Here’s something weird (weirder than normal): I just learned how to spell “Pittsburgh.” Somehow, I have spent 30 years NOT spelling Pittsburgh, because honestly (and by honestly, I mean embarrassingly) I never knew there was an “h” on the end. To all of you who live in Pittsburgh, I’m so sorry.
I was spelling “Pittsburgh” because I was filling out my bracket for the NCAA tournament. Granted, I have no idea what I’m doing because I’ve seen a grand total of 7 minutes of college basketball this year, but nevertheless, I’ve got the March Madness.
You see, Brett and I will be spending this weekend with some folks who care about such things, and who are having us over expressly for the purpose of drinking beer and watching basketball and I refuse to take the roll of resident Clueless Girl. I plan to be invested.
This should be easy as long as my alma mater wins. Go Warriors (yes, I know they’re the Golden Eagles now, but that’s stupid). Beyond Marquette, I don’t have the foggiest notion of who’s who and why I should advance one team over another. I mean, there are some gimmes, like the fact that I will NOT advance Oral Roberts University on principle and I can’t advance Austin Peay because, quite frankly, I don’t even know how to say that second word. As for the other teams, HELP! Are any of you filling out bracket nonsense? Who do you like? Instruct me!
P.S. There’s a reason I procrastinate; I work well under pressure.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
bringin' da noise
Brett and I often discuss the fact that Chicago seems to have very little relation (beside geographical, political, technical) with Illinois. This became even clearer today when I had to call Springfield (the capital) and inquire as to what exact documentation I needed to bring with me to the 10th circle of hell, A.K.A. the DMV, to register my car (yes, I know I’ve lived here 8 months and have yet to switch plates, mind your own bees’ wax). The man who answered had a thick southern drawl and called me “ma’am” repeatedly.
When did I move to the South?
The thing about Illinois is that Chicago is up around the top, the tippity-top, of the state, but Illinois descends deep into the middle of the country, meeting up with such states as Missouri and Kentucky. These states are most decidedly Southern and the fact that Illinois shares a border with said states makes it possibly Southern itself. I mean, I think there’s a Waffle House down there and I swear there was a comedian or some such who claimed that it wasn’t the Mason-Dixon Line that determined North v. South, but the Waffle House Line. (anyone know who said that?)
Illinois seems to be a state that defies classification. It’s got Chicago, which is decidedly Midwestern, but if you go visit Carbondale (southern most tip) you will feel like you’re in Arkansas. I know this because I’ve been to Carbondale and I wondered if we drove too far.
If I lived outside of the Chicago metro area (which I will in very short order, but not by much) I would be pissed that Chicago lead the legislature and ate up most of the money. It would royally piss me off if I had to pay higher taxes so that the “L” could keep running, even though I never used the “L” and would really instead like to have the potholes in the highway fixed, or you know build a NEW highway. It would also piss me off that my Senator, Mr. Obama, took a plane or a helicopter (I don’t remember which) to Springfield because he didn’t want to live anywhere in Illinois but Chicago. Oh, and he used taxpayer funds to do this. (too lazy to verify this, but I heard it was true)
Brett and I are leaving the delineated confines of Chicago for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s easier for me to be far away from the office than for him to be far away from school (what with the working from home bidness), and second of all, suburbs kind of suck and we can’t afford to have a yard in the city. Do any of you ever watch “What you get for the Money?” Chicago real estate is obscene. It pains me to think of the one room condo we could afford in the city, whereas out in the sticks we can have an estate (not really, but at least a yard).
Also, I feel like the rest of Illinois is the much ignored and over looked younger sibling. The poor thing is working so hard, being such a good little state and no one is paying any attention to it. We’re just eating all the corn it consistently produces and then tossing the husks on the floor for it to pick up. It deserves some attention, and damnit, we’re gonna give it to it. I plan to put the “noise” back in Illinois[e].
When did I move to the South?
The thing about Illinois is that Chicago is up around the top, the tippity-top, of the state, but Illinois descends deep into the middle of the country, meeting up with such states as Missouri and Kentucky. These states are most decidedly Southern and the fact that Illinois shares a border with said states makes it possibly Southern itself. I mean, I think there’s a Waffle House down there and I swear there was a comedian or some such who claimed that it wasn’t the Mason-Dixon Line that determined North v. South, but the Waffle House Line. (anyone know who said that?)
Illinois seems to be a state that defies classification. It’s got Chicago, which is decidedly Midwestern, but if you go visit Carbondale (southern most tip) you will feel like you’re in Arkansas. I know this because I’ve been to Carbondale and I wondered if we drove too far.
If I lived outside of the Chicago metro area (which I will in very short order, but not by much) I would be pissed that Chicago lead the legislature and ate up most of the money. It would royally piss me off if I had to pay higher taxes so that the “L” could keep running, even though I never used the “L” and would really instead like to have the potholes in the highway fixed, or you know build a NEW highway. It would also piss me off that my Senator, Mr. Obama, took a plane or a helicopter (I don’t remember which) to Springfield because he didn’t want to live anywhere in Illinois but Chicago. Oh, and he used taxpayer funds to do this. (too lazy to verify this, but I heard it was true)
Brett and I are leaving the delineated confines of Chicago for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s easier for me to be far away from the office than for him to be far away from school (what with the working from home bidness), and second of all, suburbs kind of suck and we can’t afford to have a yard in the city. Do any of you ever watch “What you get for the Money?” Chicago real estate is obscene. It pains me to think of the one room condo we could afford in the city, whereas out in the sticks we can have an estate (not really, but at least a yard).
Also, I feel like the rest of Illinois is the much ignored and over looked younger sibling. The poor thing is working so hard, being such a good little state and no one is paying any attention to it. We’re just eating all the corn it consistently produces and then tossing the husks on the floor for it to pick up. It deserves some attention, and damnit, we’re gonna give it to it. I plan to put the “noise” back in Illinois[e].
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
This is what passes for a post around here
This buying a house shit is ALL CONSUMING. Please forgive me for not doing anything blog related and being silent as a church mouse on your blogs. It’s just that I’m obsessed and I am pretty sure you do NOT want to hear about it. Here’s how it’s going:
look at a house in our price range
determine owners are either blind or crazy
look at a house outside of our price range
feel at home
cue call to lender, promise first born
lather, rinse, repeat.
BORING.
I don’t remember being like this the last time I bought a house. I guess it’s just that last time I actually liked the apartment I was in. Now I feel like our apartment is sucking the life out of my soul every moment I spend in the darn thing. Brett and I have both determined that the apartment is ruining our lives, one popcorn ceiling kernel at a time. (Can you say “built in the 80’s?”)
look at a house in our price range
determine owners are either blind or crazy
look at a house outside of our price range
feel at home
cue call to lender, promise first born
lather, rinse, repeat.
BORING.
I don’t remember being like this the last time I bought a house. I guess it’s just that last time I actually liked the apartment I was in. Now I feel like our apartment is sucking the life out of my soul every moment I spend in the darn thing. Brett and I have both determined that the apartment is ruining our lives, one popcorn ceiling kernel at a time. (Can you say “built in the 80’s?”)
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
.
Well kids, it’s official. I had my first hot flash.
(If you’re playing at home, you should be aware that I’m currently on Lupron treatment for endometriosis. Lupron induces temporary menopause because it basically ceases production of a large quantity of estrogen. It’s also used for fertility treatments, but in my case, it’s for endometriosis.)
So last night, I awoke about 3am absolutely drenched in sweat. To make matters worse, I was trapped under two sleeping dogs, in flannel sheets and flannel pajamas. I kicked myself free of the bed and the dogs (note, I did not kick the dogs, but had to surreptitiously remove my legs from their HOT bodies) and did so with such disgust that I actually woke Brett up. He thought I was having a nightmare, but in reality I was just a firey, hot MESS.
Jesus, this sucks.
Also, I have my period. Apparently, you often have at least one period after starting Lupron. Fine, but this is not my average period. Usually it’s relatively pain free and LIGHT. Not this time. Unfortunately, it first revealed itself while I was at the bank doing my pre-approval crap from the bank lady and I had to excuse myself and race to the bathroom and why do banks not stock tampons or pads or sanitary napkins or whatever the kids are calling them these days? (Yes, I know, many women keep these things in their purses. Whatever) I was forced to go all MacGuyver (*edited to spell MAcGUyger correctly, because I cannot spell TV character names*) on my girl parts and that’s something no woman should ever do.
Also, there is pain; intense, searing, uteral pain and WHY? I think this was exactly the thing the Lupron was supposed to stop, but apparently my endometriosis is making a final stand. What a bitch.
(If you’re playing at home, you should be aware that I’m currently on Lupron treatment for endometriosis. Lupron induces temporary menopause because it basically ceases production of a large quantity of estrogen. It’s also used for fertility treatments, but in my case, it’s for endometriosis.)
