I came home from work the other night to find my boyfriend in the living room playing videogames. Next to the toaster.
Me: "What are you doing?"
Him: "Playing Crackdown."
Me: "Why is the toaster on the living room floor?"
Him: "I was going to toast a bagel, but the toaster caught on fire."
Me: "Fire?!"
Him: "Well, not really....a little bit. I pushed the bagel down and the instead of heating up, a puff of smoke just came up. I unplugged it and thought I could just leave it, but the little fire kept getting bigger, so I brought it into the living room so I could keep an eye on it."
Me: "You couldn't stay in the kitchen and watch it?"
Him: "I wanted to play Crackdown."
Me: "Oh."
Him: "You need a new toaster."
So, hopefully Santa will bring me a toaster. :-p
Monday, December 24, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Road Conditions
When I moved to New England in July of this year, I had to do quite a bit of adjustment to my driving style. Rather than making eye contact to merge, I had to start fastidiously avoiding eye contact and instead barrel into traffic with no regard for life or vehicle. Another huge adjustment was lane demarcation. I came from Alabama. Home of dirt roads. But at least in Alabama when a road is paved, it has lanes clearly marked. Here you can be driving down a 4 lane road, and all of a sudden, there's no lane paint. Where's my lane?!?? Who knows. I've learned to just follow the car in front of me and hope for the best (the best being that they get hit first and I have time to slam on the brakes.) So far that strategy has worked...everything's cool.
But now it's snowing. Well, not actively snowing right this minute, but there is snow around. Meaning that the width of the roads has markedly decreased. There are still no lines telling you where your lane is, but now sometimes when you're in what would usually at least be functioning as a lane...all of a sudden you're looking at a 4 foot wall of snow. Merging becomes necessary at a moment's notice. It also doesn't help that cars parked on the side of the road are now jutting out 4 feet farther than usual and pedestrians are using the road as a sidewalk.
So now the roads are 10 feet wide trying to accommodate two cars and pedestrians who are dressed to climb Everest (not that I blame them, but it makes them extra-wide.) I kind of hate driving up here right now. And as I'm braving the elements earlier, I hear this on the radio: "tonight, lows in the single digits! And tomorrow, we could be getting another 1-3 inches of snow."
Bring it New England.
But now it's snowing. Well, not actively snowing right this minute, but there is snow around. Meaning that the width of the roads has markedly decreased. There are still no lines telling you where your lane is, but now sometimes when you're in what would usually at least be functioning as a lane...all of a sudden you're looking at a 4 foot wall of snow. Merging becomes necessary at a moment's notice. It also doesn't help that cars parked on the side of the road are now jutting out 4 feet farther than usual and pedestrians are using the road as a sidewalk.
So now the roads are 10 feet wide trying to accommodate two cars and pedestrians who are dressed to climb Everest (not that I blame them, but it makes them extra-wide.) I kind of hate driving up here right now. And as I'm braving the elements earlier, I hear this on the radio: "tonight, lows in the single digits! And tomorrow, we could be getting another 1-3 inches of snow."
Bring it New England.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Everybody Ready?
It's time for another tirade about my landlady! Woo!
So, about a week and a half ago I wake up at 7 AM to my entire house shaking. Shaking. I go downstairs to figure out what the heck is going on and there it is. The now familiar sound of men yelling at each other about construction. Look out the window- the front porch is gone. Could I have walked out the front door and fallen 5 feet to my death? Sure. If I was deaf... or uninquisitive beyond all reason. But I'm neither of these and therefore was forewarned of the danger outside my front door. Did my landlady call to let me know this would be happening? Of course not. My parents' suggestion was that next time she does unannounced construction, I just take one for the team and then sue the crap out of her. That is looking more and more appealing by the day.
So, that day was the day before I left for my vacation in Alabama. I was getting everything ready to go- the plan was for Tom to come over whenever he wanted and drop my rent check off in my landlady's mailbox when we regained mailbox access. He would also have my car keys for the week in case he needed to drive my truck, or my landlady needed my truck moved (as happens usually at least once a week.) So, the night before I leave, my landlady calls. Keep in mind, this is about 10 PM.
Landlady: "Hey Sam, just wanted to call and let you know that they're working on the porch."
Me: "Yeah. I figured that out."
Landlady: "Yeah, I just needed to call and let you know...you know...officially."
Me: "Gotcha. Very helpful. Thanks. Oh, and just to let you know, I'm going out of town for a few days, but Tom will bring you the rent and if you need my car moved just give me a call cause he'll have the key."
Landlady: "Oh. Well, if I need your car moved, I need it moved right then. I can't be waiting for him to come over and move it. Why don't you just put your car key in my mailbox and that way I can move it whenever."
Me: "Yeah, I can't get to your mailbox cause there's no porch, and also I want Tom to have the car key so he can use my truck if he needs it."
Landlady: "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
Me: "About what?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom and the amount of time he spends there."
Me: "Why?"
Landlady: "Well, technically, he's a tenant."
Me: "No, he's not. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, technically the amount of time he spends here makes him a tenant."
Me: "No it doesn't. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, don't worry about it right now, we'll talk about it when you get back."
Me: "Um....okay."
Really? She wants to talk about the amount of time my boyfriend spends here? She leased the apartment to me only having met him! I *told* her he would be here all the time! In the end, I parked my car at Tom's house for the duration of my vacation so that it wouldn't be spoiled by her calling me. I've never let her drive my car- despite her numerous requests- and I have no intention of doing so in the future. It really makes me miss living in apartment complexes. I hate sharing a wall with my landlady. Especially one that's as nosy as mine. Ugh. And she's seen Tom a couple times since I've been back and is yet to call me for a discussion about him. Too bad, since I consulted with a lawyer while I was in Alabama. (Aww....C, you're such a grown-up.) Actually I had a margarita or two with a lawyer, but she emailed me laws that I can use against my stupid landlady. So that was helpful. And margaritas were delicious. :)
So I came back to about 3 inches of snow on the ground and my landlady outside shoveling the driveway. My lease states that I have to share in the shoveling responsibilities. If she were a nice person, I would've gone inside, gotten a shovel and helped. But I hate her and therefore went inside so I wouldn't have to talk to her. She shoveled the entire driveway, and then I guess she went in the house. Did she lay down salt, or sand, or some sort of salt-sand-absorbent-hybrid? No. The next day was my driveway one giant sheet of deadly ice? Um, yes. Did it remain that way for 3 days? Yes. You see, my back porch light doesn't work....because she won't fix it. Instead she fixed the lighting problem by turning the motion sensor on the garage to the direction of my back door. This is great when I actually get to the door (assuming she hasn't turned the light off- which she does on occasion- she might actively be trying to kill me) but on the trip from the place where I park (a snowy bank to the side of the driveway) to the door, there is no lighting. So tiptoeing across a giant sheet of ice in the dark becomes my sad reality. Immediately following one of these death skates, I called her.
Me: "Hey, I just came in from my car and I was wondering- are you going to put down salt or sand or something because I'm totally going to die out there."
Landlady: "Oh, well, it's supposed to be like 30 tomorrow..."
Me: "Ookay? So salt...?"
Landlady: "I mean 40, it's supposed to be 40 tomorrow."
Me: "So you're saying it's going to melt tomorrow anyway, so you're not going to put anything down."
Landlady: "Right. Well, when it freezes like that the salt can't penetrate or anything so it wouldn't do any good. But, yeah, that's my responsibility to take care of putting stuff down out there, so don't worry about it."
Me: "Um...okay."
I don't know anything about salt for the purposes of winter, so I just go with it. Tom comes over and informs me that yes, duh, she should've laid the stuff down when she finished shoveling, but apparently my landlady is an idiot and she should go out there now and put something down. I go with the "it's gonna melt tomorrow anyway" defense and move on with my life. It's been over a week now, my driveway is yet to thaw- and last night there was freezing rain, which was a real treat when I walked outside at 7 AM. Driveway is slicker than ever. And now, the snowy bank parking has become icy rut parking. Tom had to push me out of my space this morning.
It's going to be a long winter.
So, about a week and a half ago I wake up at 7 AM to my entire house shaking. Shaking. I go downstairs to figure out what the heck is going on and there it is. The now familiar sound of men yelling at each other about construction. Look out the window- the front porch is gone. Could I have walked out the front door and fallen 5 feet to my death? Sure. If I was deaf... or uninquisitive beyond all reason. But I'm neither of these and therefore was forewarned of the danger outside my front door. Did my landlady call to let me know this would be happening? Of course not. My parents' suggestion was that next time she does unannounced construction, I just take one for the team and then sue the crap out of her. That is looking more and more appealing by the day.
So, that day was the day before I left for my vacation in Alabama. I was getting everything ready to go- the plan was for Tom to come over whenever he wanted and drop my rent check off in my landlady's mailbox when we regained mailbox access. He would also have my car keys for the week in case he needed to drive my truck, or my landlady needed my truck moved (as happens usually at least once a week.) So, the night before I leave, my landlady calls. Keep in mind, this is about 10 PM.
Landlady: "Hey Sam, just wanted to call and let you know that they're working on the porch."
Me: "Yeah. I figured that out."
Landlady: "Yeah, I just needed to call and let you know...you know...officially."
Me: "Gotcha. Very helpful. Thanks. Oh, and just to let you know, I'm going out of town for a few days, but Tom will bring you the rent and if you need my car moved just give me a call cause he'll have the key."
Landlady: "Oh. Well, if I need your car moved, I need it moved right then. I can't be waiting for him to come over and move it. Why don't you just put your car key in my mailbox and that way I can move it whenever."
Me: "Yeah, I can't get to your mailbox cause there's no porch, and also I want Tom to have the car key so he can use my truck if he needs it."
Landlady: "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
Me: "About what?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom and the amount of time he spends there."
Me: "Why?"
Landlady: "Well, technically, he's a tenant."
Me: "No, he's not. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, technically the amount of time he spends here makes him a tenant."
Me: "No it doesn't. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, don't worry about it right now, we'll talk about it when you get back."
Me: "Um....okay."
