Saturday, July 30, 2011

Err, hand out the free cigarettes.

So no hanging out with boy today. We were going to try to meet for lunch since it was way too hot for hiking, but he had some family thing to go to at like 3. 

I of course hit traffic, then got off on the wrong exit for Route 6. I HATE that spot where the NY Thruway, 17A, Rt 6, and 17M all converge--it's a frigging nightmare. I ended up on the road that cuts through the army base and there's nowhere to turn around or even pull over and everything looks very military with big No Trespassing signs. When I finally got turned around it was way late, so we figured we try and do something another time. 

BUT he said he wanted to do something during the week instead of waiting until next weekend, so I think this is a good sign. Was still disappointing though. :/

I did my shopping in Sugar Loaf (I needed soap and lotion from Moondancer) stopped by to say hi to Big Sis#2, and went to visit Dad. 


I don't have the energy to get into that. I've had a headache for like 3 days and it kind of sucked today. I think it might be the lack of sleep. And the OMNOMNOMNOMing of lots of crap today.

...I was going to type more, but my head hurts. :( Sorry I'm being slow in commenting. I've just been feeling kind of blah. I'll try and get all your bloggies tomorrow. <3 

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.

This is amazing. 

My ceiling fan is making a noise like a genetically augmented housefly being tortured while on steroids. 

I feel very tired today. Most likely this is directly related to the fact that I have not been sleeping very well. The OTC sleepy-pill cocktail remains unreliable. Either I'll feel very drugged-sleepy, but will toss and turn for hours and hours and HOURS unable to even half-sleep; or I will fall into my usual state of almost-mostly-sleep only to find myself waking up every hour or so. The end result of both is the same: by 7:30 in the morning when I'm supposed to wake up for work, I feel so physically and mentally exhausted that I just want to crawl under a tree and sleep for twenty years. 

I would really like a prescription for Restoril, but considering a friend couldn't even get them from his pill-happy Russian doctor, I'd say there's not much chance of my very anti-pill doctor giving me a prescription for the pharmaceutical equivalent of the Draught of Living Death. Friend gave me a couple of these other things instead--Belladonna alkaloids and phenobarbital. Friend insists that they will knock me unconscious better than tranquilizer darts (I've tried finding those--no success). I haven't tried these new pills yet. According the internet, they're used for treating tummy issues like colitis and irritable bowel syndrome, and can cause "mild sedation." Now I was under the impression that deadly nightshade (belladonna) was in fact DEADLY. Apparently it's not even a very controlled substance. I may add these pills to the collection of things I don't plan on taking unless I get incredibly bored/desperate/suicidal. (Currently that collection contains lithium, steroids, giant blue pills for Crohn's disease, ambien, some kind of estrogen supplement, and Celebrex.)

I am also feeling incredibly tired of this problem with eating. 

...I know; shocking, right?


I'm sick of being afraid to eat. Afraid to go out to eat. Afraid that 700 calories in a day is way too much. Afraid of not exercising for at least an hour, 7 days a week. Afraid of exercising without vitamins* because I can't burn as many calories. Afraid of weekends, afraid of the scale, afraid of my smallest pairs of trousers. Just sick to death of being afraid of EVERYTHING, and of having this knot-in-my-stomach jittery anxious feeling following me around all the effing time because I'm fat/stupid/failing at life/worthless/directionless/AAAAHHH and it makes me feel so SO tired. 

And it doesn't go away with "recovery." I can exercise normally, eat a healthy amount of food every day, and that little ball of lead is still there in the pit of my stomach. If anything, the attempts at recovery only make it worse, leaving me with a bigger ball of of lead and ringing in my ears. 

Ugh. Idk. Maybe I'm just in a funk. I still feel incredibly fat and bloated from the shore trip (was too scared to weigh until tonight--101 lbs; not as bad as I thought...). My trousers are quite a bit more snug around the middle than when I left, and every second that I feel them pressing against my belly is a second spent in a state of panic (basically, from 8.30 in the morning until 5.45 in the evening). I can understand now about this girl in my college years ago who apparently got so disgusted with herself one day that she took a  freshly sharpened pair of scissors and sliced  off the "roll of fat" around her stomach. She was found trying desperately to hold her insides in and was taken to the emergency room. 
.....Remember our rich friends with the perfect daughter? Guess what she just went into the hospital for. 