So last night, I awoke about 3am absolutely drenched in sweat. To make matters worse, I was trapped under two sleeping dogs, in flannel sheets and flannel pajamas. I kicked myself free of the bed and the dogs (note, I did not kick the dogs, but had to surreptitiously remove my legs from their HOT bodies) and did so with such disgust that I actually woke Brett up. He thought I was having a nightmare, but in reality I was just a firey, hot MESS.
Jesus, this sucks.
Also, I have my period. Apparently, you often have at least one period after starting Lupron. Fine, but this is not my average period. Usually it’s relatively pain free and LIGHT. Not this time. Unfortunately, it first revealed itself while I was at the bank doing my pre-approval crap from the bank lady and I had to excuse myself and race to the bathroom and why do banks not stock tampons or pads or sanitary napkins or whatever the kids are calling them these days? (Yes, I know, many women keep these things in their purses. Whatever) I was forced to go all MacGuyver (*edited to spell MAcGUyger correctly, because I cannot spell TV character names*) on my girl parts and that’s something no woman should ever do.
Also, there is pain; intense, searing, uteral pain and WHY? I think this was exactly the thing the Lupron was supposed to stop, but apparently my endometriosis is making a final stand. What a bitch.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
lost and found
Last night, Brett and I were watching yet another episode of Lost. He asked how many more disks we had of the 3rd season, and when I said we had but 3 more, he was RELIEVED. Yes, relieved, because watching Lost has eaten up a frightening amount of our lives lately. Luckily, I understand that this is a common phenomenon and we are not, in fact, crazy.
However, we are house crazy around here, because we are in the thick of the house hunt and it's kind of awesome. Basically, if Lost isn't on around here, HGTV is. Granted, I have no idea if our house will require remodeling or extreme decorating but who cares? We've already decided that any house we buy will be lovely and delightful because it will be OURS and there will be a yard for our dogs' pooping needs. A yard, what a wonderful concept!
All we know for sure that we need is a fenced yard, a two-car garage or the potential to build one, an electrical system that supports at least 200 amps, 3 bedrooms or the potential to add on, and strangely enough it would be almost preferable to NOT have A/C. You see, we kind of want to retrofit a house to use geothermal heating and cooling. Shockingly enough, it's not that expensive and the benefits are HUGE and you should read about it and then retrofit your house.
I fear I'm going to annoy the shit out of our real estate agent. I'm kind of obsessed with this whole house thing and that means I'm constantly on realtor.com and the MLS website and then I'm constantly sending her houses I like. This means she gets emails from me relatively frequently and we're not exactly million dollar home buyers, so she's probably ruing the day we stumbled into her open-house and convinced her we were sane people, when in reality, one of us most certainly is not.
However, we are house crazy around here, because we are in the thick of the house hunt and it's kind of awesome. Basically, if Lost isn't on around here, HGTV is. Granted, I have no idea if our house will require remodeling or extreme decorating but who cares? We've already decided that any house we buy will be lovely and delightful because it will be OURS and there will be a yard for our dogs' pooping needs. A yard, what a wonderful concept!
All we know for sure that we need is a fenced yard, a two-car garage or the potential to build one, an electrical system that supports at least 200 amps, 3 bedrooms or the potential to add on, and strangely enough it would be almost preferable to NOT have A/C. You see, we kind of want to retrofit a house to use geothermal heating and cooling. Shockingly enough, it's not that expensive and the benefits are HUGE and you should read about it and then retrofit your house.
I fear I'm going to annoy the shit out of our real estate agent. I'm kind of obsessed with this whole house thing and that means I'm constantly on realtor.com and the MLS website and then I'm constantly sending her houses I like. This means she gets emails from me relatively frequently and we're not exactly million dollar home buyers, so she's probably ruing the day we stumbled into her open-house and convinced her we were sane people, when in reality, one of us most certainly is not.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
A day in the life
What? That title didn’t reel you in like a trout to a delicious dangling worm? Come on, you know you wanna know what we do on a day off.
Just play along okay?!
Yesterday I had the day off and Brett did too and we lazed about in bed (snuggling with dogs, not even touching each other mind you) until almost 9am. That’s LATE.
Finally, we got ourselves out of bed and decided to use the coupons that Caribou Coffee had kindly mailed us (coupons are the only impetus for us doing just about anything) and get ourselves some fancy coffees. I forced Brett to get something other than his usual BLACK coffee, namely a mocha, and I got a latte and we shared a cinnamon roll and poppy seed cake and then we passed out due to a heavy sugar coma. Seriously, don’t try that breakfast at home kids, it won’t turn out well.
We needed a break after that high endurance breakfast, and so I made Brett watch the most recent episode of Project Runway. He is one of eight straight men in the country who will watch this show. I took a poll.
Fully rested, we donned our finest work-our apparel (t-shirt received from signing up for 5K, but not actually running 5K) and walked ourselves over to the gym to torture ourselves. The gym is very small, with two treadmills, two ellipticals, a stair-master and some sort of weight lifting contraption. There was a girl on one of the treadmills, so Brett and I placed ourselves on the ellipticals and turned on the only TV in the joint. I flipped the TV to an episode of “That 70’s Show” because, if you weren’t aware, there is NOTHING on at 11am on Friday.
About 20 minutes into our sweat-fest, an elderly gentleman came into the gym, wearing a too tight – too shear – t-shirt and SWIMMING TRUNKS and proceeded to leap on the stair-master. About this time, the episode of That 70’s Show was ending, but sure enough, another one was starting up just after it. When this information was received by Mr. Swim Trunks he appeared visibly frustrated and maybe infuriated by his station in life. I had no idea that a sitcom could bring on such angst.
Brett and I ended our work-out and I passed along control of the remote to Swim Trunks. Immediately upon receipt of said remote, Swim Trunks changed the channel to the History Channel and some sort of military history program, because who doesn’t want to work out to crashing WWII bombers and I’m sure that programming like that is much more attractive in a group TV watching setting. Sheesh!
Brett and complained about Swim Trunks and wondered why people are so cranky as we walked back to our humble abode. Why are people so ridiculous? Seriously.
We showered and got ready because it was time for me to get a poke in the butt. My Lupron shot people, get your minds out of the gutter, COME ON!
All I have to say about that injection is OUCH.
No symptoms yet, I’ll keep y’all posted.
So . . . here we are at 1:30pm. We’re hungry (sugar safely metabolized) and maybe in need of some wedding rings for upcoming nuptials. What better place to go than a flea market in Aurora (home of Wayne and Garth), Illinois? I hear they have great tacos AND antique jewelry.
I heard wrong.
Admitting defeat, Brett and I decided to go to Walter Payton’s Roundhouse for lunch and a brewsky. But first we drove around Aurora, because WHY NOT?
I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich with giardiniere, which is my very favorite condiment in existence and I wasted 30 years not even knowing of its existence. Shameful.
By this time it was nigh on 3:30pm, and with two-beers in our full bellies, we chose the only course of action left: Finish Season 2 of Lost while digesting and possibly falling asleep (god I love days off!).
Who of you watches Lost? That show is phenomenal and if you do watch it, do NOT tell me what happens in seasons 3 and 4. If you don’t watch Lost, get yourself the first season and try not to be obsessed. I’m just sayin’ that this show will fuck with your head in a GOOD WAY.
So what do a couple of crazy, engaged kids do on a Friday night? Ballroom dance class, of course!
This was our first night of Ballroom II – A.K.A. Awkward, Embarrassing, Frustrating II.
I’ll have to leave you all hanging (wait, you left? Oh well) because ballroom really deserves its own post. It’s insane and I have to figure out how to describe it well enough to do it justice. Maybe Brett can find a way? (hint hint, babe!)
P.S. The “typo” I spoke of in my last post was, “utmost.” I wrote “upmost” instead, and yes, I had spell check. Attention to detail? Not so much.
Just play along okay?!
Yesterday I had the day off and Brett did too and we lazed about in bed (snuggling with dogs, not even touching each other mind you) until almost 9am. That’s LATE.
Finally, we got ourselves out of bed and decided to use the coupons that Caribou Coffee had kindly mailed us (coupons are the only impetus for us doing just about anything) and get ourselves some fancy coffees. I forced Brett to get something other than his usual BLACK coffee, namely a mocha, and I got a latte and we shared a cinnamon roll and poppy seed cake and then we passed out due to a heavy sugar coma. Seriously, don’t try that breakfast at home kids, it won’t turn out well.
We needed a break after that high endurance breakfast, and so I made Brett watch the most recent episode of Project Runway. He is one of eight straight men in the country who will watch this show. I took a poll.
Fully rested, we donned our finest work-our apparel (t-shirt received from signing up for 5K, but not actually running 5K) and walked ourselves over to the gym to torture ourselves. The gym is very small, with two treadmills, two ellipticals, a stair-master and some sort of weight lifting contraption. There was a girl on one of the treadmills, so Brett and I placed ourselves on the ellipticals and turned on the only TV in the joint. I flipped the TV to an episode of “That 70’s Show” because, if you weren’t aware, there is NOTHING on at 11am on Friday.