Really? She wants to talk about the amount of time my boyfriend spends here? She leased the apartment to me only having met him! I *told* her he would be here all the time! In the end, I parked my car at Tom's house for the duration of my vacation so that it wouldn't be spoiled by her calling me. I've never let her drive my car- despite her numerous requests- and I have no intention of doing so in the future. It really makes me miss living in apartment complexes. I hate sharing a wall with my landlady. Especially one that's as nosy as mine. Ugh. And she's seen Tom a couple times since I've been back and is yet to call me for a discussion about him. Too bad, since I consulted with a lawyer while I was in Alabama. (Aww....C, you're such a grown-up.) Actually I had a margarita or two with a lawyer, but she emailed me laws that I can use against my stupid landlady. So that was helpful. And margaritas were delicious. :)
So I came back to about 3 inches of snow on the ground and my landlady outside shoveling the driveway. My lease states that I have to share in the shoveling responsibilities. If she were a nice person, I would've gone inside, gotten a shovel and helped. But I hate her and therefore went inside so I wouldn't have to talk to her. She shoveled the entire driveway, and then I guess she went in the house. Did she lay down salt, or sand, or some sort of salt-sand-absorbent-hybrid? No. The next day was my driveway one giant sheet of deadly ice? Um, yes. Did it remain that way for 3 days? Yes. You see, my back porch light doesn't work....because she won't fix it. Instead she fixed the lighting problem by turning the motion sensor on the garage to the direction of my back door. This is great when I actually get to the door (assuming she hasn't turned the light off- which she does on occasion- she might actively be trying to kill me) but on the trip from the place where I park (a snowy bank to the side of the driveway) to the door, there is no lighting. So tiptoeing across a giant sheet of ice in the dark becomes my sad reality. Immediately following one of these death skates, I called her.
Me: "Hey, I just came in from my car and I was wondering- are you going to put down salt or sand or something because I'm totally going to die out there."
Landlady: "Oh, well, it's supposed to be like 30 tomorrow..."
Me: "Ookay? So salt...?"
Landlady: "I mean 40, it's supposed to be 40 tomorrow."
Me: "So you're saying it's going to melt tomorrow anyway, so you're not going to put anything down."
Landlady: "Right. Well, when it freezes like that the salt can't penetrate or anything so it wouldn't do any good. But, yeah, that's my responsibility to take care of putting stuff down out there, so don't worry about it."
Me: "Um...okay."
I don't know anything about salt for the purposes of winter, so I just go with it. Tom comes over and informs me that yes, duh, she should've laid the stuff down when she finished shoveling, but apparently my landlady is an idiot and she should go out there now and put something down. I go with the "it's gonna melt tomorrow anyway" defense and move on with my life. It's been over a week now, my driveway is yet to thaw- and last night there was freezing rain, which was a real treat when I walked outside at 7 AM. Driveway is slicker than ever. And now, the snowy bank parking has become icy rut parking. Tom had to push me out of my space this morning.
It's going to be a long winter.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Oh Christmas Tree
As in, "Oh my God it's falling over again."
Those familiar with my previous blog will remember my family's past Christmas tree follies. Specifically last year's "principle tree" which consisted of my entire family pretending that a tree that looked as though it had the mange was actually quite beautiful- just to punish my father who deliberately chose this specimen so that Mom would cave and let him purchase a tree rather than finding one in a cow pasture. (It's Alabama people- that stuff totally happens.) So last year's wasn't great, and this year was going to be different. Actually it started out not being different- my mother and I initially climbed into my Dad's 1995 Chevy AstroVan with a saw and two pairs of gloves and headed for my grandparent's pasture. However, logic prevailed and rather than let my grandfather sit in a chair unbuckled driving through a pasture to find a cedar tree that would invariably die prior to Christmas, we decided to drive to Home Depot and buy a tree.
Behold! The glorious store-bought tree!
This tree was magnificent. Much shorter than the trees of the past (topping out at a measily 8-9 feet rather than our customary 12 ft. and wired to the rafters.) But it was full...and with the childhood ornaments of 5 kids, fullness is a plus. We loaded this tree down- every square inch has something hanging- and it looked great. I think it was the prettiest tree we've ever had. Of course, about 24 hours later, everyone heard a crash and half the ornaments were gone and the entire tree was on the floor. So now, the tree is redecorated with a minor addition. There's now a giant rope tying the tree to the fireplace. But Jo hung some stockings along the rope, so at least it looks festively tacky :-p Unfortunately there are no pictures of the tree's McGyver-esque support. However, there are plenty of pictures of the rest of the evening's festivities. Including the traditional hanging of the "Christmas Germ", the decorating of Bear the Christmas Tree, and a visit from Santa.
You can see them all on my flickr set. Merry Christmas!
Those familiar with my previous blog will remember my family's past Christmas tree follies. Specifically last year's "principle tree" which consisted of my entire family pretending that a tree that looked as though it had the mange was actually quite beautiful- just to punish my father who deliberately chose this specimen so that Mom would cave and let him purchase a tree rather than finding one in a cow pasture. (It's Alabama people- that stuff totally happens.) So last year's wasn't great, and this year was going to be different. Actually it started out not being different- my mother and I initially climbed into my Dad's 1995 Chevy AstroVan with a saw and two pairs of gloves and headed for my grandparent's pasture. However, logic prevailed and rather than let my grandfather sit in a chair unbuckled driving through a pasture to find a cedar tree that would invariably die prior to Christmas, we decided to drive to Home Depot and buy a tree.Behold! The glorious store-bought tree!
This tree was magnificent. Much shorter than the trees of the past (topping out at a measily 8-9 feet rather than our customary 12 ft. and wired to the rafters.) But it was full...and with the childhood ornaments of 5 kids, fullness is a plus. We loaded this tree down- every square inch has something hanging- and it looked great. I think it was the prettiest tree we've ever had. Of course, about 24 hours later, everyone heard a crash and half the ornaments were gone and the entire tree was on the floor. So now, the tree is redecorated with a minor addition. There's now a giant rope tying the tree to the fireplace. But Jo hung some stockings along the rope, so at least it looks festively tacky :-p Unfortunately there are no pictures of the tree's McGyver-esque support. However, there are plenty of pictures of the rest of the evening's festivities. Including the traditional hanging of the "Christmas Germ", the decorating of Bear the Christmas Tree, and a visit from Santa.You can see them all on my flickr set. Merry Christmas!
Friday, November 23, 2007
In Case of Emergency
"Hello, you've reached the some transplant center in Canada. Our office hours are from 8 AM until 6 PM Monday through Friday. Please leave a message and someone will respond to your call during office hours. If this this an emergency, press 2."
*2*
"That is an invalid option. Our office hours are from 8 AM until 6 PM Monday through Friday. Please leave a message and someone will respond to your call during office hours. If this this an emergency, press 2."
*2*
"That is an invalid option. Our office hours are from 8 AM until 6 PM Monday through Friday. Please leave a message and someone will respond to your call during office hours. If this this an emergency, press 2."
*2*
"That is an invalid option...."
OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY!!
So, at 3 AM, I composed a short note to Canada.
Dear Canada,
I hate you. I hate that you don't have a national computer database for transplant patients, because it means I have to call and speak to people on the phone giving the same information over and over at the speed of snail drool because half of what I say doesn't make it through the translation anyway. I hate your menu options in French because let me tell you, after 24 hours, I start believing that I understand it and that just makes everything worse. Also half your menu options are invalid. WTF? I'm glad my liver wasn't exploding or something. Geez.
I hate the people that answer the phone and attempt to speak English to me- I don't know how to say alkaline phosphatase in French, and they don't know how to say it in English, and in the end I have to spell alkaline phosphatase, and at this point in the morning I can barely spell my own name. Also why the hell do you need liver numbers when I'm offering you a heart! (Probably because you have no idea what alk phos is.)
But most of all, I hate you for making me use a calling card after being awake for 24 hours and 3 cups of coffee. Do you have any idea how many times I had to hang up and start again? Dialing 34 digits consecutively is a bit of a challenge when looking at the phone makes you dizzy. How about investing in a little bit of technology?
And an English-French medical dictionary.
Just to reiterate-I hate you,
Sam
*2*
"That is an invalid option. Our office hours are from 8 AM until 6 PM Monday through Friday. Please leave a message and someone will respond to your call during office hours. If this this an emergency, press 2."
*2*
"That is an invalid option. Our office hours are from 8 AM until 6 PM Monday through Friday. Please leave a message and someone will respond to your call during office hours. If this this an emergency, press 2."
*2*
"That is an invalid option...."
OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY!!
So, at 3 AM, I composed a short note to Canada.
Dear Canada,
I hate you. I hate that you don't have a national computer database for transplant patients, because it means I have to call and speak to people on the phone giving the same information over and over at the speed of snail drool because half of what I say doesn't make it through the translation anyway. I hate your menu options in French because let me tell you, after 24 hours, I start believing that I understand it and that just makes everything worse. Also half your menu options are invalid. WTF? I'm glad my liver wasn't exploding or something. Geez.
I hate the people that answer the phone and attempt to speak English to me- I don't know how to say alkaline phosphatase in French, and they don't know how to say it in English, and in the end I have to spell alkaline phosphatase, and at this point in the morning I can barely spell my own name. Also why the hell do you need liver numbers when I'm offering you a heart! (Probably because you have no idea what alk phos is.)
But most of all, I hate you for making me use a calling card after being awake for 24 hours and 3 cups of coffee. Do you have any idea how many times I had to hang up and start again? Dialing 34 digits consecutively is a bit of a challenge when looking at the phone makes you dizzy. How about investing in a little bit of technology?
And an English-French medical dictionary.
Just to reiterate-I hate you,
Sam
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Disoriented
You know what's great?
Getting dressed at 5:30 AM after about 4 hours of sleep to go on *yet another* frikkin' case.
You know what's better?
Realizing at 4 PM when you finally get home that you've had your panties on inside-out all day.
I hate orientation.
Getting dressed at 5:30 AM after about 4 hours of sleep to go on *yet another* frikkin' case.
You know what's better?
Realizing at 4 PM when you finally get home that you've had your panties on inside-out all day.
I hate orientation.
Roadhouse
We went to the Texas Roadhouse for Tom's Dad's birthday last week. As soon as we got the menu, everyone turned to me and realized that they'd brought a vegetarian to a steakhouse.
So, the waitress comes by and gets everyone's order.
Tom's Dad: "Steak."
Tom's Mom: "Hamburger."
Tom's Brother-in-law: "Steak."
Tom's Sister: "Steak."
Tom: "Steak tips."
