Thursday, March 26, 2015

Mawwiage is what bwings us togevah today.

I mentioned in my last post - just yesterday! - that I'm engaged to be married.

For a while, it seemed like it would never happen. I contemplated buying the China I wanted bit by bit, because I started to see myself as hip, single Aunt StrainedConsciousness for the rest of my life.

I'd been dating a fellow for a few months, and had informed him, on our third or fourth date, that I had some health problems, and that they weren't fun to deal with (I went whole hog and told him about the intestinal fungal infection, because that's attractive). His response was, "No problem."

At least, it wasn't a problem until it was a problem, until I didn't want to go to a concert because my infection was back, and I felt awful and exhausted and nauseous. And then, he just... stopped calling. Because five months of dating didn't warrant more than that, apparently.

When I realized that he had no interest in continuing to date me, I was pissed. Pissed that he didn't have the cojones to tell me himself, and pissed that I'd wasted my time on him, particularly since I'd straight up told him, in detail, how the infections affected me, when they happened.

I got on eHarmony that night, and responded to several messages that had been dropped into my InBox in the past two weeks.

One of those messages was from the man I will marry on May 30, 2015.

He was cute, judging by the picture, and wrote exceptionally well, and seemed to have a well-developed sense of humor. We met for coffee a few weeks later - we began corresponding over the Christmas holidays of 2013 - and I liked him immediately.

Except he needed a haircut. But hey, that's easily fixed, right?

He had a good sense of humor, a wide range of interests, and he was exactly like his picture on the eHarmony website. Except more handsome, so hooray!

Our second date was at the Museum of Natural History in Houston. I'd been wanting to see their Egyptian Hall, so we went. We also went through the butterfly exhibit, which was fun, but the best part was definitely the Egyptian Hall.

Why? Because of all of the amazingly hilarious jokes that can be made at the expense of mummies.

Yes, I know, I'm going to hell for mocking dead people. Or, at least their canopic jars.

As we wandered through the gift shop on the way out, a Triceratops mug caught my eye. Not just any triceratops mug, though: an over-sized triceraCHOPS mug, showing the different cuts of meat on a triceratops. My Future Husband bought it for me, and I still use it every day at the office.

By our fifth date - when he made me dinner at 9:30 at night because I was exhausted, on my anti-candida diet, and had just left work - I was hooked. I had to drive to my parents' house, the next day, and when I got there, I cancelled my eHarmony account. I'd found the one.

By our fifth date. Because I didn't feel like breaking my dad's record (He told my mom on their third date that he was going to marry her. She laughed at him.)

Jump ahead fifteen months, and I'm two months away from our wedding.

It's going to be pink. If you'd told me two years ago that I'd be having a pink wedding, I would have laughed in your face.

However, My Future Husband and I attend the Unitarian Universalist Church in Houston, and its interior is painted in two different tones of pink, with soft green accents and beautiful mid-tone wood paneling. It's a very Frank Lloyd Wright-ian building (as are many Unitarian Churches), and I'm thrilled to be having our ceremony there.

My niece was initially excited about it, because that means that her flower girl dress will be pink. Except she just told my sister/Matron of Honor that she wanted a gold dress.


Anyways, we're having a morning ceremony - 11:00 a.m. - with a luncheon to follow at Ouisie's Table, a Houston institution, and also site of the one and only instance in which I've had a waiter pour a drink on me (it was a Bloody Mary, for the record, on my birthday. I think I was 22).

And then, the next day, My Future Husband and I will leave for almost a week in Santa Fe, New Mexico, one of my absolute favorite places to visit.

We've been living together since shortly after our engagement - I was very ill, unable to work, and could no longer afford the rent on my apartment - and My Future Husband has been doing an excellent job of dealing with Wedding Decisions.

For instance, he chose the wedding invitations. I stood in the living room, with six different invitation samples in hand, hemming and hawing about which ones I liked, and he took them, sorted through them, and held up the one we are about to mail out to our guests. "I like this one," he said.

It's pearlescent pink with black lettering. I would never in a million years have thought he'd pick it, but he did! And I like it.

When we went to pre-shop for our registry, I couldn't decide on the Formal Flatware I wanted, and he opened a drawer of flatware, said, "I like this one," and voila! It looked better with our China than any of the others I'd seen.