About 20 minutes into our sweat-fest, an elderly gentleman came into the gym, wearing a too tight – too shear – t-shirt and SWIMMING TRUNKS and proceeded to leap on the stair-master. About this time, the episode of That 70’s Show was ending, but sure enough, another one was starting up just after it. When this information was received by Mr. Swim Trunks he appeared visibly frustrated and maybe infuriated by his station in life. I had no idea that a sitcom could bring on such angst.
Brett and I ended our work-out and I passed along control of the remote to Swim Trunks. Immediately upon receipt of said remote, Swim Trunks changed the channel to the History Channel and some sort of military history program, because who doesn’t want to work out to crashing WWII bombers and I’m sure that programming like that is much more attractive in a group TV watching setting. Sheesh!
Brett and complained about Swim Trunks and wondered why people are so cranky as we walked back to our humble abode. Why are people so ridiculous? Seriously.
We showered and got ready because it was time for me to get a poke in the butt. My Lupron shot people, get your minds out of the gutter, COME ON!
All I have to say about that injection is OUCH.
No symptoms yet, I’ll keep y’all posted.
So . . . here we are at 1:30pm. We’re hungry (sugar safely metabolized) and maybe in need of some wedding rings for upcoming nuptials. What better place to go than a flea market in Aurora (home of Wayne and Garth), Illinois? I hear they have great tacos AND antique jewelry.
I heard wrong.
Admitting defeat, Brett and I decided to go to Walter Payton’s Roundhouse for lunch and a brewsky. But first we drove around Aurora, because WHY NOT?
I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich with giardiniere, which is my very favorite condiment in existence and I wasted 30 years not even knowing of its existence. Shameful.
By this time it was nigh on 3:30pm, and with two-beers in our full bellies, we chose the only course of action left: Finish Season 2 of Lost while digesting and possibly falling asleep (god I love days off!).
Who of you watches Lost? That show is phenomenal and if you do watch it, do NOT tell me what happens in seasons 3 and 4. If you don’t watch Lost, get yourself the first season and try not to be obsessed. I’m just sayin’ that this show will fuck with your head in a GOOD WAY.
So what do a couple of crazy, engaged kids do on a Friday night? Ballroom dance class, of course!
This was our first night of Ballroom II – A.K.A. Awkward, Embarrassing, Frustrating II.
I’ll have to leave you all hanging (wait, you left? Oh well) because ballroom really deserves its own post. It’s insane and I have to figure out how to describe it well enough to do it justice. Maybe Brett can find a way? (hint hint, babe!)
P.S. The “typo” I spoke of in my last post was, “utmost.” I wrote “upmost” instead, and yes, I had spell check. Attention to detail? Not so much.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Job Interview Disaster Stories (because I like to revel in past failures)
I present to you, two stories about past job interviews. These are almost too embarrassing to share, seriously. They’re not embarrassing in the stain-on-shirt or fly-unzipped kind of way, no they are embarrassing in the are-we-sure-she’s-not-“special”? kind of way.
I interviewed a prestigious real estate law firm during law school. I was interviewing for a position as a summer clerk. This would have given me oodles of experience and would have paid nicely. I made it through the first round of interviews with shining colors. Seriously, they were about to hire me on the spot. But then I made a fatal error. I sent a thank-you note.
“But this is normal protocol!” you say. Yes, but it’s detrimental to actually getting the job when you FORGET TO SIGN THE NOTE. But wait, it gets worse . . .
I went to the second interview and the first thing they did was present me with the damn unsigned note and ask me to explain it. Fuckers. Suffice it to say, I left without an offer, but not without determination to PROVE to them that I wasn’t that flighty.
Unfortunately, in my thank-you note for the second interview, and plea for forgiveness I may have made a serious typo, the likes of which are just too embarrassing to reveal at this time. I spent that summer working at a personal injury firm.
Also in law school, I interviewed for the position of Assistant DA for Waukesha County (just outside of Milwaukee). This time I also got through the first interview with flying colors, because really and truly I am awesome. Awesome at botching every chance I get for a job (except for the one I currently have THANK GOD).
So the second interview comes around, with the actual DA of Waukesha County. Like the Jack McCoy of Milwaukee; the guy who went after Mark Chemura of Packer’s fame, and helped prosecute a famous serial killer. There were only 3 of us vying for the one spot and the final question he asked me was as follows:
(oh dear, I almost can’t bare to write this)
Jack McCoy – “what would you do if you were on your way to trial and the cop who arrested the defendant runs up to you and tells you that he lied?”
Me – “go through with the trial.”
Jack McCoy – “I think we’re done here.”
In my defense, he posed the question in an incredibly confusing way, not nearly as succinct as I recounted it AND do you know how intimidating a DA is? Incredibly. If the dude had asked me my birthday I probably wouldn’t have answered correctly.
Still, I died a thousand deaths in that instant.
All in all, it’s a good thing I didn’t land any of those jobs, but holy shit, that was a poor display of employability.
I interviewed a prestigious real estate law firm during law school. I was interviewing for a position as a summer clerk. This would have given me oodles of experience and would have paid nicely. I made it through the first round of interviews with shining colors. Seriously, they were about to hire me on the spot. But then I made a fatal error. I sent a thank-you note.
“But this is normal protocol!” you say. Yes, but it’s detrimental to actually getting the job when you FORGET TO SIGN THE NOTE. But wait, it gets worse . . .
I went to the second interview and the first thing they did was present me with the damn unsigned note and ask me to explain it. Fuckers. Suffice it to say, I left without an offer, but not without determination to PROVE to them that I wasn’t that flighty.
Unfortunately, in my thank-you note for the second interview, and plea for forgiveness I may have made a serious typo, the likes of which are just too embarrassing to reveal at this time. I spent that summer working at a personal injury firm.
Also in law school, I interviewed for the position of Assistant DA for Waukesha County (just outside of Milwaukee). This time I also got through the first interview with flying colors, because really and truly I am awesome. Awesome at botching every chance I get for a job (except for the one I currently have THANK GOD).
So the second interview comes around, with the actual DA of Waukesha County. Like the Jack McCoy of Milwaukee; the guy who went after Mark Chemura of Packer’s fame, and helped prosecute a famous serial killer. There were only 3 of us vying for the one spot and the final question he asked me was as follows:
(oh dear, I almost can’t bare to write this)
Jack McCoy – “what would you do if you were on your way to trial and the cop who arrested the defendant runs up to you and tells you that he lied?”
Me – “go through with the trial.”
Jack McCoy – “I think we’re done here.”
In my defense, he posed the question in an incredibly confusing way, not nearly as succinct as I recounted it AND do you know how intimidating a DA is? Incredibly. If the dude had asked me my birthday I probably wouldn’t have answered correctly.
Still, I died a thousand deaths in that instant.
All in all, it’s a good thing I didn’t land any of those jobs, but holy shit, that was a poor display of employability.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
100 things of note (all about me of course)
A lot of people hate this "100 things" list, but heck, I've been working on it for a while, jotting down 1 or 2 a day, and why not post it. It's a little window into the rock-star lifestyle I obviously lead. Hang on to your britches, here we go . . .
1. I am perfectly on the cusp between Libra and Scorpio.
2. Sometimes I believe in things like astrology, sometimes I do not.
3. I won “The Average Joe” award in law school for being the EXACT median of our class rank. It is neither good nor bad to be me.
4. I quit caffeine in November of 2007. I do not miss it.
5. I quit smoking in March of 2006. Sometimes I miss it.
6. I am messy and disorganized right now. It stresses me out.
7. I lived in Montana for 3 years. I met my future husband in Montana.
8. I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota.
9. My mother is an elementary school teacher, my father is a lawyer, my sister and her husband own a business, I mostly feel like the failure of the family even though I’m technically successful. Self-esteem is a bitch.
10. I love my future husband more than I thought I ever would love anyone.
11. I love fancy food and yet sometimes all I really want is Kraft mac and cheese and McNuggets.
12. I drink a lot of beer and wine but don’t really care for hard alcohol.
13. I have two dogs, a poodle and a pomeranian. They are my babies.
14. I have very chubby cheeks, which will always make me look younger than my age.
15. I rarely get carded.
16. I turned 30 last year.
17. I didn’t really care.
18. I take a sleeping pill.
19. I worked in a day care/preschool for 5 years. I am very good with children and have the patience of a saint. If I could pay off my student loans AND eat with the salary of a pre-school teacher, I would have remained there.
20. I love T.V.
21. I have a lot of student loan debt. I doesn’t really bother me because education is worth the price.
22. I have very few regrets.
23. Some days I LOVE Chicago, but mostly prefer the rural life.
24. Brett is a better cook than I will ever be. Sometimes I feel bad that my domestic skills are not better.
25. I wish I could knit, draw and had a whole room to craft around in.
26. I want a piano desperately.
27. I played the flute for 13 years, but have no interest in ever picking it up again.
28. High school sucked.
29. College was a little bit too fun.
30. Law school was the perfect balance.
31. I have lived in the following places: St. Paul, MN; Appleton, WI; Athens, GA; Milwaukee, WI; San Antonio, TX; Madison, WI; Billings, MT; Naperville, IL.
