today i went in for my allergy scratch test. i asked kev to accompany me, if not for morale support, atleast to take some gnarly photos of what i had to endure. the back portion of my test was not nearly as painful and the arm tests. the latter involves a needle put under the dermis and injected with whatever allergy inducing toxin they can think of. for all i know they were shoving mutant alien babies under my skin. which wouldn’t be bad, because think of all those tax write offs.

our first photo is immediately after the initial “scratching”. the nurse is pointing out the histamine control group. she instructed kev that if any of the rows became larger than the control group that there was a definite allergy present. isn’t the paper gown lovely. i immediately stashed it in my purse for later use as a shawl.

approximately two seconds later my back erupted into a collage of welts. i think i heard kev dry heave a bit. i guess i didn’t mention in the vows “for better, or for worse; in gross hives that make you want to vomit, or in health”

because the mold test was a mixed test, they had to test for all molds under the sun. unlike the scratch test, each needle is placed individually under your skin and rather painful. they actually did this test twice, once on each arm. i think they performed the third one just to be mean.

the results of the mold test were positive for two specific molds. which two i have no idea, but i was instructed to not stick the four week old peach in my refrigerator up my nose. well there goes my friday night.

so let’s recount what pretty helmet is allergic to:

• everything
• except dogs

because i was absolutely miserable all weekend i decided to call up a local allergy clinic just to get an idea of how to procede with my snot-filled existence. i would’ve been happy if they told me to hook up a shop-vac to my face to suck out the party goers that had taken up residence in my head. no such luck. instead they scheduled an appointment for me and emailed me a 40 gabillion page packet of information to fill out. most of the information they required was relatively easy: name, age, length of time you have had tissue shoved in your nose. however, some of the questions i had to call my mom on. such as, “hey mom, remind me again why i was hospitalized when i was four…oh, yeah wasn’t it because i caught an infection from a tainted Snoopy halloween mask? nice.”

the doctor and i discussed my medical history and family history and came to the conclusion that this is all my mom’s fault. shitty french genes. he performed a histamine scratch test in which they prick your arm and fill it with a histamine agent. i joked that this would be the talladega version of bio-warfare. don’t worry, he didn’t find it funny either. after ten minutes my arm puffed up and the nurse’s reaction was like she discoverd plutonium. she was just too damn excited about a hive. the doctor came in and stated that because of the positive histamine test he wanted to perform a complete allergy panel tomorrow. so let me get this straight, you want to cover my entire back in hives? that sounds great! where do i sign up for that? maybe afterwards i can go to highlands bar and grill wearing a tube top. wouldn’t that be sexy?

oh, and my favorite part of the whole visit was when the doctor suggested that my allergies were exacerbated by my 76 year old house, my husband’s smoking, and my pets. great. so now i’ll be homeless, divorced, and won’t have my sweet pups to love on. well, atleast i won’t be sneezing.

this weekend has been a complete bust. from saturday morning through sunday night i have been battling the all consuming allergies. i couldn’t get anything accomplished because my nose was so stopped up my head hurt and my eyes itched so badly keeping them closed was the only option at comfort. i tried three different allergy medications but with no real relief. benadryl makes me fall asleep and claritin makes me jittery. even now just sniffling causes a pressure in my sinuses so heavy that it feels like a mac truck has run over my head. i haven’t even made it out of my pajamas. i’m such a slacker. i think i might go dip my head in a boiling pot of water.

my friends call me a music snob. hell, even i call myself a music snob. i was fortunate to have a dad who grew up with 45’s. a whole library’s worth. i grew up listening to chuck berry, hank williams sr., johnny cash, kingston trio, and if you can believe it songs of the confederate states of america. my dad would often quiz me on music by playing a section of a song and having me name the artist. to me, this was more rewarding than getting an “A” on a test or winning a science fair. this was our time. just me and my dad. as i grew older, our little music sessions became something of the past, but to this day it was what developed my ear for good music. in high school i was the typical angsty teenager. i would hole up in my room with my boombox, a set of earphones, and my favorite cassette tapes. i drowned myself in the smashing pumpkins, lapping up their obscure lyrics. i became engrossed in the pixies, feeling my soul swarm at the voice of kim deal. glen phillips became my mentor. my best friend, katie and i would try our damnedest to see as many shows at tuxedo junction that the age limit would let us. katie was the one who dropped me off on the doorstep of jane’s addiction and dinosaur, jr. all of these bands and artists helped me become who i am today. it is music that cures the insuferable wallflower.