Me: "I'll have the country veg plate- with the mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, sweet potato..."
Waitress: "Sorry, are you a vegetarian?"
Me: "Yes."
Waitress: "Okay, the mashed potatoes are made with chicken stock, the green beans are cooked with bacon, and the sweet potato is rolled in pork fat."
My jaw is on the floor.
Waitress: "If you're a vegetarian, your choices are apple sauce, french fries, mixed vegetables, and macaroni and cheese."
Me: "Um. Okay. I guess I'll have those except the apple sauce."
Waitress: "Okay."
The sweet potato is rolled in pork fat. The salad's probably tossed with meat gravy. Stupid steakhouses.
So, the waitress comes by and gets everyone's order.
Tom's Dad: "Steak."
Tom's Mom: "Hamburger."
Tom's Brother-in-law: "Steak."
Tom's Sister: "Steak."
Tom: "Steak tips."
Me: "I'll have the country veg plate- with the mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, sweet potato..."
Waitress: "Sorry, are you a vegetarian?"
Me: "Yes."
Waitress: "Okay, the mashed potatoes are made with chicken stock, the green beans are cooked with bacon, and the sweet potato is rolled in pork fat."
My jaw is on the floor.
Waitress: "If you're a vegetarian, your choices are apple sauce, french fries, mixed vegetables, and macaroni and cheese."
Me: "Um. Okay. I guess I'll have those except the apple sauce."
Waitress: "Okay."
The sweet potato is rolled in pork fat. The salad's probably tossed with meat gravy. Stupid steakhouses.
DNR
Can I just tell you how tired I am of working at this point? I've been on orientation for almost 4 months now. 4 months with about 20 call days a month rather than the 9 I'll be required to do after orientation. 9 days. The rest of the time, I won't have to worry about when I should go buy groceries, what days I'm least likely to be paged out of a movie, or when I'll be able to do laundry without getting paged while clothes are in the washer. I had this checklist I had to get signed off. Yesterday I worked 24 hours straight and did two consecutive cases. Everything is checked off.
I'm coming off orientation. Or I'm going to die.
I'm coming off orientation. Or I'm going to die.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Sensational
Last night on a teaser for the 10 o'clock news:
"The lowest temperatures in 7 months! We'll fill you in tonight at 10."
For a second I thought, "This is it. This is how I die."
And then I realized. 7 months ago was April. Of course this is the coldest weather in 7 months- it's almost winter! 7 months ago was spring! Ridiculous.
They're forecasting snow this weekend. So, I'm probably going to die.
Nice knowin' ya. :)
"The lowest temperatures in 7 months! We'll fill you in tonight at 10."
For a second I thought, "This is it. This is how I die."
And then I realized. 7 months ago was April. Of course this is the coldest weather in 7 months- it's almost winter! 7 months ago was spring! Ridiculous.
They're forecasting snow this weekend. So, I'm probably going to die.
Nice knowin' ya. :)
Monday, November 5, 2007
Ch-ch-ch-changes
Today I was cleaning my kitchen, looked down, and said:
"Oh my God, those baseboards are disgusting!"
And cleaned them. This is disturbing for the following reasons:
1. I noticed a baseboard.
2. I cleaned it without being asked to.
3. I felt better afterwards.
It's official- I've become my mother.
"Oh my God, those baseboards are disgusting!"
And cleaned them. This is disturbing for the following reasons:
1. I noticed a baseboard.
2. I cleaned it without being asked to.
3. I felt better afterwards.
It's official- I've become my mother.
Thinking
Calling your charitable organization "Hits for Kids" already made me do a double take.
Calling your event "Crackin' It Up" really just makes me start to think you're doing it on purpose.
I worry that if you didn't know the context, you might think that Kevin Youkilis has a charitable organization dedicated to providing kids with cocaine.
*Disclaimer: I totally love Kevin Youkilis- he's awesome. I just think it's funny that his charity could raise some DEA suspicion.
**If I had any money, I would go to this event. His last event was the dating game with Red Sox players and their wives and was scripted by Seth Myers from SNL. I bet it was a blast.
***The link for tickets is above, but cocaine is probably cheaper.
Calling your event "Crackin' It Up" really just makes me start to think you're doing it on purpose.I worry that if you didn't know the context, you might think that Kevin Youkilis has a charitable organization dedicated to providing kids with cocaine.*Disclaimer: I totally love Kevin Youkilis- he's awesome. I just think it's funny that his charity could raise some DEA suspicion.
**If I had any money, I would go to this event. His last event was the dating game with Red Sox players and their wives and was scripted by Seth Myers from SNL. I bet it was a blast.
***The link for tickets is above, but cocaine is probably cheaper.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Raving Rabbids
I'm not much of a videogamer. I lack the patience to master the various gaming systems and lack the will to try more than once after failing to win a game. I really enjoy MarioKart because it's short and really difficult to lose. That's the extent of my gaming expertise: not losing at MarioKart. However, there is now a Wii at my house and it's kind of fun. Kind of a lot of fun.
The other day Tom purchased Rayman's Raving Rabbids. A game I've wanted since watching the commercials and realizing that it centered around cartoony rabbits that dance. The game arrived yesterday and it does not disappoint.
It's hilarious. The rabbits randomly run, scream, dance, and shoot at you with plungers. It's basically a bunch of mini-games, which is nice for my short attention span. So far I've shot multiple bunnies with plungers, pulled worms from a bunny's teeth (eew), thrown a bunny dressed in a superhero costume as far as was humanly possible, and danced to hiphop, disco, and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." If you have a Wii, you should get this game. For this, if nothing else:
The other day Tom purchased Rayman's Raving Rabbids. A game I've wanted since watching the commercials and realizing that it centered around cartoony rabbits that dance. The game arrived yesterday and it does not disappoint.
It's hilarious. The rabbits randomly run, scream, dance, and shoot at you with plungers. It's basically a bunch of mini-games, which is nice for my short attention span. So far I've shot multiple bunnies with plungers, pulled worms from a bunny's teeth (eew), thrown a bunny dressed in a superhero costume as far as was humanly possible, and danced to hiphop, disco, and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." If you have a Wii, you should get this game. For this, if nothing else:
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Boo!
I'll tell you what will make you feel better fast: mixing up a giant bowl of candy, sticky eyeballs, assorted Halloween-themed plastic rings, and skeleton keychains in preparation for trick-or-treaters. I plan to let them choose 3 things apiece. Such is the abundance of Halloween goodies. I'm excited.
It feels like Halloween for the first time in a very long time. :)
*This is not a picture of my Halloween candy- I had to stop purchasing any chocolate items for the kids after the second time I ate all the Halloween candy before the month of October. My kids are getting tootsie rolls, Dots (whatever the heck those are), and other gelatinous things I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. But I bought them sticky eyeballs! :-p
It feels like Halloween for the first time in a very long time. :)
*This is not a picture of my Halloween candy- I had to stop purchasing any chocolate items for the kids after the second time I ate all the Halloween candy before the month of October. My kids are getting tootsie rolls, Dots (whatever the heck those are), and other gelatinous things I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. But I bought them sticky eyeballs! :-p
Little Miss Sunshine
I think my bluebird of happiness died. Seriously, I don't know what it is lately (yes I do) but I am totally miserable. Which is unusual for me. It doesn't take much to make me happy, but I think what little it does is lacking. Something has to be done. Luckily, I'm going home for a visit at the end of the month, so I have something to look forward to. Right now though, I'm wallowing through in "everything sucks" mode. And here's why:
1. Work. Work, work, a thousand times work. Which is perhaps the biggest blow to my happiness, because I have always taken a great deal of pride in what I do and how well I do it. My job is important, I'm good at it, and it helps people. Makes it possible to pull 24 hour shifts without committing suicide. When I was offered the position up here, everything was all "Oh, you have experience, you'll be off orientation in no time, blah blah blah." Lately it's been more, "This person thinks you should do this many things to be up to *our* standards" and then after I've completed those things, the rug is promptly pulled from beneath my feet and I'm starting again at ground zero. It's frustrating to say the least. It's going to make me tear my hair out. My big problem is that I don't see that big of a difference between what goes on up here and what went on at my old place of employ. I can do this job, I was hired to do this job, please for the love of God let me do my job and be happy. Also not on call every freaking weekend. I honestly have like a million more things to say about work, but I'll try and curtail it. Let's move on, shall we?
2. Home. My house is frigid. Like 12 degrees colder than outside. I wake up and need to go outdoors to warm up. It's kind of ridiculous. Also, my landlady is currently having the house painted. Toward that end, there is a man outside at this very minute pressure-washing the entire exterior of the house. Fine. What is not fine is being too lazy to move my two jack-o-lanterns and package from Amazon off the patio before you commence with the high pressure beam of ice water. Everything soaked. Pumpkins on the ground, saturated- those will be nice and easy to light tonight I'm sure. Halloween decorations on the door completely soaked. Cardboard of the Amazon box nice and and soggy. Way to be a total jackass, house painter guy.
3. People. I miss my friends. I miss my coworkers (who incidentally, were my friends.) I miss having lunch with someone other than my television and microwave. I miss going to the movies and eating ridiculous amounts of smuggled food out of C's Mary-Poppins-esque purse. I miss P randomly showing up at my apartment for a nap and I miss nights at the Phoenix.
4. Illness. I've been sick for a week now (thanks Mom.) Hacking my lungs out, choking on air, medicating to the point of having to Google "acetaminophen overdose", and otherwise feeling blah. (FYI, more than 4000 mg of tylenol in a day is bad news for your liver...says the girl who was at 3700 when she figured this out.)
5. It's cold. Did I mention I'm cold? Cause I am.
Anyways, I'm sure everything will get better. My Dad just sent me I swear to God 18 lbs of chocolate, so things are looking up already. I just can't wait to see everybody at the end of the month. Also, we're going to eat non-stop, because I can't narrow down which restaurants I miss the most. Prepare yourselves. :)
1. Work. Work, work, a thousand times work. Which is perhaps the biggest blow to my happiness, because I have always taken a great deal of pride in what I do and how well I do it. My job is important, I'm good at it, and it helps people. Makes it possible to pull 24 hour shifts without committing suicide. When I was offered the position up here, everything was all "Oh, you have experience, you'll be off orientation in no time, blah blah blah." Lately it's been more, "This person thinks you should do this many things to be up to *our* standards" and then after I've completed those things, the rug is promptly pulled from beneath my feet and I'm starting again at ground zero. It's frustrating to say the least. It's going to make me tear my hair out. My big problem is that I don't see that big of a difference between what goes on up here and what went on at my old place of employ. I can do this job, I was hired to do this job, please for the love of God let me do my job and be happy. Also not on call every freaking weekend. I honestly have like a million more things to say about work, but I'll try and curtail it. Let's move on, shall we?