32. My sister is my best girl friend.
33. I have had to break-up with more girlfriends than boyfriends.
34. I used to be fashionable, and then I started living on a budget.
35. This year we will take a real vacation, somewhere that requires passports.
36. I am liberal.
37. I am shy, but mostly people like me.
38. I drive a Hyundai and I love it.
39. I volunteer at an animal shelter.
40. I would love to have a farm where I could take in homless pets.
41. My career takes second priority to most other things in my life
42. I am bored with “stuff.”
43. Smell is my most powerful memory generator.
44. I’ve always felt fat even when I was skinny.
45. I have extreme empathic embarrassment for characters on T.V. and in movies.
46. I love to bake brownies and cookies.
47. I talk to my mom, my sister and my aunt multiple times per week.
48. Otherwise, I hate talking on the phone.
49. I miss being in school.
50. Road trips are so much fun.
51. I have a crush on Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs and would consider changing careers if it meant I could hang out with him.
52. I’m self-conscious about the size of my breasts (they are HUGE)
53. I met James Carville once. I was a dork.
54. I am exasperated by rude people.
55. My favorite month is October. My favorite day is Friday. My favorite time is bedtime.
56. I’m not very good at sleeping.
57. I love Target.
58. My dream housing situation would be a farm in the country AND an apartment in the city. I’d spend 90% of my time at the farm.
59. I wish I could magically get everyone I love to live in the same town.
60. I’d be okay living on a commune with my friends and family.
61. I’m obsessed with remote locations.
62. I love all animals, except snakes. I fear snakes.
63. I still get nervous when the phone rings at my office. I’m always convinced someone will find out I have no idea what I’m doing being a lawyer.
64. I like to have the T.V. on when I’m alone, for “company.”
65. I smile at everyone. Some people get freaked out.
66. I hate the dentist.
67. I wish I had become a nurse or doctor.
68. I went to law school to prove something to my father.
69. I love bar food.
70. I don’t believe in a “God” as most people think of it.
71. My grandma died when I was 11. I still miss her.
72. My future in-laws are very nice.
73. My family is awkward.
74. I don’t like my step-mother or my step-father very much.
75. When I’m super stressed out, I break out in hives. Sexy.
76. I love Christmas music.
77. Football season is my new favorite season.
78. I am extraordinarily lucky for my lot in life.
79. I love peas.
80. I am not terribly fond of broccoli.
81. Politics are tiresome.
82. I’ve never been to Canada.
83. I’ve visited most of Western Europe.
84. I have no desire to go to China.
85. When I’m away from home, I have a lingering fear I’ll never return.
86. I’m scared of ghosts.
87. I bitch and moan about winter, but in many ways I prefer it to summer.
88. I get paid very well to surf the internet and stare out the window.
89. I am always listening to music while I work.
90. I shower at least twice a day.
91. I’m terrible at keeping in touch with people.
92. I feel like I have a blogging “posse” and I love it.
93. I feel like a career is just a necessary step towards retirement.
94. I hate 80’s music.
95. I frequently misplace my hands on my keyboard (i.e. not on the proper QWERTY formation) and spend paragraphs of work typing "sdliermblawk hogwlia hwoeic."
96. I could eat cheese and bread for every meal.
97. I’m secretly scared of being convicted for a crime I didn’t commit. Probably harkens back to my 2.5 minutes of being a public defender.
98. I change socks frequently when I’m at home because I cannot abide a dirty sock.
99. I hate carpet with a passion.
100. I hope that wasn’t too boring.
1. I am perfectly on the cusp between Libra and Scorpio.
2. Sometimes I believe in things like astrology, sometimes I do not.
3. I won “The Average Joe” award in law school for being the EXACT median of our class rank. It is neither good nor bad to be me.
4. I quit caffeine in November of 2007. I do not miss it.
5. I quit smoking in March of 2006. Sometimes I miss it.
6. I am messy and disorganized right now. It stresses me out.
7. I lived in Montana for 3 years. I met my future husband in Montana.
8. I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota.
9. My mother is an elementary school teacher, my father is a lawyer, my sister and her husband own a business, I mostly feel like the failure of the family even though I’m technically successful. Self-esteem is a bitch.
10. I love my future husband more than I thought I ever would love anyone.
11. I love fancy food and yet sometimes all I really want is Kraft mac and cheese and McNuggets.
12. I drink a lot of beer and wine but don’t really care for hard alcohol.
13. I have two dogs, a poodle and a pomeranian. They are my babies.
14. I have very chubby cheeks, which will always make me look younger than my age.
15. I rarely get carded.
16. I turned 30 last year.
17. I didn’t really care.
18. I take a sleeping pill.
19. I worked in a day care/preschool for 5 years. I am very good with children and have the patience of a saint. If I could pay off my student loans AND eat with the salary of a pre-school teacher, I would have remained there.
20. I love T.V.
21. I have a lot of student loan debt. I doesn’t really bother me because education is worth the price.
22. I have very few regrets.
23. Some days I LOVE Chicago, but mostly prefer the rural life.
24. Brett is a better cook than I will ever be. Sometimes I feel bad that my domestic skills are not better.
25. I wish I could knit, draw and had a whole room to craft around in.
26. I want a piano desperately.
27. I played the flute for 13 years, but have no interest in ever picking it up again.
28. High school sucked.
29. College was a little bit too fun.
30. Law school was the perfect balance.
31. I have lived in the following places: St. Paul, MN; Appleton, WI; Athens, GA; Milwaukee, WI; San Antonio, TX; Madison, WI; Billings, MT; Naperville, IL.
32. My sister is my best girl friend.
33. I have had to break-up with more girlfriends than boyfriends.
34. I used to be fashionable, and then I started living on a budget.
35. This year we will take a real vacation, somewhere that requires passports.
36. I am liberal.
37. I am shy, but mostly people like me.
38. I drive a Hyundai and I love it.
39. I volunteer at an animal shelter.
40. I would love to have a farm where I could take in homless pets.
41. My career takes second priority to most other things in my life
42. I am bored with “stuff.”
43. Smell is my most powerful memory generator.
44. I’ve always felt fat even when I was skinny.
45. I have extreme empathic embarrassment for characters on T.V. and in movies.
46. I love to bake brownies and cookies.
47. I talk to my mom, my sister and my aunt multiple times per week.
48. Otherwise, I hate talking on the phone.
49. I miss being in school.
50. Road trips are so much fun.
51. I have a crush on Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs and would consider changing careers if it meant I could hang out with him.
52. I’m self-conscious about the size of my breasts (they are HUGE)
53. I met James Carville once. I was a dork.
54. I am exasperated by rude people.
55. My favorite month is October. My favorite day is Friday. My favorite time is bedtime.
56. I’m not very good at sleeping.
57. I love Target.
58. My dream housing situation would be a farm in the country AND an apartment in the city. I’d spend 90% of my time at the farm.
59. I wish I could magically get everyone I love to live in the same town.
60. I’d be okay living on a commune with my friends and family.
61. I’m obsessed with remote locations.
62. I love all animals, except snakes. I fear snakes.
63. I still get nervous when the phone rings at my office. I’m always convinced someone will find out I have no idea what I’m doing being a lawyer.
64. I like to have the T.V. on when I’m alone, for “company.”
65. I smile at everyone. Some people get freaked out.
66. I hate the dentist.
67. I wish I had become a nurse or doctor.
68. I went to law school to prove something to my father.
69. I love bar food.
70. I don’t believe in a “God” as most people think of it.
71. My grandma died when I was 11. I still miss her.
72. My future in-laws are very nice.
73. My family is awkward.
74. I don’t like my step-mother or my step-father very much.
75. When I’m super stressed out, I break out in hives. Sexy.
76. I love Christmas music.
77. Football season is my new favorite season.
78. I am extraordinarily lucky for my lot in life.
79. I love peas.
80. I am not terribly fond of broccoli.
81. Politics are tiresome.
82. I’ve never been to Canada.
83. I’ve visited most of Western Europe.
84. I have no desire to go to China.
85. When I’m away from home, I have a lingering fear I’ll never return.
86. I’m scared of ghosts.
87. I bitch and moan about winter, but in many ways I prefer it to summer.
88. I get paid very well to surf the internet and stare out the window.
89. I am always listening to music while I work.
90. I shower at least twice a day.
91. I’m terrible at keeping in touch with people.
92. I feel like I have a blogging “posse” and I love it.
93. I feel like a career is just a necessary step towards retirement.
94. I hate 80’s music.
95. I frequently misplace my hands on my keyboard (i.e. not on the proper QWERTY formation) and spend paragraphs of work typing "sdliermblawk hogwlia hwoeic."
96. I could eat cheese and bread for every meal.
97. I’m secretly scared of being convicted for a crime I didn’t commit. Probably harkens back to my 2.5 minutes of being a public defender.