She's my height (5' 1"), and my current weight (101 lbs). She's been starving, and bicycling in excess of 30 miles a day. The doctor said that even though her BMI is "healthy," the weight is all muscle, and so she is most definitely underweight, malnourished, etc. because her exercise addiction on top of the starving has left her with "not enough" body fat. 

Mum glared at me and did not blink for over a minute after telling me this. How can she possibly still think I'm too thin when I feel fatter than I did right after Christmas?

Each time I have tried to recover, I feel like Frodo coming back from Mordor--after facing death and Mount Doom, of course it seems like a wonderful idea to come back to a nice quiet, happy existence in the Shire, but after a while I realize I can't stand it. I can't stand to be around everyone else with their dinners and going down the pub and parties with cake and laughing and Normal. I just want to sail away to the Grey Havens with the elves. 

The elves were all so fabulously thin. 

I haven't eaten since Sunday night. I can't. I tried. Every time I look at food, or think about it, I feel my trousers pressing into my abdomen and I want to die. So living on coffee and Spiru-tein until I feel less bloated....

What it really comes down to in the end is that I am completely, irrationally, stubbornly incapable of loving myself just as I am. I need to work on this, but I'm not sure how. :/
...I'm also not taking vitamins* anymore. Again. As I've think I've said in the past, I have not yet managed to kick both the vitamins* and ED at the same time. The one time I tried, it led to an epic relapse of both, so I'd rather tackle one hangup at a time. Even if it feels like juggling large ball of fire. 

Yeah so being happy with and loving myself. Work on that...

Speaking of happiness, becca did a really great post about finding happiness in little things. Such a simple idea that most of us seem to forget so easily...

AND NOW on to some exciting news!!


...wait for it....

The boy I like gave me his number!!!

He answered the facebook message, saying how sorry he was he didn't get it sooner and that since he doesn't go on facebook much, I should just call or text him. He also said he was sorry he missed Sunday's BBQ. He had other plans, but Friend said he had seemed genuinely disappointed that he couldn't go. Friend is a very lovely friend indeed, as she did not try to press me to talk about him or my crushing; in fact she didn't mention it at all except to casually suggest that I invite him again, and that I should definitely call him on the weekend. (We haven't been close friends for that long, considering how long I've known most of my other friends, so I wasn't at all sure how to proceed with the fact that I'm crushing on her cousin.)

Sooooooo after some anxious wall-climbing, I put a full hour of thought into a very short text message, basically saying I got his fb message and oh hey here's my number. 

I feel like I'm back in grade school. A third grader with a crush on the cute boy sitting next to me, asking him to the school Sock Hop via a passed note.

He responded. I shall try to find something to do with him on Saturday.  :D

Sunday, July 24, 2011

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts....

I really need to just shut up. 

To be more precise, I really need to shut up when I'm not sober. Or perhaps I need to just not drink. 

I can't lie when I'm drunk. That part of my brain just shuts down completely. I can try, but in the end, I can only speak the truth. Sometimes the blunt, unforgiving kind of truth. 

Thankfully none of the blunt offensive kind of truth-telling took place last night. BUT now two people know about my crush on the boy. >:(

Mum knows I can't lie drunk. When we go out to dinner sometimes on weekends, it's the same pattern over and over and over ad nauseum. 

I try to stick to diet soda. 
And thus not reveal any of my secrets to Mum, who wields one's secrets and deepest dreams and desires like nuclear weapons. 

But a glass of wine always seems so nice and pleasant. So I end up caving in.
Every mother-effing time. 

Mum knew something was bothering me, as I mentioned a few days ago, but she didn't know all the details. 
Well she bloody well knows now. 

And a few other tidbits about myself that I prefer to keep private, because they'll only come back to haunt me via ridicule at the hands of my mother and her friends. 

And then on the way home from dinner, I was texting a few friends to see if they wanted to come over today (Sunday) to partake in the fruits of my mad skills with the barbecue. I invited Friend who is cousins with the crush. We were chatting for a bit, and then me--drunk/stupid/insane--casually said why doesn't she invite her cousin?

I know, right? I'm so subtle. 

