Hello, world!  My name is Rita, and I really love it when you tell me what a narcissistic idiot I am!  Whee!

Now, I don't normally do this, but today I am in a really good mood, because I took today off from my day job to work on the book tour and some other blog projects.  (I'm going to give away more stuff!  See below!)  Also!  Beloved got sinus medication, and he no longer snores.  BRINGING SEXY BACK.

So, here, without further ado, is the best troll comment I've gotten since the Woman Who Shall Go Unnamed.  I do seem to attract me some venom, don't I?  It must be my reticence.

OMFG!You actually think you're interesting and have something to say. Ithought it was all some sort of crazy joke. Nope. Just crazy. I plowedthrough this crap looking for a truffle. Alas, there was nothing morethan a little girls diary of private thoughts posted to the world by anarcissistic adult lacking in the good taste to keep private thoughtsprivate.

Commenter name: Mark

Commenter email: bitme@myass.com

IP address: 64.174.52.242

None

Somebody has a case of the Mondays.

Now, hmm. A truffle? At first I thought MAYBE there was a meaning for the word "truffle" of which I was unaware, so I hopped over to Dictionary.com, and no, no, "truffle" means what I thought it meant.

truf·fle

1. any of several subterranean, edible, ascomycetous fungi of the genus
2. any of various similar fungi of other genera.
3. acandy made of soft chocolate, shaped into a ball and dusted with cocoa,or sometimes a three-layered cube of light and dark chocolate.

So, Mark was either looking for fungus or girly candy.  Here at Surrender, Dorothy, we deal mostly in herbs and Laffy Taffys.  Sorry, Mark.  Next time leave your real e-mail address.  I'm pretty sure "myass.com" doesn't exist, though I totally could be wrong about that. I'm pretty sure "bitme" is a Freudian slip. BUT I WASN'T WRONG ABOUT THE TRUFFLE.

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My gushing adoration review of the Cricket magazine Ladybug is up at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.
I'm giving away a $25 Build-A-Bear gift card at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.

Just the other day, right about the time I was working on the BlogHer post about "the bases" of sex, I had this memory flood of totally immature sayings from middle school come back.  One of them was, "Twat?  I cunt hear you. I have an ear infucktion."

I never said this blog was clean, people.

Anyway, I was thinking about that saying and really how stupid it was, but how after all of these years it still can make me giggle just because? It is so damn stupid.  And my, how middle school boys love anything stupid AND sex-related all at the same time.

So anyway, ear infections were top of mind, and I think I may have jinxed myself.  The little angel woke up this morning at 1:30, SCREAMING in pain.  I have not heard her cry like that in a long time. It was like she was possessed. We finally got her back to sleep with Motrin, but it happened again and again. Finally, at 4 a.m., I drove to Wal-Mart.  As I was standing there in the aisle looking at Swimmer's Ear medicine, I remembered that one of her tubes is still partially in. I wondered if you should pour Swimmer's Ear medicine straight into someone's brain.  I called the on-call pediatrician, who said, NO YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY NOT.

And she couldn't take more medicine yet.  I got home, hoping maybe she'd just fallen asleep, but I could hear her screaming literally outside the house. I got upstairs, took one look at her face contorted in pain, and shoved her in the truck.  It was high time we checked out the local ER.  Before we left, I looked at Beloved plaintively. 

Me: "See you in six hours."

Him:  "Rita, this is the suburbs."

Me: "I've never left an ER in under six hours."

Him:  "Look around.  There are not going to be gunshot wounds like before."

Actually, he was right. We were the only ones there. In and out in an hour.  She got scared when we were inside, and when the doctor started digging around in her ear with a long Q-Tip, she trembled a little, but so brave was my girl that I didn't realize how much it was hurting her until the doctor asked.

The doctor decided that to really determine if it was an inner ear or external ear infection (Swimmer's Ear), she would have to dig a LOT in a very painful way.  Thankfully, she decided just to treat for both and not subject all of us to the sound of a four-year-old already in abject pain having her skull scraped out with a sharp stick.  She gave me two prescriptions and the little angel a shot (glass) of antibiotics mixed with Tylenol with codeine.  Yeah, baby.

So anyway, that's been my day.  The little angel recovered greatly after her second dose of antibiotics and has been treating her stuffed animals to an advanced photography session complete with lighting and staging followed by Group Time while I frantically tried to edit stuff for work.  Still, the sound of her singing instead of screaming is music to my ears. And, Tropical Hello Kitty arrived today from Build-A-Bear. 

I would review it, except that my dear friend Average Jane is the social media expert behind the product, so suffice it to say she knows exactly how to trip my daughter's trigger.  The little angel practically backflipped off the step with joy, and when I pointed out we could go back to Build-a-Bear to get Hello Kitty a new outfit, I think she levitated. I can't figure whether she or Blondie likes that place more. Tropical Hello Kitty and Pink Kitteh promptly switched outfits, as you do.

Credit: Chris Carfi at BlogHer 2007, when Blondie purchased Pink Kitteh for the little angel.

The little angel: "LOOK! NOW THEY ARE SISTERS!!!"

Beloved is going to kill me.

How was YOUR day?