Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The People Behind the Tans

Maybe I judged the Jersey Shore kids too quickly...I'm sure they're not all bad. Let's take a closer look at some of the cast members, there must be souls under those tans.

When it comes to work, the Jersey Shore gang wants what everyone wants: a job where you don't really do anything while wearing your favorite Ed Hardy clothes and accessories. And the housemates have found that at the t-shirt shop. Angelina (aka Jolie) feels that working in the t-shirt shop is beneath her. You see, Angelina is a bartender. In her words, "she does great things." Yep. She said that. She can't slum it and sell t-shirts because she's a bartender. It's kind of like being a doctor, she makes her livelihood with her hands. What is she supposed to do if she gets carpal tunnel from folding t-shirts? She can't mix drinks then! So I don't blame her. Luckily, if she does leave the rigorous rat race that is bartending, she has the fall back career of professional cock block.

Oh Vinny...what are you doing on Jersey Shore? Vinny appears to be the only legitimate Italian American on the show. For this and other reasons, he is the most useless person on the show. What are the other reasons? Well, Vinny went to college and sometimes he makes sense when he talks. As of now, Vinny hasn't even tried to sleep with anyone else in the house! I'm pretty sure that one of the stipulations of being on an MTV show is you have to at least try to hook up with those around you (unless you're the virgin).

Here's the situation with Mike (aka The Situation)...first of all, he looks like he's 15 years older than everyone else on the show. I'm not 100% certain whether The Situation is what he calls himself or just his abs. I think nicknaming himself (or his abs) the situation is just an attempt to mask his Tourette's Syndrome. His tics are removing his shirt and saying the word "situation" over and over again. In the words of Amy, "we've only seen him for like 3 seconds. Which didn't prevent him from saying "the situation" twice." After the first 4 episodes I think Mike might need to change his nickname to Blue Balls because despite his best efforts, he has yet to get laid. It's a crime against humanity, I mean the guy tans religiously and gets his hair cut by a man wearing a Bluetooth. What's not to love?

Where to begin with Snooki? That girl is the definition of hot mess. First of all, she enjoys being called Snooki. Second, she owns a hat that says, "Porn Star in Training". If only I hadn't already bought all my Christmas presents! At one point, she was literally tumbling in the club and flashing her junk. Did this embarrass the other guidos and guidettes? No. In fact, JWoww said that she was really proud of Snooki. Remind me to never attempt to impress anyone at the Jersey Shore.

I think that ought to do it for my Jersey Shore thoughts of the day...because it's 3 pm and I've done nothing but think about the trainwreck that is that show since I got up. I will leave you with this humorous article, make sure to watch the following videos "Alyssa Milano's Evolution: Jersey Shore" and the SNL clip with Snooki on Weekend Update.

I will say this, at least they can poke fun at themselves.

The Jersey Shore Situation

Years ago, I bought my brother a funny shirt from Urban Outfitters that said, "New Jersey only the strong survive". We, as Americans, have lovingly poked fun at New Jersey for years. I say lovingly because we've always known that just like most stereotypes, the majority of New Jersey residents were actually nothing like that. Enter: Jersey Shore. If we can't count on MTV to perpetuate stereotypes and promote the downward spiral of humanity, who can we count on? I'd like to thank the fine people at MTV for creating the wildly ridiculous Jersey Shore reality show and thus, making this post possible.
Naturally, I'd heard of the show and seen a number of humorous texts from last night on the subject, but I never dreamed I would watch it. Leave it to the always hilarious Daniel O'Brien of cracked.com to change my mind. My friend sent me the link to his article, Jersey Shore: Worst Thing to Happen to East Coast Since 9/11. How could I not want to read that? He rips the show to shreds so well that my friend Amy (not to be confused with my oh-so-famous mother, Amy Jo) and I decided that we might have to watch the show since it was so easy to rip on. We hadn't actually followed through on our plan, but when I started housesitting the other night I was bored and there was nothing else on TV. That's when it all began.

What kind of characters are on Jersey Shore, you ask? First, imagine white trash middle schoolers. Next imagine that they have their own house, a jacuzzi, unlimited alcohol and they sleep in tanning beds to maintain an eerie yet pleasant orange glow. When they aren't calling themselves guidos and guidettes--because, let's face it, we've all wondered why there isn't a female version of a guido--they insist on going by their self-imposed nicknames. A nickname is not something you can give yourself...unless you're on Jersey Shore. Example nicknames include: Snooki, JWoww, Jolie and The Situation.

What does one wear on the Jersey Shore? Honestly, the real question is what don't you wear on the Jersey Shore? If you're a guy, you should be more opposed to the concept of a shirt than Matthew McConaughey. It's not their fault though--you can't show off your overly pumped muscles, leathery tan and classy tattoos with a shirt on. But don't worry, you can still must wear your gold chains. If you absolutely have to wear a shirt, it for damn sure needs to be a tank top or a muscle tee. Why do they even make other shirts? Next, disregard the recommended amount of hair gel written on the container; they don't know what they're talking about. Pop on some lip gloss, and you're good to go.

Girls have a few more clothing options...let's start at the top and work our way down.
  • Hair     First, obtain any of the following: blonde streaks (they look great with black hair), clip-in extensions, a bump-it (how else will you create that amazing poof?), and some sort of potato chip bag clip to hold it all back.
  • Make-up     This is crucial. We can skip foundation because, thanks to tanning, your skin is a lovely shade of orange. Perfect, more time to spend on your eyes! Apply more eyeliner than a high school girl (I didn't think it was possible either, but apparently it is). Where fingernails are concerned, it's either acrylic or just chop your hands off.
  • Jewelry     Anything with a cross on it. Your shining example of Christ's love might not be enough, so make sure people know what religion you're representing. If you don't feel like wearing a cross, may I suggest a rhinestone outline of New Jersey? And don't forget your gigantic hoop earrings!
  • Shirt     Damn society, and it's requirement for women to wear shirts. Luckily, the Jersey Shore "ladies" have found a way to wear a shirt but still show off their breasts. There's 2 options, either wear a shirt that's split down the middle (to show off your gigantic fake breasts) or get a t-shirt and shred it.
  • Pants     We're going for an understated element here. Whether you're rocking shorts or a skirt, make sure it barely covers your ass checks...and while you're at it, stock up on some Vagisil because I have a feeling there are some yeast infections in your future. Some people might tell you that underwear is a requirement, on the Jersey Shore we call those people prudes. Interestingly enough, not all pants have to be spray-painted on. You can wear sweat pants as long as you roll the top of them over a few times and pair them with a bikini top, shredded t-shirt, etc.
  • Shoes     All I can say is, not enough people buy their shoes at Hustler. You just can't get that height of heels at a regular shoe store.
Stay tuned for more Jersey Shore posts...it's too easy, they almost write themselves.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

She Could be a Farmer in Those Clothes

One word: Farmville. I have nothing against people who participate in Farmville on Facebook...but I do not, for 3 seconds, understand the point of it. I also have no desire to don some CGI overalls and start plowing the virtual back 40 on my fake farm. Here's my question to all the faux farmers: How many times do I have to ignore your Farmy requests before you stop asking me?