No word yet on whether or not he's coming. I'll keep y'all posted. I'm going to go take some vitamins* and run it off. 

Friday, July 22, 2011

Do you know why you're here, faun? You're here because *he* turned you in... for sweeties.

No response from the boy yet. I don't think he goes on facebook that often. :(

Underwood is nearly finished!! It shall be up on Amazon as soon as the cover is complete. Elk is working her magic on that, while I've been sitting here all day playing with ideas for the back cover. 

Mainly, playing with ideas for the little blurb that goes on the back of the book. 

I am heinously bad at writing stuff like this. Fiction I can do, but advertising? Nope.

Any of you readers out there in the field of advertising, marketing, or PR? I could totally use some advice/pointers/free ad copy. 

Here's the best attempt I've got so far. Lemme know what y'all think!
It took me the better part of two whole weeks to come up with those three little paragraphs. And the first one is a quote taken straight out of the book. 


It's over 100 degrees out today. It sucks. I might skip my workout. 

I'm working on being ok with that. 

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Come play with us, Danny.....

So I messaged the boy on whom I am crushing. 


I sent a casual message inquiring after his sunburn (we were all comparing sunburns right before we left LBI--his was pretty bad), and informing him that I'm planning on going up to Harriman State Park at some point this weekend for hiking/kayaking/general outdoorsy type stuff, and since it's kind of close to where he lives, would he like to tag along?

And of course now--mere moments after hitting "send"--I'm starting to panic. 

What if he says No?!?! What is he says YES?!!??!?!?


I've been going over conversations we had when we were all hanging out at Friend's house down the shore. I think I may be over analyzing this, but there was one point wherein I told a story about my best guy friend, and as soon as I said Guy-Friend's name, the boy I like interrupted me to ask if that was my boyfriend. 

Now if I asked a boy if a girl was his girlfriend, it would be because I was subtly trying to figure out if he's single. 

In other crush-related news...
...Mum knows. 

I don't get it. The poker face works on everyone else. I can conceal an incredible amount of emotional trauma underneath a perfectly calm facade. Even my first 2 shrinks were disturbed by the level of Blank I can maintain. But Mum notices even the tiniest invisible fluctuations in my mood. Her psychic abilities are getting stronger. 

I haven't told her anything yet, but she's really determined to wear down my defenses until I tell her what's bothering me. Imagine being beaten repeatedly over the head with a shoe every time you think you can sit down and relax--that's what Mum is like when she's trying to get information out of you. 

I don't understand how my mother has such a strong hold over me. It's not like she even really raised me. And she never showed me any affection. In all my 26 years, I have never once been hugged by my mother. She never did any of the things that might be considered mommy-like.

I'm not complaining about that or anything--I was raised by a really wonderful mother-figure (Nanny) and in general I was not neglected, abused, or in any way mistreated during my childhood. Not by parental figures, anyway. 

But everything I think and do seems to begin and end with Mum; with me forever seeking Mum's approval, Mum's praise, Mum's love--all things that I will never gain because Mum just doesn't approve, praise, or love anyone or anything EVER. She may give hints of these things to friends or acquaintances, but not to her own family, and NEVER to her children. Yet at the same time, she expects perfection from her children. 

This is like a mathematical formula guaranteed to produce mental illness.

The best example I can use to explain what it was like to grow up with this kind of pressure is school and grades. Mum expected naught but A+'s. Anything 99% or below was simply not good enough. As far as I can see it, these kind of completely unrealistic expectations can lead to three possible outcomes:

Result#1: Older Sis #1
This is what I call the best possible scenario. Mum is a lunatic with astronomically high expectations of her children. Big Sis#1 came out with an astronomically high IQ. She managed to breeze through school with all A's without really trying. 

The only downside was that she and Mum hated each other from the beginning, and so the awesome grades didn't really count for much. Their hatred reached a critical level when Big Sis#1 was about 16, and she ended up taking off for England to go live with her grandmother. That was in 1986, and she never came back. All in all, though, Big Sis#1 is probably the most mentally sound of all of us. I have a feeling that is directly related to the fact that she left.

Dad's opinion of us only added to the madness.