2. Home. My house is frigid. Like 12 degrees colder than outside. I wake up and need to go outdoors to warm up. It's kind of ridiculous. Also, my landlady is currently having the house painted. Toward that end, there is a man outside at this very minute pressure-washing the entire exterior of the house. Fine. What is not fine is being too lazy to move my two jack-o-lanterns and package from Amazon off the patio before you commence with the high pressure beam of ice water. Everything soaked. Pumpkins on the ground, saturated- those will be nice and easy to light tonight I'm sure. Halloween decorations on the door completely soaked. Cardboard of the Amazon box nice and and soggy. Way to be a total jackass, house painter guy.
3. People. I miss my friends. I miss my coworkers (who incidentally, were my friends.) I miss having lunch with someone other than my television and microwave. I miss going to the movies and eating ridiculous amounts of smuggled food out of C's Mary-Poppins-esque purse. I miss P randomly showing up at my apartment for a nap and I miss nights at the Phoenix.
4. Illness. I've been sick for a week now (thanks Mom.) Hacking my lungs out, choking on air, medicating to the point of having to Google "acetaminophen overdose", and otherwise feeling blah. (FYI, more than 4000 mg of tylenol in a day is bad news for your liver...says the girl who was at 3700 when she figured this out.)
5. It's cold. Did I mention I'm cold? Cause I am.
Anyways, I'm sure everything will get better. My Dad just sent me I swear to God 18 lbs of chocolate, so things are looking up already. I just can't wait to see everybody at the end of the month. Also, we're going to eat non-stop, because I can't narrow down which restaurants I miss the most. Prepare yourselves. :)
Thursday, October 25, 2007
The Surprise
Sorry I've been MIA from the blog for pretty much the entire month. You see, I had a big surprise. A little over a week ago, my Dad called me.
Dad: "Your mother needs a vacation, I need a vacation, I'm sending her to come see you."
Me: "Great!"
Thinking I haven't seen my family in 3 months, it would be cool if they came to visit.
Me: "When are they coming?"
Dad: "How about Saturday?"
It's Thursday.
Me: "This Saturday?"
Dad: "Sure."
Me: "Dad, it's Thursday. Tickets are going to be wicked expensive, I'm on call at work almost every day next week, and I have to spend a day in New Hampshire at a conference."
Dad: "Take her with you."
Me: "Mom and Jo (who is 12 years old)?"
Dad: "Sure, whatever. Just buy the tickets, I'll pay you back."
And thus began my week with Mom and Jo. I found out Thursday night, they arrived Saturday afternoon. Friday was a day of frantic cleaning (not that it did me any good as Jo went around taking pictures of the apartment after it got messy again, and with the closet doors deliberately opened so people could see "what my apartment *really* looked like.")
Luckily I now have both Tom's Wii and his XBox 360 at my apartment. I found that they are pretty useful
in entertaining people when you're not around. My mother and Jo played Lego Star Wars on the xbox every morning (you could hear them shouting at each other from upstairs) and Jo and Tom played various Wii and xbox games every night. My favorite though, had to be the first night. They arrived at my apartment, I gave them the tour, and then Tom showed them how to play the Wii. And over the next few hours there was a lot of laughter, a lot of yelling, and even some glass breakage. (I was bowling, swung my arm up, completely shattered the top of a glass. Only the top though...didn't spill a drop of water. Skillz babay.)
The day after they arrived, I was on call and had to go to work at about 7
AM and arrived home after they went to bed. I told them how to get to the train station, and told them which stop to get off at to arrive in the city. Of course, they got lost going to the train, walked like 26 miles over the course of the day, but ended up seeing a lot of stuff. Not that that was much consolation to the sullen 12 year old with the tired little feet. They seemed to get around pretty well, and ended up having to spend a lot of time without me during their trip. They went to Salem, MA one day- Jo brought me back this badass souvenir (pic).
They went to the Science Museum, the USS
Constitution, Quincy Market, Faneuil Hall, all over the place. They even hiked over to the Bunker Hill Monument. But I did have a couple days that I was able to spend with them. And of course, I wanted to spend those days showing them the best the city has to offer. I'm talking of course, about little blue penguins. We went to the aquarium on Monday and got to see them feed the little blues! A-dorable. Seriously. We were at the little talk that the keepers do and they were talking about how the African penguins will be extinct by 2040 (huh!??) and I got really worried about the lil' blues. According to the keepers, the lil' blues aren't even on the threatened list. Apparently everyone knows they're too adorable to eat. So, phew, no problems there.
Here's a note for people that live in Boston, or
plan to visit. When you walk into the aquarium, and they make you take that stupid picture that they'll try to sell to you when you're walking out the door, finish and then take a left. I always try to get past that cameraman as quickly as I can. There's no sense in wasting paper and chemicals on a photo that I swear to you I will not pay $10 for. So, I rush past him and then walk straight into the aquarium to the right. Because of this, I've NEVER noticed that there is an entire exhibit area to the left of the cameraman. Right now they have a jellyfish exhibit that is totally awesome, and I would've missed it had my mother not needed to hit the restroom on the way out! That is poor signage on the part of the aquarium, but I prefer to blame the camera people. It's ridiculous.
The other day I had off I took them to Fenway Park, and walking through Boston Common and the Public Gardens. This was perhaps my favorite part about the trip. Why? I will tell you why. My mother has some kind of weird bird guano radar when she's on vacation. A couple years ago when we were on vacation, Mom was crapped on by a seagull at the zoo in Chicago. You may remember the famous photo. So, when we were in the public gardens and I sent Mom and Jo up on a bridge to take their picture, it kicked in again. Mom put her hand on a little-used section of railing. Perhaps it's little used because it is actually covered by a heaping pile of bird dung. In the picture at left, my mother's right hand is covered in bird crap and Jo can't stop laughing at her. We ended up walking under the bridge and pouring sprite all over Mom's hand to clean it. We later lost her in a 5 story Banana Republic where she tried to find a restroom to wash her hands. Everything's an adventure with these two. :-p
Dad: "Your mother needs a vacation, I need a vacation, I'm sending her to come see you."
Me: "Great!"
Thinking I haven't seen my family in 3 months, it would be cool if they came to visit.
Me: "When are they coming?"
Dad: "How about Saturday?"
It's Thursday.
Me: "This Saturday?"
Dad: "Sure."
Me: "Dad, it's Thursday. Tickets are going to be wicked expensive, I'm on call at work almost every day next week, and I have to spend a day in New Hampshire at a conference."
Dad: "Take her with you."
Me: "Mom and Jo (who is 12 years old)?"
Dad: "Sure, whatever. Just buy the tickets, I'll pay you back."
And thus began my week with Mom and Jo. I found out Thursday night, they arrived Saturday afternoon. Friday was a day of frantic cleaning (not that it did me any good as Jo went around taking pictures of the apartment after it got messy again, and with the closet doors deliberately opened so people could see "what my apartment *really* looked like.")Luckily I now have both Tom's Wii and his XBox 360 at my apartment. I found that they are pretty useful
in entertaining people when you're not around. My mother and Jo played Lego Star Wars on the xbox every morning (you could hear them shouting at each other from upstairs) and Jo and Tom played various Wii and xbox games every night. My favorite though, had to be the first night. They arrived at my apartment, I gave them the tour, and then Tom showed them how to play the Wii. And over the next few hours there was a lot of laughter, a lot of yelling, and even some glass breakage. (I was bowling, swung my arm up, completely shattered the top of a glass. Only the top though...didn't spill a drop of water. Skillz babay.)The day after they arrived, I was on call and had to go to work at about 7
AM and arrived home after they went to bed. I told them how to get to the train station, and told them which stop to get off at to arrive in the city. Of course, they got lost going to the train, walked like 26 miles over the course of the day, but ended up seeing a lot of stuff. Not that that was much consolation to the sullen 12 year old with the tired little feet. They seemed to get around pretty well, and ended up having to spend a lot of time without me during their trip. They went to Salem, MA one day- Jo brought me back this badass souvenir (pic).They went to the Science Museum, the USS
Constitution, Quincy Market, Faneuil Hall, all over the place. They even hiked over to the Bunker Hill Monument. But I did have a couple days that I was able to spend with them. And of course, I wanted to spend those days showing them the best the city has to offer. I'm talking of course, about little blue penguins. We went to the aquarium on Monday and got to see them feed the little blues! A-dorable. Seriously. We were at the little talk that the keepers do and they were talking about how the African penguins will be extinct by 2040 (huh!??) and I got really worried about the lil' blues. According to the keepers, the lil' blues aren't even on the threatened list. Apparently everyone knows they're too adorable to eat. So, phew, no problems there.Here's a note for people that live in Boston, or
plan to visit. When you walk into the aquarium, and they make you take that stupid picture that they'll try to sell to you when you're walking out the door, finish and then take a left. I always try to get past that cameraman as quickly as I can. There's no sense in wasting paper and chemicals on a photo that I swear to you I will not pay $10 for. So, I rush past him and then walk straight into the aquarium to the right. Because of this, I've NEVER noticed that there is an entire exhibit area to the left of the cameraman. Right now they have a jellyfish exhibit that is totally awesome, and I would've missed it had my mother not needed to hit the restroom on the way out! That is poor signage on the part of the aquarium, but I prefer to blame the camera people. It's ridiculous.
The other day I had off I took them to Fenway Park, and walking through Boston Common and the Public Gardens. This was perhaps my favorite part about the trip. Why? I will tell you why. My mother has some kind of weird bird guano radar when she's on vacation. A couple years ago when we were on vacation, Mom was crapped on by a seagull at the zoo in Chicago. You may remember the famous photo. So, when we were in the public gardens and I sent Mom and Jo up on a bridge to take their picture, it kicked in again. Mom put her hand on a little-used section of railing. Perhaps it's little used because it is actually covered by a heaping pile of bird dung. In the picture at left, my mother's right hand is covered in bird crap and Jo can't stop laughing at her. We ended up walking under the bridge and pouring sprite all over Mom's hand to clean it. We later lost her in a 5 story Banana Republic where she tried to find a restroom to wash her hands. Everything's an adventure with these two. :-pSo, in the end they saw most of the city, and I got to hang out with them a grand total of two days of the seven they were here. It was a little crazy. But, I think we all had fun and that's what counts I guess. Well, that and the fact that you can't bring baseball bats on an airplane (even little souvenir ones wielded by 12 year old girls.) That is also important as my mother discovered on the way back. Hehe. :-p
The End.