I hate when I sign into Facebook and I have "fake" notifications. Here I am, thinking that somebody wrote on my Wall or commenting on a picture...and it's a damn thing about "new flair," Farmville, Sorority Life and Mafia Wars. I dream of a day in which I don't receive these notifications.

Am I giving off some sort of virtual farming vibe? Is there something about my personality that says, "Hey, invite that lady to have a pointless, fake farm"? If that is the case, please tell me because I clearly need to stop doing whatever is causing it. I'm not hating on people who participate in Farmville--if you want to do that, so be it. I'm sure that if I investigated Farmville, it would become my newest obsession. I don't have the time to take on a new obsession...so stop with the requests!

I'm on Facebook for social networking and friendly stalking--and nothing more.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Nature's Reputation Ruiner: The Cold Sore

I can't decide which aspect of having a cold sore/fever blister is worse: the actual blister itself, or the fact that it is technically a form of the herpes virus. I remember teasing one of my college roommates every time she got a cold sore...she finally gave in and just referred to it as her herpe. I assume the singular version of herpes is herpe.

I don't think it's fair that people can get the herpes virus without the traditional fun associated with the infection. I also don't think it's fair for people to have to go to the gynecologist (or hoo-ha doctor, as I prefer to call her) if they aren't having sex. If that area is not getting visitors for fun, why should it be subject to anything else? I guess it's the purist in me. If I was going to go to steal something, I'd steal something worth stealing. If I was going to get herpes, I feel that sex should be involved. But alas, this is not the case.

I feel like whenever I have a cold sore, people are looking at me wondering if it's a cold sore or "the real deal". This may seem crazy to you, but I'll be honest: it's what I wonder whenever I see anyone (other than Amy Jo) with a cold sore. I mean, even if someone says they have a cold sore, there's a little part of me that's like, "whatever, whore." That "cold sore" has ruined your reputation. So let's be clear: I have a cold sore. I rarely get them...I haven't had one since Halloween 2007. I was hoping I'd never have one again. Dammit. But, I suppose if I want people to leave me alone I can lie and tell them it isn't a cold sore.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

A Cautionary Tale about the Importance of Addresses

Last night I had 3 parties to attend. Three...I had no idea I was so popular. Well, I had some idea. First was my friend's Ugly Christmas Sweater Party! We had to leave that party to go to the Quarter Century Birthday (aka 25th birthday) of my college roommate (and fake sorority co-founder). They were planning on going out to the clubs like all the hip, kids do later that evening. I have no money, so I was just meeting up with them for cake and ice cream at her boyfriend's house.

I've been to this house many times. However, I do not know the house number. I'm more of a landmark person; I remember the strangest things. I know I'm on the right road to my dad's house in Indiana because of the specific pro-life billboards I see (I counted them once). While studying abroad, my friends and I spent a weekend in Barcelona and I managed to get us around town. This might not sound impressive, but I had only been in Barcelona once before...2 and a half years earlier.

This is one of my many unmarketable skills. As you can imagine, this can also be a burden. Sometimes, landmarks change. I could never explain to people where the post office was because they never know what I'm talking about when I say, "It's by the pink house." Once I saw an episode of That 70s Show where Jackie writes out directions and they all sound like, "Take a left at the place I spit my gum out that time, drive until you see the store where I bought that green sweater," that's how I roll. I think it's hilarious, so here's a clip...it's at about minute 5 or so, but it's all good.

I never needed to know his specific house number because the lot next to his house has been empty for 8 million years (give or take). I just drive up to the house next to the empty lot. Can you see where this story is going? We get to the house, and I even say to my friend, "It's so easy to remember which house is his because it's by an empty lot." Hello foreshadowing.

We walk up to the door, and I figured that it would be unlocked since people were coming over. I try the knob...no such luck. I peek in the window and see a kid sitting on the couch. Although I thought to myself, "Whose kid is that?" I also knew that I had no idea who would be at the party, maybe somebody had a kid. So I ring the bell. A woman comes to the door, I ask if my friend is there, she looks at me like I'm on meth and says I have the wrong house. "Well that's weird," I thought, "he didn't move did he?" As we were walking back to the car, I noticed the house next door...with a familiar statue on the front porch. And that's when it hit me: I am at the wrong house. We quickly went to the right house and everything was fine (other than me feeling like an idiot). Apparently one of my other old roommates had made the same mistake the previous weekend.

The really weird thing about the lady who lives at the wrong house was the expression she had on her face when she came to the door. It was the look of terror. I felt like in her eyes, I looked like one of the bad guys from The Strangers. I never saw that movie because the previews alone set off my paranoia and I'd have to change the channel. I saw the DVD in Target the other day and freaked out just a little. If you don't remember that one, it's the one where the lady looks outside and there's 3 people standing in her yard with bags over their heads and I guess torture ensues. Part of the reason it scares me so much is that I remember overhearing my dad talking with someone once about a similarly grotesque crime that happened in the central Kentucky region in the 70s or something. The people were tortured, murdered, dismembered, all kinds of super sick stuff. And I just noticed on the imdb page that the movie is based on a true story...this merits investigation. *Just investigated: it's NOT a true story, but there is some "inspiration" from true crimes.

But anyway, this lady's looking at me like I've come to kill her. I'm smiling, holding a birthday card and I'm with a friend. Both of us are in the 5 ft. height range. What did she think we would accomplish? But if I'd been in her shoes, I would've done the same thing (only worse because I'm super paranoid). The lesson to take away from this story is to learn people's addresses.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

A Very Special Senior Day

Until I can find a full-time teaching gig, I'm subbing and working at Kroger. My second day back was last Wednesday...Senior Day. Senior Day is the first Wednesday of every month, and it's when senior citizens get 10% off their whole order. Sometimes, Senior Day can really suck (especially when the nursing home vans start pulling up). Senior Day is also a delight when you're afraid of old people (like I am). Here's a tale from a very special Senior Day.

I'd subbed the whole day, then went straight to Kroger. I had all sorts of things to arrange, clean, etc. What was directly in front of my first table? The table with complimentary coffee and cookies for the seniors--awesome, not in my way at all. There I am working, not being bothered by seniors, just going about my business. I'm also trying to drown out the ever-present ringing of the Salvation Army bell (and we already know my feelings about those). You know those people who do good deeds in order to get the recognition and kudos? They suck...and one is about to bust up in this story.

This guy comes in, stands right in front of the coffee/cookie table and loudly asks, "Where are the cups for this coffee? Because I want to take her a cup of coffee." First of all, the cups were right in front of him. I swear, I thought I saw him reach for one before he asked me. I suppose he wanted me to be super impressed at his generosity. But I was not about to cock my head to one side, smile and saw, "Awwww," like I'd just seen a puppy. When I encounter people like this, I make it a point not to acknowledge what they're doing (and encourage you to do the same), because it drives them crazy.

I also do this to "compliment fishermen" (people who try to show off in order to get a compliment). Compliment fishermen do things like sing when no one else is singing because they want you to say, "Oh wow, you have a nice voice." Don't do it. If you compliment these bastards, the terrorists win. Anyway, I alerted ol' boy to the cups sitting in front of him and he went about his "good" deed.

Whatever, that guy is weird and that's fine. It wasn't until yesterday (a full week after the incident) that I started getting pissed off about the situation. I'm not trying to insinuate that the Salvation Army lady has it easy--by no means. However...let me compare our situations:
  • She is sitting in a chair. I am not allowed to sit down while working.
  • She is wearing a hat, coat and mittens. Am I allowed to bundle up? No, despite the fact that I work right next to the door.
  • She is ringing a bell. I am doing a variety of other tasks in addition to answering the questions of the elderly.
  • It's not like she's not allowed to come in the store; she comes in, buys a snack, takes a break, etc.
I guess my point is that, most people work hard. Does one person deserve more admiration and appreciation simply because they work for a charitable organization? No. Why not? Because I said so.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I'm a Dot Com Now!

I broke down and did it, I purchased a domain name. If you type in my original blogspot address you will be redirect to the new address, but you might as well make note of the change and change it in your bookmarks (since I know that everyone has this site bookmarked!). I'm pretty pumped. From this point on, Back in Black will be found on:

As you can see, it might take a few days for all the kinks to be worked out...but everything should be running smoothly soon!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Slowly but Surely

Well, more blogs didn't occur quite as quickly as I had hoped. I got a call from the person in charge of my Masters program, letting me know that my portfolio was missing some items. I would like to state that these missing items were not listed on the rubric, and I think that may have played a factor in my not including them in the portfolio. I had to drive to school, pick my portfolio up, get the missing items together and work them into the portfolio...but I think I'm finally ready to turn it back in!

I also started subbing, and oddly enough the first classes I subbed for were the ones I was a student teacher for. That made the whole process easier. It still remains to be seen how easily doing both the substitute teaching and working at Kroger will be...

And speaking of teaching--the quest to make my blog more anonymous and my Facebook more "grown up" rages on. As you well know, I'm a huge fan of freedom of speech so it's been killing me to clean up my Facebook for "The Man". But, I also understand that it doesn't look professional...what can you do? If only having your profile set to "private" was actually private enough!

I thought I had everything on the blog taken care of; I removed my picture and my name. And then it occurred to me: The Crazy Bitch Saga (which I'm sure you all remember as it is the craziest thing that has ever happened to anyone in the history of the world). For those posts, I included screen shots of the actual Facebook messages. I blocked out other people's names, but I left mine...needless to say, I went back and fixed ALL those.

This leads me to the final possible change. I've previously mentioned doing a password protection or changing the web address...the password option would be super lame and as a general rule, I don't like it when  things are lame. Then I toyed with changing the address. After 37 million (or maybe less) attempts at names, I found one that was available. I changed the address but quickly changed it back when I discovered you would not be redirected from the old address to the new. I suppose I could tell people about the name change and rely solely on word of mouth, but I can't keep track of who I've told about this blog. I thought I was a shameless self-promoter, but you should hear Amy Jo--she tells everyone about my blog! If I had money, I might pay her some sort of promoter's fee (but I have no money, so she gets nothing...other than my love, the cheapest best gift of all). I could lose a large amount of readers with an address change.

This morning, I discovered that I can buy a domain name for $10 a year and you would be redirected from the old address to the new one. This could be the route I take. Right now, the renewal fee is $10 but it is subject to change. I can't imagine it would go from $10 to $100 or something! I'm gonig to talk this over with some of my more internet-savvy friends and get their opinions before I make the switch. I do admit that I like the idea of being responsible for something with a ".com" in the name (not to be confused with the always hilarious Grizz and Dot Com from Thirty Rock). I would feel more legit and less like another weirdo with a blog. If any of you have an opinions or tips on purchasing a domain name, let me know!

Right now I've got to get ready and do a few things today (it's 12:36 P.M. and I have yet to shower and have only eaten 3 Christmas Oreos) but the plan is to write some posts tonight. As usual, I've been writing them in my head throughout the week. The other night I didn't sleep at all because I was mentally blogging. Trust me, it's not as awesome as it sounds.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

What's New [Pussycat]...whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

I am going to attempt to write a brief post despite the fact that my mind is currently one track...and the name of that track is gravy. Thanksgiving is almost here!!

There have been a number of new developments since I last posted. First of all, I've finished up my Masters degree program. I'm waiting to get grades back on my portfolios and scores from the Praxis PLT exam--but other than that, I'm done. No more classes. I've signed up to be a substitute and I plan on looking for a job for the upcoming school year. I am also returning to Kroger this upcoming week...basically, I want to have more degrees than anyone there. Slash, I just want moneys. I am excited to be seeing [some] of my fellow Kroger employees again.

The other big-ish development is that I have attempted to make my blog a little more anonymous as previously mentioned. I've removed all traces of my full name (or I'm pretty sure I got them all) but I have left the blog address alone for now. Worst case scenario, I could be told to change the address or add a password, but I want to avoid doing that if possible. We'll just have to play that by ear...or by eyes, since you're reading this.

So, those are the major developments here. I hope that my time will once again be freed up for some of the things I love such as Zumba and blogging. I'm not sure how many posts I'll get in during the holidays, but you can look forward to more regular posts soon. But that's all on this post. I'm going to spend some time with my broseph while he's home from college. Happy Thanksgiving!!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Upcoming Changes

As you know, I am planning on being a teacher...because of that, I need to make my blog more anonymous. Not that I write anything particularly awful on here, but it's just not professional looking. I'm toying around with a few ideas.
The safest option would be to put a protective password on the blog so that only people with the password could read it. This does create an extra step for you. The other option is to change the web address...which I'm not 100% sure I can do. Whatever the change is, I will let you know. But it will be happening soon.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Missteps in Logic

I'm not sure why, but when people find out that I was a Spanish major, they are under the assumption that I want to hear them complain about all the "Mexicans". Can you see the missteps in logic? Let's look at the entire situation here...
  • I majored in Spanish
  • I speak the language fluently
  • I plan on being a Spanish teacher
In my mind, these things might serve as an indication that not only do I know a thing or two about immigration but that I'm probably more sympathetic to Spanish-speaking people. Also, I'm probably well aware that not everyone who speaks Spanish is Mexican. Here's a sample conversation I might have:
ME: I love the Spanish language.
IDIOT: I think all them Mexicans need to learn English.
ME: Umm...OK then. I don't know what to say to that, so I'm just going to leave.
It's never not frustrating to find yourself in that situation. That would be like telling a social worker that you think all people need to handle their own problems and no one deserves help. Or telling a finance major that we should eliminate all forms of currency and go back to the barter system. If someone tells you they're a journalism major, will your first order of business be telling them that newspapers are a dying industry? Probably not.

