All That Glitters...

Not everything is as it seems. I've sure you've heard the phrase "all that glitters isn't really gold" at some point in your life. Maybe you've heard, "what you see isn't always what you get" or "if something looks too good to be true, it usually is". I experienced a lesson in this area today.

One of my closest loved ones, Allison, came over this morning. We went to Target. I don't normally shop at Target, but we had a reason to go. Target has pumpkin spice flavoured M&Ms. We looked through the clearance section in the clothing and we each found a shirt. She got a couple of things for her children, and when we went up to the register, we saw the pumpkin spice M&Ms. We each grabbed a bag and went through the check out line. When we got to Allison's vehicle, she tore her bag open and handed me some of the pumpkin spice M&Ms.

When I first heard of these pumpkin spice flavoured candies, I had my doubts. Do pumpkin and chocolate go together? It does not sound like a great flavour combo. Mind you, I have had pumpkin chili, pumpkin burgers, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin fudge, pumpkin coffee, pumpkin kettle corn and toasted pumpkin seeds. I have never had anything that combined pumpkin and chocolate. I'm willing to try anything once. And I looked at the candies in my hand, and I anticipated that I would taste pumpkin spice. So I ate one. And it didn't taste like pumpkin spice. I ate the other one, and it wasn't getting any better. By the third M&M, I realized two things.

1. We had either been ripped off...or
2. The chocolate must have overpowered the pumpkin flavour.

They tasted like regular M&Ms. And they were $2.99, and I think we simply paid for the bag, because the company who makes these M&Ms lied to us. There was no pumpkin spice flavour whatsoever! None! Because of this, I'm not so willing to try the pumpkin Oreos. I will probably just be disappointed once again. YOU CAN'T PROMISE ME PUMPKIN FLAVOUR AND THEN NOT GIVE IT TO ME! WHERE'S THE PUMPKIN FLAVOUR?!?

Now that I've thrown my tantrum, here's a warning. Do not waste the gas taking the trip to Target or the money to purchase this travesty...this poor excuse for a pumpkin spice flavoured candy. It's not worth it. You're just buying regular M&Ms in a pretty bag that claims them to be pumpkin spice! It's a trap!

(I'm fairly sure he wasn't a philosopher.)

Let's move on from one rant to another.

After the disappointment of the M&Ms, Allison and I went to Starbucks to get drinks that REALLY CONTAINED PUMPKIN SPICE FLAVOUR. *ahem* It's across from Target. It wasn't a very long trip, maybe 75 seconds depending on traffic. (Perhaps I'm being generous here.)

Allison and I walked into Starbucks. I made a beeline for the loo, (forgive me for the TMI that I'm about to share) because I piddle enough for three people. I have had my glucose checked and have undergone glucose tolerance testing several times since diabetes does run on my maternal side of the family, and my glucose is usually low, around 80 or 90, something like that. One time it was normal, which was a first. *shrugs* I'll take hypoglycemia for $500 Alex. It's better than type 2 diabetes. Allison was nice enough to wait for me before ordering. I hadn't expected her to wait, but she did, because she's awesome like that. She had let this guy go in front of her.

Now we're getting back to the title of the post. I know, I take forever to get to my point. I'm a writer. We are short spoken, but long winded when communicating in written word. This guy, he just looks like a guy, He's in good physical shape for someone who has to be in his fifties. He seemed downright chipper when he entered the establishment. But when I walked over, he was ordering the girl behind the register around like she was beneath him. It took me every ounce of willpower I had to keep my mouth shut.

Before I continue, let me say that I'm not the nicest person in the world. I'm not. A lot of people seem to think I am, but the truth is, I have my nice moments. Most of the time, I want to scream profane words while stapling things to people's heads. (This might be an exaggeration, but it's close to the truth.) People have admitted that they see me as intimidating and not easily approachable. I like my personal space, so I'm okay with that. Then there are the people who know me, and realize that I'm just simply an aloof person.

(How some people would describe me.)

But to tell you the truth, (there's no reason to lie about it) I'm not a nice person 24/7. I've just gotten better at being less mean. Just yesterday, Doug kept talking to me while I was finishing up one of the short stories for Dormiveglia, and I somehow refrained from shrieking at him to go away and leave me alone. He wasn't doing anything wrong, but I was in the zone, and I hate being interrupted when my head is that deep into the story. My body may have been sitting at my desk, but my mind was elsewhere.

John Pinette talked about having a cherub-like demeanor and how often he lost this cherub-like demeanor. (This mostly happened to him while waiting in line and people held up the line asking stupid questions.) I can relate to that. Sometimes, my cherub-like demeanor just does not exist.

