an attempt to write a post without a single .gif or .jpg.

Hmm, quite.

These are my words: Tonight was my first experience in getting a prescription filled and picked up. For my own particular use, in fact. Not many things in my life have made me feel like a grown up as much as having a stranger fill a plastic bottle that has my name on it with small white pills. Cannot explain why this is, but here I stand. It was an experience and a half, and of course there was a line, and everyone (EVERYONE) knows that line situations make me antsy. So I innately turn inward and try to ignore the 468 people in front of me who have various as-yet-unnamed conditions. Me, I'm hypothyroid. NBD. So n e wayz, I roll up to the line like, HI GUYZ I'M GETTING DA DRUGZ TEW!!1one!1! and make my way to the back of the line. People who are familiar with the prescription drug scene (in the legitimate way I am describing for your benefit now) are probably rolling their eyes at me, but just like, judge, I guess. It's new to me.

Everything's fine and I'm just mindin' da biz in the cough and cold remedy aisle. I subconsciously (because by now I'm engrossed in reading all the medicine boxes) take in the fact that someone has gotten into line behind me and I carry on. Approximately 15.7 seconds later, this person leans into my space, as if in need of support. Coming into my space, as it were. Just coming in. Onto my back. Cannot emphasize enough how much this stranger, in line for drugs for who knows what ailment, began to use my immediate bodily area for their own physical support. Being the passive aggressive gem I am, of course I don't look back or acknowledge said leaning, I slowly and stealthily shift my weight forward so there is a more socially appropriate amount of space between me and The Leaner.

Thankfully the line had shifted by this time to indicate that I was "next" (what was supposed to happen after that I was still clueless. Oh the intricacy of this new situation...) and I was able to create more distance between us. I can tell the woman in front of me is wrapping up her shiz and I'm about to move forward when The Leaner (most likely named Carol) pulls her signature move and, touching my back between the shoulder blades (creepy) inquires as to whether they (the pharmacists, I'm assuming?) were calling our names or if "we were just hoping to get lucky." Not sure what either of those statements meant, being the noob that I was. Fighting the urge to backhand her across the face for touching me twice (the first time of which remains unexplained to this day), I half turned (details gleaned about The Leaner from this glance: Oldish, approximately 57 years, 5'3", female, glasses, LEANS ON STRANGERS IN THE PHARMACY LINE) and said, That's what the line's for, I think. Ha ha, ha ha ha.

I made a bee line for the window as soon as the previous customer shot off maniacally on her motorized scooter and didn't look back again.

Thank you, Smith's Pharmacy. Let's do this again in a month...

I'm in a glass case of emotion, nobody makes me bleed my own blood...

Etc.

mine eyes are burning: and other tales.

Lately when I've woken up my eyes are impossibly red and hurty. It feels like tired but with a hint of corneal infection. No idea. One other possibility is the cold weather. Pretty much as soon as November hit it feels like we were thrust into the Arctic tundra and my body's still reeling from the shock of it. Skin and hair getting dry, sensitive eyes red-rimmed and watery, and the edges of a cold taunting but never fully revealing itself. A week or so ago I felt my annual sinus infection coming on and headed home early from work. Two Emergen-C's, a Theraflu, and 19 hours of sleep later, crisis averted. I was pretty proud of myself. Very much not ready for winter. I feel like I can skip the next few months. Bears sure have something in this hibernation thing I hear they do. Because I'm too cheap to turn on the heat, a typical winter morning for me goes something like this: Wake up. Stick arm out of toasty blanket pile to discern level of imminent pain once I venture out. Icicles form on arm. Retract arm into blanket safety. Take a deep breath. Throw off covers while simultaneously taking off clothes to dive into shower. Turn on delicious hot water. Next there's denial, bargaining, and finally acceptance. Must leave shower.

Le sigh. Let us now speak of something that is foremost on my mind, and that's the fact that never in all the days of the Galactic Standard Calendar did I think I'd be dating someone who has blond hair. I know you are all up in arms over this as much as I am. I guess the joke's on me. Let me explain, I guess. I used to make fun of Cara for liking Quinn from The Used. Or any other light-haired guy. I've always been a brown hair/brown eyes kind of girl. Cara can attest to the level of my disgust over anything else. But within the last year I've had a mighty change of heart. It started with Thor, continued with Eric Northman, and found its summation in Jax Teller. (Fully aware that I sound like a ridiculous teenager right now, thanks. "There's a difference between like and love. Because, I like my Skechers, but I love my Prada backpack." RITE??) For a long time I questioned myself and my place in the universe. And now, months later, here is this new Eric. Blond hair, blue eyes. And I'm telling you, the view is great from where I'm standing. Yeah, total mindblow. Just goes to show you never know who's right for you, and limiting yourself to only people who look a certain way is probably the most ridiculous thing ever. /end soapbox.

What else should we talk about? I feel like I've been absent from the blogging world for too long to really know what to say to you people. Hm. Do you like...cheese?