PS- To my AOC readers: my mother doesn't know about my blog. Let's keep it that way. ;)
The End.
PS- To my AOC readers: my mother doesn't know about my blog. Let's keep it that way. ;)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Letter from the Grave
Dear Zicam,
You are *not* virtually undetectable in any liquid. You taste like propane.
Also, I hate you.
Sincerely,
Samantha
You are *not* virtually undetectable in any liquid. You taste like propane.
Also, I hate you.
Sincerely,
Samantha
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
The Pact
My Dad is taking our dog to the veterinarian's office tomorrow. Cookie has had skin issues for a while, but now he's having trouble getting up and down the stairs and his spine is cracking like Bruce Lee's knuckles. So, we're kind of worried. Dad called this morning.
Dad: "I'm taking Cookie to the vet tomorrow."
Me: "What do you think is wrong with him?"
Dad: "I dunno. But if he's in pain, I've gotta do something about it."
Me: "Yeah."
Dad: "We made a promise to one another. If it ever came down to it, he'd do me and I'd do him."
Me: "Is this during or after a game of POW (poodles of war)?"
Dad: "It's not a game, it's a simulation."
Me: "There's something seriously wrong with you."
Dad: "I'm taking Cookie to the vet tomorrow."
Me: "What do you think is wrong with him?"
Dad: "I dunno. But if he's in pain, I've gotta do something about it."
Me: "Yeah."
Dad: "We made a promise to one another. If it ever came down to it, he'd do me and I'd do him."
Me: "Is this during or after a game of POW (poodles of war)?"
Dad: "It's not a game, it's a simulation."
Me: "There's something seriously wrong with you."
Monday, October 8, 2007
The SKP
My parents' house is located down the street from an assisted living/nursing home for mentally challenged elderly people. I'm not really sure whether they've always been challenged, or they're Alzheimer's patients, or what. I just know that we drive past every day and there's always at least one guy in a helmet sitting in a rocking chair on the porch waving at every car that goes by. We've always waved back because my mother used to work at a nursing home and loves old people.
She made me volunteer at the nursing home when I was a kid...in retrospect I'm sure it made me a better person and all that jazz...really it just helped me develop mad domino skillz. Also, I was suckered by some diabetic octogenarian into giving him a deadly batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and spent certain days forcibly removing bacon from one guy's socks. Good times. Anyway, that's not the point of the post. The point is that my sister Jo called me the other day.
Jo: "They're building a fence around the nursing home."
Me: "Why?"
Jo: "Probably for the SKPs."
Me: "Huh?"
Jo: "Didn't you hear what happened? We came home from school one day and there was some old guy out on the porch just sitting in a chair. With a blanket. And one shoe. We went in the house while Daddy talked to him.
Dad: "How are you today, sir?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuust fine."
Dad: "You okay out here by yourself?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuust fine."
Dad: "Okay."
So Dad came in the house and told Mom there was some old dude out on our porch and that she should probably go take care of him. Mom went out to talk to him.
Mom: "How are you doing?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuuust fine."
Mom: "Can I get you anything?"
Old Guy: "I sure would like some biscuits and coffee."
Mom: "Okay, come in the house."
So Mom brought him in and he drank 3 cups of coffee and ate 2 biscuits! Then Mom called the nursing home to come get him."
Me: "Wow."
Jo: "Yeah, they must not be feeding them down there, cause he was really hungry! And now they're building a fence so there won't be any more SKPs."
Me: "SKPs? What the heck is a...escapees. It's pronounced "escapees", Jo."
Jo: "Whatever you call them, soon they're gonna have to start tunneling out for biscuits."
Only my family. Psychos.
She made me volunteer at the nursing home when I was a kid...in retrospect I'm sure it made me a better person and all that jazz...really it just helped me develop mad domino skillz. Also, I was suckered by some diabetic octogenarian into giving him a deadly batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and spent certain days forcibly removing bacon from one guy's socks. Good times. Anyway, that's not the point of the post. The point is that my sister Jo called me the other day.
Jo: "They're building a fence around the nursing home."
Me: "Why?"
Jo: "Probably for the SKPs."
Me: "Huh?"
Jo: "Didn't you hear what happened? We came home from school one day and there was some old guy out on the porch just sitting in a chair. With a blanket. And one shoe. We went in the house while Daddy talked to him.
Dad: "How are you today, sir?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuust fine."
Dad: "You okay out here by yourself?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuust fine."
Dad: "Okay."
So Dad came in the house and told Mom there was some old dude out on our porch and that she should probably go take care of him. Mom went out to talk to him.
Mom: "How are you doing?"
Old Guy: "Doin' juuuuuust fine."
Mom: "Can I get you anything?"
Old Guy: "I sure would like some biscuits and coffee."
Mom: "Okay, come in the house."
So Mom brought him in and he drank 3 cups of coffee and ate 2 biscuits! Then Mom called the nursing home to come get him."
Me: "Wow."
Jo: "Yeah, they must not be feeding them down there, cause he was really hungry! And now they're building a fence so there won't be any more SKPs."
Me: "SKPs? What the heck is a...escapees. It's pronounced "escapees", Jo."
Jo: "Whatever you call them, soon they're gonna have to start tunneling out for biscuits."
Only my family. Psychos.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Ignorance is Murder
I was reading the headlines yesterday and ran across this little gem:
"The head of the Catholic Church in Mozambique has told the BBC he believes some European-made condoms are infected with HIV deliberately. "
I can't tell you how much this disgusts me. This archbishop is telling people that he personally knows of two countries in Europe that are making condoms coated in the HIV virus. Why would you even do that?! Is it *that* important that people don't use condoms? He also said that the antiretroviral drugs were infected "in order to finish quickly the African people." Paranoid much? Honestly, I have quite a number of issues with this, but I'll break it down for you.
1. I don't go around telling people they're going to hell, why don't you stop going around telling people they're going to get AIDS? I will yield to the Church on dissemination of any and all information about Jesus, if they will yield to someone who knows what the hell they're talking about on the matter of HIV prevention and treatment.
2. If you're going to give information about something you know nothing about, at least give out the right information. Telling people that ARV's are contaminated isn't some shrewd move by the Church to convince people not to use condoms. It's a lie that succeeds only in killing people. As far as I'm concerned, it's murder.
I could go on for days about everything that's wrong with the Catholic church's approach to AIDS. In the end, it's about being consistent. If the Church is pro-life, they cannot be anti-condom. Condoms in countries where the virus is spreading like wildfire are not to stop reproduction, they're to stop death. Not only for the sexual partner, but for the HIV-positive children that they might have produced.
Honestly, I have a really hard time seeing what's not to understand in this whole situation. It's the "fight against HIV/AIDS" but I think activists spend more time in the fight against ignorance. And public figures spreading misinformation isn't making that fight any easier. Ugh.
*If you're interested in reading more, I enjoyed this article (actually posted in a Catholic magazine!) It's old, but whatever. Unfortunately not much has changed.
I can't tell you how much this disgusts me. This archbishop is telling people that he personally knows of two countries in Europe that are making condoms coated in the HIV virus. Why would you even do that?! Is it *that* important that people don't use condoms? He also said that the antiretroviral drugs were infected "in order to finish quickly the African people." Paranoid much? Honestly, I have quite a number of issues with this, but I'll break it down for you.
1. I don't go around telling people they're going to hell, why don't you stop going around telling people they're going to get AIDS? I will yield to the Church on dissemination of any and all information about Jesus, if they will yield to someone who knows what the hell they're talking about on the matter of HIV prevention and treatment.2. If you're going to give information about something you know nothing about, at least give out the right information. Telling people that ARV's are contaminated isn't some shrewd move by the Church to convince people not to use condoms. It's a lie that succeeds only in killing people. As far as I'm concerned, it's murder.
I could go on for days about everything that's wrong with the Catholic church's approach to AIDS. In the end, it's about being consistent. If the Church is pro-life, they cannot be anti-condom. Condoms in countries where the virus is spreading like wildfire are not to stop reproduction, they're to stop death. Not only for the sexual partner, but for the HIV-positive children that they might have produced.
Honestly, I have a really hard time seeing what's not to understand in this whole situation. It's the "fight against HIV/AIDS" but I think activists spend more time in the fight against ignorance. And public figures spreading misinformation isn't making that fight any easier. Ugh.
*If you're interested in reading more, I enjoyed this article (actually posted in a Catholic magazine!) It's old, but whatever. Unfortunately not much has changed.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Trick or Treat
I loved Halloween when I was a kid. We lived on military bases, my parents thought we were completely safe, and we would trick-or-treat like normal little kids-walking from house to house with a huge group of kids from the neighborhood, and then returning home to give out candy at the door. It was totally awesome. My parents weren't especially concerned about our candy, there wasn't any real fear of razor blades...my mother would "inspect" our candy, but that was really a code for sorting through our candy, eating the stuff she liked, and then returning the remainder to us. Luckily she has some pretty horrible taste in candy (she eats black jelly beans. Enough said.) so that wasn't even bad.
And then we moved to Alabama. And we were no longer military. Instead we were now living in no-man's land where our nearest neighbor was an elderly couple and everyone drives their kids trick-or-treating. It was totally lame. My father, not being a huge fan of people in general, was really not down with the whole carting-your-kids-around-creation-for-candy thing. Instead he preferred to buy us some candy and keep us at home. My first Halloween in Alabama we went out to dinner at Red Lobster. The following year we dressed up and were taken to my grandparents' house where we were given a zip-lock back of candy apiece. Seriously. Moving to Alabama killed Halloween. Every year to this day, my sisters dress up for Halloween and give out candy at the door...mostly to kids that are way too old to still be trick-or-treating (i.e. they drove themselves to our house for candy cause they knew where we lived.) It's not a real happenin' holiday.
