Hello Chieftain!

Suddenly, Scrappy-Doo doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

Okay, when all this business with my leg started, I wasn't worried about this happening. But I am now.

Just put my old fan edit of the first Pirates Of The Caribbean teaser on Youtube. I was going to put my Haunted Mansion trailer up too, but it seems to have vanished from the hard drive. The pirates musta took it.



Leg still isn't completely healed. Though a pegleg would be kinda swank.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

Back at work this week. But I'm keeping the option to bail.

My leg is still nowhere near back to normal, but it's less scary than last week. I'm able to actually get out of bed in the morning, rather than lay there for fifteen minutes preparing myself for the pain, sitting up, putting my leg on the chair by the bed, getting used to the pain from that, then slowly moving myself down onto the chair with my leg on the floor, experiencing a whole new set of pain from that, then finally hoisting myself to my feet, bracing myself on the table, and hopping across the room, moaning like a crack baby every time I put any weight on it. So, progress.

It occurred to me that if this had happened at any other job, I would have been screwed; leaving aside the issue of having to stand in one spot all day, there's the simple fact that a vast majority of employers operate on a simple principle: when someone calls in sick, assume they're screwing off.

Shit, at the framehole they took it as read, and made no secret of it. One manager used to say that if we were sick, we should come in anyway, to show him we were sick, and if he decided we were sick enough, THEN he'd let us go. That backfired on him when the medicine I was taking for my carpal tunnel syndrome was making my anus bleed. He took my word on that one.

It was also how I got fired from the first casino. I called in sick, next thing I know John "I Give Herpes To Babies" Pruitt is in my face, sneering that he could hear me trying not to laugh as I pulled one over on him. I'll grant, that the new management was looking for excuses to replace anyone who predated their regime, so if not that it would have been something else, but still...

(And on a side note, yes, I know I make a policy of not slagging anyone off by name on here, but John Pruitt is such a sleazy piece of shit that he's a special case. I'll repeat, just to make sure this shows up in searches: John Pruitt Is A Sleazy Piece Of Shit Who Rapes Kittens)

So, yeah, it's nice to be at a job where they treat you with a minimum of basic dignity, and don't proceed on the assumption that you're trying to put one over on them. Though between this and my bout of intestinal distress last month, I'm kinda done being sick for now. I'm really not looking forward to seeing how small my next paycheck is.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

Hello there. Still alive. We're fine here, everything's fine. How are you?

So, yes, somehow some kind of bacteria got into my leg, and since monday my right calf has looked like that of a burn victim. I went through a series of tests and exams early in the week which told me...that my leg is infected. And that it's not a blood clot, which is, admittedly, a relief.

My kittykat has already told you about how this affected our trip to Victoria last weekend (it can never happen, say, while spending time with Oma), and by the time I got home sunday night, I was still mostly just dizzy. My mantra that night was "one night in my own bed and I'll be right as rain. Just let me get a good night's sleep and everything'll be fine."

Despite the fact that it took me several hours to get to sleep. Despite the fact that I woke up at the time I was supposed to be leaving, and that the pain in my leg had started in earnest. I sleepwalked (sleeplimped, really) through the morning and fell asleep in a meeting before Mowrer pulled me aside and essentially, told me I was in no shape to be there.

Since tuesday I've been popping two different antibiotics and rubbing steroid cream on the bad area and I'm FINALLY starting to see and feel some improvement. The real fun part is that even as my leg is getting better, my head is getting worse. Though that may just be from being stuck here in the apartment all day; being alone here all week has really gotten me ready to get this place in order.

Thanks to everyone for your concern, and thanks to Chris for bringing some essentials over last night. And no thanks to DirecTV for not being able to install here last week, which has left me scrambling for entertainment.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

The Oregon woman who owned the kitten said she turned down Ripley's Believe it or Not! and sold the remains to John Adolfi of Granby because she liked his religious reasons for wanting them. The museum founder, who believes in creationism, said the kitten is meant to launch another debate about how science and religion intersect.

Why cheapen Cy's short little life by making it about Jebus? He has now become the feline Terry Schiavo.

Shellswick will confirm that I suggested something along these lines over a year ago while watching that Trump show. Look, Hollywood, am I gonna have to start wearing tinfoil on my head to block your telepathy?

You know, the really sucky part about JP Patches being retired is that I can't have him turn on the ICU2 TV and announce that Shelly in Vancouver turns 27 today, and to tell her to look in the dryer. She loves JP so much, I know she'd enjoy that.

Happy birthday, Kittykat. I love you.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen