OakMonster’s Den

I’m probably going to hell for pointing this out.

In the ABC report about a woman with a malfunctioned implanted defibrillator that almost killed her.

On Dec. 17, 2007, [Bridget] Robb’s implanted defibrillator malfunctioned, shocking her heart a total of 31 times in the span of a few minutes…

Medtronics, the company that makes the device used by Robb, told ABC News they sent certified letters to all the patients and their doctors.

But Robb said she did not know her defibrillator had been recalled until she arrived at the hospital’s emergency room.

“I had no idea,” Robb said, “I was shocked.”

Yes.  Yes, you were.

Woke up feeling the blues and didn’t want to put on the happy, personal mask for the day, I stayed home and worked on designing web pages for work.  A combination of homesick, having talked to my dad last night and emailed with my brother this morning, feeling the odd sense of loss, and missing Brandon quite fiercely.  As it was proven, it was really good to be alone today.

Ate leftover pasta for lunch on the couch, watching re-run of Firefly on Sci-Fi channel.

Ran to Fresh & Easy to pick up single serving of rib eye steak, a little baggy of salad, a thing each of chocolate mousse, rattatouille and mashed potatoes, and other groceries.

Made steak and egg dinner with a little salad.  Had a glass of wine.

Watched…and watching all a girl would want to watch when she has the control of the television: Steel Magnolias, Sex and the City re-runs (I mainly watched the Aiden period), and, naturally, Monty Python and the Flying Circus on BBC America while waiting for Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica.

Can you imagine what it was like for me when I was single and without cable?  LOL.

A row of what I think are jasmine bushes underneath our bedroom window have bloomed for the past few weeks. I didn’t know the neighbor apartment has such plant. I mean, I haven’t smelled it since we moved in, I don’t think.

The first time I caught a whiff of this season’s bloom though, I thought to myself…

“Mom’s visiting.”

It didn’t help that the first time, I was the only one who caught the scent. Brandon was a bit too far away from the window to smell anything.

You see, one of mom’s favorite flowers are what Thai people call “Dok Kaew” ดอกแก้ว. That’s scientifically Murraya paniculata and in Hawaii it’s known as mock orange.  Mock orange is no jasmine, but it looks and smells pretty close.

We have a tree growing on the edge of our property in Bangkok, on the way out the gate. It seems to bloom at night through early morning a few times a year. I remember taking them to my teachers on my way to school and plucking them on Sunday mornings for my grandmother.

It was blooming when my mom passed away. We made sure to have the blossoms at the temple as well as in our house. We put them in mom’s favorite red crystal vases which her friends joked that mom would rise out of the coffin to beat me and Pueng the Maid silly for actually using her prized possession.

Since the day I caught the scent in my bedroom, I expect the blossoms every night. I would take in deep breaths before getting in bed and think of mom.

It hurts a little, but strangely comforting.

I am zapped.

Long, early start this morning with an event in Long Beach. Slipped a little bit in my new boots and now my bad ankle is swollen. Crazy rest of the day in the office as the bosses are getting ready to take off the next two days to do an executive powwow off site.

P-a-r-t-a-y!!!

Just kidding.

I can’t even try to do that with the amount of stuff I have to catch up on since this morning event took over my life this past week.

Treated myself to a “Chinese Reflexology Massage” at Red Persimmon, a nail place a few miles away. Sat there on the comfy couch for one hour getting my feet and neck and shoulders rubbed. Didn’t feel like eating dinner so I had a few mutant strawberries (they’re HUGE) and a few glasses of water before taking a dunk in a bath.

I feel like a jellyfish. Just a puddle of sinews and fluids here. Going to blob my way to bed now.

I’m sorry for yet another boring post. Well, hell. What do you expect from a jellyfish!

Someone in the office asked me what I want to be when I grow up.

“Millionaire rock star philanthropist,” I said.

He paused.

“So you want to be Bono?”

“Not with that much talent or the coolness. But, yes.”

He nodded and walked away.

It’s pretty interesting to see how people react to that question and answer. I have heard people get totally stumped when asked the question, and then people who has the simplest answer. Like, “Rich” or “Famous”.

Most people look at me funny when I told them about my ultimate goal.

Does anybody actually have a goal to be a philanthropist? Perhaps I am the only one?

I wasn’t always my goal, of course. I wanted to be a doctor, journalist, tennis champion and astronaut. Yes, ALL at the same time. I wanted to be an interior designer. A graphic artist. An advertising account executive. A movie producer. A web designer. Hell, I even wanted to be a wedding planner at some point.

The philanthropist thing doesn’t really come to full bloom until a few years ago when I realize the most joy I get outside of music and cooking/eating is helping people.

I love helping people. I love raising money. I do enjoy a few luxury in life that comes with having money on hand, but never dream of not being able to give away any.

I mean, the $3000 purse? I could just buy one for $40 and give $2960 away somewhere and I still have a purse that will hold my possession. $200 jeans? Well, okay, my ass would probably look fantastic in a pair of those, and I would probably own one when I can. But then again, I can squeeze into a pair of Levi’s for $30 and still look cute in them.

