Reading

People are calling this Obama's best speech ever.

Remarks of President Barack Obama - As Prepared for Delivery

Memorial Service at Fort Hood

November 10, 2009

I wholeheartedly agree.

Pantless

A couple weeks ago my friend and I went shopping at the outlet mall. I bought 3 pairs of pants, none of which were the right length. But, my friend convinced me that I am old enough to handle getting my pants hemmed and should purchase them anyway. So, here I am with 3 pairs of unwearable pants (they are sooo long.) I finally decided to expend some effort and get the stupid things up off the ground. My friend recommended that I take the pants to the stores that sell them at the mall to get them hemmed because then the hem will match that of the original manufacturer. The pants are trouser style jeans and a pair of cords, so I could see the value in having a matching hem. Plus she said it was pretty inexpensive, so why not. I head to the mall.

Go into J. Crew and the staff is great. There's only one chick in the store who knows how to pin pants for hemming, but we finally find her and we're on our way. I ask her whether I can also get a pair of jeans originally sold at Banana Republic hemmed. I figured that because I am paying to have them hemmed, it really shouldn't matter what kind of pants they are. Also I am lazy and didn't want to walk to Banana Republic. The saleslady thinks that would probably be fine but she'll have to check their policy. In the meantime she's happy to pin them for me anyway. Cool beans, I like J. Crew.

Get to the desk and it turns out that they cannot hem pants that aren't from their store. Fiiiiiine. I'll go to stupid Banana. She also tells me that the pants go out to their tailor on Thursday and return the following Thursday. It's going to be a red hot second to get these pants back...but that's fine.

I set off for the Banana Republic to get the stupid almost identical pair of jeans sewn by that company. Walk in and the people working there haven't a clue. They looked terrified that they'd have to pin the pants. I told them not to worry, they're already pinned, just hem them for me. The girl has me fill out a slip and then she goes to look at the tag. I assume to confirm that they're from Banana Republic.

Girl: "Oh. These are from the outlet."
Me: "Yes. The Banana Republic outlet."
Girl: "We don't do alterations on outlet clothes."
Me: "Why not?"
Girl: "The outlet is different. They have different stock and different clothes..."
Me: "Yes...they have the clothes you guys used to have in stock. I don't understand the problem."
Girl: "We don't alter outlet clothes because we're not the same store."
Me: "The pants are already pinned. I will give you money to have someone sew the pants. How is this a problem??"
Girl: "Umm....these are from the outlet....sooo....we can't alter them."
Me: "Oh my God that is so stupid. Okay fine thanks."

My favorite part is that she had already explained to me that the pants go out to their tailor on Thursday and return the following Thursday. I would lay down good money that J. Crew and Banana Republic use the same tailor. AUUUGHGH.

So I guess I'm going to have to fix the Banana pants myself. My Mom got halfway through explaining the hemming process to me before I finally stopped her and explained that I owned neither needle nor thread. So that might be step one. Or I could just pull out the super-glue.

**I bet this was the most boring "pantless" post you could ever have imagined. How disappointing.

Texts from Last Night

I am in bed with my husband at 11:30 PM last night. His phone starts making some noise from Star Wars signifying that he has a text message.

Him: "Who the hell is texting me this late?" and grabs the phone.
Me: "Who is it?"
Him: "It's Timmy. He wants to know whether I remember the cheat code for Sonic off the top of my head."

Silence.

Me: "Oh my God do you?!"
Him: "I think it's up-down-up-down-left-right-B."
Me: "omg I am married to you."

He texts back, sets down the phone and rolls back over. Then doesn't move.

Me: "What's the matter?"
Him: "I think it's actually up-down-up-down-B-A-B."
Me: "Sweet baby Jesus."

He grabs the phone and texts Timmy back with the new code. Timmy replies.

Timmy: "It's okay...I was just proving a point to my roommates."
Me: "His point is that you are a huge nerd."

3 Rivers Liveblog

So, I'm watching this show so I can talk about it at work. And it is already painful to me.

We're toward the beginning and they're going into their "Transplant Committee Meeting." I haven't really been paying attention, primarily because if the idiot kid in the tie who was surprised that livers could be split turned out to be the transplant coordinator, I was going to throw Tom's laptop through the television. Let's take it from there.

