I had to go and open my big fat mouth

All weekend, I've been pissing and moaning about how bored I am here in The Big House. Nothing to do than read, wander the halls, watch bad TV*, dork around on the internet, and avoid my writing responsibilities. As usual, my side effects from this round of chemo haven't kicked in quite yet. More than likely, I'll get home and start feeling like utter poo within a day or two as my blood counts collapse and the inside of my mouth turns into the Cryptkeeper.

This morning I was sitting my nice cozy fat people chair when a strange burbling sound started coming from my bathroom. I peeked in to see gross, fetid water coming up through the drain in the middle of the floor. The watery sludge coated the floor of my bathroom then stopped. About ten minutes later, it started to stink like sewage. The nurses called maintenance, I took a nice long walk around the hall, then wheeled my recliner over to the door to get away from the stench of hospital swamp ass.

Two very friendly maintenance guys came up, evaluated the situation, and returned some time later with equipment. By this time, The Mister and Little A were here to visit and have lunch. All the grinding and whirring that emitted from the bathroom was of some fascination to Little A who informed the nurses that "two plumbers were in the bathroom unplugging mommy's drain with machinery."

The mess has been cleaned up and drain unclogged (supposedly), but I am still a little leery about taking a shower should the terror from beneath return. Oh and the smell is still lingering, but thankfully I keep room spray in my arsenal of hospital goodies. My room has the crisp fall odor of cinnamon and cloves, with a light underpinning of raw human waste.

Everyone's jealous, I know. I'm an awesome cancery mess with a stinky room.

In other less insulting to the olfactory senses, Friday night my mom acted as my broker and sold my homemade jewelry at our church's little annual craft show. She raked in a little over a hundred dollars which isn't too shabby considering most of my pieces range from $2-$7. Yeah, I'm a crafty, geeky gal who loves to make cocktail rings, earrings, and embellish frames with vintage buttons. Right before the Stupid Zombie Leukemia cells crept up and started funking with my life, I had even planned on opening an etsy site.

So if you want to do some early Christmas shopping, support me and my goofball hobby, drop me a line about making some jewelry for you or your beloved. I've got a few pictures of my work on file from back when I was trying to get the etsy business off the ground; otherwise I could whip up a surprise piece or something. I'm no pro, but hey, who can beat a $5 custom ring of your very own.

Okay, shutting down the self-promotion machine now! On to brave the shower!

* I somehow conned myself into watching the second Lara Croft movie (Gerard Butler! Who knew!) yesterday. Seriously, what has happened to Angelina? She was always on the slender side, but compare her now with the Angie of Lara Croft days and girlfriend is downright skeletal. Back then she had a shape, now her shape is more like post-Dachau. It's all those damn kids, sucking the life out of her. I'm planning an intervention to IHOP.

You never know when you may have to jam.

My college chum Vanessa, like myself a crafty girl with macabre leanings, sent me a link to this fabulousness: The AntiCraft. These women are all my new girlfriends. How marvelously they marry crafting with the morbid!

I want to make sweet love to them down by the fire.

Vanessa made sure to point me in the direction of the End of Days Kit: The AntiCrafter's Emergency Stash. My excitement could barely be contained.

The project is wonderful, indeed, but let me recommend a few changes:

1. Zippered Tote Bag or Large Sturdy Tin- Check. Excellent portability, which is crucial during the zombie apocalypse. You should always keep moving when the dead rise to feast on the living. We've all seen what disaster unfolds when people try to hole up in some old farmhouse and wait the situation out. Munch, munch.

2. Red Duct Tape: Good thinking about the red cross. That plus the fact that you won't be shambling and moaning should be dead giveaways that you are not amongst the recently reanimated dead.

3. Flashlight: Good. Check.

4. Weapon: The author recommends a rotary cutter. Those buggers sure are sharp but a little small. Wielding them would put you right in range of a zombie's bite zone which should be avoided at all times.

Best non-gun weapon would be a machete, but since most people don't have one lying around their house, a baseball bat (preferably wooden), cricket bat, long piece of piping, or marble rolling pin should all work nicely. What you want is something portable but long enough to crack the head of a reanimated corpse without intruding on its personal space.

5. Manuals: Everyone should own a copy of The Zombie Survival Guide. I have this great plan of leaving them in hotel nightstands right next to the Gideon bible. Also, the Army Survival Guide is good for basic knowledge.

Or you could just kidnap my dad. He knows how to live off the land and all that survivalist shit. Cause he's nuts.

6. Knitting and Thread Snips: Unlike the author, I am not a knitter. The tools of my crafty inclinations tend to be a Dremmel and various types of epoxy and pliers, none of which could do double duty as anti-zombie weapons and entertainment when hiding. I'd just as soon carry my handgun and a deck of cards.

7. Hydration: Crunk Juice is inspired. Perfect blend of stimulant and intoxication necessary for battling armies of the undead.

8. Sustenance: Dark chocolate would also get me through the harsh days and nights of zombie fighting. And maybe some candy corn.

9. Cigarettes and Matches: Check. Double check. I'd try and cram at least a carton in my kit.

10. Tissues: Tears are for the weak.

11. Camera: I don't know if I would have the presence of mind to snap pictures of the undead. Maybe I can find one of those guns like Ryan Reynolds had in Blade:Trinity with a camera already built into the body. Yeah, that's right. And a flamethrower too...