98. I change socks frequently when I’m at home because I cannot abide a dirty sock.
99. I hate carpet with a passion.
100. I hope that wasn’t too boring.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Sometimes I think doctors just like to fuck with us
Hey guess what . . . I am voluntarily going into temporary menopause! Yup, you read that correctly. It seems that while my doctor was able to get rid of 50% of the endometriosis, the rest would have been too risky to attend to surgically. So I get to go on a friendly little drug called Lupron. Anyone familiar with this? It's a shot I'll get every 3 months for 6 months, and then I'll go back to normal. Each shot costs . . . wait for it . . . $1500 dollars! It must be made of gold and underbelly fur of Tibetan goats.
The doctor helpfully gave me full color picture of my uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries. Apparently my fallopian tubes are "beautiful." They looked slimy and pink to me.
So, to ensure future fertility and to get rid of this fucking pain, I will start Lupron as soon as the Japanese manufacturer ships $3,000 worth of the shit to my doctor. I will also go on some other crap to help manage the hot flashes and hair growth. I told my doctor that I refuse to be a sweaty, furry beast on my wedding day. Ridiculous.
On a happy note, no period for 6 months! No birth control pill! No PMS! Hopefully those things will outweigh the possible mustache growth.
The doctor helpfully gave me full color picture of my uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries. Apparently my fallopian tubes are "beautiful." They looked slimy and pink to me.
So, to ensure future fertility and to get rid of this fucking pain, I will start Lupron as soon as the Japanese manufacturer ships $3,000 worth of the shit to my doctor. I will also go on some other crap to help manage the hot flashes and hair growth. I told my doctor that I refuse to be a sweaty, furry beast on my wedding day. Ridiculous.
On a happy note, no period for 6 months! No birth control pill! No PMS! Hopefully those things will outweigh the possible mustache growth.
and then I became a "bride"
I bought my wedding dress. I know, I completely changed my mind. Now I'm all fairy princess bride, but it was the weirdest thing . . . I put that dress on at the urging on the bridal consultant lady, and holy crap! I looked purdy. Then I put the veil on (which I swore I would never wear) and everyone started crying, and now I'm wearing a friggin' veil. I love it though, I can't help myself.
Off to the doctor this morning, but I'll have a deeper, less "me" post later, I promise. Also, I have about 20 billion of your delightful posts to catch on, so hopefully I'll be all over the internets later.
Off to the doctor this morning, but I'll have a deeper, less "me" post later, I promise. Also, I have about 20 billion of your delightful posts to catch on, so hopefully I'll be all over the internets later.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
This, that and the other
First of all, some of you guys are writing about American Idol, and I have never once even seen the show. I don't know how that's possible, but it's true. I feel like I need to play catch up, just so I can continue to participate in your blogs.
I tried to link to a picture of my friend the beagle, but the shelter doesn't have a picture of him. I think it's because the dogs are not available for adoption until they are spayed or neutered, and clearly, he has not been. Anyway, here you can see the doggies I'm dealing with and possibly adopt one if you are anywhere near the greater Chicagoland area. (I have favorites, but I'll never tell)
Also, let me say that the first time I toured the shelter, I broke down into tears because of the wee little faces, wagging tails and hollers for love. I thought I'd wind up getting us evicted from our apartment because I would bring home at least 12 dogs. HOWEVER, this place is wonderful, and the dogs receive so much attention and care from the volunteers and the employees, that truly, the animals are only left alone for sleeping hours (and there is a night light for that time too). I'm just glad this place exists and I will give as much time and money as I can so they can help more animals. They are doing wonderful things.
You know how Swistle refers to Target as her boyfriend? Well, Flibberty is to Whole Foods as Swistle is to Target. I heart Whole Foods. I especially heart their pre-made soup bar that involves a delicious little thing they call "lemony lentil soup." Oh how my heart soars as I drive out of my way to get a bowl for lunch. It's lemony deliciousness is second to no other lentil soup in existence (I know this, I've tried every other). I even went so far as to publicly recommend said soup to the lovely Alice in a comment on her blog. But today Whole Foods broke my heart. They replaced Lemony Lentil Soup with Asian Vegetable Soup. It's over WF, do you hear me, over.
I will be gone until Wednesday because I am flying to Minneapolis tomorrow for a long list of things. Originally I was going back to pick up the paper for the wedding invites, order my wedding dress, scope out some post-ceremony party spots, and find a photographer. But then my mom decided to have hip surgery (yesterday, she's doing fine) and my uncle had to go and get prostate cancer and have his prostate removed (going on as I type) and so my weekend will be spent in the hospital. Luckily they're both in the same hospital. I'm so glad we moved back to the midwest for this reason alone; I get to be there.
Last night, I was in bed when Brett got home from class. He came to bed and started talking about one of his classmates who is currently feuding with his wife about bowling. It seems they are both avid bowlers and on seperate league teams. So Brett is telling me about how he told the guy to call him if he needed to get away a bit this weekend and what was my response? "So he's a motivated seller then?" Um . . . HUH? THis is what happens on a fairly frequent basis. I go into this half-asleep thing, where I'm still listening and comprehending what Brett is telling me, but then I respond with something completely unrelated. Usually it's related to something else that is on my mind, in this case the fact that Brett and I are fully in the housing market now. But wow, just WOW.
I tried to link to a picture of my friend the beagle, but the shelter doesn't have a picture of him. I think it's because the dogs are not available for adoption until they are spayed or neutered, and clearly, he has not been. Anyway, here you can see the doggies I'm dealing with and possibly adopt one if you are anywhere near the greater Chicagoland area. (I have favorites, but I'll never tell)
Also, let me say that the first time I toured the shelter, I broke down into tears because of the wee little faces, wagging tails and hollers for love. I thought I'd wind up getting us evicted from our apartment because I would bring home at least 12 dogs. HOWEVER, this place is wonderful, and the dogs receive so much attention and care from the volunteers and the employees, that truly, the animals are only left alone for sleeping hours (and there is a night light for that time too). I'm just glad this place exists and I will give as much time and money as I can so they can help more animals. They are doing wonderful things.
You know how Swistle refers to Target as her boyfriend? Well, Flibberty is to Whole Foods as Swistle is to Target. I heart Whole Foods. I especially heart their pre-made soup bar that involves a delicious little thing they call "lemony lentil soup." Oh how my heart soars as I drive out of my way to get a bowl for lunch. It's lemony deliciousness is second to no other lentil soup in existence (I know this, I've tried every other). I even went so far as to publicly recommend said soup to the lovely Alice in a comment on her blog. But today Whole Foods broke my heart. They replaced Lemony Lentil Soup with Asian Vegetable Soup. It's over WF, do you hear me, over.
I will be gone until Wednesday because I am flying to Minneapolis tomorrow for a long list of things. Originally I was going back to pick up the paper for the wedding invites, order my wedding dress, scope out some post-ceremony party spots, and find a photographer. But then my mom decided to have hip surgery (yesterday, she's doing fine) and my uncle had to go and get prostate cancer and have his prostate removed (going on as I type) and so my weekend will be spent in the hospital. Luckily they're both in the same hospital. I'm so glad we moved back to the midwest for this reason alone; I get to be there.
Last night, I was in bed when Brett got home from class. He came to bed and started talking about one of his classmates who is currently feuding with his wife about bowling. It seems they are both avid bowlers and on seperate league teams. So Brett is telling me about how he told the guy to call him if he needed to get away a bit this weekend and what was my response? "So he's a motivated seller then?" Um . . . HUH? THis is what happens on a fairly frequent basis. I go into this half-asleep thing, where I'm still listening and comprehending what Brett is telling me, but then I respond with something completely unrelated. Usually it's related to something else that is on my mind, in this case the fact that Brett and I are fully in the housing market now. But wow, just WOW.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Typical
Monday night, while doing my volunteer stint at the nearby no-kill shelter, I was sexually harassed by a beagle.
My job at the shelter consists of taking the dogs out one by one, playing with each of them for as long as whether permits (insert witch’s tit reference here), feeding dogs, scrubbing down each dog’s kennel, changing dog’s bedding, and then taking them out again. With 22 dogs and 4 volunteers, this takes a little over 3 hours and is quite the work-out. For reals. I think that given the snooty, self-absorbed neighborhood of the particular shelter, the owners should advertise for volunteers by stating that it is the ultimate workout and appeal to the superficial nature of some of the folks nearby.
Nevertheless, my favorite part is when I get to play with the pooches and then after they’re all clean and fed, we get to hang out and pet them in their kennels. There was a new beagle, and I stopped into his kennel to hang out, see what was what, and maybe get his opinion on the results of Super Tuesday. All was fine and good, until I got up to leave, and the beagle caught a glimpse of my legs, which must have looked like the sexiest pair of prone standard poodles to him because .5 seconds later he had attached himself to my leg and started in. Troubling.