Result #2: Big Sis#2, and Mich
Big Sis#2 and I were both the classic rebels. We realized very early on that there was no way we could live up to Mum's standards, so we just stopped trying. 
a.) Big Sis#2 unfortunately suffered from very low self esteem. She lived in #1's academic shadow and didn't have #1's effortless brilliance, so she decided that she was too stupid to even bother trying. If she didn't try, she wouldn't be disappointed when she failed. Big Sis#2 is not actually stupid, but her giving up had the desired effect--Mum eventually accepted the fact that Sis#2 was not smart, and therefore would never get straight A's, so she stopped expecting perfection from Big Sis#2 and thus stopped putting pressure on her. The downside was that Big Sis#2 ended up going largely ignored by her parents, which in turn fed her low esteem, and instead of going out and trying to make the best possible life for herself, she never went to college, has kept the same low-paying job for the last 20-ish years, married the World's Most Useless Man, and still has incredibly low self-esteem.

b.) I was basically the other side of the same coin. I knew I didn't have Big Sis#1's brains, and I saw what Mum's expectations had done to both of my older sisters. Once I cottoned on to Mum's formula, I stopped trying. Like Big Sis#2, I figured if Mum learned not to expect anything from me, I would have a much easier time navigating through my school years. 
Unfortunately, my plans were foiled by my own mental instability. I went through some kind of psychological assessment at the local loony bin when I was like 14 or 15 (I have no memory of this), and apparently there was an IQ test in the battery of evaluations. And Mum is one of those people who believes in the infallibility of standardized testing. (My IQ is apparently the same number as the police code for homicide.) I'm pretty sure that test is very VERY inaccurate. Or I cheated. Or it was just a fluke. Since I don't remember anything whatsoever about the psych. eval., I have no way of knowing for certain. All I know is that on all the IQ tests I've taken on the internet, my score hasn't come close to the original one--the highest I can get is 162. 

On top of all that, I was lazy. I knew that if I did not make any effort whatsoever--if I just didn't bother with homework, never studied for tests, and never tried at all--I would pass with B's and C's (and D's in math...). I might have gotten away with this if it hadn't been for that bloody IQ test. But nooooo, I had to deal with having Mum up my rear about school 24/7, and Mum is incapable of encouragement or anything positive really, so her being "up my rear" means I got to hear a daily diatribe about how much of a stupid/worthless/failure/disappointment/waste of space/etc/etc. I was. 

(And people wonder why some teens find a best friend in their exacto knife.)

So like Big Sis#2, I've had it drilled into my head that anything other than Absolute Perfection is Failure. Therefore, if I have not achieved Perfection, I must be a Failure in every possible aspect of life. 
I know this isn't true, but it's really REALLY effing hard to combat so many years of having this drilled into your head by your own mother. Sometimes I really do wish I was just fully accepting of the feelings of worthlessness, like Big Sis#2. 

Dad really doesn't help. 

Result #3: Little Sis
This one is kind of the opposite of the other two. 
Little Sis does not have Big Sis#1's genius. But she wants it. And she tries really REALLY hard to achieve it. You would never think it either. She's like a closet-nerd. She really does try, though--spends HOURS doing homework, studying, perfecting her papers and projects. She's been on the honour roll every marking period ever since she reached the grades where they start keeping track of things like the honour roll. She always has A's and high B's. She re-took the SAT's the week after taking them the first time, so that she would have the option of taking them a third time if she wanted. (She scored like a 1950 out of 2400 the first time round.) Based on all of the above, Little Sis should Mum's star. 


See the problem is that Big Sis#1 set the standard for Mum's Scale of Intelligence. 

(Not to be confused with Mum's Scale of Approval)

Based on Mum's standards of intelligence, Little Sis can try all she wants--she's still not an effortless genius. She still gets the occasional B. She may appear above average, but she's nowhere near Perfect. Know what that does to a person's psyche?

Little Sis is quite possibly the most sensitive, most high-strung person I have ever met in my entire life. Like holy sh*t. You can't say ANYTHING even remotely hurtful to her, for fear that she will dissolve into a sobbing shrieking mess of overactive hormones. 