It is entirely possible that these people are in cahoots with the people who misuse the term fiance and they have joined forces to make my head explode. Actually, that's not likely at all--I just wanted to say cahoots.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

It's like an infomercial, that you read!

The holiday season is upon us. Amy Jo and I have seen a recent influx of catalogs arriving at Black Manor. Every time there are catalogs in the mail, Amy Jo says something to the effect of, "You can tell it's getting close to Christmas because of all these catalogs." Here's the thing about catalogs, some of them make perfect sense. I have a Victoria's Secret credit card, I shop there and order things online, therefore I receive their catalog (about once every 15 minutes). Side note, no one sends more catalogs than Victoria's Secret. Some catalogs you get just because God rewards you for being good--I'm talking about Pottery Barn here. Does anyone else's heart skip a beat when they see the Pottery Barn catalog in the mailbox? What can I say? I love catalogs. When I'm flying somewhere, any minor anxiety regarding the flight is diminished by my excitement to read SkyMall.

And then there are the mystery catalogs; the catalogs you have no idea why you receive. You've never ordered anything from this catalog, you didn't even know this was a store. You've never even ordered anything like this merchandise in your life. I'm going to focus on those catalogs, because they're the most fun. The 3 mystery catalogs we've received are (in order of least awesome to most awesome): Improvements, Potpourri, and The Pyramid Collection.

Improvements is at the bottom of the list not because it's bad, but because it is the most normal of the three. It's got a lot of holiday decoration stuff...and a personal soft serve ice cream maker I'm looking at right now. God help me if I had one of those! You can probably find a lot of Improvements merchandise at Bed, Bath & Beyond. I'm sure most of us have something in our homes that is sold from this catalog (we probably bought it somewhere else though). Much like Sharper Image, the items in Improvements are not weird, many of them are simply unnecessary.

Potpourri is quasi-normal. There's a lot of dresses and sweaters that are miraculously unflattering to every body type, moderately inspirational plaques and picture frames about friends being connected at the heart and whatnot. Potpourri is the stuff you see at someone's house and think, "What possessed them to buy that?" Next time you're out and about and see a woman in a silk-screened t-shirt that says, "This is what a real cool Grandma looks like" in little kid writing, or think, "Man, I'm glad that's not my mom wearing the shirt with lighthouses all over it," you can assure yourself that was purchased from Potpourri.

And now we've come to the inspiration for this post. The Pyramid Collection. I have saved not one, but 2 of these catalogs and I could honestly talk about every item on every page. According to the cover, this catalog features "Myth, Magick, Fantasy & Romance." I'll never buy a cape from another catalog again. Pyramid Collection reaches all previously mentioned audiences of Improvements and Potpourri, in addition to an entire new demographic! You've got your inspirational stuff and your keychains with sayings like, "don't drive faster than your guardian angel can fly"...but you've also got all sorts of crazy (and sometimes kinky) costumes and jewelry. But wait, there's more! Pyramid Collection also contains a variety of "discrete personal massagers," the Super Kegel Exerciser, Advanced Sexual Techniques DVD, vibrating panties, and Totally Nude Aerobics & Tai Chi exercise videos!

I love how the people at Pyramid Collection leave no stone unturned from a marketing standpoint. Has anyone ever really thought to themselves, "Why can't I buy a vibrator, medieval dragon deskset, and inspirational angel plaque all from the same place?" If anyone has said that, I kind of want to meet them. I don't think we'd be best friends or anything, but I bet they'd be fun to drink with and/or send hilarious text messages.


A few weeks ago, I was in Hallmark searching for a quinceanera card (or at minimum, a birthday card in Spanish). I found 1 birthday card in Spanish--only one! This wouldn't have pissed me off as much had I not found some of the other cards they had. Did you know that when your pastor retires, you can't just give him a retirement card? They have a special pastor retirement card. There were a number of cards in braille, and a number of cards for Bar & Bat Mitzvahs. I have no beef with cards for the blind or God's Chosen People, but I'm almost certain that the Hispanic population of Lexington is much larger than the blind or Jewish population.

So anyway, I'm getting pissed off in Hallmark when I spot a "Divorce Announcement" card. And it wasn't remotely ironic (don't worry, I took a picture). It was a completely serious card letting someone know that you got divorced.
"Sometimes there is only one way to make a new beginning...Just wanted to let you know about my divorce."
I have heard (by which I most absolutely mean "received email forwards") of people sending out cards much like the wedding invitation when they get divorced. I think it's a silly thing to waste your [recently decreased] income on, but whatever rips your velcro. I was puzzled by this particular divorce announcement card, for several reasons.
There are the obvious reasons of:
  • Who would you need to inform of your divorce in such a formal manner? Is somebody too good to receive a phone call or text? Some super conservative great-great-grandmother? I've got news for you, she's going to be so shocked over the actual divorce that the manner in which you break the news will be of little consequence.
  • Why would you spend $2-3 on a divorce announcement card?
  • How would I react if I received a divorce announcement card in the mail?
My questions included:
  • Why is this card only sold by itself? If you're going to send out divorce announcement cards, wouldn't it be better to buy a pack of 20? Why should divorce announcement cards be different from thank you cards or Christmas cards? It's not like there are so many divorce cards to choose from.
  • Is this really the type of card that needs to be in the full, standard card size? What more is there to say? It would be much more cost effective to print divorce announcement cards on the half-card size (again, like thank you cards).
So, if I ever start my own card-making company I plan on selling a variety of half-size divorce announcement cards in box sets. Divorce announcement cards will be made available in both the serious and humorous genres. Come to me for all your divorce announcement needs.

A Series of Unrelated Thoughts

Amy Jo was a pretty big fan of the swine flu post I did where I just listed my thoughts throughout the day, as was I. Her birthday was yesterday, and blogging is infinitely cheaper than a present (although I knitted her a scarf).
  • Every time I hear Party in the USA I can't help but sing along. As soon as the song ends, I'm filled with the shame of an adult who enjoys and knows all the words to a Miley Cyrus song. Whether you'll admit it or not, I know I'm not alone in this.
  • How much do I want to buy the Playboy with Marge Simpson on the cover? So much! I should do that before the new one comes out. I can't help but think that the whole thing is awesome. I am counting on it being tastefully done...it's not Hustler.
  • Do you think that Venezuela is like the Clampet family of OPEC? I mean, seriously, all the other countries are over in the Middle East or Africa so they totally have stuff in common. But then here comes Venezuela out of left field! If I was in OPEC, I think I'd devote a significant portion of time to rewriting the Beverly Hillbillies theme song so that it could be applied to Venezuela. Actually, I think I might do that despite not being a member of OPEC.
  • If I ever stop enjoying Matt Nathanson's music, punch me in the face until I come to my senses. That's an order.
  • So, Creed has a new song. I'm confident that I was not the only person who didn't know Creed was a thing anymore.
  • Speaking of songs, have you heard John Mayer's new song? It's called Who Says, and it's kinda on the douchey side. Granted, a certain level of doucheyness is implied regarding John Mayer (I do enjoy a number of his songs, though)...but this one is just, extra douchey. I get that it's about freedom and doing what you want (with an emphasis on the desire to smoke weed); I appreciate that declaration of freedom. But, "I don't remember you looking any better, but then again I don't remember you," just strikes me as a dick thing to say.