and with age comes wisdom. i was surfing through iTunes for songs that i missed terribly. it was like reconnecting with an old friend. the elation and the wanting to catch up on all of the words that were lost. i probably downloaded $40 dollars worth of music just in the past week. and with finding that old friend comes finding that entire group of people that you forgot you knew. and the auditory memory is fascinating. hearing “psychokiller” by talking heads reminded me of being in mark robert’s beat up car, “mattie” and driving around huffman, stopping at Abe’s for a soda and cigarettes. and listening to “do you love me now” by the breeders rushed in memories of sitting at moneer’s in homewood, drinking mint sweet tea and pretending we were invinsible. it is amazing what we associate with the music we listen to. to this day hearing “last goodbye” by jeff buckley still makes me think of standing in the parking lot at uab my first year of college and having my boyfriend kiss me in the rain.

music is still the only thing that makes me happy no matter what comes into my life. i can rattle off a list of music that i associate with each and every one of my friends. whether it be because that was the song we listened to while getting drunk or were crying on each other’s shoulder or happily lying in the grass at oak mountain.

and don’t forget the art of the mixed tape. i have fallen in love with every person who has given me a mixed tape. it is an extension of their feelings. a tribute to our friendship/relationship/hatred for one another. my very first mixed tape was given to me by my first boyfriend. it was a compilation of songs i knew, songs i didn’t know, and climaxed into the sweetest bathroom acoustical song that he wrote and sang for me. that is true love isn’t it. if it’s not then i don’t want to know what is.

with all this blogging i’m doing (read:none at all) i wanted to give a new look and feel for all four of you reading. i added a Currently Reading list on the sidebar and am working on listing my musical tastes. there are not a whole lot of code writers out there for wordpress and frankly it makes me sad. i’m sure sarah could whip up something awesome but i think her version would involve a “Currently Addicted To” and have a bunch of allan rickman/tudyk links.

also, i am looking for a calendar organizer. this position entails tearing off my daily far side calendar on my desk at home. compensation will be in the form of stinky kisses from three dogs and a plethora of shells and cheese.

any takers?

i’ve been neglecting you, poor innernets, of the fantasticism that is my photography. and by fantastic i mean “horribly wrong” and by photography i mean “i couldn’t aim a gun at my head correctly”.

we like to match our furniture and wall coverings to our pets

molly models her new collar. not shown: molly’s 1/5 of Jameson’s

lira takes a break after a long day doing absolutely nothing

i’z under ur coffee tables sniffin’ ur carpets

my greyhound makes your dog look like rosanne barr.

i received this email from someone named victoria asking if she could use a photo on my flickr account for a story she was writing.

Hi pretty helmet,

I’m working on a story for Nowpublic about the Birmingham
St. Patrick’s Day parade. I love your original photos,
and wanted to see if you could share them for my story.

Thanks,

Victoria
NowPublic

after clicking the link she provided me, i see that her news story is some sixth rate hack news site. the story was simply about Birmingham beginning the St. Patrick’s Day parade on Sunday. there was an option to deny use of my photo but you had to sign up to the website to do so. i am very leary of signing up for anything to decline an offer. so i go to my flickr account and politely send her the following:

Please do not use any of my photos. First of all, your story is incorrect. Birmingham did not start it’s St. Patricks’ Day celebrations on Sunday. Second of all, my photos were taken last year and do not represent 2007’s parade activities.
Again, I would appreciate you not using any of my photographs.

Thanks!

i then receive this email from her:

Hi prettyhelmet,

I’m afraid my story is not incorrect …please read th BBC
link below.

“blah blah blah…stoopid link that has nothing to do with Birmingham, Alabama”

I won’t use your photos…you can click the link and check
a box that you decline the request.

Best,

Victoria

holy crap! i’m not sure what keywords she was using but i’m pretty sure they did not include the word “Alabama”. i (again) politely send her another email stating that a. hello, i’m nowhere near england and b. i am so not signing up just to stop you from using MY artwork. i also told her that since she had the audacity to steal from me then she could take the photos off. gah!

doesn’t she know i’m holding out for the national enquirer?!