21:17- OMG do they have their staff meetings at CNN headquarters? What is up with that CRAZY technology?! Also, projecting patient histories onto a glass wall seems like it would be a pretty big HIPAA violation.
21:18- It takes longer than "how about right now" to decide to put in a VAD. How about some workup people? She walked in off the street 20 minutes ago. Cripes.
21:19- Who is this random woman in a lab coat asking about organ donation at the bedside? Make it stop!!!!!!!
21:20- I can't liveblog this anymore. It hurts me so badly. Also Counselor Troi has aged terribly and isn't really great at doing an accent other than her own.
21:21- Okay, so Troi's husband is going to donate...the pregnant chick gets the heart...what is up with the kid who swallows things? I am confused.
21:24- Nobody spouts off their doctor's credentials to them. They are well-aware of their abilities.
21:26- All of these patients look totally great for needing a heart transplant.
21:26- Umm...your son eats metal. This is obviously a problem.
21:27- Via Tom "Also, his name is f-ing Auden! Auden Drinkwater?! There's no way he would've lived long enough to eat metal because he would've already been pummeled to death!"
21:28- Oh lord I think the woman who got consent at the bedside was probably the donation coordinator. Auuuugh.
21:29- Yup. The idiot is a transplant coordinator. I will cry soon.
21:30- Ummmm....jet is on standby? Really? Also, what a kickass tablet. We don't actually have these.
21:30- Good thing that dude fell off the ladder. Otherwise his wife wouldn't be having a c-section and a heart transplant all in the same day.

Commercial break: I love that now when people ask what I do for a living I can say, "You know that kid on 3 Rivers who has the IQ of an amoeba and fetches donuts for the staff meeting? That's me." Awesome. Way to totally de-glamourize the role of transplant coordination. Aaand we're back.

21:33- Of course the doctor identifies with the metal eating kid. I'm sorry, but no physician is going to tell her boss that her father wasn't home enough waaaah.
21:34- Alfre Woodard, I liked you better in basically everything else you've ever done.
21:35- Aaaand, we're back to the donor side. Time for the daughter to pitch a fit about organ donation.
21:36- CALLED IT! Also, why are the surgeons getting on a jet when the wife had already said that she didn't want to do anything til her daughter got there? The timing on this is so unrealistic. Also I want to punch the coordinator kid in the face.
21:37- omg omg omg omg that kid has to get out of there. Why would he be within 100 feet of a donor family, let alone speak to one? Who lets the cooler guys into the unit? Nobody. That's who.
21:38- How is this kid not fired right now? What is their screening process for hiring transplant coordinators? Do they go to the nearest high school and pick the dumbest kid they can find?
21:39- Is this kid going to need a transplant or is this all back-story for the whiny doctor with an absent-parent complex?
21:40- "My brain itches." So of course I swallowed tweezers and a pair of scissors. Makes sense.
21:42- And of course the pregnant chick crashes. If the solution is for the transplant team to talk to the donor family I will just die.

Commercial break: This is unrelated, but there was just a Kohler commercial where this guy flushed like 30 things down his toilet. Call me crazy, but that seems like the worst idea ever. I don't care what brand of toilet you have.

21:46- "Given everything that Terri's been through today..." You mean, her husband falling off a ladder, and then her heart stopping like 12 times?
21:47- Holy crap is she going to be a donor too? This show is depressing.
21:47- Oh Jesus please don't talk to her again. I knew they were going to turn this into a good thing. Stupid show.
21:49- This child should not be talking to this poor donor family member. I really want him off of this show. And I kind of want to choke him. A lot.
21:50- Also, way to break patient confidentiality. Yes...tell the donor family everything about the recipient. We totally do that. NOT.
21:51- Those are some pretty healthy lungs on that kid. Ah, the miracles of television.
21:52- LOL the donor's breathing tube isn't hooked up to anything.
21:53- I'm still confused why the metal eating kid is on this show. He's not getting any new organs or anything. And he's not a very cute kid. Plus he eats metal. Did she just confiscate a railroad spike from him?
21:54- Seriously...the doctor is going to be holding her hand when she wakes up? Where is her HUSBAND? And child?!
21:55- "Hi. We stole your baby and implanted you with a new heart. That'll teach you for bringing your husband into the ER with a minor scalp lac. Next time use a band-aid."
21:56- Oh Jesus. There is a satellite uplink into the nursery? They couldn't bring the baby into the room with her? The husband didn't want to be there when she woke up? Worst. Family. Ever.
21:57- I do not know a single male surgeon who would wear powder blue scrubs.