This year I live in a nice little neighborhood full of families. I live down the street from an elementary school. There are sidewalks all over the place and every day I see at least 10 kids under the age of 10 within a 2 block radius of my house. This year I'm going to give out candy for Halloween. To actual children. That are cute. And it's going to be awesome.
I'm so excited. :)
And then we moved to Alabama. And we were no longer military. Instead we were now living in no-man's land where our nearest neighbor was an elderly couple and everyone drives their kids trick-or-treating. It was totally lame. My father, not being a huge fan of people in general, was really not down with the whole carting-your-kids-around-creation-for-candy thing. Instead he preferred to buy us some candy and keep us at home. My first Halloween in Alabama we went out to dinner at Red Lobster. The following year we dressed up and were taken to my grandparents' house where we were given a zip-lock back of candy apiece. Seriously. Moving to Alabama killed Halloween. Every year to this day, my sisters dress up for Halloween and give out candy at the door...mostly to kids that are way too old to still be trick-or-treating (i.e. they drove themselves to our house for candy cause they knew where we lived.) It's not a real happenin' holiday.
This year I live in a nice little neighborhood full of families. I live down the street from an elementary school. There are sidewalks all over the place and every day I see at least 10 kids under the age of 10 within a 2 block radius of my house. This year I'm going to give out candy for Halloween. To actual children. That are cute. And it's going to be awesome.I'm so excited. :)
I'm not in Alabama anymore
At work, phone calls come in from various hospitals, and we respond on site depending on the status of the patient and whether or not their family wants to meet with us. In my old job, the first person on call would field all the phone calls, speak with the hospital, and decide whether or not it was necessary for them to drive in the middle of the night to a hospital. This meant that you got a lot of phone calls that kept you up all night, but there were quite a number of times that you told the hospital that you would send someone in the morning, they weren't an eligible candidate, or you would follow up with them later by phone. Going into the hospital was unnecessary and there's no sense in getting out of bed for nothing.
At my new job, there is one person every day who fields all the phone calls. But rather than dispatching themselves to these calls, they dispatch others. This is a nice little system because rather than being awakened 10 times in a night for something that you're just going to follow by phone, or someone that isn't a candidate, you're just awakened once or twice a night and in those cases, you're actually going to leave your house. It's nice most of the time. However, I'm starting to find the downside. Depending on who is fielding the phone calls for the night, you might be leaving your house for no reason. None at all. A person who isn't a candidate? "Could you just go over and look at the chart? The nurse did a really good job calling in the referral." Sure. I'll drive 45 minutes for no reason. Why not? "Could you do a chart review on this case? They're in the ER." Sure, I'll drive at 3 AM to a hospital to find a chart that literally has one page in it. One page. No age, medical history, circumstances of injury, nothing. One page with a neuro exam on it. I drove into the city for that this morning at 3 AM. I was at the hospital for 10 minutes. It doesn't take me that long to read a sentence.
At least I didn't have to fly anywhere. :)
At my new job, there is one person every day who fields all the phone calls. But rather than dispatching themselves to these calls, they dispatch others. This is a nice little system because rather than being awakened 10 times in a night for something that you're just going to follow by phone, or someone that isn't a candidate, you're just awakened once or twice a night and in those cases, you're actually going to leave your house. It's nice most of the time. However, I'm starting to find the downside. Depending on who is fielding the phone calls for the night, you might be leaving your house for no reason. None at all. A person who isn't a candidate? "Could you just go over and look at the chart? The nurse did a really good job calling in the referral." Sure. I'll drive 45 minutes for no reason. Why not? "Could you do a chart review on this case? They're in the ER." Sure, I'll drive at 3 AM to a hospital to find a chart that literally has one page in it. One page. No age, medical history, circumstances of injury, nothing. One page with a neuro exam on it. I drove into the city for that this morning at 3 AM. I was at the hospital for 10 minutes. It doesn't take me that long to read a sentence.
At least I didn't have to fly anywhere. :)
Friday, September 28, 2007
Bulldog
Today I was at lunch with a coworker and learned that the "bulldog" clamps we use when pumping kidneys are actually called "Cho Clamps" in honor of their inventor, a transplant surgeon here in New England. Which really got me thinking...I should invent a piece of surgical equipment. I've had this thought before...anything you use in an operating room automatically costs a bazillion dollars. And I could really use a piece of a bazillion dollars. The problem is, I'm lazy. And poor. I certainly don't have the desire to expend the effort necessary to invent something. And I can't afford to build a prototype even if by some miracle of God I did spend an afternoon doing something other than napping on my couch to the sounds of M*A*S*H.
Soo, I figure what I need to do is improve an existing piece of equipment. Take the Cho clamp for example. I make the exact same clamp out of some other material...perhaps make it less of a pain in the ass to squeeze open...and voila! Show me the money. The problem is, I'm also too lazy for this approach. Still involves designing something...perhaps some welding...not gonna happen. How does anyone ever muster the energy to invent anything?! I think you'd have to be on some super diet and sleeping regimen. Which made me think, how does anything get invented in third world countries? If I ate rice all the time, I'd probably sleep even more than I do. Actually, I do eat rice all the time...I'd probably sleep about the same. Minus the time that I eat Ramen noodles...but you get the idea. Anyway, the thought of developing countries developing surgical instruments (you're wondering how we got here, aren't you? Don't worry...me too) made me realize exactly what I'd need to do.
I have to find a piece of surgical equipment that was invented by a terrorist. Or someone French. Then I will "invent" the exact same piece of equipment, rename it (I'm thinking "Freedom Clamps"), sell it for maybe 5% less than the original-just to get everyone on board. And then I will spend my afternoons swimming in my money bin.
Just kidding... I'll probably just nap on a pile of freshly laundered $100 bills.
Soo, I figure what I need to do is improve an existing piece of equipment. Take the Cho clamp for example. I make the exact same clamp out of some other material...perhaps make it less of a pain in the ass to squeeze open...and voila! Show me the money. The problem is, I'm also too lazy for this approach. Still involves designing something...perhaps some welding...not gonna happen. How does anyone ever muster the energy to invent anything?! I think you'd have to be on some super diet and sleeping regimen. Which made me think, how does anything get invented in third world countries? If I ate rice all the time, I'd probably sleep even more than I do. Actually, I do eat rice all the time...I'd probably sleep about the same. Minus the time that I eat Ramen noodles...but you get the idea. Anyway, the thought of developing countries developing surgical instruments (you're wondering how we got here, aren't you? Don't worry...me too) made me realize exactly what I'd need to do.
I have to find a piece of surgical equipment that was invented by a terrorist. Or someone French. Then I will "invent" the exact same piece of equipment, rename it (I'm thinking "Freedom Clamps"), sell it for maybe 5% less than the original-just to get everyone on board. And then I will spend my afternoons swimming in my money bin.
Just kidding... I'll probably just nap on a pile of freshly laundered $100 bills.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Many Happy Returns
As some of you may know, I went to a wedding in Philadelphia a week ago (Congrats Anonymous's!) My preparation for the trip was pretty sparse. I knew I needed a dress to wear, but I really didn't have time to go buy one. I finally went the day before the wedding to the mall and found a dress that I *loved.* It was black with blue flowers..or maybe it was blue with black flowers, but whatever. I really liked it, it was on the clearance rack, score. The only downside was that they didn't have it in my size. They had it two sizes bigger...which isn't really great when you're talking strapless dresses on a girl with not a lot to hold it up. So, they had the same style dress in my size, but different colors. A black and white dress with a different pattern. And it fit, but it wasn't that blue that I loved. So, I called Tom for an opinion: dress that I love that doesn't fit but doesn't look terribly big, or dress that I don't really care that much about but fits really well. Because the mall is like 2 miles from my house and the dresses were both on clearance, we decided I would buy them both, he would help me decide, and I would return the one I didn't want later. Seemed reasonable enough.
That night, I try them both on, and it's decided that the one that fits is really much better looking and will be a lot more comfortable for me because I won't have to pull it up all night. So, black and white dress it is. I decide to wash the dress that night because I'm not a huge fan of traipsing around in a dress that 50 other girls have had cinched around their midsection. So, I follow the laundering instructions for the cotton dress. Should be a breeze. I pull it out of the washing machine, and it has changed colors. It has gone from black and white, to gray all over. I have no time to buy another dress, so black and blue it is.
In the end it worked out because I loved the black and blue dress, but it did drive me crazy all night trying to make sure it stayed up. Also, Tom's tie that I'd picked out ended up matching my dress perfectly (although I'd chosen it when I was wearing the black and white dress) so everyone got to tease us all night for matching. :p (Photo stolen from Jenn.) So, that was good times as well. Anyway, wore the unwashed black and blue dress, danced, had a good time. Fully intended to return both dresses when I got home, because who needs a dress they can't clean? And who needs a dress that's two sizes too big? Not me.
So, yesterday I go to Macy's with my two dresses...neither of which still have the tags attached. I walk to the counter with the sign clearly displaying "Dresses for return must have tags still attached." I explain to the girl behind the counter that with one washing, my dress had gone from black and white to dingey gruel. She was appropriately shocked and went to get her manager to help me with my returns. And here's where it gets interesting. I tell her the situation, and she tells me "You shouldn't have washed it." Um..if I shouldn't wash it, then the tag shouldn't say to wash it in cold water with like colors. I tell her so. "I know it says you can wash it, but I wouldn't have." Apparently she had an aversion to clean clothes. In the end, she let me return both dresses tag-free while explaining to me how dresses shouldn't be washed. And I explained to her how important it is for me to not come in contact with other people's deodorant. In the end, we both got what we wanted. I got to wear a dress for free, and she got me to leave.
Yesterday I went to Target and bought Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkins which turned out to be melted and misshapen. I plan to eat them all and then return the empty packaging. I figure I'm on a roll, right? :-p
That night, I try them both on, and it's decided that the one that fits is really much better looking and will be a lot more comfortable for me because I won't have to pull it up all night. So, black and white dress it is. I decide to wash the dress that night because I'm not a huge fan of traipsing around in a dress that 50 other girls have had cinched around their midsection. So, I follow the laundering instructions for the cotton dress. Should be a breeze. I pull it out of the washing machine, and it has changed colors. It has gone from black and white, to gray all over. I have no time to buy another dress, so black and blue it is.