More troubling was the fact that I had inadvertently locked myself in the kennel with Humpy McBeagle. This was embarrassing. I paused, stunned and concerned because I could not hear any of the other volunteers nearby. Humpy continued with his business with increasing eagerness. Mild panic started building in my gut and worked it’s way up to my vocal cords where it was released as a miniscule “help!” A little bit louder, “Hey, I’ve got a beagle doing pornographic things to my leg, and I’m an idiot and locked myself in his kennel. PLEASE for the love of Eukanuba can you let me out!!!”
Shortly thereafter, a very smug looking 17 year old came over and explained to me how to use the “emergency latch” at the bottom of the kennel door. She rolled her eyes when I laughed and said these things were idiot proof. I have to hate her.
P.S. Humpy is fine; he’s just in need of a conjugal visit. Unfortunately a “conjugal visit” is code for a “snip snip.”
My job at the shelter consists of taking the dogs out one by one, playing with each of them for as long as whether permits (insert witch’s tit reference here), feeding dogs, scrubbing down each dog’s kennel, changing dog’s bedding, and then taking them out again. With 22 dogs and 4 volunteers, this takes a little over 3 hours and is quite the work-out. For reals. I think that given the snooty, self-absorbed neighborhood of the particular shelter, the owners should advertise for volunteers by stating that it is the ultimate workout and appeal to the superficial nature of some of the folks nearby.
Nevertheless, my favorite part is when I get to play with the pooches and then after they’re all clean and fed, we get to hang out and pet them in their kennels. There was a new beagle, and I stopped into his kennel to hang out, see what was what, and maybe get his opinion on the results of Super Tuesday. All was fine and good, until I got up to leave, and the beagle caught a glimpse of my legs, which must have looked like the sexiest pair of prone standard poodles to him because .5 seconds later he had attached himself to my leg and started in. Troubling.
More troubling was the fact that I had inadvertently locked myself in the kennel with Humpy McBeagle. This was embarrassing. I paused, stunned and concerned because I could not hear any of the other volunteers nearby. Humpy continued with his business with increasing eagerness. Mild panic started building in my gut and worked it’s way up to my vocal cords where it was released as a miniscule “help!” A little bit louder, “Hey, I’ve got a beagle doing pornographic things to my leg, and I’m an idiot and locked myself in his kennel. PLEASE for the love of Eukanuba can you let me out!!!”
Shortly thereafter, a very smug looking 17 year old came over and explained to me how to use the “emergency latch” at the bottom of the kennel door. She rolled her eyes when I laughed and said these things were idiot proof. I have to hate her.
P.S. Humpy is fine; he’s just in need of a conjugal visit. Unfortunately a “conjugal visit” is code for a “snip snip.”
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
se7en things
CAQuincy tagged me to do the seven things meme, and THANK GOD because otherwise you people would have gotten some atrocious post about, oh I don't know, the weather?
Anyway, in case you haven't heard,The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.
So here we go . . .
1. When I was a "tween" all my little girlfriends had crushes on various member of NKOTB (if you don't know what that is, you are too young) or Johnny Depp circa 21 Jump Street. Not me though, no, I harbored a secret and intense love for Peter Jennings. Yes, the anchor of the nightly news. It's strange but true.
2. I count things. A lot. My inner-monologue sounds something like the Count from Sesame Street, except with fewer puppets and more knowledge of exactly how many stop light there are between my house and my office. 1 blinky-blinky; 2 blinkey-blinkey; 3 blinkey-blinkey, etc.
3. My mother was an alcoholic and my father a work-aholic. Thus, my mother was incapable of taking care of me, and my father was not around to take care of me. Thank god my parents had enough sense to throw me therapy and encourage me to go far a way for college. Nevertheless, I will always fight with memories of my childhood and lingering emotional damage.
4. I was not allowed to have a Barbie Doll as a kid. My mom thought that it would give me a bad body image. Good logic, except I spent 12 years yearning for a Barbie and the next 18 fighting eating disorders due to poor body image anyway. Good effort though!
5. My mom had an affair with her teaching partner when they were teaching 3rd grade. I was in their class. It was humiliating because of course, EVERYONE found out. (once again, thank goodness my parents loved me enough to know I needed therapy)
6. I danced in the 1992 Super Bowl Half-Time Show. I'm pissed I wasn't on T.V.
7. Bread is my favorite food.
And there ends another thrilling trip down meme-lane. I don't know why the meme gets such a bad rap? I like them, but I'm afraid to ask anyone to do one because everyone else hates them. Thusly, I will only specifically implore Brett to do it. (but if Tessie, Jess, Artemesia, Shauna, Amber, or JMC want to do it, I will be happy to read it!) *** Edited to add that I am a dolt for not remembering that some of you have already done this fine meme, so please forgive me and ignore my request if you have already done this here meme thingy-dingy! Merci.
Anyway, in case you haven't heard,The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.
So here we go . . .
1. When I was a "tween" all my little girlfriends had crushes on various member of NKOTB (if you don't know what that is, you are too young) or Johnny Depp circa 21 Jump Street. Not me though, no, I harbored a secret and intense love for Peter Jennings. Yes, the anchor of the nightly news. It's strange but true.
2. I count things. A lot. My inner-monologue sounds something like the Count from Sesame Street, except with fewer puppets and more knowledge of exactly how many stop light there are between my house and my office. 1 blinky-blinky; 2 blinkey-blinkey; 3 blinkey-blinkey, etc.
3. My mother was an alcoholic and my father a work-aholic. Thus, my mother was incapable of taking care of me, and my father was not around to take care of me. Thank god my parents had enough sense to throw me therapy and encourage me to go far a way for college. Nevertheless, I will always fight with memories of my childhood and lingering emotional damage.
4. I was not allowed to have a Barbie Doll as a kid. My mom thought that it would give me a bad body image. Good logic, except I spent 12 years yearning for a Barbie and the next 18 fighting eating disorders due to poor body image anyway. Good effort though!
5. My mom had an affair with her teaching partner when they were teaching 3rd grade. I was in their class. It was humiliating because of course, EVERYONE found out. (once again, thank goodness my parents loved me enough to know I needed therapy)
6. I danced in the 1992 Super Bowl Half-Time Show. I'm pissed I wasn't on T.V.
7. Bread is my favorite food.
And there ends another thrilling trip down meme-lane. I don't know why the meme gets such a bad rap? I like them, but I'm afraid to ask anyone to do one because everyone else hates them. Thusly, I will only specifically implore Brett to do it. (but if Tessie, Jess, Artemesia, Shauna, Amber, or JMC want to do it, I will be happy to read it!) *** Edited to add that I am a dolt for not remembering that some of you have already done this fine meme, so please forgive me and ignore my request if you have already done this here meme thingy-dingy! Merci.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Office Sweater
Do you guys have an “office sweater?” You know a sweater that you keep at work and wear almost daily because your office it kept at the temperature of a meat locker? This sweater never goes home and does not actually match anything you own and maybe it’s from the 80’s and is probably hideous. There was an article about office sweaters in the Chicago Tribune last weekend (I can’t find the link, even with my sleuthing skills including googling the terms “office sweater” and “chicago tribune”) and I was shocked because I did not know that everyone had an office sweater. But then I took a walk around my office and I realized that really and truly EVERYONE (even the boys) has an office sweater.
I do. My mom bought it for me in 1994 from The Bibelot in Minneapolis. It’s a BIG grey wool cardigan that is double breasted. You read that correctly, I have a double breasted cardigan. It’s wool, but it’s some kind of fancy wool that is super duper soft and luxurious and it makes me feel so cozy and comfortable at my less than cozy and comfortable office.
What other things do I have that solely live at the office and never see the light of the real world?
An alarm clock circa 1981 that is pointless because no radio broadcasts can penetrate the walls of the armada that I apparently work in.
A plant that is near death, but won’t quite die. It’s sort of in hospice.
A candy jar, with Jolly Ranchers given to me by a former boss at my first lawyerin’ job (yes, I’ve moved them across the country TWICE)
Countless mugs of varying degrees of stupidity. The worst one says, “30 feels great!” that I got for my birthday two years ago (when I was 28).
A coloring book featuring “Great Lawyers” that my mom gave me for Easter last year (she’s awesome in that way).
So, what weirdness do you have in your office (home or out of home)?
I do. My mom bought it for me in 1994 from The Bibelot in Minneapolis. It’s a BIG grey wool cardigan that is double breasted. You read that correctly, I have a double breasted cardigan. It’s wool, but it’s some kind of fancy wool that is super duper soft and luxurious and it makes me feel so cozy and comfortable at my less than cozy and comfortable office.
What other things do I have that solely live at the office and never see the light of the real world?
An alarm clock circa 1981 that is pointless because no radio broadcasts can penetrate the walls of the armada that I apparently work in.
A plant that is near death, but won’t quite die. It’s sort of in hospice.
A candy jar, with Jolly Ranchers given to me by a former boss at my first lawyerin’ job (yes, I’ve moved them across the country TWICE)
Countless mugs of varying degrees of stupidity. The worst one says, “30 feels great!” that I got for my birthday two years ago (when I was 28).