Wrap Up: Okay, so it's over. And my TV and the laptop survived. Primarily bc I needed the laptop to convey my dissatisfaction to the masses. There were some pretty glaring inaccuracies in the portrayal of the transplant process...like the timing...and some medical mistakes...like how he said her "injection fraction" was low (it's EJECTION fraction)...but overall it was just terrible. Plus really what the heck with the metal-eating kid? He didn't give or receive a transplant! Also, most doctors would've figured out that he had pica way before assuming that mommy going away for meetings once a week was making a teenager swallow tweezers.

I'll probably pop in next week to mock it again though. Because I've gotten too lazy to have original thoughts for my blog, and this show is easy to mock. Although not as easy as this show:



Til next week!

Flushed Away

Mom: "Ugh, my pager's going off. I wish I hadn't replaced it."
Me: "What happened to your other pager?"
Mom: "Oh, I flushed it."
Me: "Is that a euphemism?"
Mom: "Oh no. I flushed and then noticed 'OH MY GOD THAT'S MY PAGER!'"
Me: "Very astute. How did you manage that?"
Mom: "Well, you know, it fell in the toilet! And I didn't notice until it was too late. So, I plunged it thinking that maybe it would float to the top. But it must've really been far in there! I was actually pretty impressed- it's just a normal household toilet. Pretty powerful. So, I flushed it like 5 more times and hoped for the best."
Me: "Wow. Quite a solution."
Mom: "Yeah. So then I told Karen* that I'd flushed my pager so she'd have to call me at home if she needed anything because my pager was gone."
Me: "Good idea."
Mom: "And then she said it hadn't gone far enough. The toilet almost overflowed yesterday. It is really jammed."
Me: "Wow. That is totally embarrassing."
Mom: "Yeah. I hope I don't have to pay a plumber to go fishing for my pager."

My only hope is that slugs are dancing around with it.



*Mom's co-worker
*Felecia, C&C Music Factory is BACK

Bowl of Self-Esteem

I got married on Saturday, August 15th. And it was an absolute blast. It was everything I hoped it would be. Namely, my sisters sang with pretend microphones all night and when it was over I didn't drive Tom home. Mission accomplished.

So, married Saturday, dying of some horrible infection on Tuesday. What was it? "In sickness and in health"? 90% of our marriage thus far has been the sickness part. I blame the air conditioner. Before I moved to Massachusetts 2 years ago, my future landlady (and unbeknownst to me, archnemesis) called and said that her current tenant had an air conditioner that she wouldn't need in her next apartment. I could purchase it from her at a discount. At the time I was living in Alabama in July and an air conditioner sounded like the best idea ever.

So, I bought it. Moved here and realized that my apartment stayed 20 degrees cooler than the rest of the world. Which was great in the summer. Pretty miserable in the winter. But that's beside the point. We took the unit out of the window when cold air started coming in, and it sat in the closet ever after. 2 years. Bottom of the closet. Never cleaned.

When we got back to our new house (yay new house no landlady woo!) after the wedding, it was 1000 degrees. Really. I used a candy thermometer. So, we put the A/C in the window and cranked that bad boy up. I woke up sounding like a 40 pack year smoker. Hmmm. Maybe I wasn't used to air conditioning. It'll be okay. Used it again the next night, woke up even froggier. And a little sniffly.

Me: "Do window units have air filters or anything on them?"
Tom: "Yeah."
Me: "Did we clean it before we used it?"
Tom: "I don't think so."
Me: "We should probably do that."

Pull out the filter. It is DISGUSTING. It is black with filth. Covered with mold and other particles that I have been breathing for two nights. Awesome. So, we clean it, pop it back in and hope for the best. The next morning I can't breathe. But as the day progresses I feel better and I assume I've caught a cold on top of the horrible allergic reaction that started the week. I do a 24 hour shift, and things go downhill from there. On Thursday I ended up having to get someone to relieve me at work because I was too sick to be on the hospital unit. The nurses were all eyeing me. Hello our patients are already sick, they don't need whatever you have too.

Went home and decided to try to have a bowl of soup to soothe my throat. I went to the cabinet to pull out a bowl, and there was my trusty "Bowl of Self-Esteem." It was a graduation gift from my master's thesis advisor, and it's my favorite bowl because it will hold an entire package of ramen noodles in broth without coming anywhere near spilling. It's a huge bowl. I only use it when I'm sick, but it never fails. When it gets to the point that I'm resorting to ramen, there's the bowl ready to go. I realized for the first time why this is. Because it is the largest, the bowl of self-esteem is always at the bottom of the stack. It's always ready to go when I am at my sickest because at that point, EVERY OTHER DISH AND BOWL THAT I OWN IS DIRTY. When I am sick, my house becomes a sty.