In the end it worked out because I loved the black and blue dress, but it did drive me crazy all night trying to make sure it stayed up. Also, Tom's tie that I'd picked out ended up matching my dress perfectly (although I'd chosen it when I was wearing the black and white dress) so everyone got to tease us all night for matching. :p (Photo stolen from Jenn.) So, that was good times as well. Anyway, wore the unwashed black and blue dress, danced, had a good time. Fully intended to return both dresses when I got home, because who needs a dress they can't clean? And who needs a dress that's two sizes too big? Not me.So, yesterday I go to Macy's with my two dresses...neither of which still have the tags attached. I walk to the counter with the sign clearly displaying "Dresses for return must have tags still attached." I explain to the girl behind the counter that with one washing, my dress had gone from black and white to dingey gruel. She was appropriately shocked and went to get her manager to help me with my returns. And here's where it gets interesting. I tell her the situation, and she tells me "You shouldn't have washed it." Um..if I shouldn't wash it, then the tag shouldn't say to wash it in cold water with like colors. I tell her so. "I know it says you can wash it, but I wouldn't have." Apparently she had an aversion to clean clothes. In the end, she let me return both dresses tag-free while explaining to me how dresses shouldn't be washed. And I explained to her how important it is for me to not come in contact with other people's deodorant. In the end, we both got what we wanted. I got to wear a dress for free, and she got me to leave.
Yesterday I went to Target and bought Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkins which turned out to be melted and misshapen. I plan to eat them all and then return the empty packaging. I figure I'm on a roll, right? :-p
Certifiable
About a week ago, I got a notice in my mailbox that I missed delivery of a certified letter. I don't know about you, but I don't get a whole lot of certified mail. Or really any mail that doesn't require me to respond with a check or money order within an allotted time span. So, I was kind of excited. I never get good mail, it's certified, and I have *no* idea who it's from! Woo! So, I sign the little sheet asking for redelivery and for them to just leave it in my doorway. The next day I arrive home and there's no certified letter. There's just my signed sheet sitting in the bottom of the mailbox...completely ignored. I'm dying to get this letter, but the post office closes so early, and of course last week is the week that I'm not spending all day on my couch in my pajamas.
It takes me another two days to finally have time to make it to the post office. I walk in and present my poor little slip that I've signed seven ways to Sunday in a vain attempt at getting them to leave the letter at my house. The lady finally finds the envelope. She flashes the return address at me before making me sign the other side. All I could read in that moment was the word "COBRA." Who the hell is COBRA?! Why would they send me a certified letter?! I just knew that the envelope would self-destruct within 10 minutes of being opened. I thought "Top Secret Bad Ass Mission Instructions. Certified."
I get out to the car and excitedly open the envelope.
"This letter is to notify you that your health insurance (from your previous employer) will lapse on July 24th. In order to insure that you are not without coverage, please fill out the enclosed forms and return no later than July 20th."
The letter is dated June 18th. Way to go. It only took 3 months to get me that certifiably urgent message.
Stupid COBRA.
It takes me another two days to finally have time to make it to the post office. I walk in and present my poor little slip that I've signed seven ways to Sunday in a vain attempt at getting them to leave the letter at my house. The lady finally finds the envelope. She flashes the return address at me before making me sign the other side. All I could read in that moment was the word "COBRA." Who the hell is COBRA?! Why would they send me a certified letter?! I just knew that the envelope would self-destruct within 10 minutes of being opened. I thought "Top Secret Bad Ass Mission Instructions. Certified."
I get out to the car and excitedly open the envelope.
"This letter is to notify you that your health insurance (from your previous employer) will lapse on July 24th. In order to insure that you are not without coverage, please fill out the enclosed forms and return no later than July 20th."
The letter is dated June 18th. Way to go. It only took 3 months to get me that certifiably urgent message.
Stupid COBRA.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Dedication
I had a message from Facebook saying that my sister had dedicated a song to me.
I totally feel the same way about her.
I totally feel the same way about her.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Invitation
Today I received an invitation to a staff meeting at work. That in itself is weird. It got weirder.
What: Staff Meeting
When: September 12th from 12-3 PM
Theme: "Won't You Be my Neighbor?"
Please wear a cardigan and tie like Mr. Rogers!
The agenda includes something called "The I's Have It" and entails something involving ice cream and candy eyeballs.
I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that I was on call and the most effort I expended today was deciding whether or not to add chocolate chips to my fudge pudding cup.
This job is insane.
What: Staff Meeting
When: September 12th from 12-3 PM
Theme: "Won't You Be my Neighbor?"
Please wear a cardigan and tie like Mr. Rogers!
The agenda includes something called "The I's Have It" and entails something involving ice cream and candy eyeballs.
I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that I was on call and the most effort I expended today was deciding whether or not to add chocolate chips to my fudge pudding cup.
This job is insane.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Last Night
me: Also I accidentally ate at a strip club last night.
C: How do you accidentally eat at a strip club?? And what did you eat?
C: Whoa.
me: I ate at a restaurant right next door to a strip club. Came back to the hospital, told them where we'd eaten...apparently it's the same operation.
C: You need a t-shirt.
me: Yeah. I'm excited to turn in my receipt at work. "Foxy Lady."
C: Hilarious.
me: I ate at "Frank's" but apparently it's "Frank's Foxy Lady"
C: Frank's Foxy Lady. I love it. What did you eat?
me: A scallop roll. Which of course now I regret. Because I ate stripper scallops.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Interference
My landlady is making me crazy. She shouldn't be...because she really isn't doing anything wrong. However, the fact that she finds any little way to remind me that she exists drives me crazy. I'm used to living in apartment complexes. I sign the lease and pick up the key. One year later, I drop off the key. That is the extent of your impact on my life as a landlord. Or it should be. Here I'm living in the right side of a house that is split in half. My landlady lives in the other half. She parks in the driveway, I park in the sandy dirt beside the driveway (which will be interesting when it starts snowing.) I don't have a problem living near her. I just don't want it to seem like I'm living *with* her.
Whenever she's leaving town, she calls to let me know. I don't need to know. Then she says "So, just grab my mail and I'll get it from you when I get back." Umm...am I your b-fri? I think not. Get your own mail. Or get a friend who can pick up your mail. I really didn't have a problem grabbing her mail for her the first time. It would've been nice if she'd asked rather than assumed that it was okay to tell me what to do, but whatever. The real problem was that she said she'd be home Sunday. Instead she comes home Friday, then calls me at 10 PM asking me to bring her the mail. I'm not at home. "Okay, no problem. Just knock on the door when you get back." I hate her. 10 PM I'm skulking around the front door wondering whether I should ring the doorbell and wake up her kid, or just throw her mail in the street. I ended up leaving it on her doorknob then calling her so I wouldn't have to talk to her in person. I've had to get her mail twice since then. I hate her so much.
Another fun game is the driveway war we've been having. She has a two-car garage and a driveway. She only drives one car. However, I'm instructed to park in the sandy dirt beside the driveway. I keep mentioning its sandiness because it's almost impossible to get out of the passenger side of the truck. It's a hill and you just sink into the sand. Absolutely impossible after it rains, and probably my truck is going to be swallowed by the earth when it snows. So, I have the crappy spot, she has plenty of space. I come home from work one day, she's in my spot. Driveway's wiiide open. She's in my spot. So I park in the street. Two days later, there's some giant truck in my spot and it is pouring down raining. So I park in her spot. She calls me 30 minutes later asking me to move my truck. Turns out that the giant truck is hers too. She's getting a fence put around the backyard (that I'm not allowed to use) and she's been using the truck to haul stuff. Is it my fault that the contractors have been parking in her spot? No. Does the fact that her spot is being used for her own purposes give her license to use *my* spot? I think not. Seriously, do you see how petty I'm becoming? It's the fact that she's constantly doing little stuff that makes me want to hurl cats at her face.
Then yesterday, I pull into my driveway and I see that my trashcan is out at the curb. I'm sure she did this to be nice. However, my trash wasn't in the freaking can yet. Oh, but there was a bag of *her* trash in there. I realize that she's just trying to be nice, but come on! Use your own trashcan! Stop touching my stuff! Ugh.
So, she really doesn't do anything but remind me that she exists. But that's enough to make me absolutely crazy. Because if I like you, I will do anything for you...but if I don't like you, I'll do anything to forget you exist. And she's making that really hard for me. Stupid landlady.
Whenever she's leaving town, she calls to let me know. I don't need to know. Then she says "So, just grab my mail and I'll get it from you when I get back." Umm...am I your b-fri? I think not. Get your own mail. Or get a friend who can pick up your mail. I really didn't have a problem grabbing her mail for her the first time. It would've been nice if she'd asked rather than assumed that it was okay to tell me what to do, but whatever. The real problem was that she said she'd be home Sunday. Instead she comes home Friday, then calls me at 10 PM asking me to bring her the mail. I'm not at home. "Okay, no problem. Just knock on the door when you get back." I hate her. 10 PM I'm skulking around the front door wondering whether I should ring the doorbell and wake up her kid, or just throw her mail in the street. I ended up leaving it on her doorknob then calling her so I wouldn't have to talk to her in person. I've had to get her mail twice since then. I hate her so much.
Another fun game is the driveway war we've been having. She has a two-car garage and a driveway. She only drives one car. However, I'm instructed to park in the sandy dirt beside the driveway. I keep mentioning its sandiness because it's almost impossible to get out of the passenger side of the truck. It's a hill and you just sink into the sand. Absolutely impossible after it rains, and probably my truck is going to be swallowed by the earth when it snows. So, I have the crappy spot, she has plenty of space. I come home from work one day, she's in my spot. Driveway's wiiide open. She's in my spot. So I park in the street. Two days later, there's some giant truck in my spot and it is pouring down raining. So I park in her spot. She calls me 30 minutes later asking me to move my truck. Turns out that the giant truck is hers too. She's getting a fence put around the backyard (that I'm not allowed to use) and she's been using the truck to haul stuff. Is it my fault that the contractors have been parking in her spot? No. Does the fact that her spot is being used for her own purposes give her license to use *my* spot? I think not. Seriously, do you see how petty I'm becoming? It's the fact that she's constantly doing little stuff that makes me want to hurl cats at her face.
Then yesterday, I pull into my driveway and I see that my trashcan is out at the curb. I'm sure she did this to be nice. However, my trash wasn't in the freaking can yet. Oh, but there was a bag of *her* trash in there. I realize that she's just trying to be nice, but come on! Use your own trashcan! Stop touching my stuff! Ugh.