Is it a disorder that I can’t see myself being rich and not giving any away?

I think that is why people look at me funny. I want to have a lot of money so I can give a lot of it away. That shouldn’t make sense to most people.

It makes perfect sense to me.

When I die, I can’t take any of that with me. Why should I horde it when my money can go on and save lives, make people happy, and change the world?

How am I going to get to be the millionaire rock star philanthropist? I don’t really know just yet.

Well, unlike Bono, I don’t really have the talent. I can hold a tune and play a couple of ditties on piano and guitar, and I think I have the right rock star moves. But seriously, I don’t think this “good enough” is going to get me anywhere near rock stardom in the U.S. I might, however, be able to take a crack at it in Thailand as some niche pop-rock star, a one-hit wonder that makes banks and banks and then disappear. That would give me a good start on my millionaire goal. But that’s unlikely too.

So, I will have to “grow up” in reverse.

The philanthropist part, I sort of have been practicing that with all that I can afford. The easier next step for me is not becoming a rock star, but to be the millionaire. THEN I can peddle my album to the brown nosers who want my money. Or organize a big ass concert featuring the real artists and pop in on stage to rock with them for a song or two. Or put out charity albums with folks like Band from TV.

Good plan? I think so.

In the meantime, I am just happy being a thousandaire (actually, I can’t even say that since I have negative net worth…) living room rock star, karaoke queen, fundraiser lady.

Baby steps.

P.S. Speaking of which, the Lesser Weevils are back for AIDS Walk Long Beach 2008!  I’m recruiting team members as well as raising funds.  Come on down to the blog and help me out!

I returned to writing for Thai-Blogs.com after a long hiatus (read: writer’s block of a massive scale) with this lightly saucy entry about a report that 70% of Thai women don’t have orgasm.

The first draft of this piece was pretty much that, plus some personal experience.  But then I read it, and I wasn’t sure if I want to include that much information.  Then I tried to tip-toe around it and talked about my experience without actually saying it.  It was just dumb.  So I left it out altogether.

I know I write a lot about my personal life.  I spill a lot of my guts and tears here.  But even with all the bodily fluids contributed to the existence of this blog, there are still some place I wouldn’t go.

I’m mature enough as a blogger to have a bit more of the self censorship now.  Although only gods know that self censorship only works when I type and not when I speak.

…for my smart ass mouth.

*

A coworker walked by saying something something…either “I could eat a horse” or “I just peed like a horse”.

Me: Wait. Did you just say a horse or a whore?

Him: *laugh* Both.

Me: So…you’re a whore horse?

Erin: He could be a horse whore.

Me: A horse whore?

Erin: [Knowingly] …yeah…

Me: But being a horse whore, isn’t that kind of…

Erin: I’m not going there…

Me: …donkey show-ish?

Erin: …and you just have to go there, don’t you?

When I told this to Brandon later last night.

Me: You know, nobody else in the office would go there. But I just had to. I mean, if it’s not me, who else would go all the way?

Brandon: People at the donkey show would.

You see why we get along so well?

*

Apparently, folks on the bus were talking about luxury cruises out in the Indian Ocean getting robbed and hijacked.

Tony: Do you guys remember that one ship? The [Insert a Ship Name Here]? They got hijacked a couple of years ago?

Me: You mean that one where Steven Segal popped out of the kitchen and saved the boat?

*

Brandon and I went to pick up fish and chips last night. Brandon went up to the counter to pay for the food, and then we spotted IBC Root Beer and Jones Soda cream soda we suddenly must have.

Brandon discovered he only had a dollar left.

Brandon: Babe, you’ll have to pay for the sodas. I don’t have any more money.

Me: Well, what the hell kind of a date are you?

The fish lady had a field day laughing.

*

So I take the bus most of the days for my 30+ mile weekday commute.  Not only I was doing my part on saving my mental health by doing that, I was also helping the environment by not driving.

Of course, it would only be appropriate that on Earth Day, I drove to work.

Even more appropriately, I had to drive to work because we’re going to happy hour tonight.  Indeed, I HAVE to drive to go drinking.  Fucked up, isn’t it?

I think I am now qualified as the High Priestess of the Cult of Fresh & Easy.

I just put the Fresh & Easy blog on my Google Reader.

ETA: I started a new blog - Temple of Fresh & Easy.  Join me in my obsession, won’t you?

As of today, I am certifiably, clinically proven NOT crazy.

It’s just a part of the grieving process, I was told.

That will be all.

I know I wasn’t suppose to touch anything in and around my nose.  But Brandon had a look, and based upon his report, I decided to investigate.

Alas!  The Alien In My Nose “hatched”!

I’m just going to leave it at that.

My nose is still red and painful.  But oddly enough, the pressure has lifted and the pain is gone from my cheekbone and is massively reduced on bridge of my nose.

I am on the 4th hour since I last took some Ibuprofen, yet I’m feeling no serious discomfort.

Hot compress, Ibuprofen, antibiotics and time heal a LOT of things!  I’m ALMOST free again!

Appropriately, Brandon is watching Aliens V.S. Predator 2 right now in the living room.  LOL.