Colon: It's Not Just Grammar

Before I get to the promised plethora of posting (ahh, alliteration!), allow me to explain the situation. I've had stomach problems for years now--a LOT of things make me sick. But it's gotten really bad recently; and I do mean REALLY bad. I switched to gluten-free food, thinking it might be Coeliac, and that has helped quite a bit. I went to the doctor to ask for a blood test to confirm whether or not that was the issue...and then he uped the anty. "Let's go ahead and do a colonoscopy, too," he said. I love the casual manner in which these things are suggested, like, "Hey, on the way home, let's run by Kroger and get some ice cream." I haven't been doing this long, but so far it is very different than running by Kroger and getting ice cream.

Apparently, the procedure is not the taxing part of a colonoscopy--it's the preparation. Everyone told me I should just set up shop in the bathroom. Far be it from me to go against seasoned pros; the next few blogs are coming from my newest command post: the bathroom.

It's an exciting time for us all.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Ocho

Last Thursday, I was on my way to the Ocho so that we could head on over to Thriller dance practice and I decided to run through McDonald's. Sitting in the drive-thru lane I had a couple of amusing experiences...here we go.
I ordered my cheeseburger Mighty Kids' Meal (because I am a mighty kid), and I was waiting to hand over my money at the first window when I noticed some people attempting to park a giant truck. First of all, the wife had to get out of the truck to guide the husband. I can't hate on that, because I'm a terrible parker. The truck had one of those designs on the back windshield, the Superman symbol. That's fine. The Superman symbol was also on the back gate of the truck, on a little metal Jesus-fish style thing. So, this guy likes Superman.
Here's the best part: they finally park the truck, and get the little boy out of the backseat. He has a little backpack...guess what symbol is on the backpack? Yep, Superman. Why should I have expected anything less? The kicker is, the boy's name was embroidered on the backpack. Clark. That's right, I said Clark...as in Clark Kent, Superman's alter ego. Amazing!
So the Supermans went inside and I was silly enough to assume that my excitement was over. When I went to hand my money over, the worker said, "double cheeseburger Mighty Kids' Meal?" I said yes, although I had ordered a normal cheeseburger. I was certain it was a mistake, why would a double cheeseburger be an option for a kid's meal? I'll tell you why, because this is America. You'd better believe that when I got my food it was a double cheeseburger (which I couldn't eat all of because that's a lot of cheeseburger).
I'll tell you one thing, that is a MIGHTY kid...a mighty obese kid. On the plus side, the meal came with an awesome My Little Pony, so I can't complain too much.

Coming Soon!

Get excited readers, I've got several blogs ready to go but I haven't had a chance to type them out yet...until now (well, tomorrow)! Due to an upcoming medical procedure, I will soon find myself with a limited number of activities in which I can participate. And don't fret, there is more to come on said procedure! I'm sure you're all ready for more hilarity!

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Dentist

I went to the dentist today. I have a lot of opinions and theories regarding dentist visits. Don't worry, I'm not an anti-dentite. My number one theory is as follows:
If you floss the night before and/or the morning of your appointment, if totally makes up for the fact that you've probably only flossed a grand total of 3 times since your last appointment.
At the moment, I don't have dental insurance. I haven't had it for about 2 years or so. I think I've developed the rest of my theories as a result of being uninsured. Allow me to elaborate on some dental visits and the subsequent theories.

The first time I went to the dentist without insurance the appointment only cost $59. I didn't think that was too terribly expensive. The second time I went, it was $95. What was the difference? The dentist was actually there for the second appointment. That was about the time I decided that I should always go to the dentist when he's not there. I schedule the appointments and they say, "Oh, well he won't be in that day, is that OK?" I have to hold myself back so I don't say, "Hells yea that's OK!"

On to the third appointment. I scheduled it on the dentist's day off, planning to spend another $59. I got there and on the way to the chair they informed me that my x-rays needed to be updated. OK. I was unaware of the cost associated with dental x-rays. Now I know, if you don't have insurance, teeth x-rays will run you close to $200. That was a fun surprise! What theory did I develop that day? X-rays are: a) a luxury item, b) something I won't get again until I have insurance, or c) all of the above. The answer is c.

That brings us to today's visit. I thought I had it this time. Was the dentist there? Nope (check). Did I have my prepared response for the x-ray update scenario? Yep (check). I decided to tell them that I wouldn't be getting x-rays until I either had insurance or they decided to do pro bono work. But don't worry, they still managed to get me. It turns out I have a teeny, tiny spot of a cavity on 1 of my teeth. All they have to do is use this air-sander thing to blast the spot away. How much will that cost? $113. You'd better believe I asked before I scheduled the appointment (as I was writing my $64 check for today's visit).

Here comes my newest theory: I should attempt to recoup the cost of being uninsured through the complimentary products you get after each appointment. The whole way home, I was trying to think about how many "complimentary" toothbrushes I would have to take to balance out my losses. I can't do complicated math while driving, so the most I figured out was that I'll need to take a bigger purse in order to smuggle out all the goods. I have since run the numbers (assuming that each toothbrush costs roughly $2):
  • $113 cavity = 57 toothbrushes
  • $185 x-rays = 93 toothbrushes
  • $218 worth of visits = 109 toothbrushes
  • GRAND TOTAL ($516) = 258 toothbrushes
I suppose I could also swipe the floss and travel size toothpastes, so that will completely change those totals.
I hate flossing. I wish I had 1 long curvy tooth. It didn't need to be split up. They didn't have to make separations with me. I can't get into flossing, I can't. People who smoke say, "You don't know how hard it is to stop smoking." Yes I do. It's as hard as it is to start flossing. ~Mitch Hedberg

Check Out this Biz

It's been awhile since I last posted anything...sorry about that! I was super busy finishing up my student teaching at the Spanish-immersion elementary school (it was all kinds of triste) and beginning my student teaching at the high school. On top of that I've still been feeling sick. I think I'm finally getting over what I dubbed the "Dick Cheney of Viruses" because this thing will not die. Fortunately, I'll be on fall break tomorrow and Friday...so the blog shall be updated!