So, she really doesn't do anything but remind me that she exists. But that's enough to make me absolutely crazy. Because if I like you, I will do anything for you...but if I don't like you, I'll do anything to forget you exist. And she's making that really hard for me. Stupid landlady.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Michael Jackson's Liver?
I was recently with a group that met a liver transplant recipient. What follows is the conversation that we had with her. Questions from various people in the room are in italics.
"I am so grateful for my transplant. It gave me a second chance at life."
"Have you met your donor's family?"
"No, but I feel as though I know my donor already."
"How so?"
"Well, I think that he's sharing my body."
"Because you have his liver?"
"No. A lot of strange things have happened to me since my transplant. For example, when I woke up from my surgery, I was holding my privates. Now, I'm not in the habit of holding myself down there, but I think it's because of the liver. I think my donor was a male."
"Oookay..."
"Also, I never used to like healthy stuff! Now I like to eat healthy foods, so I think my donor liked to eat healthy foods."
"Really? Like what?"
"You know...healthy stuff. Like I never used to like strawberry ice cream. Now it's my favorite. Also, I used to always get sunburned. Always. I was very fair-skinned and would burn if I was in the sun at all. So, I think that my donor was a person of color. My skin is much darker and more pigmented since the surgery. I think my donor was a person of color and my DNA is changing to be more like his."
"Really?"
"Yeah! I told my doctor but he just laughs. He won't test my DNA. I've talked to some nurses and stuff, but they don't have access to the DNA tests. I need the access!"
"Oh. That's too bad."
"Ooh! Have you guys watched that show Heartland on TNT? It's all about transplant and it's awesome. I mean, I probably enjoy it because I know so much about transplant, but you guys would like it too. Don't watch it this week cause it's the finale, but catch it in re-runs. It's great."
"Okay..."
Random thoughts cropped up in her mind every ten seconds over the next hour, but that was the gist of it. So, just to clear up any misconceptions:
1. Organ recipients do not take on the physical characteristics of their donors.
2. Your DNA can not be changed by a transplant. Or anything really besides radiation.
3. Ice cream is not a healthy food.
4. Heartland sucks.
"I am so grateful for my transplant. It gave me a second chance at life."
"Have you met your donor's family?"
"No, but I feel as though I know my donor already."
"How so?"
"Well, I think that he's sharing my body."
"Because you have his liver?"
"No. A lot of strange things have happened to me since my transplant. For example, when I woke up from my surgery, I was holding my privates. Now, I'm not in the habit of holding myself down there, but I think it's because of the liver. I think my donor was a male."
"Oookay..."
"Also, I never used to like healthy stuff! Now I like to eat healthy foods, so I think my donor liked to eat healthy foods."
"Really? Like what?"
"You know...healthy stuff. Like I never used to like strawberry ice cream. Now it's my favorite. Also, I used to always get sunburned. Always. I was very fair-skinned and would burn if I was in the sun at all. So, I think that my donor was a person of color. My skin is much darker and more pigmented since the surgery. I think my donor was a person of color and my DNA is changing to be more like his."
"Really?"
"Yeah! I told my doctor but he just laughs. He won't test my DNA. I've talked to some nurses and stuff, but they don't have access to the DNA tests. I need the access!"
"Oh. That's too bad."
"Ooh! Have you guys watched that show Heartland on TNT? It's all about transplant and it's awesome. I mean, I probably enjoy it because I know so much about transplant, but you guys would like it too. Don't watch it this week cause it's the finale, but catch it in re-runs. It's great."
"Okay..."
Random thoughts cropped up in her mind every ten seconds over the next hour, but that was the gist of it. So, just to clear up any misconceptions:
1. Organ recipients do not take on the physical characteristics of their donors.
2. Your DNA can not be changed by a transplant. Or anything really besides radiation.
3. Ice cream is not a healthy food.
4. Heartland sucks.
The Commute
I drive over this bridge:
And I drive through a tunnel like this:
And seeing this tells me I'm almost there:
It takes longer, but it beats the pants off of passing the future home of one of these every morning:
Woo Boston! :)
And I drive through a tunnel like this:
And seeing this tells me I'm almost there:
It takes longer, but it beats the pants off of passing the future home of one of these every morning:
Woo Boston! :)
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Critical Mass
I moved from Alabama to Massachusetts last week. Here's the recap so far:
1. Say cheese! Bostonians don't smile. Well, they smile, but not at strangers. Walking down the street, making eye contact and smiling at everyone you pass will get you a free crazy stamp right across the forehead. Or at least I assume that's what happened to me because the only people that returned my glances were the mentally ill and creepy old men.
2. It is hot in Topeka*. Speaking to people in Alabama, you would have thought I was moving to a polar ice cap. In fact, it was 90 degrees in Boston today and I got a terrible sunburn.
3. Keep Walkin'. Boston has pedestrians. Pedestrians with no fear of death. I drove into the city twice this week and was constantly dodging pedestrians who *saw me coming* and yet continued into the street. They even have weird blinky traffic lights that have something to do with pedestrians (I've obviously yet to figure out what these mean.) In Alabama, the road is for cars. People in the road=front end fodder. I will say, however, that the ubiquity of sidewalks is pretty refreshing. At no point did I have to walk in a ditch. And that's a definite step up. You know what I'm talking about, C. :-p
4. You say "rotary", I say "death wheel." Seriously New England, wtf? I've been trying to figure out how to drive in these high speed circles of doom but every one has different rules! We're driving through one and I'm told "You have to yield to the main road." At another, "The people inside the rotary always have the right-of-way." I think the advice my boyfriend's parents gave me most accurately captures what actually happens inside a rotary. "The rule at the rotary is, whoever's going the fastest has the right-of-way. So, you just bomb in there going top speed and you'll be fine." Terrifying.
5. Marco....Polo! I've been constantly lost since the day I got here. The funny thing is, if you're lost in Alabama you can drive anywhere from 2-6 hours before you find yourself in another state. In Massachusetts, you can be in another state in 30 minutes. Which means that I've had to greatly reduce the length of time I take to decide to turn around. Because without adjustment I would probably regularly find myself in Vermont. I think a lot of my problem is orientation. You can really walk the entire city of Boston in about 15-20 minutes (I think....I got lost a lot in the city) but I cover a lot of the same ground 2-3 times without realizing it because I'm on a different side of the street, or facing a different direction, or wearing sunglasses. I've really got to learn the landmarks. And I've quickly learned that landmark can not mean Dunkin' Donuts. Because they're on every corner.
6. There is no sweet tea. Seriously. None. I went to Dunkin' Donuts yesterday and ordered one of their new iced teas. Peach flavored. Peachy flavor, no sugar. Who drinks plain iced tea?! It's a travesty. I don't understand. I miss the sweet tea. I miss it so much.
So, I start my new job on Monday. I've been informed that I will be on orientation for two weeks and then placed on the call schedule. I've been doing this same job for over a year, but to only have two weeks to get used to doing it a whole new way in a whole new city...a little nervewracking. Luckily before I start, I'm spending my last weekend of freedom at the beach! I haven't been to the beach in two years (thanks a lot summer of MCAT) so I'm pretty stoked about the prospect.
Welcome to my new blog everybody. I'll keep you posted. :)
* If you don't watch Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, you are missing out. It's hilarious.
1. Say cheese! Bostonians don't smile. Well, they smile, but not at strangers. Walking down the street, making eye contact and smiling at everyone you pass will get you a free crazy stamp right across the forehead. Or at least I assume that's what happened to me because the only people that returned my glances were the mentally ill and creepy old men.
2. It is hot in Topeka*. Speaking to people in Alabama, you would have thought I was moving to a polar ice cap. In fact, it was 90 degrees in Boston today and I got a terrible sunburn.
3. Keep Walkin'. Boston has pedestrians. Pedestrians with no fear of death. I drove into the city twice this week and was constantly dodging pedestrians who *saw me coming* and yet continued into the street. They even have weird blinky traffic lights that have something to do with pedestrians (I've obviously yet to figure out what these mean.) In Alabama, the road is for cars. People in the road=front end fodder. I will say, however, that the ubiquity of sidewalks is pretty refreshing. At no point did I have to walk in a ditch. And that's a definite step up. You know what I'm talking about, C. :-p
4. You say "rotary", I say "death wheel." Seriously New England, wtf? I've been trying to figure out how to drive in these high speed circles of doom but every one has different rules! We're driving through one and I'm told "You have to yield to the main road." At another, "The people inside the rotary always have the right-of-way." I think the advice my boyfriend's parents gave me most accurately captures what actually happens inside a rotary. "The rule at the rotary is, whoever's going the fastest has the right-of-way. So, you just bomb in there going top speed and you'll be fine." Terrifying.
5. Marco....Polo! I've been constantly lost since the day I got here. The funny thing is, if you're lost in Alabama you can drive anywhere from 2-6 hours before you find yourself in another state. In Massachusetts, you can be in another state in 30 minutes. Which means that I've had to greatly reduce the length of time I take to decide to turn around. Because without adjustment I would probably regularly find myself in Vermont. I think a lot of my problem is orientation. You can really walk the entire city of Boston in about 15-20 minutes (I think....I got lost a lot in the city) but I cover a lot of the same ground 2-3 times without realizing it because I'm on a different side of the street, or facing a different direction, or wearing sunglasses. I've really got to learn the landmarks. And I've quickly learned that landmark can not mean Dunkin' Donuts. Because they're on every corner.
6. There is no sweet tea. Seriously. None. I went to Dunkin' Donuts yesterday and ordered one of their new iced teas. Peach flavored. Peachy flavor, no sugar. Who drinks plain iced tea?! It's a travesty. I don't understand. I miss the sweet tea. I miss it so much.
So, I start my new job on Monday. I've been informed that I will be on orientation for two weeks and then placed on the call schedule. I've been doing this same job for over a year, but to only have two weeks to get used to doing it a whole new way in a whole new city...a little nervewracking. Luckily before I start, I'm spending my last weekend of freedom at the beach! I haven't been to the beach in two years (thanks a lot summer of MCAT) so I'm pretty stoked about the prospect.
Welcome to my new blog everybody. I'll keep you posted. :)
* If you don't watch Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, you are missing out. It's hilarious.
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