NEW POSTS BELOW! You have to scroll down.

In honor of October being Breast Cancer Awareness month, this post will stay at the top until Nov. 1. I promise there will be new stuff below.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. In honor of your favorite set (may they be yours or another's)... I bought one, and so should you.

GO BUY IT!!!!!

New posts below, which you may or may not choose to read... but everyone's got to see this shirt!

BTW, October is also Physical Therapy Month, but that's less important than protecting your favorite pair. And that's a PT saying that.

Holy shitballs, people.

I'm not usually one to give two shakes about what other people think about me. Well, maybe I give one shake, but only that they know I'm not evil. Anyway, today I was rocked. Flabbergasted. Shocked even.

I am cool. I realized that a few bloggers who I think are REALLY REALLY cool, have my blog linked.

I am cool, and I never even knew.

I'm alive! No, really, I am. I've just been busy.

I know, I know, we're all busy. But, now that I live in one state, I have a lot more to unpack! In the past week I unloaded a 2/3 full U-Haul trailer from my storage unit in SC, and received 6 boxes from my friend's basement from my time in Alaska. I have stuff again! And it's all in my 2nd bedroom. And did I mention that I'm getting a sleeper sofa on Saturday for that room? I've got some boxes to get to tomorrow! Better put on my SuperGirl underpants.

Oh, and tomorrow is Hair Day. Hair Day people!!!!! It's about damn time.

I am officially 150 years old. Seriously.

My back had really been coming around and I was almost back to normal. Okay, maybe not normal, but normal for me. Don't you judge me. Anyway, while at the farm visiting the parental unit, I also packed up the last of my storage unit, loaded it into a U-Haul and hauled it back to Farmville. It was a 5x8 trailer that really was only about 2/3 full. I unloaded about 1/3 of it myself, and then two awesome neighbors showed up to help me with the rest. Being the bad-ass I was 10 years ago, I decided to haul one of the heavy boxes up the stairs myself... as in, without the help of the two guys who volunteered to help me. Meet my newest back pain.

So, I took some muscle relaxers. I took some Aleve. I drank 2 glasses of wine. (I waited for my liver to crawl up my throat and choke it shut.) Nothing. On Wednesday I went to my yoga class. Nada. In a last ditch effort to ease my achin' back, I went to CVS and bought a bag of Epsom Salt. I threw it in a steaming hot bath and climbed in. Epsom Salt. The official greencard of old age.

Today the new PT, Conservative Rob, worked on my back a little. Imagine the surprise for this poor ultra-conservative bastard, who last week easily drew a parallel between cocaine use and tattoos, when he saw the tat on my low back. I think he threw up in his mouth a little. I'm just keeping my trap shut (an effort of Herculean proportions) and letting him walk into pile after pile of self-humiliating doggy-doo. It's more fun that way.

I have a new student. She's done with school and doing her final clinical rotations. She spent her first 2 days with Conservative Rob while I was eating pancakes at the farm. Sucker. Anyway, today was a crazy first day with my student (we'll be calling her Student, by the way). It's soooooooo not the way I like for students to start. We had barely finished introductions when I had to apologize that I would be busting my ass to get the morning under control and she would have to keep up. In the afternoon she got to do more, we got to talk about expectations for her student affiliation, and I got to say "STUDENT, DO MY WORK!!!!!" several times. It seems that she's good-natured, and she understands the plus 10/ minus 10 point system, so we'll be cool. Plus, at the end of our 11 hour day she told me she had learned more in 1 day with me than she had in 2 days with Conservative Rob, and she was excited about learning with me. I heart my job.

FedEx needs a map.

Seriously. Who sends something from Memphis, TN, to Shreveport, LA, to get it to Farmville, VA?!?!?! I think someone needs to meet Rand McNally... And I think it's FedEx.

Mom likes me best! She made apple pancakes with apple cider cinnamon syrup (homemade) and sausage for breakfast. We ate like kings! Wait a minute, we are Kings! Mmmmmmm, life at the farm. I slept for 11 hours last night, and it was pretty darn delicious. Forgive me if the postings are skinny over the next few days, what with being at the farm and all.

In other news, he who shall not be named also emailed my mother! He sent mine on Monday (I think) and emailed Mom on Thursday. No, she's not replying either, and if he has the balls to call her house she will tell him that I am happy and well and have no interest in keeping contact with him. The end. Thanks for all the support, though. It seems like we all have an ex that we'd nominate for abduction by aliens.

Oh well, I must to sip my coffee now!

George Jetson has been violated. Violated by some disgusting hoopty white car. While I was in the bank arranging for George's payments, he was outside being whacked by a door. The violation was unwitnessed. Only the wreckage remains.

George has a door dimple now. The nerve. Since George is a Honda, I've been advised it's actually a "Chin dimple".

In other news... No, I did not write back. Yes, I deleted the email. He was very proud of the fact that he remained "friends" with all ex-girlfriends. His ego was such that I'm sure he felt they all harbored some fantasy of getting back together with him. Since I won't ever run into him and I don't have any reason to "keep in touch" I'm letting it go. I won't boost his ego by even replying, and it pleases me to know it chaps his ass that I'm the only one who didn't want to be friends then, and I don't want to be friends now. Thanks for all the feedback.

The WTF moment of the day...

Today things went as they normally do. I drug myself out of bed at o'my-god-it's-early, walked the dog, drank my coffee, and opened my eyes... in that order. I had a good day at work, complete with a 70+ year old man making fishnet panty jokes (he was wearing them, not me). I had dinner with Dianne and Bob (Bob, who makes everything PERFECT) and had a great time laughing and telling stories, as we do almost every week.