Before I get back to planning out my next couple of posts* I have to share this with everyone. My friend Kristin sent me a link to a new favorite website called Awkward Family Photos and realized it had been awhile since I checked up on my other regularly visited sites. After checking out everything on Cake Wrecks, I hopped on over to People of Walmart. It was on People of Walmart that I saw this gem (click the link to read all the comments on the site):

Just take it all in. I highly recommend visiting the site and trying to read some of the individual platforms being advocated on this van. One of the stickers says something about being anti-seat belt. I don't think that's a thing. Those of you who know me are well aware that I love reading bumper stickers (although I don't put them on my car). If I'm stuck in traffic, I enjoy being behind a car with several bumper stickers to amuse me. Most of the time it doesn't even matter if I agree with the sticker or not; if I don't agree, I make fun of it and if I do, I typically LOL. I don't think I ever blogged about the time when I was younger (maybe junior high) and I had to go to the eye doctor and get my eyes dilated. As Amy Jo was driving me home we got stuck behind a car covered in bumper stickers (well, just the back of the car...this van has obviously redefined covered) and I couldn't see well enough to read any of them. That was a hard (and sad) day.

Despite my love of bumper stickers, I'm pretty sure my head would've exploded had I encountered this van in person. At a minimum, the rest of my day would've been shot because I would HAVE to just sit down and take in this bad boy. I'm upset there aren't pictures of this van from all angles.

*Yes, sometimes I do actually plan these things out. There have been rough drafts. So if anyone tries to tell you that stream of conscious writing doesn't take any planning, punch them in the face.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

In Your Own Words

I hate how the blog makes it so difficult to post comments. I've received so much Facebook feedback on the Crazy Bitch Saga, that I had to share it!

With the response to my first status update, how could I not post on this topic?

I'm getting comments like it's my job and the rent's due tomorrow!

And just when you thought it was over, I get another message. The people demanded a blog post.

Not only were all these comments great, but they also prove that I'm not the only one who thinks this chick is crazy. She's the only one who thinks she's not crazy.

Thanks for joining me on the crazy roller coaster that has been this situation!

Crazy Bitch...or Trick Candle?

I should've known that there was no way that crazy bitch was done. Why would a crazy person actually comply with my requests to be left alone? She's like a trick birthday candle; you think you've blown it out, but then the damn thing lights up again! Does she not know that those are annoying? By the end of the day Tuesday, I'd received another message from her. I've blocked a lot of it out because it's a variety of accusations about my friend, and I won't post those.

And now I'm pissed. In the last message I sent her I said that I wasn't going to talk about this anymore. So she sent me another message. I did not reply--I'm a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them. Clearly, she's not going to stop. Thus I was forced to reply...

I suppose I could've been a little less of a smart ass...but where's the fun in that? At this point, I was unable to resist. I sent this message and then I blocked her. You can imagine my surprise at receiving this:
Has your mind been blown? First of all, what an opening! Did you see the part where she said I was the "world's biggest bitch"? The entire world. I'm adding that to my resume! I also like the part about I should've thought about this as much as I thought about putting food in my mouth. This is just further proof that this bitch doesn't know me--I don't eat much. I love that her defense is to call me fat--like it's going to be news to me. Like I don't tell myself that almost every second of every day. The ugly thing is another story. I am fat, and I can be a bitch, but I'm not ugly. And I should take this moment to mention that this girl is BUSTED looking. She is neither pretty nor thin. It's safe to say that I'm not stupid and I'm pretty sure I'm not a cunt (but then again, possession is nine-tenths of the law).

And then she says that I should've stopped talking to her in the beginning...wow, what have I been trying to do in every single message. She instigated this entire thing, not me. Is anyone as impressed as I was that her argument has quickly dwindled into attacks against me as opposed to a defense of her actions? I was literally visualizing her grasping at straws. Oh, did you see the part where she tells me not to attempt to make her feel stupid? It was so hard not to reply with, "Trust me, you don't need anyone's help to look stupid."

Then there's the little part where she hopes I die. Well, she hopes for the "sale" of the world that I don't live long. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt and say that she meant "sake". Unless, is the world for sale? What's the sticker price? Seriously, she hopes I die? WHAT THE FUCK!? Amy Jo was not thrilled about that part of the message. In her mind, wishing my death is not the ultimate insult--she goes on to insult my political beliefs. What's next? "I know you drive a Honda, and those suck!"

At this point I reported her to Facebook because this is harrassment. Will that be the end of this saga? Well, let's hope so.

Monday, September 28, 2009

F'd Up: The Epilogue

There was so much to go over in the last post, I realize that I left a few things out. I forgot to mention, I had approximately 1 class with this girl in high school. We were acquaintances, not close friends. We never had each others' phone numbers, we didn't hang out. I told my friend Jess about this and she said, "Um no. Apparently you two have been friends since high school. How dare you unfriend her." I guess I've got some balls to do this.

If you're thinking to yourself, "I don't know what to say about this," then you are not alone. That has been the response of every person who has read this. If you're thinking, "this is the funniest thing I have read in a long time," you're also not alone (but read my blog more often, it's always hilarious).

Redefining F'd Up

Get ready, because I've got quite a tale to tell today! I have a variety of little rituals I do before I go to bed to help me unwind. My iPhone has really expanded the number of rituals I can choose from. For awhile, it was iPhone skeeball. Lately, it's been a review of the following website applications: Texts From Last Night, Texting While Intoxicated, and F My Life. It's a solid guarantee for before bed chuckles. So last night, I was checking all my sites and for whatever reason, I decided to check Twitter and Facebook before I went to bed. Nothing new on Twitter, but my Facebook notifications informed me that a girl I know from high school had commented on 3 pictures. My investigation of said comments is where our story begins.

It was 3 separate comments all made on 1 photo from my friend's wedding. The comments were not nice, at all. They had been up for about 45 minutes, and all I could hope was that my friend hadn't seen them. I quickly grabbed my computer and deleted the comments. To avoid any future problems, I decided to just remove this girl from my friends list. I was never close friends with this girl, and I haven't seen her or spoken to her since I graduated high school (going on 7 years ago)...I figured it would be a non-issue. I was wrong. Within minutes of my actions I had a message from her calling me immature. I'll now share with you the actual correspondence I had with this girl. I've blacked out all names involved in this story (man, I'm nice). Sorry if the images don't exactly line up...I tried my best. **Back in Black Note: In an attempt to make my blog more anonymous, I've also blocked out my name and picture using red.**

Tell me that's not one of the most crazy and nonsensical things you've seen in awhile. It was hard for me to get into the mindset of this argument because I haven't been a 12 year old girl for a long time...I don't recall how to fight like one. First of all, don't get me started on the grammar...or the inaccuracies and flip-flopping she does in her story. I won't lie to you, as I was reading some of these I felt a lot like David After the Dentist and had to ask aloud, "is this real life?" Sadly, yes. This is real life. Once I determined that it was real life, I couldn't wait to blog about it! Would you agree that this story brings "fucked up" to a whole new level?

Facebook doesn't provide you with a notification when someone defriends you so she had to be monitoring my activities pretty closely to notice right away. I think the main lesson I took away from this situation was that my Facebook friendship is more highly sought after than I could have ever imagined. All this started because I removed someone from my friends list. Can you say that's ever happened to you after a defriending? I kinda felt like Monica in "The One Where Heckles Dies," Mr. Heckles dies and leaves everything to the "noisy girls" who live about him. Monica says, "I can't believe that this whole time we thought he hated us. I mean, isn't it amazing how much you can touch someone's life, and not even know it?"