And then we bought chocolate at the fancy candy counter in the store where we registered (if you're ever in Houston, check out Bering's Hardware: you can buy chocolate, Herend porcelain, William Yeoward crystal, and lawn mowers).

It's nice to have someone who can defuse some of my OCDesign. And he hasn't built a bonfire out of my design magazines, either.


Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Sisters. Sisters. There were never such adoring sisters.

I received a message via Facebook, today, informing me that I had been granted a "Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award." The awarder...


The awardor...


The award giver? Granter? Grantor? Grantor, according to Merriam-Webster.

Okay, here we go again. The award grantor is my third cousin, the daughter of my Cousin Thom. After Thom's death, she took over his blog, To Gyre and Gambol, and has definitely lived up to his legacy.

Since I blogged about Thom, I haven't written another entry, although I've meant to do so. I've mentally composed several posts, but then didn't get around to writing them.

I've been busy. I met the man of my dreams, and on May 30, 2015, I will marry him in a smallish ceremony here in Houston. We now share a home, and he has been through a round of everyone's favorite game: "Megan's Bedridden Again!"

So we have the whole "in sickness and in health" thing covered.

Lots going on. And that's part of why I haven't blogged: I felt there was too much to catch up on.

But now, I've been given an award, and so I will blog, tonight, for the first time in six months.

So here are the questions Amy sent me to answer:

  • Why did you start blogging?
My sister suggested it. I was unemployed in 2008, and had nothing to do. I would write these loooooooong emails full of details about what it's like to be unemployed to her, and she told me how funny they were. I was reading constantly, and wanted a way to "discuss" my books with people, and so when my sister (also named Amy, by the way - total fluke in the family naming thing) suggested I start a blog, I decided to do so. I initially had a schedule: Monday was a review of the bar I went to on Friday for Architects' Happy Hour, Tuesday was some amusing anecdote related to being unemployed, Wednesday was also some amusing anecdote related to being unemployed, Thursday was often a book review, and Friday was either another random story or a picture of alcohol, because I was too busy going to Happy Hour at 5:30. Don't knock it. It's how I got my next job. "You can hold your booze and won't put up with alcoholics' shenanigans? You're hired!"

  • Do you have a favorite scar? Tell us its story
I actually have three favorite scars. Is that cheating? Maybe? I never claimed not to be a cheater, you know.

Three favorite scars: one beneath my right breast - 1.5" long and 1/8" wide; quasi-symmetrical ones fanning out from my waist down to my hips. The fan-shaped scars used to be bright red, then purple, but now they're a shiny flesh-tone, almost invisible unless you see them in the right light. Or wrong light, depending on your feelings about scars.

All three come from chemotherapy treatment as a 17 year old. I got all of them within a three month period of time. On December 4, 1999, I had surgery to implant a port-a-cath, which is usually implanted above the breast in teenage patients, so it doesn't interfere with brassieres. When I was diagnosed, however, I weighed a skeletal 105 lbs, so there wasn't enough fat over my rib cage to implant the port-a-cath above my breast. So the placed it below my right breast, but out of the way of the band of my bra.

The other two scars are also related to my being 105 lbs of nothing when I was diagnosed with leukemia. My doctors put me on steroids, you see, as part of my treatment, and I proceeded to eat all the food ever. I would go through a gallon of whole milk and 1.5 lbs of ham in two days. And that doesn't include the 3 a.m. scrambled eggs I would make for myself, or the Oreos, or the microwaved frozen broccoli.

I gained a lot of weight in a short period of time, and after three months of chemotherapy and steroids - and the puffiness that comes with being on steroids - I noticed that I was getting funny marks on my hips. Stretch marks. From gaining weight.

I used to be ashamed of the scars on my hips. It's helped that they've faded, with time, but I also see them as a symbol of what I went through, and who it helped me to become.

  • Are you sunrise, daylight, twilight, or night?
I am the walrus. Koo koo ka choo.

I used to think I was night. I'm still a bit of a night owl, but something I've learned in the past six months is that I crave sunlight. I've actually cured migraines by sitting in the sunlight and resting, so I think I'm now daylight.