It took me 4 years to figure this out. Before I just assumed it was magical and sensed when it was needed. Because apparently when I am sick I super-anthropomorphize my dishes. Awesome.

So, I finally went to the doctor on Friday where I was dosed with antibiotics and narcotic cough syrup. I slept 12 hours that night and woke up a much happier camper. Completely better now, and the bowl is back at the bottom of the stack where it belongs. Hopefully I can stay well long enough to make it to my honeymoon on Saturday. :)

The Kid Is Not My Son

I promise that some day my blog will become something more than a repository of hatred for my landlady.

But not today.

So yesterday I was working at a hospital until about 5 PM. I got home, changed clothes, and received a phone call from my landlady. It's 5:15.

Her: "Hey, there might be someone coming to see the apartment."
Me: "Okay, when?"
Her: "Possibly at 5:45."
Me: "You couldn't give me any more notice than this?!"
Her: "Well, they called this morning and I told them to call back to confirm and they haven't called back. So I'm not even sure whether they're coming...I'd say it's about 50/50."
Me: "Okay, well I have to clean up."
Her: "Well, don't do too much, I don't think they're even coming."

So I get up and dump out the bucket of mop water that's been sitting in the kitchen since the day before. Try to wash the dishes really quickly. Take the giant pile of laundry that I was going to do prior to being called into work and stuff it into a hamper. Try to start cleaning the tub a little when the doorbell rings. Awesome. It's the landlady, and her totally annoying 3 year old. It's 5:20.

Her: "They're definitely coming."
Me: "When?"
Her: "They said they'd be here by 5:30."
Me: "Awesome."

So she's standing in my living room and I can hear her scolding her kid to quit touching things. Meanwhile I am STORMING around upstairs, throwing things in closets, making up the bed, slamming doors, muttering. I go downstairs and she's just staring out holding the kid who is making a fuss. He wants to rip all the DVDs off my shelves. She's grabbing him and telling him to stop but he's still having a tantrum. Also he's wearing nothing but a shirt and a diaper, his face is filthy, and he has some dirty little bootie things on.

Her: "Nobody's going to rent this place if he starts screaming."
Me: "Yeah. Want me to turn on a movie for him?"

Keep in mind that I have a vested interest in this apartment being rented. If she doesn't find a renter by the end of July, I'm paying for August even though we'll be living in the new house by then. I have no desire to pay for this friggin' apartment when I'm not even living here. I can barely bring myself to pay when I am.

Her: "Yeah, if you don't mind, that'd be great."

Of course he wants to watch Monsters Inc, which is not in its case. I try to talk him into any one of the 50 other children's movies I have (Muppet Movie? Madagascar? Alice in Wonderland? Babe? How old am I again?) and he is not having it. The landlady finally says to throw on Little Mermaid and he'll watch it. So I do. As I'm turning on the DVD, the potential renters park on the street. Meanwhile her child is still fussing and yelling that he'd rather watch "Monster movie!"

Her: "Here they are."
Kids still fussing.
Her: "He's not my kid..." (I think she's joking)
And greets the potential renters.

My plan at this point is to turn on the movie, hop in my car, and come back in a half an hour as I've done with every other showing.

The people walk in, the landlady introduces herself to them, and then steps over her kid and I and says "I guess they're going to watch a movie." Then takes the renters upstairs.

I am stuck downstairs and she has just passed her child off as mine. How did that just happen?!??

She's upstairs with them, kid is watching the movie with occasional bouts of "I hate this." I'm wondering if there's any way I can leave this kid sitting here alone without him tearing apart everything I own. 5 minutes in, he hops out of his chair and takes off out the front door. I run after him, grab him, and tell him to plant his butt back in the chair. He behaved the rest of the time. But clearly, if I'd ditched him he would've run into traffic.

The renters have no interest in the apartment and leave. The landlady turns to me and says, smiling:

"They thought he was yours. He looks more like you anyway." And leaves.

I am living in some kind of surreal nightmare world where my landlady is on crazy pills and has no idea how incredibly inappropriate she is. Her poor kid.