eat it. So I ask her to put pepperonis on the pizza and use the oven. She supposedly cleaned this oven but I always put my pizza on a sheet and insisted. Now I am glad I insisted on that because with in minutes the oven, which she supposedly cleaned, was on fire. She set my kitchen on fire.

Instead of turning off the oven, opening windows etc, she runs outside for five minutes. I am stuck in smoke. So I start trying to get the window open, because I cannot go outside without my chair. She comes in and yells at me to sit down, so I do. I am not going to waste energy arguing. She then proceeds to leave the door open, to which I ask her to close it and lock the cats up THEN open it. I don’t know why this is a bad thing, I want to protect my cats. They take care of me. She replies with, and I quote because it pissed me off, “You don’t care about my feelings!” Her feelings? I didn’t think before I spoke, “Not right now, no. Now close the cats up.” I am choking on smoke, she keeps going outside to escape it, and then says that crap? Really? She follows this up with a, “After all I’ve done for you.” I let go. I have kept my anger on a short leash, and this is the first time I have yelled. She;’s already screaming at me, and I am not going to have this dumb (censored) in my (censored) house. I cursed too. “Get the (censored the F word) out! You are FIRED!” Somehow, I managed to double yell Fired.

She kind of stood there for a minute, so I got up. I am half expecting her to hurt me, because with everything else? Why wouldn’t she? So she storms out after I grab my grabber, which is metal and solid. Yes, I armed myself just to feel safe. Also I was wobbling badly so I used it to balance and moved forward. She moved back and then threw my keys at me. Then Her keys. Then she stormed out the gate and I locked up. My neighbors and caseworker showed. Kat my caseworker, I haven’t told you about her yet but she’s fantastic even if we get the name giggles, was already there with another client and came immediately. My neighbors all checked in on me and have been regularly when Keera doesn’t show. Since she abused them too, I don’t blame them for staying away when she is here.

I have been alone for two days, and I have been great. I get quiet time, instead of incessant texts that show her illiteracy, not just text speak but gibberish to those who KNOW text speak, chain letters etc. Now, she did steal from me, and that last day took some of my morphine. She also happens to owe me money. Will I ever get paid back? I will sue her if I have to, because she signed an IOU for the money. I decided it was worth it. I even put in an addendum that states that if she doesn’t pay by a certain amount of time, then there is interest added on. She signed it and we each have a copy.

I win. I am good right now, and I also know that I really do win. How can I not when I am strong enough to make my way out. I can’t share everything with this space because I mean it when I say there is going to be legal action. I can handle it. She probably can’t. I (censored) Win.!

Tracey Ullman Fail

So called comedians often use minorities for their humor. I never find this funny, and usually question why I bother trying to watch comedy shows after a certain point. Today I noticed the on-demand section for ShowTime had the “Tracey Ullman’s United States” section added. I started the first program, and right off the script starts with bashing illegal immigrants, Tracey Ullman, a white woman, in black face. It moves on to her mocking the Indian Culture, Islam, and Italians. She also mocks the very real medical ailment of Restless Leg Syndrome. It may sound funny, but, your legs burning all the time, unable to keep them still? Very problematic.

Instead of funny this show seems to show her hate. She makes fun of mostly ethnic groups, minorities, but makes fun of just enough white people to get away with her bigotry by the standards of those blind to their privilege. She makes fun of those from the south. She makes fun of everyone.

Hold up a mirror Tracey. Hold up a mirror to yourself and see just how sad you are. She goes with victim blaming, rape jokes, and does she see what this does to people? This isn’t funny. It is aggressively disgusting.

This may be old news, but, maybe someone will read this and will take notice. It is never funny to demean someone. It is never appropriate to put on black face. That was never funny. Ever. It is not appropriate to have your Indian Woman character sing her sentences in a mock Bollywood production while her life is threatened. It isn’t funny to play out acts of Xenophobia.

This show was supposed to be about America. Why then does any non white person have a thick accent that is usually unintelligible? Racism. Bigotry. Crap.

Not only is this show anti female, it is anti human. I will never watch another Tracey Ullman special. I can’t stand the stench of her tastelessness.

I am sure somewhere online you can find justifications for how she creates her characters to mock bigots. If the effect is more mocking of the minority, you have fail.

I felt this after one episode, I am trying a second.

More black face. More racial cliches. Showing a woman of color as toothless, uneducated, and irresponsible is NOT Funny. Mocking the Veterans of the Iraq war? Wrong. We need to support our soldiers even if we do not support the War itself. These individuals signed up with the intent to protect us.

Making fun of erectile dysfunction I can let pass, but wait… for many non elderly men Viagra has been an aid in achieving some of life’s more pleasurable aspects. It can help the disabled male perform, which can be psychologically freeing. Stating that elderly men who use Viagra will use it to sleep with whores is disrespectful to both sex workers and the elderly. Who has the right to judge the partner of another? Not me. Not you. Not Tracey Ullman.

Making fun of Poverty is inappropriate. Saying that a kid is “Shit at Math” is inappropriate. It doesn’t matter if parents say this all the time, a kid will believe it and will stop trying. It is important to encourage children, way to reinforce negatives.

Making fun of hard working individuals, those who have disabilities, making fun of those who are more naive about the world at large. None of this is funny. Doing this two episodes in a row? Mocking religion, not okay. No matter what religion it is. No matter how controversial you want to be, being a bigot is just not funny.

There is plenty of comedy without oppressing people. When the “funniest” stuff you do is antihuman, which this crap is… you are failing. When the non racist bits aren’t funny how do you get called a comedian?

I therefore give the elusive and rare Corkscrew of Justice to Tracey Ullman. You. FAIL.

Handicapped Access Fail

I love the fail blog, I really do. Still in reading the back log left from a weak net connection for three months I found this. That’s right. Handicapped fail. I waited for the picture to load with anguish, fearing it was mocking someone in a wheelchair. Instead, Fail Blog has some win. They showed an accessibility issue, with a twist of humor, but called the lack of access fail. Anyone who has ever used a wheelchair knows how big that fail is. I have cried over such fail.

So, Failblog, thank you! You are win!

Now I am going back to reading it, I love me some Schadenfraude 😉

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