All posts by Mush

About Mush

I want to be a veterinarian because I love children.

Yesterday, at the nail salon.

In which there’s a post of no interest to anyone who does not wear acrylic nails.

Sunday I went to my favorite nail salon, LT Nails, over on Issacs street, for a fill.

“A fill” is the procedure in which, after your nails have been growing out for two or three weeks, they “fill” the part closest to the cuticle with new acrylic. Accomplishing this requires polish remover, a Dremel, two kinds of filing and buffering devices, an anti-fungal, and new acrylic, which is applied with a paint brush.

The guy who did my nails observed a discoloration about the size of the tip of a ball point pen on my left thumbnail. This is interesting, because my acrylic nails are fairly discolored due to the fact that I’ve had them on for quite awhile and they age; even though you get fresh acrylic every couple of weeks, the stuff on the tips is always many weeks old, and becomes stained by contact with food and heat. This tiny little dot of discoloration concerned him enough that he just went right ahead and removed the entire acrylic overcoat from my nail, and then tried for a while to buff the discoloration off my very thin natural nail. Continue reading Yesterday, at the nail salon.

On the Occupy movement.

In which I’m not looking forward to the upcoming Even Greater Depression.

1. Fox News lies regularly, and this behavior isn’t even illegal.

The country is fractured, and it’s partialy because news reportage is terribly damaged. The people who watch one station honestly believe the people who watch another station are insane because they can’t agree on “the facts.”

Well, it turns out that the news isn’t required to tell the truth, nor to give equal time to opposing views. In fact, it’s actually okay to knowingly lie on a news program:

This means that Fox, for example, can say anything it wants, without restraint, regardless of its truthfulness or accuracy, and sell this product as “news”:

Continue reading On the Occupy movement.

Ranting about end users.

In which I am baffled by many of the people I speak with.

As you may be aware, I’m back in tech support. If you read my tweets you may occasionally get the idea that I don’t like it, but I do!

I’ve been doing it off and on for a dozen years, and I actually do enjoy solving people’s connectivity problems. I enjoy the process of figuring out what customers are trying to say, and helping them get their problems fixed. I love the Internet, and I love helping people get online.

However.

The majority of the people I talk to absolutely baffle me. I have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about (they literally expect me to understand phrases like, “it won’t do that thing it used to,” whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean in English), and I have no idea why individuals who can’t do even the most basic computing tasks–like copy and paste, shut their machines down properly, or even read–want to get online in the first place.

Continue reading Ranting about end users.

Butt set!

In which I get to play with tools.

My awesome job not only came complete with a window office, a title, and a space heater, it also came with TOOLS.

I have custody of the freakin’ tool bag. It lives in my office. I do not have to ask to borrow a Phillips head. This makes me happy. Here are many of its components unceremoniously dumped on the floor:

Telephony tools!

Continue reading Butt set!

Dietary fat.

In which I basically just link to a bunch of research.

At the Peony the other day, I was discussing my weight loss with a couple of women who were asking me how I’d done it. I gave them my blood sugar/insulin/refined carbs spiel, during which I said, “Honestly, dietary fat needn’t be avoided. You can eat brie all you want, you just can’t eat the baguette.”

One of the women I was talking to said, “Oh, we can’t eat fat at my house. My husband has been diagnosed with heart disease, so we’ve seen a nutritionist and aren’t allowed to eat any fat.”

And I thought, That can’t be right. They can’t possibly still be telling people that, with all the research to the contrary. But they are. Every day. I have an uncle with high cholesterol who eats very little fat.

Here’s just some of the research:

Effects of a Plant-Based High-Carbohydrate/High-Fiber Diet Versus High–Monounsaturated Fat/Low-Carbohydrate Diet on Postprandial Lipids in Type 2 Diabetic Patients
A diet rich in carbohydrate and fiber, essentially based on legumes, vegetables, fruits, and whole cereals, may be particularly useful for treating diabetic patients because of its multiple effects on different cardiovascular risk factors, including postprandial lipids abnormalities.

Randomized comparison of reduced fat and reduced carbohydrate hypocaloric diets on intrahepatic fat in overweight and obese human subjects.
A prolonged hypocaloric diet low in carbohydrates and high in fat has the same beneficial effects on intrahepatic lipid accumulation as the traditional low-fat hypocaloric diet.

Continue reading Dietary fat.

A year ago today.

In which it still fucking hurts and I sorta feel like I should be over it, but I’m not.

I had Bindu put down a year ago today.

She’d had about a dozen painful heart attacks. She had advanced heart, liver, and Cushing’s diseases. She was going deaf and didn’t seem to see very well. She was maybe 13 or 14 years old.

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Deciding to have a creature killed broke both my heart and my brain. I will probably never own another pet, just so I can avoid having to do it again. I still miss that blue dog more than I can express.

I still miss her. Every. Single. Day.

RIP, Bindu, my sweet girl.

Bathroom seva.

In which I tell you a secret.

Every time I enter a restroom — public, private, whatever — I tidy it up. I pick up the paper from the floor, dry off the counters, wipe up the soap, flush the toilets in need of flushing, and tamp down the trash so it’s not overflowing.

I’ve been doing this for years now.

It started as a way to break myself of the habit of thinking, “It’s not my job.” I was constantly irritated at work because I kept having to do things that I wasn’t supposed to have to do, and I was constantly irritated at being constantly irritated. I felt helpless and enraged. I didn’t like it. I finally realized that the work itself wasn’t really the problem: the problem was my attitude toward the work. So what if your title is Office Manager but you’re running a vacuum cleaner and doing the filing? What difference does it make?

Continue reading Bathroom seva.