  • What's the best meal you've ever had?
The best meal I've ever had... I've had lots of great meals, memorable meals, but I think the best one was on November 1st of 2014. That was the day The Love of My Life asked me to marry him, and we went to Ruth's Chris for dinner, that night. (I thought he was going to propose at dinner, but then he stole a march on me and proposed before we went to lunch.) When we arrived, one of his friends had called the restaurant, told them what had happened, and paid for us to have a bottle of champagne. At first, I thought Robert - the fiance - had ordered the champagne. But then he asked if I'd done it. Nope. There was a card on the table, and that straightened things out pretty quickly. I had filet mignon, mushrooms, and asparagus with hollandaise with creme brulee for dessert.

It wasn't the best food I've ever had, but the company couldn't be beat.

  • If you wrote a book, what would it be about? Write the inside front jacket.
I've actually written a book, but it's nowhere near being publishable. There's a ton of work to be done on it. If I had a year without a job, I'd work on it, and probably get it polished up in a couple of months. It's a fairy tale about a benevolent witch - it's a matriarchal society, and men are kind of (really) looked down on - who has to go on a journey to find a cure for the coven's matriarch, who will die without this cure. So she leaves, and eventually finds the cure, and on the way decides that neither humans nor males are so bad (in fact, some of them are smokin', but in a totally PG way), and she is also disappointed in some things. The character, as I initially wrote her, is too perfect, though, too cold, and too remote. She isrelatable characters, in the intervening years (I wrote it 5 years ago), so I think I could turn it into something publishable, if I had the time.
n't someone you really want to read about. I've grown better about having

But as for writing the inside front jacket? I don't know if my late-night mental muscles are up to that taxing task...

  • Tattoos: yea or nay?
I certainly don't have any! Long ago, I wanted to be tan, but then I had cancer, and I decided I didn't want to get cancer again, so now I'm perfectly happy being fair-skinned. It isn't pale, it's porcelain, and I'm rocking it. And I work pretty hard to keep it nice, especially after the time I ended up with a striped sunburn after floating the Comal River in San Marcos, TX. No ink shall mar this creamy canvas.

  • What do you wish you were better at?
Wow. There are so many possibilities here. One: getting off my duff and exercising. Two: socializing. I sort of have social anxiety, especially after bouts of illness, and then the idea of going out with a group of people can send me into a panic. Fortunately, my lifemate is good at talking me down (even when he thinks it's just me "not having anything to wear", which is a very convenient excuse for me). Three: riding a bike, snapping, and whistling. That's I lie, I wish I could actually do those things, not just be better at them. That's right: I refused to learn to ride a bike. I need three wheels under my caboose, or it's game over.

  • Which young-adult bestseller-turned move do you dislike the most?
I can't really speak to this one, since I haven't seen any of them. I've heard the Hunger Games movies are actually really good, but I'm so madly in love with the books that I'm afraid I'd be disappointed if I saw them.

  • Public school or private? Interpret whichever way you like.
I went to public school. I found out, within the past two years, that a lot of students in my district perceived my school as "ghetto". I couldn't figure out why, initially, and then I realized that we were one of the few schools on my side of town that had a racially diverse population. We had Hispanics and African Americans at my middle school! Gasp! It was good for me to be in a diverse population. I didn't realize until my parents pointed it out that two of my friends were Hispanic. ("Huh? Oh. I guess they are. Whaddaya know.")

  • What fashion decision do you most regret?
Dream-catcher earrings in the sixth grade. Hands down.

I'm supposed to pass this on, now, and award it to someone else. The difficulty there is that I'm out of practice with reading blogs. I never really read other peoples' blogs, much. This blog was just a way for me to vent, and to be creative and maybe have 100 people read an entry on Margaret Atwood's MaddAddam series (which she finally finished. Helllo! That took a while!).

So I'm going to be a bad sister, in this Sisterhood of Bloggers, and break the chain.

Hopefully I don't have 7 years of bad luck.

Friday, September 5, 2014

For Thom

I haven't written since January.

There's a reason for that. Not a good one, necessarily, but here it goes.

I essentially wrote for one person. And that person was not, at least after a time, myself.

I wrote for my second cousin, Thom, who encouraged me, laughed at my posts, and made me feel like I had some impact on people out there in the great beyond. His own blog posts were funny, poignant, insightful, and witty (not necessarily the same as funny, mind you). He was a wonderful and warm human being, and I hadn't seen him since I was about 15 years old, when he swung through Texas for some reason or another from the state of New York, where he was a professor of psychology.