In my family, NOT insulting each other is impossible. We don't hug or kiss or show affection or tell each other that we love each other. We never have. My family members show affection by hurling sarcastic insults at one another. The greater the insult or more acrimonious the remark, the more Love is behind it. That's just how we roll. But Little Sis has never managed to catch up, so most of my family members just avoid saying anything personal to her. (I'm including extended fam in this as well, not just siblings and parents).

And then she gets upset and wonders why the rest of us seem to have a closer relationship with each other, and why doesn't anyone like her as much as they like everyone else. 

It must fry her brain, that. She can see that we're all experiencing some kind of close emotional bond, but at the same time all she can actually SEE and HEAR is us brutally and ruthlessly attacking each other's appearance, personality, likes/dislikes, etc. 

Poor kid. 

..........Wow this post went waaaaay out in a different direction than the thought that got me started. I don't even remember what I was going to talk about. 

Saturday, July 16, 2011

So here we are....

Ever discover a song that you just can't stop playing over and over and over and over and over?

It helps pass the time while I sit and stare at facebook, debating whether or not to message the new crush. I have no other way of contacting him, and telling friend (the one related to him) about it is not an option.

Most likely I'll sit here geting more and more anxious until sparks start shooting out of my ears and I end up not messaging him and going to the gym instead.

...Anyone not my friend on facebook? (FB is ED-free)...
Do it

Thursday, July 14, 2011

If I may say so, your lizard looks limp.

I'm sorry I'm a bad blogger. I'll catch up on all your blogs over the next few days. <3

Sooooooo I'm back from the Jersey Shore! I'm pretty sure I gained 198478483893893 pounds. 
My hair is no longer blue.

I did very well for the first 3 days--excessive bike riding, normal to below-normal food consumption, no bingeing. And then on the last two days of my trip, I ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate until I felt sick and fat and suicidal. 

Today at work, I planned to only have coffee while I de-bloat, but because I'm a fat greasy hippopotamic mess with no willpower, I've been devouring the peanut putter pretzels and the box of fudge that I brought back from LBI (the fudge that I was hoping everyone else in the office would eat so that I DON'T eat it). My size 0 work trousers are feeling quite snug. 

I had hoped that my nice little trip down the shore would cause a marked decrease in my stress levels. The Stress has been well above normal for a while a now, and I'd really like it to calm the eff down before I have a heart attack, because the constant palpitations are starting to make me light-headed and queasy.

But no. I think I've arrived back to Real Life twice as stressed out as when I left. Let's review:

1.) I can't sleep. This isn't exactly breaking news, but as of late (the last month and a half, or so?) I have been unable to sleep even with the sleeping pills. If I fall asleep, it's a weird half-sleep, and I wake up about every hour. This is with copious amounts of diphenhydramine and doxylamine every night. 

2.) This morning, I was unable to locate my keys. I ended up driving to work with the spare car key and telling Step-Dad to please Please PLEASE NOT lock the door to the house, because I have no house keys. Step-Dad is an epic douche-bag and thus there is a rather large chance that he will lock the house on purpose before he leaves for Boston (which is over 5 hours away) and claim that he forgot that I asked him to leave the door unlocked. Mum and Little Sis are down in Seaside (~90 minutes away). I replaced the locks on all the house doors myself (to keep Step-Bro#1 out), so I know for a fact that the credit-card-unlocking-solution will not work. I really do not want to break the door down, especially since I'm going to be home alone for the next couple days. 
Edit (I wrote this at work): step-dad did indeed leave the door unlocked. And the back door open. Just the screen door was closed. And he left the basement door closed. We have never--in our 9 years in the house--left the basement door closed, because the cats' litter boxes are in the basement. 

The cats were upstairs. 

3.) My car still reeks of death and putrescence. 

4.) Friend's departure for Colorado is only a couple of weeks away. On my last day at her house down the shore, she told me to clear my calendar on July 31st, for her official Farewell Party. And the fact that she's leaving kept coming up in conversation while I was in LBI--since it's now mid-July, we talked a bit about stuff we'd like to plan for the end of the summer and the fall (hiking, canoeing, the annual apple-picking trip, etc.), and then remembered oh yeah, Friend's not going to be here.
Since my circle of friends is rapidly diminishing (I've culled the herd quite a bit over the last year, purging people with whom I just cannot deal), this is even more depressing. 

