Thursday, June 24, 2010

Tacos Have Betrayed Me

I just ate the least satisfying taco ever. Normally, halfway through eating a taco I’m like, “GAH AAH BLARGH!” because I’m so full. This one… it was like an imitation taco. Like taco tofu or something. Or would that be tofu-taco? No. That would be silly. A taco filled with tofu. Ew. So I made some peanut butter toast. We have the tastiest bread EVER and I really wanted some, but I didn’t really feel like eating a peanut butter sandwich (PB&J can KISS MY ASS!), so I figured if I toasted it, it would amplify its tastiness. I was right.

So, in my house, whenever my brother or I open a new jar of peanut butter, we write our names in the top of it and then use the peanut butter around our names. Yesterday, it was my turn. Our peanut butter now says “Sarah”, because I’m so awesome. I also grabbed a Nutrigrain bar. I don’t know why I did that. There’s only the purple ones left. The green ones are the best, then the pink. The purple ones taste like oompa loompa assholes. The old school oompa loompas. Not the new ones. One. The new one(s?)’s asshole would taste like chocolate caterpillars and I don’t care how much you like chocolate; it’s still coming out of a midget’s ass. Was that too offensive? I can never tell. If so, whoops.

I really thought oompah loompah had ‘h’s on the ends. Apparently it’s “Oompa-Loompa”, but I do not like that. I like the ‘h’s and I don’t like the hyphen. I mean, I usually like hyphens, but I definitely don’t here.

Who here is a fan of attempted murder? I doubt I’d have been able to finish the job. Not that I started any jobs. But I did go to therapy today. And at said therapy, someone said something so stupid, so RETARDED, that I was thrust into a violently homicidal rage. The woman who runs the group, Marleen, said, “If you eat right and exercise, you won’t have to take insulin.” IF YOU EAT RIGHT AND EXERCISE, YOU WON’T HAVE TO TAKE INSULIN.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. I have been type 1 diabetic for 11 YEARS. ELEVEN YEARS! I think I know a little bit more than a psychologist. I have type 1 diabetes, also known as juvenile diabetes or diabetes mellitus. That means that my beta cells, the cells that produce insulin, ARE DEAD. THEY DO NOT PRODUCE ANY INSULIN. I can’t just take pills to optimize my pancreas’ functioning. IT DOES NOT FUNCTION. Not in that way. In people with type 2 diabetes, or diabetes insipidus, (depending on the classification) their beta cells still produce some insulin, and their diabetes can be controlled and treated with the use of certain pills.

I get so pissed when morons who know nothing about diabetes tell me how to run my life.

This post sure left the realms of fantasy and oompa loompas for more dangerous waters in a hurry. Anywhores, I’m getting a new phone! And a new laptop! Hell yeah! Really hell yeah seeing as both my phone and my computer are going to DIE. Soon. Oh well. Soon they shall be replaced, and they can retire with dignity.

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