Thom and I reconnected after a span of years when he joined Facebook and "friended" me. He was funny and conversational, with excellent jokes and commentaries on society, and I enjoyed getting to know him through an electronic medium that made him feel close by, despite the physical distance between us.

Thom sent me all the figurines from the Happy Meal's partnership with the Ice Age III movie to decorate my cubicle when I worked with Oldsmobile, Radio, Pacman, and Scooter (I'd received a couple because, um, I used to eat Happy Meals for lunch on the way back from the construction site). He sent me links to migraine research he'd dug up when I was so very, very ill in November and December of 2010, along with humorous Facebook posts that made me laugh (a difficult feat to accomplish, at the time).

And then, on February 9, 2014, Thom died suddenly. And I was completely and totally devastated.

As is the case when I am upset or experiencing great loss, I shut down whatever portions of my life dealt with that loss. In this case, my blogging went by the wayside.

Without Thom to read it, what was the point? For me, there wasn't one. Not for a very long time.

This wasn't a decision I consciously made, however. I just avoided StrainedConsciousness. I would think about writing, but then all the emotion I felt thinking that Thom wouldn't be around to read it would overwhelm me, and I'd decide not to.

A couple of months ago, my mom mentioned that I hadn't written in a very long time, and I softly told her that no, I hadn't written since Thom died. She teared up, and asked why, and I told her he wouldn't be around to read it. And I cried.

And then I realized that Thom would still want me to keep writing, even if he isn't around to comment on my posts. And I decided it was time to get back to it.

Part of the reason I've decided to get back to it is that, at present, I'm in another period of time where I'm unwell.

I'm back to daily migraines, again, albeit not ones as traumatic as those of 2010. They're still debilitating, though, and I'm currently on leave from work while my Wellness Doctor tries every trick up her sleeve to see what's wrong with me (my neurologist performed Botox, but he's stumped, otherwise).

My micronutrient assays are fine, for the most part, so it's not something there that's causing the issue.

My candidiasis is in control (woohoo!), so that's not the culprit.

But still, I'm chronically exhausted and have awful migraines.

By now, I have tears streaming down my face, and my migraine is hellacious, but I'm pressing through for a few more minutes before I take my drugs - I'm back to "snowing" myself, because acute migraine medicines aren't working.

And I need some sort of outlet. So I decided, at a point in the afternoon that my migraine wasn't raging (about an hour ago, honestly) to get back to blogging.

Not only for myself, but for Thom.

Friday, January 24, 2014

A Wee Bit Productive

A blustery cold front hit Houston, Thursday afternoon and evening, accompanied by the ever-dreaded 'sleet'. I was aware that it was a possibility, so I arose earlier than usual to check the weather and road conditions before heading to work.

At 6:30 a.m., there were five wrecks on Houston highways caused by ice on the roads, and the roads leading from my little apartment to my office were hella iced up.

I emailed my supervisors and our receptionist to tell them that I would not be in the office, due to ice. Did I mention that the drainage runnel that flows through the middle of my apartment complex's parking lot was also full of ice? And that the funny fabric awning over my balcony had icicles danging from its scalloped edges in a slightly obscene manner?

No? Well, there was ice and icicles everywhere.

So. Home.

I did get out around 1:00 pm to pick up a feather-bed I'd had dry-cleaned, and I briefly considered going in to the office. It didn't happen, though. Instead, I will be in the office on a Saturday - hopefully with heat, but possibly not. I'll make sure I take my gloves and a hat.

Instead of going to the office, I stayed home, cleaned my kitchen, un-bagged tons of dry cleaning that never quite made it into the closet, and pulled a few things out of my closet that I can't wear, these days (mostly because my chest decreased in size, along with my waist and twigs - er - thighs, and so they're now obscenely low cut).

Saturday morning, prior to going in to the office, I will run to the recycling center and then to a goodwill depository, because I'm not going to bother trying to consign two silk blouses.

In repentance for staying home from work, I worked on my taxes, too.

Did you know that $10,000 of medical expenses when you've made more than $40,000 in a year will get you absolutely jack squat of an income tax return? But add in $6000 of tuition paid, and voila! Enormous return.

Hopefully, that return will pay off the $3000 of health expenses that have been sitting on my credit card, accumulating interest, for the past few months. And, hopefully, TurboTax's return estimator is as accurate as it seems.