Despite the fact that I just admitted that I'm not the nicest person in the world, I am not rude to people. I don't enter a store or a restaurant and start shouting that what I wanted should have been handed to me on a silver platter yesterday. I don't do that. I'm not mean to anyone unless they are mean to me. I'm not prejudice of anyone for any reason. I certainly don't feel like anyone is beneath me. Even the most annoying person that I have encountered on any given day that I might entertain fantasies about punching, I'm not better than that person. It just doesn't work that way. Personally, I'm the one who feels like I don't measure up to everyone else. 

I just stared at this man with anger and disbelief. Who was he to order the girl at the register around like she was a servant in his mansion? I bit my tongue. I thought I was going to make it bleed by biting it so hard.

This man, let's call him Jerky McJerkface (why did I make him Scottish) was going through the steps on how to make his drink, talking to this girl like she was stupid. 

(He must have thought she was.)

I kept reminding myself not to say a word. My heart just went out to her. I wanted to knock Mr. McJerkface unconscious and rid everyone of having to witness this ill treatment of a Starbucks employee.

Before I continue, I must admit that I'm very particular about my food and drink, but that's why I give specifics when I order. I don't leave the person taking my drink order guessing. I often order an iced venti nonfat chai tea latte. It's as simple as that. They don't have to ask questions. I trust them to make the drink from there. I don't care how much nonfat milk they put in the cup, as long as it's nonfat. Mr. McJerkface was telling this girl the exact amount of milk to put into the cup.

After ordering the girl around, McJerkface turned around, smiled, and thanked Allison for letting him go in front of her! So here comes the double standard. Apparently, only people who stand behind registers at coffee shops are beneath him. I have a feeling that he treats fast food employees, restaurant servers, and retail employees the same way. Allison and I weren't behind the counter, so apparently we deserved the niceties that he so generously lavished and bestowed upon us. I guarantee if it were one of us behind the counter, we would have been spoken to by Mr. McJerkface with the same condescending manner as if we were idiots who were desperately in need of his guidance.

I stuck around to wait for my drink, and McJerkface was at it again, berating the poor girl making his drink! You just don't do that to people, and you definitely don't act that way toward those who are handling your food and drink. I'll bet Mr. McJerkface consumes a lot of other people's saliva. I know that's a repugnant thought, but it's the truth. Think about it. 

This is how the exchange between Mr. McJerkface and the barista went:

McJerkface: I SAID I WANTED 2% MILK!

Barista: The ticket said nonfat.

McJerkface: I KNOW WHAT THE TICKET SAID, BUT I WANT 2% MILK! YOU'RE PUTTING TOO MUCH MILK IN THERE! YOU PUT TOO MUCH IN IT! THROW IT OUT AND START OVER AGAIN!

That's when I took Allison's bag and announced that I was going to find a seat. It wasn't so much that the remodel of this Starbucks location left less seating, but it was the fact that if I didn't walk away, I was going to defend the barista to the death. I'm an extremist. It's all or nothing, and I would have fought until one of us went down. I found a place to sit, and I sat there, and I just felt bad for the barista and the girl behind the register.

(It certainly didn't make McJerkface look any smarter treating the girl like she was stupid.)

Allison was kind enough to retrieve my drink for me. She sat down. We focused our attention on just catching up. As Jerky McJerkface made his way to exit, he looked chipper again. He even flashed a smile in our direction. I was stunned. I watched him leave and was glad he was gone. I was surprised that the Starbucks employees did not start applauding when the door shut. I know I almost did!

(This was pretty much the look I gave McJerkface when he smiled at me as he walked out.)

Despite the disappointment of the not so pumpkin spice flavoured M&Ms and Mr. Jerky McJerkface, Allison and I had a great time. We talked. We gazed through the windows of Starbucks at the beautiful day. Some of the leaves are finally starting to turn. They're taking their sweet time, but I'm seeing more and more evidence of fall in them, and in the robin's egg blue sky that made the clouds seem brighter. 

Thankfully, the beauty of the day and the laughter I shared with Allison helped my cherub-like demeanor remain intact. I took the day off today, since I finished one of the three stories for Dormiveglia yesterday. (I worked fifteen hours straight yesterday.)

My honorary son is coming over to hang out, and I'm beyond the valley of thrilled to see him! We're going to eat in front of the television and go into our respective food comas and possibly experience laughter induced syncope while watching something of a comedic nature.

How do you deal with the Jerky McJerkfaces that you encounter? Maybe you've not had the unfortunately privilege of encountering one, but when you do, you'll know.

