What are you afraid of?

I am not embarrassed to admit it: I suffer from Ophidiophobia. For those of you not in the know, this is a legitimate fear of snakes. Not arms. No legs. And the ability to move/bite/strike. Not normal.

Some fears are a lot more rational than others. I remember as a kid, like most othes, I used to suffer from Achluophobia - fear of darkness. I guess other rational fears include:

Hadephobia- Fear of hell

Medomalacuphobia- Fear of losing an erection - this is never a good thing and a VERY legitimate fear for men.

And Politicophobia- Fear or abnormal dislike of politicians. Understandable.

But then there are some not so rational fears. I can't quite put my finger on it, but take a look at these and you be the judge:

Ablutophobia- Fear of washing or bathing

Alektorophobia- Fear of chickens

Atomosophobia- Fear of atomic explosions

Caligynephobia- Fear of beautiful women

Clinophobia- Fear of going to bed

Enetophobia- Fear of pins

Ephebiphobia- Fear of teenagers

Euphobia- Fear of hearing good news

Hobophobia- Fear of bums or beggars

Xanthophobia- Fear of the color yellow or the word yellow

Xenoglossophobia- Fear of foreign languages

And my personal favorite: Zemmiphobia- Fear of the great mole rat

Not as much 'scarey' as 'dreary'

This has been a very BLAH week. I took a day off on Tuesday and was continuously ripped from my slumber by calls from the office.

"Where's the copy for X?"

"It's on my desk. Leave me alone."

"Where are the amendments to X?"

"I'll email them to you. Now LEAVE me alone!"

I have sadly neglected my dear friends in prison, the ones who count on me for correspondence in the form of letters. Instead, I have been working, sleeping, eating, and sleeping. But bless, they still continue to write. Makes me feel bad.

Last night my cat - the one that cost about as much as a generous donation to a small African country - got stuck in the cross bars of the ironing board. I'm still at a loss at how she managed to get up there. I was taking a nap when she started shrieking like a banshee. I just assumed she was fighting with my other cat - and losing, quite badly. Eventually the tone of the banshee scream changed to a blood-curdling growl. I peeped out from under the blanket and saw her dangling there, arm twisted into some weird position. SO I hopped out of bed to save her - much like a fireman saves a cat from a tree - only to have my hand lacerated by the thrashing needles she has on the ends of her paws.

Great. Super. Just wonderful. I'm tired and look like a wreck. Not scarey-looking, mind you. Just dreary and washed out. Like my friend the scarecrow.

Game. Set. And match.

Tis not all that often that I play tennis. But yesterday I decided to venture out on to a tennis court and practise the old backhand with a work colleague.

What a jolly sight it must have been, watching me run around the court like an excited puppy, panting and sweating profusely. I haven't played the gentleman's game in almost three years, but that is hardly any reason for my 'opponent' to get all up in my face about it. Just be happy I smacked it over the net, fellow!

I must admit, rather modestly, that my backhand is quite dynamite. It's the forehand that needs a lot of work.

I finally got the hint that my opponent, a work colleague, was getting rather annoyed at me when he started shooting balls across the court that came whizzing past me at speeds that would make a race car envious.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm rather buggered," I yelped across the court. He was most happy.

Off we trotted to grab some refreshment as my mouth was drier than a camel's underfoot.

Today, I can feel the pain of strained muscles in parts of my body I never imagined ever did a day of work. My thighs are on fire, and my lower back makes me feel as though I'm 70 years old. Time to hang up the racquet, put away those fuzzy green balls and stick to a nice, relaxing game of tennis. Online.

"You've got mail"

A few weeks back, I ordered some crap called "wall art" online. It looked nice on their website. And I like nice. So I wanted some. They are these long dangly things with odd-sized wooden hoops. Looks very nice and I was thrilled to hang them up.

That is until I checked my mailbox a few days days later and there was a west elm brochure.

"But I didn't order this," I said to myself - quickly glancing around to make sure no one saw me talking to myself. "What a nice surprise though." And I quickly thumbed through the pages of expensive stuff I can't really afford but wish I could have.