After I pay all of that business off, I'm going to try to go credit-card free for a while.

I've been paying for everything with credit cards, but I'm starting to realize that I don't pay as much attention to my monthly spending as I do when I pay with a debit card or cash. So I'm considering switching to a debit card, even though it means I won't get all of the free money - er - points, that I get when I use my credit card.

We'll see if this actually happens, because those points sure are handy when I want to buy, say, two chairs and a ceramic garden stool so I can sit out on my balcony on beautiful days the week before we get an ice storm.

Hooray, Houston.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Health Blog

In the past two months, I've had the flu twice.

The first time, it was probably swine flu (but not a definite thing, because I wasn't tested for it at the time: I was too sick to get myself to the doctor, and too sick, literally, to pick up the phone for a period of about 24 hours. Terrifying. The "probably" comes from the doctor I saw for my second bout). The second time, it was probably Influenza Type B.

Get your flu shot people. I didn't think I could, because I'm egg-intolerant, but the doctor told me that, so long as I'm not deathly allergic to eggs (I'm not. My body just dislikes them intensely), I can get a flu shot.

Wish I'd known that back in October...

Anyhoo, as a result of my Flu Type B, I had to go on antibiotics - hooray, secondary infections! - and that brought back my candida infection.


It isn't the first time it's come back (that was in October, and the guy I was dating broke up with me as a result of it).

When I was first diagnosed and went through the first yeast cleanse, I lost about 10 pounds - I weighed in at 135 pounds, at the time. I was a healthy weight. At 125 lbs, I was still healthy.

However, since getting the flu - twice - I've lost another 10 pounds, and I'm down to a frighteningly skinny 115 lbs.

I know. Wah. Poor Ms. StrainedConsciousness is too skinny.

But here's the thing: if you get too thin - which I am now - you'll start having health problems, not just now, but in future (hello, osteoporosis). And I'm getting ready to start another serious yeast cleanse, with no fruit for two weeks, 6 tbsp. max of coconut creamer per day (and no other coconut products except for coconut oil because of the sugar content), no sugar, and one serving of sweet potato per day.

For a normal person who could eat eggs and gorge themselves on almond butter, this wouldn't be a problem: just buy some egg white protein powder, drink 1 or 2 protein shakes per day with some almond butter thrown in for healthy fat, and voila! no unhealthy weight loss.

I don't have that option, though, and I can't have whey protein either, because I'm allergic to that, too.

I'm allergic to everything, essentially.

I just spent the past hour scouring the internet looking for breakfast-appropriate foods that will help me gain weight (yup, actively trying to gain 5-10 lbs. Quite possibly the only woman I know with this problem).

I finally found a source for it, too. Thanks to the Detoxinista, who actually understands that you shouldn't have ANY dairy or fruit or a full cup of coconut milk when you're doing a yeast cleanse. You better believe I'll be whipping up an avocado-based chocolate shake, every day, from now on!

Thursday, January 16, 2014

17 Shades of Gray

I'm currently working on a project that I first worked on back in 2007. Back then, I lived in Dallas and worked for a different firm, and I was master-planning the project.

Then, of course, 2008 had to go and happen, and I lost my job, and the project was shelved for a couple of years.

Fast forward to 2013.

When I graduated, I began work at an amazing firm in Houston, and I love it there. Here. Wherever. I'm also back on that 2007-era project, albeit designing apartment units for the client, instead of laying out the site.

I confess, I'm happy I'm no longer a part of the master-planning shennanigans. They were pretty miserable, because of all of the codes, covenants, and restrictions governing what could be done on the site, where, and how.

The client decided that they wanted us to design the units' interiors, as well, which is a bit of an unusual request, for us. Typically, the interior designer who handles the amenity spaces - the club room, lobby, gym, etc. - also does the apartment interiors.

Not this time around.

Since we technically don't have any interior designers working in our multi-family studio, I was nominated to the post of temporary interior-designery-type person.

It's been crazy. For three weeks, my desk - and the table I technically share with three coworkers - was drowning in a sea of carpet, tile, quartz, and cabinetry samples. Now, fortunately, I just have a few cabinetry samples and a few errant tiles lying around, because I claimed space in the Resource Center for my very own: a basket, labeled with the project name, containing samples of everything needed for three separate buildings.

