Before

After

It is amazing. My shirt has no idea where to go anymore. It just kinda hangs off, looking all awkward and shy.

I cannot belive how happy I am.


truly,
the recess bandit.

things to check.

holy crap. i just discovered this website and i shall never sleep again.

We Feel Fine.


later.

Tales from the Hospital.

I am finally back home. Boy-oh-boy did I ever miss it. Due to not being able to lift my arms for so long, I will post photos from the hospital for you to enjoy. Please be warned, one contains contained blood.

Me and the oxygen. I really love the oxygen.

My plastic surgeon is hilarious.

The mesh underwear the nurse had to put on me.

By some fantastic fluke, I scored a private room. This was the view. Inspirational.

This meal came just as I was being released. The night before I ate some vegetable that I can not identify. Unfortunately, this is not a joke.

My blood. Drains coming from my chest. For two days.

I am allergic to tape!

Well, that is all for now. I am tired and need to lay down again. The splint that I still have around my midsection cuts off my breathing. I also have to sleep on my back. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air, limbs flailing like a turtle flipped on it's shell.

My housemate says I look like I am wearing a bullet proof vest.

If I had to do this all again, in order to be small chested, I totally would.
I also have a harder time figuring out why women would go through this for purely cosmetic reasons. This shit is painful.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've gots an Elvira movie to watch.


truly,
the recess bandit.

so many stories, so much codine.



trb.


p.s. thank you to all of you who wished me so well.

so long suckers!!!


the recess bandit.

I go under the knife tomorrow. I probably won't be updating for a few days as I will be in the hospital for at least 2 days. I cannot access the internet from my phone, unlike some people I know, so y'all will just have to get on without me.

till then,
truly,
the recess bandit.

I am pretty sure that if I shrunk to five apples high, my cats would let me outfit them with saddles. That way they could take me on adventures with them. Provided, of course, that I still feed them. Otherwise they would just eat me.

Wedding Bells are going to Chime.

I have decided that if I ever get married, although not likely, I want our "first dance" to be to Billy Bragg's "The Marriage".

Home Sweet Home.

I recently discovered modernist prefab housing and I am hooked.

I like the concept behind Living Homes, pictured above.
But I also want to live in a glass house all of a sudden: The iT House.
In all honesty though, I love love love the spacebox!

more delights at fabprefeb

truly,
domestically,
the recess bandit.

p.s. i am probably going to neglect my duties in the next few days. i am scheduled for surgery in less than a week!!! YAH!!! anyways, i am documenting it in another blog thing. you can read it if you like, it is only about the surgery. i have a small request: please do not comment on that site as the purpose of it is to be a public record for others that may want to know another's experience. i know that on-line journals helped me tremendously leading up to the decisions i have made.

Surprises in the Night.

I was in desperate need of some sleep last evening, so i ate some herbal sleeping tablets. They were working like a charm until one of the kats decided to show off. I was awoken to odd growling by the foot of my bed. In a fog, I switched on the light to discover that one of my kats had caught herself a friend. I can admit it, I screamed like a girl. It is not every day you wake up to a kat with a mouse's ass hanging out of it's mouth. It was quite amazing in hindsight, that she had managed to fit the front end in her mouth so perfectly.
Usually, when one of my beast catches something, be it moth or mouse, they like to leave it for the world to admire. I can deal with the moths, the mice are a different story. Have I mentioned that I have an irrational fear, paranoia actually, about dead mice?
After my scream, Diana Moon ran out of the room with mouse in mouth. I calmed myself down and shut the door. I became very grateful for the shut door, as I believe that the mouse was dropped in the hallway for the unusually cruel kat-n-mouse chase up and down the hall. When the mouse dies, the kats will still bat it back and forth. It is kind of disturbing, as these creatures sleep on my bed every evening.
I was relieved to not find any dead mice loitering in my hallway, although I did get a strange look form my housemate when I groggily muttered "Did you find any dead things this morning?"
I believe that Diana Moon ate the mouse. And it is about time as well. My initial thought was that I would be saving money with the decrease of purchased turkey necks, but I was sadly mistaken. If anything, she ate with more ferocity this morning.

perhaps the mouse is still alive in her belly and she is feeding it.

i am so out of here.

truly,
the recess bandit.

Thanks for the Mammaries.

Dear folks who attended my yard gathering last evening;
I had a lovely time and hope to see each and everyone of you in the near future. Thank you for the presents as well. The girls got a bit weepy over the whole event. During my recovery time, which is supposed to be 3-6 weeks, (!!!!!), I will be hosting movies at my house. Please bring popping corn!
My brain is mush today, so, I offer you this quiz-post to ponder. It says I am awkward...I thought I was hiding it well.

Find your own pose!

chow mein shit stain,
truly,
the recess bandit.

Some fun for You.


The Dana Carvey Show - Skinheads From Maine

It's all in the Genes.