A coloring book featuring “Great Lawyers” that my mom gave me for Easter last year (she’s awesome in that way).
So, what weirdness do you have in your office (home or out of home)?
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A Valentine
In the comments to my last post Brett offered that we each write a post about how we met, post them at the same time, and then see how they differ (I had to post a bit early because of work commitments, but Brett promised not to read this before posting his). I agreed, which in retrospect was kind of stupid because he’s going to out funny me by about a million miles. However, odds are I will out sweet him with a sugary post.
(If you’d like the multi-media version of this post, you should go download the following song (I’d give it to you if I could, but my workplace might not look to kindly on that type of activity, they’re already on the fence about paying me to read everything ever written on the internet): "Break in The Clouds" by the Jayhawks, it’s a perfect pairing with this here entry, much like a box of Franzia with a slab of Spam.
(If you’d like the multi-media version of this post, you should go download the following song (I’d give it to you if I could, but my workplace might not look to kindly on that type of activity, they’re already on the fence about paying me to read everything ever written on the internet): "Break in The Clouds" by the Jayhawks, it’s a perfect pairing with this here entry, much like a box of Franzia with a slab of Spam.
Brett and I officially met on the internets. I had been using one particular dating site (starts with an “m” and ends with an “atch.com”) for a few months, and had gone out with a few fellers. I wasn’t really enjoying it because you know, it’s kind of a pain in the ass and sometimes you think you’re meeting up with Captain America, only to meet the Mayor of Loserville (population: my date). It’s a crap shoot and possibly veering towards fraud on some people’s parts. But then, THEN, I got an email from an individual named “Moon-Uranus” (how mature, no?) on February 11, 2006 (yes, I still have the email, it’s a love letter for the electronic age). So I click on over to his little profile thingy and would do I see but a tag-line that reads, “So a baby seal walks into a club . . . “ and that’s when I knew this guy was different (obviously). Most guys put something like “fun guy looking for cool girl,” or something lame. So I emailed him back.
Thus began a few days of emailing and when I re-read these emails now I cringe because no matter what you do, when you start dating you have to try to look and sound good and OMG it’s painful to read. However, he saw through it and really our emails were surprisingly honest and coherent and witty. Then he said he was coming to Billings with a couple of his buddies from the wind farm, and would I like to meet up at the rodeo? I was already planning to go to the rodeo with the two couples I played fifth wheel to. How was I going to pull this off? You see my friends didn’t know I was meeting folks through the internets (I was embarrassed for absolutely no reason because it turns out two of them had done it too) and so I had to concoct some peculiar story in order to sneak away and go meet Brett at a rodeo. While performing these circus tricks, you’d think I’d sit down and ponder the fact that I was lying to my friends in order to meet a wind farmer from the internet at a rodeo? What? But you know what, aside from the lying part, it was pretty fun.
So the day of the rodeo charged forth and the temperature was about -3,000 with a 75 mile an hour wind. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it was about the coldest day I have ever lived through and I’m from Minnesota where cold is our identity. My friends and I arrive at the rodeo and I grab the first of many beers because I was extremely nervous, and apparently an alcoholic. Then I get a call on my cell phone from a number I don’t know because Brett does NOT own a cell phone and is using his buddy’s phone. (who dates on the internet and yet does not own a cell phone?) I told them I’d meet them at a particular place in the arena, and I say THEM because Brett’s buddy was going to come along for the meet up. AWKWARD! So I sneak away from my friends and rendezvous with two men, each dressed in head to toe Carhartt winter weather gear. One of them had a beard that would make Lincoln himself jealous, and that was my man. We met and started chatting and I really wished the “buddy” would go away, but I couldn’t stop staring at Brett’s eyes, because they were quite piercing and well, something about this guy made me all giddy inside.
Brett’s other buddy and his girlfriend joined us and I really don’t remember anything we talked about. Brett and I didn’t really watch the rodeo at all because honestly I’m not exactly a huge rodeo fan to being with, and second of all we were smitten. He was kind of reserved (despite the moderate inebriation) but would laugh at my lame attempts at humor and that will win me over any time. He was also weird and tall and didn’t fit in with the guys he was with, and yet probably fit in pretty much everywhere and no where at the same time. He talked slowly and deliberately, and then giggled like a little girl sometimes because he was nervous.
I took him over to meet my friends, and my friend Erin later told me that she could tell something was up and that this one was “different.” Brett and his buddies were going to a “club” after the rodeo. This is amusing on two levels because (1) Brett is not much of a club go-er; and (2) A club by normal standards does not exist in Billings, but it’s more like a place for wannabe cowboys to go and hit on slutty girls who have a thing for cowboys. Not really my scene, and plus I was not about to run off with these guys that I had just met because that would have been potentially stupid and dangerous (in retrospect this amuses me because these boys are anything but dangerous). So I kissed Brett on the cheek and left with my friends.
I later learned that Brett’s buddies thought I was kind of a bitch for not going out with them. What girl would traipse off with a bunch of wind farmers she just met without her own transportation? Not this girl. As it turns out Brett never made it to the “club” but he can describe that action himself.
You know that feeling when you crush on a guy and there’s that one night that he acts like he’s crushing on you back and you pretty much feel like you could float out of your shoes and possibly explode from the “EEK!” of it all. Yeah, that’s how I felt the next day and that’s why I called him, which I never did (I mean, the day after? That’s like the opposite of what you’re supposed to do). But I called him and left him a message on his answering machine (again, no cell phone) and was not worried for one second that I wouldn’t hear back from him. It was just easy. He called me back later and we talked for 2 hours and he read me a poem he wrote (way less cheesy than it sounds) and I got nervous because this guy was strong and tough and yet sensitive and smart and EEK!!! Did he really exist? Could he exist? It was like my brain manufactured this perfectly peculiar plan for a man for me and somehow executed the plan and here he was.
We called and emailed all week, then he came down to Billings and one of my dogs pooped in front of him, in the living room and I could have died of embarrassment, but he later said he didn’t mind because I had to bend over to clean it up and he got to see my ass. Oh dear.
The first day we went out (which I’ve already mentioned) we went to a Thai restaurant and he ate something he had never had before with gusto. This was HUGE because my biggest turn off is picky eaters. I can’t handle a picky eater, but Brett was willing to try anything and everything and that is honestly one of the things I love most about him. He is zealous to try anything, no matter what it is. This is seriously one of my favorite qualities about him because we can do anything.
We went to see Curious George, and forever I will cry when I hear “Upside Down” by Jack Johnson because that song is us. It’s our first date and a sweet song and it reminds me of sitting next to him at the movie theater and feeling all squirrelly inside and wanting to hold his hand.
That night he kissed me, or I kissed him, and I felt almost sick to my stomach (in a good way) because all that adrenalin I had built up was released and he was so sincere.
The first day we went out (which I’ve already mentioned) we went to a Thai restaurant and he ate something he had never had before with gusto. This was HUGE because my biggest turn off is picky eaters. I can’t handle a picky eater, but Brett was willing to try anything and everything and that is honestly one of the things I love most about him. He is zealous to try anything, no matter what it is. This is seriously one of my favorite qualities about him because we can do anything.
We went to see Curious George, and forever I will cry when I hear “Upside Down” by Jack Johnson because that song is us. It’s our first date and a sweet song and it reminds me of sitting next to him at the movie theater and feeling all squirrelly inside and wanting to hold his hand.
That night he kissed me, or I kissed him, and I felt almost sick to my stomach (in a good way) because all that adrenalin I had built up was released and he was so sincere.
We talked every night, and he came down to Billings, and I went up to Judith Gap. Two weeks after we started seeing each other I went on vacation. I was driving down some highway in the middle of Florida with my sister and Brett called and after I got off the phone with him I told my sister that he was it. I was in love with him. When I got home from vacation I went to see Brett and I said, “I love you.” He was lying down at the time and he picked his head up and said “What?” and I repeated it and he said, “I love you too.” And now, two years later, here we are, still saying “I love you” and still meaning it with everything I am. I love you babe, for all your weird, wonderful ways.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
pain, smooches and beer
So I just got yelled at by one of our support staff for not informing anyone of my recent surgery. I just don’t know how to handle things like that in the work place. I mean, it wasn’t like a BIG deal really (especially after reading Sundry’s post on the whole c-section thing) and also do I really want to tell people I was having girl parts surgery to find out why I feel like I have a permanent UTI? No. However, my bosses knew (yes, I have multiple bosses), but maybe they’re under orders not to reveal personal information. Probably. Regardless, it was nice of this individual to tell me that I should have let people know. Sometimes I forget that people are nice in my office.
I am doing better, but it’s too soon to tell if this will get rid of my pain. I had some familiar pains of the bladder variety yesterday, but maybe that’s because I’m still healing. After the surgery, I was too out of it to talk to the doc, so I will find out more when I go in for my post-op appointment next week. But I am relieved that there was something there and I’m not crazy. Also, I want to have babies someday, and taking care of my baby making parts makes me feel good about future fertility.