I didn't mention that, did I?

Yep, three buildings, with three price-points for rental, three target demographics, and three distinct characters.

It's fun, but a bit overwhelming.

In a few days, I'll be drowning in 17 paint samples, because trying to go through the fan decks in our Resource Center to find a decent shade of white and a nice shade of gray was just overwhelming, so I ordered some that looked likely from the Benjamin Moore professional website.

Also, it's almost impossible to tell what a color's going to look like from a tiny little swatch on a fan deck.

The process of choosing a perfect white and a passable gray reminds me of this fall, when I helped my sister select whites for her new house (it's gorgeous. Seriously.). We painted umpteen-million swatches of paint on the wall in search of two whites - one for the wall, and one for the trim and cabinetry.

I think we did a good job, though the contractors probably thought we were insane, what with all of the whites we went through (a bazillion, in case I failed to mention).

I look forward to the next few days, when I'll receive my new paints - which will hopefully be neither too green nor too blue nor too pink, because apparently, gray can be too pink, as can white - and meet with two product reps about engineered hardwood floors, which I'm having some trouble pinning down for one building.

Fortunately, right now, all I have to do is pick fixtures for the bathrooms and kitchens - two of the buildings will probably end up with the same fixtures, because it's difficult to find ones I like and that I think the client will also like. The mid-priced building and the value-priced building already have their floors selected, fortunately.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to afford to live in even the value-priced building. Good thing it's in Dallas, so I don't have to worry about it!

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Once in a Blue Moon...

Once in a Blue Moon, I'll decide to post something, come onto the ole blogsite, and then sit in front of my keyboard, absolutely clueless about what I'm going to write.

It's been about 6 months since I last blogged. The reason for my lack of blogs is that I now have a job, and I often work overtime at said job (and get paid for said overtime, at that), and when I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit in front of my computer and stare at the computer screen.

And when I am at home, looking at my computer screen, it's because I'm: 1) still working (but in bed); 2) looking online for things for my sister (like bedspreads for my niece's bedroom in my sister's and BIL's new house); 3) researching stuff for the story I'm currently writing; 4) on eHarmony, scoping out the hunks.

Yup, still on eHarmony.

Or, should I say, back on eHarmony.

For a while, I was "inactive", because I was dating someone (for about... 4 months? ish?). I really liked him, even though he was an architect.

Okay, he is an architect, but he's dead to me, now, so we'll say was.

Our relationship was going well: I'd told him about my health problems - which is always terrifying for me, because I've had guys find out that I have them and *poof* disappear - and he seemed okay with it. He was cute and funny and intelligent and could fix things himself.

And then, my candida infection came back as a result of antibiotic treatments during which (like an idiot) I ate a less than stellar diet.

It took 6 weeks of treatment - medication again, super-strict diet again - before it was cleared up, and during that time, I was really tired and weak.

And the now-ex-boyfriend found out exactly what I meant when I said "I have health problems" and explained them to him.

Essentially, after I got better, he disappeared. He just quit calling me.

At first, I thought that maybe he felt like he was having to make all the effort at communication, and so I called and texted him just to check in, and suggested we have a meal, or something.

We met for breakfast - for the first time in two weeks - the day before Thanksgiving, after which I went to a doctor's appointment and then flew to Dallas for the holidays.

Once I returned to Dallas, his lack of communication continued. And then he was busy.

I made one last-ditch effort - texted on a Sunday afternoon to see if he was free any night that week - and his response was "You can come over after I go for a run, tonight, if you want to."

In other words, if I wanted to see him, I'd have to drive 30 minutes (he didn't live close to me). And I had to work that evening - as I'd been doing quite a bit, at that time, because of a looming meeting. I was trying to plan my week - rearrange my schedule if need be - so I could see him.

When I told him I had to work that night but was free any other night, his response was "Bummer."  There was no suggestion that I come over another evening.

I waited an hour to see if he'd suggest I come over another evening, and then said, "Screw you, a*$#@*%!" (but not in a sexual way) and reactivated my eHarmony account immediately.

I've since been on two dates - one was a definite "Aw, hell no!", but today's was excellent if I pretend his hair is different - and I'm okay.

Oh bla dee, oh bla dah, life goes on.

(But seriously, f**k that guy.)