After dinner I came home and walked the dog, unloaded the dishwasher and sat down to check my email. I checked Gmail first, then Yahoo Mail. Gmail held no real surprises. Yahoo Mail? Oh yea, baby, that's where the WTF moment of the day occurred.

Now, I don't check that account too often (an FYI for those of you who seem resistant to change it in your address books) so there's usually a shat-load of junk mail and the occassional legit email from a resister. (I think I made that word up. Don't you judge me.) As I began deleting the spam, I saw it. It was from him. Him... the one I left 3 years ago. The one who, knowingly or not, tried to make me less than myself. He who said the cruelest things, who played on my deepest fears. He whom I haven't heard from in over 2 years, which I'm sure surprises him since he thought I would always be wanting to crawl back. He who had no f'ing clue who I am, or he'd have known that was NEVER going to happen.

He wants to know where I am and how my life is. WTF? Doesn't he know that curiosity killed the cat?

So, my question is... do I answer it? Do I validate him by answering? Do I let him know that I am deliciously happy? Happy in the way that he promised I would never be. Does he deserve to know? Am I slightly neurotic that I don't want him to know where I live? Give me some advice, people.

In completely unrelated events, I appear to be growing a horn for Halloween. I am blaming it on the flu shot I got yesterday. Other Goose will be the first non-genetically related vacationer to Farmville this time around. Oh, and I desperately need a hair day.

George Jetson: bloop bloop bloop bloop bloop bloop bloop

State Trooper Witt: Did you realize you were doing 73mph in a 60mph zone?

TK: No, honestly, I did not. It's a new car, you see, and it's easy to zip along without noticing when the engine doesn't rumble under the hood.

State Trooper Witt: You can tell the judge on November 27th. Maybe he'll let you take Driver's School.

TK: Damn it, George!

George Jetson: Bloooooooop bloooooooooooop blooooooooooooop bloooooooooooop.

She said: I can't go. I'll miss Grey's Anatomy again.

He said: Oh, I meant to tell you, they all died last week so you don't need to ever watch it again.

She said: That had better not be true. It's not true, right? Now I have to watch to make sure they're all not dead.

He said: Oh well. I tried.

Groundhogs can fly, and other viscious truths

Groundhogs can fly. I shit you not.

While Diane and Jenny (the ladies I ride horses with) are out gallivanting around the country... okay, Diane is sick as a dog in Boston but Jenny is definitely galavanting in L.A., but I digress... I have been feeding Wilbur and Jimbo the Fatboy. Now that they've figured out that I'm only there to feed them but not to ride, they come running when I yell. "It's the food lady! Hooray for the food lady!!! We're STARVING lady!!!! Can't you get that grain ready faster?!?!?!" You get the idea. So imagine my surprise when I called for them on Sunday evening and only Jimbo runs to get dinner.

Of course, I can't just stand there and wait, I have to go hunting for Wilbur! So as Jimbo munches happily away, I decide to go around the front of the barn and call Wilbur again. Now, when I pulled up to the barn, the resident big fat groundhog had run for the hills... or rather, for under the barn. So imagine my surprise when, as I cross under the big tree in front of the barn, I hear a strange scratching sound from above me. As I look up to see what the bustle is about, I see a GIANT BIG FAT GROUNDHOG scrambling down the tree, straight at me. I screamed. It screamed. And then it jumped out of the tree and STRAIGHT AT ME!!!! I swear, it was going to scratch my eyes out. I hit the ground running and met Wilbur as he came around the corner to get his dinner. The groundhog hit the ground and beat feet for the barn. Jimbo the Fatboy kept eating dinner as though none of the rest of it was happening.

Groundhog, people, groundhog. Not treehog.

I sat in my pee pants all the way home. Poor George Jetson.

Driving George Jetson is kind of like flying down a highway at 70mph in a rollerskate. Seriously.

For the past 3.5 years I've been driving Tough Lucy Dodge. Tough Lucy is a gas-guzzling V8 power monster who handles like, well, a big SUV. She served me well during the time I was traveling around the US. I could haul anything. I packed her to the gills with my portable life. She delivered me, safe and sound without so much as a flat tire, from coast to coast multiple times. I have jumper cables, 2 quarts of oil, power steering fluid, and a tow rope "in case of emergency" that were only ever used to help other people. She's a good truck. But at 13 miles to the gallon, she's killing me softly.

Meet my need for George Jetson. I am only driving a 6 mile round trip to work each day, and I can't bleed my wallet dry (and simultaneously ruin the environment) trying to earn a living. I had really thought I would get a hybrid, but as it turns out, my driving needs don't really make a hybrid worth spending the extra money.

How do you make yourself more comfortable driving your new rollerskate after driving a construction boot? Drive 200 miles in the first 24 hours you own the car. Seriously. I bought the car with 25 miles on it, and today it has 247. So, here are the pros and cons of the new ride...

• There are fewer bells and whistles compared to Tough Lucy
• He makes weeeeeeeeee-weeeeeeeeeeeeeee sounds
• He's amazingly, perfectly, beautifully clean
• People look at me because I'm driving the first Fit in Farmville
• I got 36 miles to the gallon in my first 200 miles. Compared to 13-18 for Tough Lucy.
• Did you read that, people? 36 mpg. Frockin' awesome!

And with a single self-photo, Dianne the Rookie takes the lead in the Hummer Hunt. Curses!

pppsssstttt....

I bought a new car. A shiny, new, gas-sipping Honda Fit.
Meet George Jetson!

If you're really, really good, I'll show you my new shiny thing tomorrow.

For tonight, know that Cliff Huxtable was back in class... and this time no farting. I was so proud.