Emchap's Shit from the Internet 04/3/19 🍠
I eat basically the same thing all week (lunch: the week's big pot of soup; dinner: the week's big baked thing) because I work out of my house, which means that I was startled to discover that the twisting in the pit of my stomach last night was not the continuation of emotional unhappiness from a Man Being A Jerkass, but was instead some sort of godforsaken intestinal virus from either a snack bread I bought for breakfast or some fried mac and cheese balls I bought at an ill-advised happy hour. (Yes, I'm aware my diet is not Great.)
It was on the touch side of touch-and-go for a minute there, but shortly after returning home from the vet I was apparently overcome with the emotional overwhelm of being flirted with by the cute vet tech, and spent the afternoon dashing from my work computer to the bathroom to—and I believe this is the technical term—pee out my butt.
Three and a half hours in, I found where I'd stuck the pepto pills during the move, and they have dramatically improved my current state of being.
(My cat has an ear infection, by the way. It's been a whole Thing, everyone in my house is gross. Did you know you find this out by scooping cat earwax out with a q-tip? This is very funny to me.)
The cat has forgiven me for the betrayal of shoving him in a bag to go have his ears messed with and is currently napping on my bed. I'd originally taken him in to the vet because of a concern that he might have a UTI (like mother, like son), because yesterday I picked up a dress from my bed that he'd been sitting on, and it was wet. I was confused, because it didn't smell like cat piss, but also... what else could it have been? It looked like someone had just dumped a few tablespoons of water on my sleep caftan.
The vet poked and prodded him and said it was up to me if I wanted to get him tested (which involves, glamorously, a urine sample being pulled via a needle and $150), but he seemed fine. I've discovered no mystery wet patches since, so it appears that he's not peeing on the bed generally. It's good, of course—UTIs can be fatal in male cats—but leads me with the completely distressing consideration of what the wet patch was, then.
Current theories are that he so aggressively drooled on it while grooming my dress in my absence that it made everything moist (which, aww and eww in equal measure), or that he climbed into the toilet bowl while I wasn't watching (again) and passed out on the dress after. Both are possible.
I love my disgusting goblin son and his fucked up ears that I have to put ear drops in twice a day for the next 14 days. (I told the vet tech that I'd just do the ear drops at the same time I do my antidepressants, which got an agreement that that was a good mnemonic, because vet techs are grim and unflappable.)
I am hoping the rest of the week is looking up from here.
nb because my family reads this: I did teledoc this morning! I'm fine according to the nice medical professional I spoke to! It is probably just a gross food virus and I don't have a fever!
Shit to read
I'm currently reading this book about the famed historical polyamorous sex weirdos at Oneida and it is a delight.
Also just finished In Intimate Detail, which is a great educational book on lingerie from the woman who runs the (excellent) The Lingerie Addict, and super recommend it if you're someone who wears undergarments.
My dad got me a giftcard to Skylight Books for my birthday, and while shopping for things to use it on I discovered that Skylight had some back issues of The Desert Oracle for sale, and I have since subscribed directly. It is a great, weird, dreamy magazine from the Southwest run by Ken Layne; a bit like if Nightvale were real. I recommend it.
Ranking sexual attractiveness is dumb as shit; the only thing that matters is if you'd hit that or the asexual equivalent.
Human bodies are fascinating!
This mystery about Garfield phones is not solved enough for me not to be obsessed with it.
This article made me sad, but I am delighted that such a thing existed, if only for a little time.
Always here for David Sedaris Content.
I loved loved loved this article about being a polite guest in spaces not made for you.
Please discuss this Courtney Stodden article with me.
It seems like 2019 was the year we all quit drinking.
No public comment but it's been fascinating to watch the fallout from this.
Bob Fosse: not a great dude.
Shit to eat
Nothing. Nothing at all. I need my food to stay inside of me.
Shit to listen to
I really like the playlists that the guy who writes the Rent Week recipes for Bon Appétit includes with them.
Shit to buy
Pepto. Just put it in your house now.
I bought this snail mucin sleeping mask to deal with when my skin lost its FUCKING MIND post-Portugal, and using it as a night mask does seem to be fading my red marks and I wake up very dewy. Nicole Cliffe recommended this very similar product earlier this week, and it's a little cheaper.
I think this is next up on my goofy skin purchase list.