So, to Mr. Jerky McJerkface, I hope in the future you learn how to better treat employees that earn an honest living to serve you food and drink, because mark my words, sir, one day a bystander won't have the filter or the willpower to keep from speaking out against your mistreatment of an employee. You are no higher on the caste system than they are (and there's no longer a caste system in case you don't know), so get over yourself. 

Have a nice day.

Cheers!

Another Day, Another Migraine.

I had my first real migraine in a while, and it did not disappoint.

That's exactly how I feel right now.

Last night, I was just lying on the couch, watching the Simpson's marathon...

 ...playing with the idea of working, and just generally minding my own business when it hit me.

Then the visual disturbances arrived.

This is seriously what it looks like through my eyes during a migraine.

I knew I was in for a long night.

Doug was upset, because he had to go to bed, but he wanted to stay up and take care of me. He kept telling me to wake him if I needed him. I figured I could lie around, drooling on myself, having seizure-like and stroke-like activity (I have hemiplegic migraines which often mimic a stroke), and crying without an audience.

I ended up lying on the couch, alternating between sleeping, crying, and watching what seems like the never ending Simpson's marathon on FXX. (Why are there two x's?) Then, my migraine moved on to the headache phase.

This went on for several hours.

Sometime after five, I decided to crawl from the couch to the bed.

That's honestly about as far as I made it on the first try.

Doug woke up and asked me if I was okay. I insisted that I was fine just so he'd go back to sleep.

He hugged me and went back to sleep. I made sure my alarm was set so I could make sure he was awake and getting ready. (I wasn't kidding when I said he could sleep through a nuclear war.) I don't think I woke up, and if he roused me to ask me how I was, I probably responded with something like this:

I took some more pain meds. Things were a blur from there. I vaguely remember The Cleveland Show on Adult Swim, and I think I may have heard the intro to King of the Hill.

The above gif is how I felt while lying down. No matter what position I tried, I felt dizzy and like I was floating when I shut my eyes.

Then I fell into a deep and not so dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, I realized just how badly last night's migraine had destroyed me.

I had to go to the loo...

where I was attacked by sunlight pouring through the bathroom window.

I'm so glad it's dark in my bedroom.

I forced myself to crawl to the kitchen and somehow managed to prepare a cup of coffee. (Thank God for whoever invented the Keurig.)

The coffee offered a little relief, but it also woke me up enough to allow me to realize that I am in the postdrome phase. During the postdrome phase, some people experience euphoria. I wish I were one of them, but I experience the sadness of having a setback.

So instead of lying in my bed, crying over the fact that I've just endured a bad migraine for the first time in weeks, I decided focus what little energy I had on this blog post, with the hopes of making my readers laugh. It took me several trips, but I got my laptop, and a pair of sunglasses, and crawled into bed. I turned down the brightness on my computer, because even with my sunglasses on, it's too bright, and I giggled as I looked through the pictures and gifs I had that I could use in this post.

Don't let the blog post fool you though.

For, me, it's mostly the die aspect. I rarely have nausea/vomiting with my migraines. It just seemed like an appropriate gif to share since most migraine sufferers do have those symptoms with their migraines.

People always try to offer helpful advice, but I've heard it all.

• Drink more water. (Tried that. No effect whatsoever.)
• Drink less caffeine. (I cut back to one cup of coffee and two sodas per day.)
• Get more sleep. (It's not like I don't try.)
• Get less sleep. (How can I get less sleep when I bloody have insomnia?!?)
• Avoid food triggers. (Good luck with that.)
• Avoid stress. (Giggles hysterically and uncontrollably.)

And the list of not so helpful advice goes on. Then, there are the naysayers who have never really and actually experienced a migraine or chronic pain of any kind, so they have the audacity to say things that make me feel like punching them dead in the face.

As a matter of fact, here is a handy list of what NOT to say to someone with chronic migraines or any other chronic illness.

Most of these make me want to smash things.

I have improved slightly since last night, but not enough.

Here are two pain charts that accurately describe migraines. They also made me giggle.

Here's what they chart above says:

0. Fine. What is a headache?

1. Wait...It's coming...

2. This sucks.

3. Ow ow ow ow OW

4. Blaargh! $#@?! This hurts!

5. Was there a time before pain and will a power drill make it better?

6. Am I dying? I think this is what dying feels like.

Number 7 is my favourite!

Number 10 made me laugh so hard it hurt.

Doug is on his way home to fuss over me.

I'm totally making him sing it, too!

Until he gets here, I will do my best to entertain myself while listening to Gadi Mizrahi. (His music sounds like the series of noises that one would hear during an MRI, and I find it oddly comforting during the postdrome phase, but during a real MRI, I'm having a full on panic attack.) I will try not to focus on the lack of euphoria that I get to experience. 

So until next time, please say some prayers for me.

Cheers.