5.) My chin has broken out into a mass of zits. I also have an epic rash on my arse from bicycling 75 miles in 3 days. 
The bike:

6.) I have received my first ever negative feedback on eBay because the buyer of a friend's Keurig coffee maker was a moron who apparently preferred being an assmaster over getting a refund. 

7.) I feel too fat to watch Millennium. I'm not sure when this particular neural pathway was forged, but for some reason I just feel too ashamed to subject Millennium to the hugeness that is Mich. Like Frank Black will turn his back on me forever because I'm such a failure. (I think this actually dates back to meeting Lance Henriksen in person.) 
Since Millennium is like my security blanket when I'm feeling unhappy, this is not exactly helping. 

8.) I think I like a boy.
This never happens. 
Like really; NEVER HAPPENS. Not to this degree, at least--wherein I actually like someone for his personality and his looks and just everything in general (as opposed to a random fixation on a boy and the idea that he might look nice standing next to me). 
But the boy is related to a friend, which could get messy.
Also, I haven't developed a crush on anyone in so long that I don't really know what to do about it except for breaking out in a cold sweat.

And seriously WHAT THE FUDGSICLES IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE. I hope they string that guy up in Times Square and cut off his balls and shove them up his arse. 


I need a cigarette. Or five. 

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Greetings from the Jersey Shore!

And NOT as in that awful tv show. Those arseholes aren't even from NJ, and they make the rest of us look bad.

I'm sorry I'm not commenting on your blogs! I'm posting from my phone. I can't get any internet from my laptop, and I really REALLY miss your blogs! If I can get internetz I'll try and pop in and say hey...

I have a sunburn on one arm. The other one remains pale...

This morning I got up at 6.30 and biked to the Barnegat Lighthouse and back, total of 25 miles. It was fabulous, and I shall do it again tomorrow.
I rented a pink bicycle. Will post photos when I get a chance to do a proper post.

Off now to a barbecue at a friend's house, with lots of meat! :D And then crabbing... There will definitely be photos of that. My hair will be blueish, because friend got me some spray-in hair colour so I can look like Sailor Neptune.

Later my lovelies!! I miss you all so much!!! <3

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!


This past weekend saw me lapsing back into bad bingeing habits. I started out doing very well--eating a little more than I would during the week, allowing myself some extra goodies like a normal person on a holiday weekend. And then began an onslaught of stressors that sent me creeping into the kitchen in the dead of night to stuff my face with cereal and ice cream and fluffer nutters. 

The main stressor was my car. 

On Saturday morning, I was leaving to go get my roots bleached. I caught a whiff of something unsavory before I had even fully opened the driver side door. 

And then once the door was opened all the way, I got hit with a truly horrific stink. 

I did a quick search, but couldn't find the source of the odor. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. Kind of like a combination of sour milk, vomit, and dead animal. 

But I was running late for my hair appointment, so I chain smoked all the way to the mall with the windows almost closed, and figured I'd just deal with it when I got home. I really had to deal it when I got home, as the car was scheduled to go in for service on Saturday afternoon. 

Once home from getting my hair done, I searched the back and under the seats, and found the culprit under the driver's seat.

A bottle of extremely old  Spiru-tein shake (which I had presumed lost--left at the gym or something as I hadn't been able to find it for like 3 weeks) had exploded, spilling almond milk and cookie & cream protein shake all over the carpet. 

And Holy Mother of God does that smell rank. 

I tried my best.

I used the Lysol wipes, paper towels, and copious amount of carpet cleaner. The smell seemed to be going away. By the time I had to leave to take the car in for service, the stink wasn't gone completely, but it wasn't as bad as before.

I apologized profusely to the service guys at Toyota. They said it was ok, that they would try and get it out of the carpet. 

Upon picking up my car several hours later, it was immediately obvious that not only had they failed, but the stink--after a couple hours out in the hot sun of the parking lot--was back with a vengeance. 

I went home. I cried about it to Kazehana. I went to the mall to get an air freshener and some Clorox. And I attacked again. 

I also continued chain smoking in the car. And spraying the stink with Clorox every few hours. It seemed to get less and less stinky on Sunday and Monday. 

But then this morning, when I was leaving for work, it stank again worse than Satan's own septic tank. 

So I give up.