The Return of The Stye

Last night, I spent all night with Agent Goren and Eames (from Law and Order: Criminal Intent for you neewbs) and a wash cloth over my eye, because Herman (my eye stye from four years ago, read about him here, here and here) made a lovely return and this time I was determined to avoid getting a shot of steroids to my eyeball. And if this post has a practical take away, it’s this: Always avoid shots to the eyeball.

After 90 minutes of a warm compress, Herman’s brother was gone, but do you know what happens when you properly extract a stye? Your eye looks all droopy and puffy and you get a good glimpse of yourself at 80 or when you decide to stay up after 10pm.

Today, I went to Starbucks (yes, it’s in the budget and not a violation of No Pants 2012) to get some work done and an awkward teenage boy sat across from me, laughing at his ‘Droid and occasionally staring at me. And I was feeling all hot and Mrs Robinson, when I realized he was probably tweeting about how he was sitting across from some old lady who got punched in the left eye. Some lady who didn’t have pants on and was reading about “How to Flirt With Guys” on the internet. (What? It’s for my JOB!) Staying this sexy doesn’t happen by accident, ya’ll.

Here’s where I’ve been on the internet this week:

Writing about the caucuses and here too.

Reporting on the hard-hitting news like Obama on mars and death stalking the shadow of the Queen (TRADEMARK on that phrase! It’s going to be the best murder novel ever, which I will write as soon as I sell this other book that I am working on…Any day now.)

Also, you should know that I am going to start making my daughter self-flagellate. 

And here are the places I’ve been wasting my time:

I don’t talk about my brother a lot on this site, but my brother Noah has Downs. Yesterday, I found this blog about another little boy with Downs named Noah and I spent the whole day in tears, beautiful tears. I love this family.

On another note, I’m kind of obsessed with sites that post the dumb things people say on the internet, one of those sites is STFU Couples. I may or may not have spent an hour on this site and found (maybe) the best series of posts about possibly the worst  best wedding ever. Oh Jami, the hours of amusement you provided me will counteract the other karma you’ve sent into the world.

No one actually wanted to work today? Did you? I didn’t think so…



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