Pelted with Large, Uncooked Beets

I still have not figured out how to properly post a picture without hosing my blog. Maybe my file of "meat products on a plate" is just too damned large? This lack of skill is ironic because I have become a technology "go to" person of sorts in my current job capacity. But not quite as ironic as a black fly floating in my glass of Chardonnay. Now that's authentic irony! Or, just a big suckfest.

Anyway, conceiving fabulous ideas to promote converged, mobile wireless systems is what I was born to do! And then there was the illuminating piece on network interoperability, a word I can't even say without gargling on my glass of Chardonnay. I encountered the term "802.11b wireless standard" in my research today and nearly shat a stone.

Maybe all this technology hoo-ha is what is at the root of my disabling vertigo. When I bend down to pick a toy off the floor, or scoop small chunks of food that my sons gleefully threw during dinner, I get a wave of dizziness. Don't say it. I know what you're thinking. I'm either
a) Just too durned skinny (I'm not)
b) Knocked up (I'm not)
c) Dying of brain cancer (debatable)
d) Extremely efficient at psychosomatic illness (a certainty)

I know this crapass "illness" is all in my head because, when I was on a cardio machine at the gym today, it all went away! As soon as I got back into my car, it returned--an unlikable sensation that feels as if my head is slowly detaching from my body and has its own wretched and thrumming pulse. My anxiety attacks of this nature keep shape-shifting, just to keep me on my toes. Several years ago, they would appear in the form of panic attacks just as I was on the verge of sleep. I would wake with a horrible start, as if I were falling, heart pounding. A wee smackeral of Zoloft fixed all that. But then it crept back, this time in the form of heart palpitations, strange pains, and unexplained dizziness.

This is all making me very depressed. I do not like feeling dizzy. Merry Go Rounds make me sick. Spinning in the grass and falling down is BAD. And I do not like rollercoasters, by the way. Don't ever invite me to go on one. This video, supposed to be amusing, made me MAD. Poor little tubby child! And his caregiver should be chased by a bevy of fat, angry children, who should pelt her with large, uncooked beets.

There are some distasteful things about hypochondria. One is that you often think you are dying. Second, if you were really were to be dying, you would assume it was hypochondria and refuse to see a doctor, assuming she would give you that amused little smile again that says volumes: "Oh you poor dear. You're as healthy as a horse! Your heart beats like a sturdy engine! Your cholesterol is magnificent! Now, please don't bother me again." Therefore, you would die quickly and without adequate medical care and proper pain medication. Then you suspect that the "real illness" is actually the case and the whole nasty cycle begins again.

Of course, hypchondriacs never really get ill or die because it's all in their heads. It is impossible for a true hypochondriac to fall prey to any fatal disease whatsoever. Illnesses are all manfactured inside the brain box, after all.

Therefore, I will replenish my drink.