My friend did see the comments, but she didn't let them bother her. I forwarded her the crazy message and she was happy to see that I defended her. "I also have never been so proud to call you my friend. Well with the exception of punching the street preacher."

So I was wondering what my Facebook karmic retribution would be, until I went to brush my teeth. I discovered a small cut on my tongue that was bleeding. I immediately texted Amy Jo.
  • Me: My tongue is bleeding a little and I don't recall biting it. Ahhhh, the karma!!!
  • Amy Jo: The blood escalates her comment about karma to an actual THREAT. I'm pretty sure FB frowns on that.
  • Me: Yes! They do! I'm filing a report! She cut me with witchcraft.
But we can all agree that karma is a chameleon, it come and go; it come and go; a whoa whoa.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Just Because You Can Talk, Doesn't Mean You Should

The other day, I was on the phone with Amy Jo while I was on my way home from the doctor. I was about to hangup when I noticed a pickup truck next to me with a gigantic wooden sign bolted to the truck bed. One side was talking about how Obama is a communist and I was cracking up.
  • Did I slow down so I could read everything this sign had to say and attempt to take pictures? Hell yes.
  • Did I then alter my route home so that I could continue to follow this truck, read the other side of the board and attempt to take more pictures? Hell yes.
  • Did I care if Crazy McJackass saw me doing this? Hell no.
I was able to get 2 pictures. In the first one, you can see that the sign is red (ya know, for the Commies) and that clearly, this man has safety as his number one priority (I mean, talk about a blind spot)! In the second picture, you can't see what the other side of the sign says...but it's an upside down flag and I've already forgotten what all it said, but you can bet your ass it was stupid, unfounded and made no sense.

Amy Jo and I have watched this video twice. Twice. It's the New Left Media coverage of the September 12th "DC Tea Party". Basically, it's proving that the majority of the people boycotting the Obama administration right now have no idea what they're talking about; they're just following all the jackass pundits like Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, etc.

It saddens me to watch something beyond retarded and know that these people are not receiving the special education they so desperately need.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

When Did I Last Write a "Pissed Off" Blog?

There are a couple of quick things that are driving me crazy right now, and I just have to get them off my chest. If you've seen me (or a picture of me), you know that there's already quite a bit on my chest and my back can't handle carrying much more on it.

First of all, Kanye West. I don't want to go on a whole tirade, because everyone is talking this story to death. As a [former] Kanye fan, I always tried to defend him because I enjoyed his rap stylings...well, at least his first two albums. I think those were before he went completely psycho. Combine the recent shitiness of his music with what he did to Taylor Swift (whom I adore) and it's safe to say that I will no longer be putting up with his shenanigans. That link has nothing to do with the shenanigans of Kanye (as one might think); it is simply a link to the definition of a shenanigan. That is my example of an acceptable shenanigan.
Mac: But our shenanigans are cheeky and fun!
Thorny: Yeah, and his shenanigans are cruel and tragic.
Foster: Which...makes them not really shenanigans at all.
Mac: Evil shenanigans!
O'Hagan: I swear to God I'm going to pistol-whip the next person who says "shenanigans".
Mac: Hey Farva, what's the name of that place you like with all the goofy
shit on the walls and the mozerella sticks?
Farva: Oh, Shenanigans?
I removed Kanye as a music interest on Facebook (and you know nothing is official until it's on Facebook). It's simply gotten to hard to defend him.
I was over at my friends' apartment (APT. 8: "The Ocho") last night and they introduced me to a delightful little article about Kanye. It's by Daniel O'Brien and it's called What if Kanye West is Retarded? Not only is it hilarious, but he makes a pretty strong argument. Kanye might need to get tested.

The other thing that's been pissing me off actually started out as multiple different sources of discontent. At one point in the not so distant past, I was getting quite angry with the number of people getting engaged. Ultimately, I accepted the fact that
everyone I know is getting married (and that's fine). Then my issue was with constantly having to hear about nothing other than weddings. OK, that's still a little bit of an issue...but I usually just start running a TV show in my head, walk away, etc. No, my issue now is the misuse of the word fiancé. Every single time I check my Facebook newsfeed, there it is; people using the word incorrectly. You see, there are 2 versions of the word: fiancé and fiancée. While they are pronounced the same, they do not carry the same meaning. If you don't believe me, click here. Fiancé is a man and fiancée is a woman--and that if the end of the fiancé/fiancée debacle. If you are currently using this word incorrectly, you have three options:
  1. Start using the appropriate versions of the word.
  2. Stop using the word.
  3. And if you refuse to comply with options 1 or 2, then don't get married. Marriage is a tricky business and you can't seem to handle simple grammar.
Am I being harsh? Yes. But I am a Grammar Nazi, and I've been silent for far too long. It's time the world became aware of this crime against language. Don't worry, if you are guilty of fiancé misuse, I [probably] still like you. I suppose there is a chance that you are not only aware of your poor grammar but you are also aware that said poor grammar irks me beyond belief. And if that is the case...well, touché.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Brains! Brains! Welcome to My Delicious Brain!

Not too long into the Swine Flu, I decided it might amuse me to keep a little log of interesting, humorous or weird thoughts I had and post an entry of those thoughts in the order that they occurred.