Okay,okay, okay. So, if this guy

(Eugene Mirman)

and this girl

(Amy Sedaris)

had a baby that had this guy

(David Cross)

as a brother and was best friends and neighbors with this girl,

(Janeane Garofalo)

I would totally want to be that baby.

truly,
the recess bandit.

p.s. the portraits of Sedaris and Garofalo were taken by Ali Smith.

Weekly Top Artists.


i just joined last.fm. i really think the world deserves to know all of my intimate details. i really do.

truly,
the recess bandit.

p.s. if you join, we can totally be friends.






ladies and gentlemen...

my future husband:

Stephen Merchant.

that is all.

Hola! I have just discovered something that i love a lot.

Zip and Li'L Bit.

the link will not take you to the first page in the series. but i am sure you can navigate your way around once you are there.
truly,
the recess bandit.

Unknown.

What kind of looter am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

yeah, i know. It is a cheap post. What are you going do, eh?

my day has been filled with ru-uniting with folks from old. I also spend hours grinding turkey necks, not as easy as one would imagine.

a dear friend of mine sent me an e-mail in regards to my previous post. It was thoughtful and well received. It also made me laugh my fool head off. This the quote that did it: Oh 2 things, have a great party, and is this the surgery, the girls get some air let out?

hil-ar-i-ous.

truly,
the recess bandit.

* You can't create a post without a Subject

My surgery date is approaching faster than I could ever imagine. The thought that keeps circling in my head is that a part of me is going to be thrown in the garbage. Actually, thrown in medical-waste trash bins somewhere. So, I have decided to have a going away party.

I am not sure how else to deal with my nervous energy and a party, for an agoraphobic such as myself, seems like the perfect balance between avoidance and torture.

So, if you know me, you are invited to my house next Saturday the twelfth. Even if I haven't seen you for a dog's age. You see, part of my nervousness stems from a strong believe that I will not survive the surgery. It is a very common surgery, and I haven't any real reason to panic, but the numbers are aligning just so. There, now that I have said it, it will defiantly not come true.



call or e-mail me for details.


truly,
the recess bandit.


p.s. if you want to bring boob-cupcakes, I will not protest.

One of these days.

Sometimes, I have these days. Days in which I feel as if my brain is collapsing and my innards are faltering. I get woozy, light head and nauseous. I cannot think straight at all and I get a blinding headache.

The result of these symptoms is my brain launching into automatic panic. I start to think that I am expiring from some tropical disease, even if I have not left the neighborhood. I start to think that maybe there has been some sort of lethal gas leak into my window from strange government-type agents. My mind starts to race, trying to figure out who the last person I pissed off was and who they may be connected. Every pang in my guts makes me think that my killer is more sadistic than I could ever imagine. I start to get into a rage because someone pulled a fast one on me, somehow slipping me poison or something. My mind starts whirling through the previous items that I have ingested to try to pinpoint the exact moment of the heinous act for which I am currently suffering, perhaps dying, from.

Then, with a gasp and a giggle, I realize that I have not only neglected to eat anything all day, I have also somehow neglected coffee as well.

I would not survive in the jungle.

truly,
the recess bandit.

I really can't help myself.....

You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 100% Robin 85% Hulk 75% Superman 70% The Flash 65% Supergirl 55% Batman 55% Green Lantern 45% Wonder Woman 40% Catwoman 35% Iron Man 15%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz


I mean, come on, a super-hero quiz?!? And I, of course, get Spider-Man, whom I love love love. How could I not post the results? And the Hulk as number 3?

oh, so much of my self-worth is derived from these on-line quizzes.

truly,
the recess bandit.

The Things You Do for Love.

No, this is not some sappy post about me and the Main Squeeze, although that is going remarkably well. This is a post about the two dwellers that I feed and brush and pick up pooh for. Yes, the kats.

A while ago, I had the two of them on a raw food diet, or B.a.r.f. (bones and raw food) and they were perky, healthy kats indeed. I would have loved to have keep them on it, but lost the use of the meat grinder when I moved to this town. Recently though, I procured one of my very own.

The general just of the diet is that I have to stick dead things into a hand-crank grinder to break the bones into small enough pieces for my beast to eat.

To say that I am squeamish when it comes to dead things would be an understatement. Unless it is the un-dead, I want no part of it. So, this little uhm, roadblock, makes the preparation of the food difficult.

Someone had donated a wack load of organic, free-range chicken a while ago. And seeing as I have a hard time eating meat, let alone knowing the first thing about cooking it, it went to the kats. Of course, I had to get it through the grinder first. The set up is something that I am quite proud of. At no part during the ordeal would my hands have to touch the meat. It was perfect. The whole thing was moving along quite well until one of the wings got jammed in the wheel. Using the tongs, I pushed and prodded until it begrudgingly started going through. I started a smiling victoriously a tad early and failed to notice the build up under the skin. All too late, like a slow motion horror film, I saw the blood gush through the skin and up into my smiling face.

I looked up at one of my precious kats, hoping for some sympathy, but all I got was a long whine from her. Apparently I was not grinding fast enough to fill her bulging guts.



truly,
underappreciated.