A few days later, there were two more catalogs in my mailbox. Now I know for a fact that I didn't order anything from these people. The one is Pottery Barn. The other is some pretentious Italian place called Chiasso where for just $4000, you can get a snow white sofa. Why on God's green earth would anyone want a snow white sofa? Unless of course they lived in a museum. And at that price? Good Lord, that's rent for almost half a month.

Anyway, I digress. I have become a hot commodity, a saleable item. I'm guessing my name and address where sold to "the" catalog people - the ones who decided whose mailbox gets bombarded with loads of catalogs for places ranging from Crate & Barrel to that one-man shop run out of Hope, Arkansas.

I just want to take this opportunity to say STOP!!

Stop sending me all this crap. If I want something from you, I'll hunt you down and buy it. I don't need prospective things shoved down my throat. Silly idiots, don't you realise you can choke a person like that. It's more than enough that I have to deal with all the Sale crap from Wal Mart that fills up my mailbox, but to have to contend with those endless catalogs as well?! No more. My regular mail is complaining that its not getting enough attention. You know, mail like bills from Nevada Power.

So, enough already with the catalogs. I don't want more of your stuff.

LEAVE CHRIS CROCKER ALONE!!!

Seth Green Chris Crocker Outtakes

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I have a stye on my eye

And it hurts like a Mo Fo.

So I went to visit my knowledgable friend, Wikipedia - odd name, I know, but I didn't pick it - anyway, my knowledgable friend informed me that a stye is an infection of the sebaceous glands at the base of the eyelashes. Okay. While they produce no lasting damage, they can be quite painful. No shit Wiki.

But oh knowledgable one, I thought only kids got styes.

Wiki: They are particularly common in infants, though people of any age may experience them

I see. And what in God's name causes this aesthetically-unpleasing things on one's eye?

Wiki: Styes are generally caused by a Staphylococcus aureus bacteria infection. They can be triggered by stress, poor nutrition or lack of sleep.

Well it can't be poor nutrition. If you saw how many Twinkies I eat a day, how many cups of coffee. Seriously, it's not the nutrition thing. But stress you say? Lack of sleep? Both very interesting. I suffer from both ailments. Perhaps they got together one night while I was pulling my hair out due to my insomnia and decided to bump uglies before giving birth to this swollen red thing on my eye.

Wiki: The first signs are tenderness, pain, and redness in the affected area. Later symptoms that arise include swelling, watering of the eye, sensitivity to light, and discomfort during blinking. A yellowish bump develops in the affected area.

Oh, thanks Wiki. That sounds super attractive. A yellowish bump you say?! Charming. Discomfort while blinking? What a pity I happen to this SEVERAL TIMES A MINUTE!!

So let me get this right. It's 2007. We have chemotheraphy for cancer, Head & Shoulders for dandruff, and amputation for gangreen. But nothing to cure a stye. Yes, there is this Stye Eye Relief, but does it work? Hell no. Another consumerist trick to get you to part with $9.99.

But Wiki, how can I get rid of it?

Wiki: Most styes will drain on their own though this may be accelerated with a hot or warm compress, or by pulling out the eyelash. Styes typically resolve within 1 week with treatment. Since a stye is technically a pimple, it can be popped. However, doing so is not recommended without technical expertise due to them forming dangerously close to the eye for those inexperienced at this. Medical professionals will sometimes lance a particularly persistent or irritating stye with a needle, to accelerate its draining.

And by "lancing" I imagine you mean taking a needle dangerously close to my eyeball and popping the red, swollen beast. Wonderful.

I have a new toy

My new Palm Treo. It retrieves my office email, has texting capabilities, keeps me in touch with the world, predicts the weather in Asia, blow dries my hair, tests my cholesterol level, and does my Christmas shopping, trims trees, navigates 747s - across continents, whips up fluffy omelettes in minutes, and makes my coffee.

My brand new, 2nd hand Palm Treo PDA ladies & gentleman. Who would have thought I would have stepped so boldly into the 22nd century of tech advancement?! Sure as hell not me. Now if only I could figure out how to switch the damn thing off.