September 9th
  • 3:00 P.M. I really like Laurel's idea of adding a "Sorry about your public flumiliation" section to Hallmark. We should do that. She makes an excellent Watson to my Sherlock Holmes with a better rack.
  • 6:20 P.M. When Pierce Brosnan auditioned for Mamma Mia!, did they really not see a problem with his voice?
  • 9:00 P.M. Who the fuck is Joe Wilson and are people glad they voted for him?
September 10th
  • 11:50 P.M. I think Jesse Spencer (Dr. Chase from House) plays the musician in Uptown Girls! I should watch it to confirm.
  • 11:51 P.M. I bet when normal people are jolted awake by an epiphany, it's of something useful and not the realization of a six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon type game.
  • 11:52 P.M. Where did I put that paper where I wrote down my successful round of that game where I connected Britney Spears to Kevin Bacon in 6 steps? That's one of my proudest accomplishments...I need to find that or do it again.
September 11th
  • 11:30 A.M. Why does daytime Robitussin taste exponentially worse than nighttime Robitussin? The thing that helps me sleep must be delicious.
  • 11:40 A.M. The hairstyle that looks best with a surgical mask--pigtails. Coincidence? I think not! I declare pigtails to be the official hairstyle of the swine flu.
  • 1:15 P.M. Uptown Girls has a pig in it! I've unknowingly continued my pig marathon.
  • 3:25 P.M. Everytime Cosmo is in my mailbox, I have an excitement that can only be compared to that of Billy Madison on Nudey Magazine Day.
  • 7:00 P.M. It's interesting that in TV and movies, all psychiatrists' have phrenology skulls in their offices, despite the fact that phrenology was dismissed as a science before the turn of the 20th century. Maybe it's for a kitsch factor...I want a phrenology skull.
Mr. Smithers: Sir, phrenology was dismissed as quackery 160 years ago.
Mr. Burns: You would say that! You have the brain pan of a stage coach tilter!
  • 9:30 P.M. I think the world just hates me this week; on top of having the swine flu, I got the bejesus smacked out of me by my car door after Amy Jo and I got blizzards and now I banged my shin on the ottoman. Seriously?!
  • 10:28 P.M. www.peopleofwalmart.com is one of my new favorite sites! Check this lady out...I would so karate chop her finger nails if I saw her! That shit is gross! And I bet they smell. I wonder if people call her Wolverine?
  • 11:50 P.M. When you think about it, bacon is the symbol of wealth. People talk about "bringing home the bacon," and I'd love to know where that expression came from. Also, anytime you want to add bacon to something, it costs extra.
September 12th
  • 9:30 A.M. Hey, this is the lowest my temperature has been throughout this swine flu...96.6
  • 10:22 A.M. I should spiff my blog up with some more gadgets...I can connect it to my twitter and give people the ability to share my posts via Twitter and Facebook. I think the "Swine Flu Prevention Tips" gadget is a day late and a dollar short.
  • 11:10 A.M. Why does it hurt when I shave my leg? Oh right...I smacked my shin on the damn ottoman.
  • 12:07 P.M. I'm so bored I could cry.
  • 1:17 P.M. Watching a program on gigantism...Amy Jo is claiming to be a giant to which I reply, "Yes, one of those rare short giants."
  • 5:42 P.M. I think they call it swine flu because your stomach is fine. You don't throw up and lose weight like the other flu...you stay a pig. Leave it to me to catch the non-weight loss flu.
  • 5:44 P.M. Love Actually is such a great movie. Sometimes I think about not being friends with people who don't like it.
  • 9:30 P.M. It's always nice to discover that the doctor didn't give you the standard issue medicine you should've gotten for the swine flu. Why did I believe her when she said to just take OTC products? There's no point in me taking the perscription pills now.
September 13th
  • 12:00 P.M. It might be nice to have a celebratory pig roast after this whole ordeal is over.
  • 1:45 P.M. I sure have watched a lot of things about sharks lately.
  • 2:53 P.M. I want to hang out with Flo, the Progressive Insurance lady. She seems cool. And if the Geico gekko can come too, well that's all the better!

Oink! Oink! Oink! Erin's Curly Tail of Swine Flu

I've been fever-free all day and am hoping to return to school on Tuesday (can't be too safe)! Since I got the swine flu, everyone has been asking two things:
  1. Am I going to blog about it?
  2. Will they get to see pictures of me in my surgical mask?
What kind of blogger would I be if I didn't take you through the swine flu journey? And what type of journey has no pictures? Without further adieu, I give you the [curly] tail of swine flu. *Note, I just made that "tail" pun up and I'm pretty impressed with myself.*

I wasn't surprised when after only a week of student teaching I was starting to feel sick. I'd heard countless times that your first year of teaching would include a lot of illnesses while your body builds up an immunity to germ-filled students (no offense). I had a nasty cold and it took me a good week to get over it, but I was on the mend. By the end of Labor Day weekend, I was back to not feeling so hot. On Tuesday (Sept. 8), my voice had a quality that few achieve without a life full of chain-smoking menthol cigarettes in between shots of Jack Daniels. I woke up at 4 A.M. on Wednesday to discover that not only was I sick to my stomach, I was shivering. But as I had learned (and sang) in Moulin Rouge, the show must go on. I hope you enjoy the chart I found displaying the swine flu symptoms...it was a picture of the generic medical chart guy, but I doctored it up with some blonde pigtails (official hairstyle of the swine flu) and blue eyes so it would look more like me.

I was all set to go to school when Amy Jo had me take my temperature and discover that it was a bit low (which is not unusual for me...I may be a reptile). Combine that with my shivering and she ordered me back to bed. I went to the doctor and got the flu test (the previously mentioned plastic stick up my nose--the man in the picture doesn't like it either). Dum, dum, dum! Flu A, H1N1 strikes again! Enter: Super sexy surgical mask.

Oddly enough, when the Physician's Assistant was giving me the mask and explaining why I had to wear it in public (which I totally get) she had this odd ability to make me feel guilty. She's telling me that this virus could be fatal to anyone with a compromised immune system (chemo patients, AIDS/HIV, etc.) and I totally understand that! It wasn't like I was not going to wear the mask; I put it on right away. But she went on, "If there's anyone out in the waiting room who's going through chemo for breast cancer or something, they could've already caught this." Like I knowingly strolled into the waiting room to cough on people. Do I have a look about me that says, "I like to spread disease"?

Did she think I'd been living under some rock for the past year and am completely oblivious to the swine flu? If she didn't fully drive this point home I was going to leave her office, go next door to the hospital, cough on the babies in the maternity ward and maybe lick all the spoons in the cafeteria...lucky for her, she got her point across. I told them on the phone that I thought I might have the flu, so they knew full well what they were dealing with. Maybe they should have surgical masks at the door and everyone should wear them. That's not a bad idea.

When you walk out of the doctor's office with a surgical mask on, in the middle of an illness (that many are seeing as a potential pandemic), there are several ways to handle the situation. I chose the walk-super-fast-make-zero-eye-contact-and-immediately-start-talking-on-my-phone approach; but you do whatever works for you. I have not left the house since Wednesday, except for Friday night in which I rode through the Dairy Queen drive-thru with Amy Jo for some blizzards. I don't care to be seen walking about in my mask (attractive as it is).

The picture to the left is me in my mask(s). The mask on the left is the one they gave me at the doctor's office. It wasn't as sturdy as the other, but the loops went around my ears and didn't mess up my hair (very crucial). The mask on the right is one that Amy Jo bought me. Fun fact about Mask #2, it's recommended by the CDC to help prevent spreading the flu. But it has rubberbands and the potential to mess up your hair--unless you discover (as I did) that pigtails are the perfect hairstyle for mask wearing.

One of the main things the swine flu has taught me is to not be a whore. I imagine you're confused by this. First of all, it's not like I was toying with the concept of becoming a whore before I got the swine flu and the illness showed me the light. But calling and texting my friends to let them know to spritz their shit in lysol, go to the doctor if they feel bad and apologize for potentially making them sick was not fun. It was embarassing. I can't imagine having to do that on a regular basis about much more serious issues such as a burning sensation when you pee. And these calls were to my friends--I don't think I'd like making them to guys saved in my phone under monikers such as "Beer Goggles Brad," "That Bro From Two Keys," and "Steve??".

That's all for this swine flu post, my next post is a fun look at my thoughts while cooped (or penned) up.