In other news, it’s our anniversary this weekend. Our first “real” date took place two years ago this weekend. Brett was living 100 miles north of Billings, and came down one Sunday afternoon to go to lunch and a movie. The catch was, my sister was visiting and she chaperoned our first date. Really, it wasn’t as awkward as it sounds. (Edited to add: I normally do not require a chaperone on a date, but my sis was in town and Brett and I had already met at the rodeo and I knew it would be okay. Plus, my sister is like the best sister ever, seriously.) The three of us enjoyed Thai food, followed by a screening of Curious George. I know, but it was wonderful because it was easy and Brett was so handsome and ripped (climbing wind turbines all day, every day will do that to a person). That night, my sister let Brett and I go to a nearby bar and drink a few beers, which then got me over my nerves enough to let Brett kiss me. Our first kiss was in the parking lot of a bar, sitting in my car. Magical huh?
It didn’t matter where it was though. I would kiss him in a trash bin and probably feel all tingly in my toes.
Anyway, this weekend we are going to Milwaukee to celebrate our anniversary and Valentine’s Day and mostly to drink beer. Milwaukee is my favorite town. Seriously, I think it’s vastly underrated. I lived there for 3 years, and loved every minute of it. Then again, what’s not to love? Lots of beer, fried food, a big pretty lake and loads of ethnic charm . . . It’s a hell of a town (expect pictures, lots of them, we just got Photoshop and I think it might be awesome).
I am doing better, but it’s too soon to tell if this will get rid of my pain. I had some familiar pains of the bladder variety yesterday, but maybe that’s because I’m still healing. After the surgery, I was too out of it to talk to the doc, so I will find out more when I go in for my post-op appointment next week. But I am relieved that there was something there and I’m not crazy. Also, I want to have babies someday, and taking care of my baby making parts makes me feel good about future fertility.
In other news, it’s our anniversary this weekend. Our first “real” date took place two years ago this weekend. Brett was living 100 miles north of Billings, and came down one Sunday afternoon to go to lunch and a movie. The catch was, my sister was visiting and she chaperoned our first date. Really, it wasn’t as awkward as it sounds. (Edited to add: I normally do not require a chaperone on a date, but my sis was in town and Brett and I had already met at the rodeo and I knew it would be okay. Plus, my sister is like the best sister ever, seriously.) The three of us enjoyed Thai food, followed by a screening of Curious George. I know, but it was wonderful because it was easy and Brett was so handsome and ripped (climbing wind turbines all day, every day will do that to a person). That night, my sister let Brett and I go to a nearby bar and drink a few beers, which then got me over my nerves enough to let Brett kiss me. Our first kiss was in the parking lot of a bar, sitting in my car. Magical huh?
It didn’t matter where it was though. I would kiss him in a trash bin and probably feel all tingly in my toes.
Anyway, this weekend we are going to Milwaukee to celebrate our anniversary and Valentine’s Day and mostly to drink beer. Milwaukee is my favorite town. Seriously, I think it’s vastly underrated. I lived there for 3 years, and loved every minute of it. Then again, what’s not to love? Lots of beer, fried food, a big pretty lake and loads of ethnic charm . . . It’s a hell of a town (expect pictures, lots of them, we just got Photoshop and I think it might be awesome).
Monday, February 11, 2008
Sick Leave
Last Wednesday I had surgery to look for some cause to my undiagnosable pelvic pain. I had a laparoscopy, a D&C and a LEEP to get rid of some cervical dysplasia. This was an outpatient procedure, so it was a relatively easy as surgery goes. Nevertheless, I was all sorts of nervous as I waited for various docs and nurses to come chat with us and make me give my medical history about 30 times.
I think the worst part about the surgery was the IV. A couple of years ago I went for a routine blood test and the useless phlebotomist could not get my vein and I wound up passting out. Ever since then, I've been incredibly apprehensive about any needles heading for any of my veins. In fact, I think that all of my veins shirk away in fear of approaching needles. Unfortunately, the nurse who put my IV in placed on the inside of my right wrist, meaning that everytime I moved or shook hands with the 20th health care provider, I had to move my IV and cause myself annoying pain. Totally unnecessary.
However, once I was ready to go to the operating room, the nurse anesthetist (why didn't I become one of these? She was awesome!) gave me a dose of something wonderful to make me "relax." Oh I was relaxed alright. I suddenly morphed into some sort of sleezy car salesperson becuase I was giving everyone the head nod and "what's up" as I was wheeled past them on the way to the OR. Jesus, I am a dork.
I have no recollection of anything beyond being moved to the operating table and the nurses putting warm blankets on me becuase the OR might be outside in the 20 below weather, I'm not sure. Next thing I knew, I was groggily waking up and wondering what in the hell was going on, becuase honestly, I totally forgot I was undergoing surgery. It was kind of awesome.
They had to intubate me, so my throat was really sore and I was super thirsty, but my kind doctor gave me fentanyl and a popsicle and life was good again. Brett got to come back with me when I got to "phase 2" of recovery, and was so happy to see his face. The doc went to talk to him while I was in "phase 1" and told him that they had found 2 cysts and endometriosis and they even gave him full color pictures of all of the above. Frightening, but sort of cool. Brett was a trooper and did not puke or run in fear. He's solid, he really is.
The nurses gave me soda and an assortment of cracker and cookies. I was pretty nauseated, so I could barely even drink my soda. I just sat there, with my head hanging down, probably drooling. I asked the nurse if I could try going to the bathroom, and when I stood up something popped in one of my sutures and I started bleeding through my gown. That made me almost pass out, but they laid me back down on the gurney and fixed whatever was wrong. While fixing me up, the nurse told me that when I first woke up I exclaimed, "that shit is awesome!" Oh dear god! I refuse to believe I said that, but I might issue an official apology to all involved for my loathsome dorkiness.
They provided me with mesh underpants, which were basically boy cut and really wouldn't be out of place if they were sold at Victoria's Secret. Seriously, so bizarre. They also gave me massaging socks, which where in and of themselves totally worth the surgery.
After I stabilized, I got to go home, and Brett called all of our families and made me mac and cheese and jello and was the best care giver a girl could ask for. He cleaned and rebandaged my sutures and helped me to the bathroom and went out and got more jello and made tatertot hot dish and let me watch crap like Wife Swap and Millionare Matchmaker. He's wonderful.
I think the worst part about the surgery was the IV. A couple of years ago I went for a routine blood test and the useless phlebotomist could not get my vein and I wound up passting out. Ever since then, I've been incredibly apprehensive about any needles heading for any of my veins. In fact, I think that all of my veins shirk away in fear of approaching needles. Unfortunately, the nurse who put my IV in placed on the inside of my right wrist, meaning that everytime I moved or shook hands with the 20th health care provider, I had to move my IV and cause myself annoying pain. Totally unnecessary.
However, once I was ready to go to the operating room, the nurse anesthetist (why didn't I become one of these? She was awesome!) gave me a dose of something wonderful to make me "relax." Oh I was relaxed alright. I suddenly morphed into some sort of sleezy car salesperson becuase I was giving everyone the head nod and "what's up" as I was wheeled past them on the way to the OR. Jesus, I am a dork.
I have no recollection of anything beyond being moved to the operating table and the nurses putting warm blankets on me becuase the OR might be outside in the 20 below weather, I'm not sure. Next thing I knew, I was groggily waking up and wondering what in the hell was going on, becuase honestly, I totally forgot I was undergoing surgery. It was kind of awesome.
They had to intubate me, so my throat was really sore and I was super thirsty, but my kind doctor gave me fentanyl and a popsicle and life was good again. Brett got to come back with me when I got to "phase 2" of recovery, and was so happy to see his face. The doc went to talk to him while I was in "phase 1" and told him that they had found 2 cysts and endometriosis and they even gave him full color pictures of all of the above. Frightening, but sort of cool. Brett was a trooper and did not puke or run in fear. He's solid, he really is.
The nurses gave me soda and an assortment of cracker and cookies. I was pretty nauseated, so I could barely even drink my soda. I just sat there, with my head hanging down, probably drooling. I asked the nurse if I could try going to the bathroom, and when I stood up something popped in one of my sutures and I started bleeding through my gown. That made me almost pass out, but they laid me back down on the gurney and fixed whatever was wrong. While fixing me up, the nurse told me that when I first woke up I exclaimed, "that shit is awesome!" Oh dear god! I refuse to believe I said that, but I might issue an official apology to all involved for my loathsome dorkiness.
They provided me with mesh underpants, which were basically boy cut and really wouldn't be out of place if they were sold at Victoria's Secret. Seriously, so bizarre. They also gave me massaging socks, which where in and of themselves totally worth the surgery.
After I stabilized, I got to go home, and Brett called all of our families and made me mac and cheese and jello and was the best care giver a girl could ask for. He cleaned and rebandaged my sutures and helped me to the bathroom and went out and got more jello and made tatertot hot dish and let me watch crap like Wife Swap and Millionare Matchmaker. He's wonderful.
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