So it's 0-dark-thirty when I leave my apartment Tuesday morning (5:30 am) for the airport. One of my very kind friends has offered to give me a ride because "she'll be up all night studying anyway." I don't comprehend. No matter how unprepared I am for a test/paper/class/whatever, I stop working at 1 am. Sleep is very important to me. I've never pulled an all-nighter and never plan to. I would be physically incapable of functioning normally. Well, normally for me anyway. (I haven't been able to figure out how I can get home at 4am after a night out with friends and be "fine" the next day. Studying must really take it out of me...)
So I get to the airport and through security and am waiting to board the plane when I hear something yipping. I think it's just one of the little kids making a noise or like one of their toys or something (because there were a lot of little kids on my 6:30 flight.) Weird, I know. Cheap parents trying to get a cheap flight. Hey! I have an excuse. I'm a college student with no money. And my flight was free. Probably because it was SO EARLY. Poor kids. I bet their parents aren't scouring the city for the last Furby on the planet for a Christmas present--thanks MOM :) Oh... I guess that was the nineties...
Anyway, I hear someone mention something about a dog. Surely they don't let dogs through security. Either way, I thought it was a kid making a fuss because they were tired. WRONG.
I totally forgot to check-in for my flight until late the night before. Therefore, I'm in group B. I like to sit in the front because I have a sensitive stomach so I was COMPLETELY surprised when there were two open seats in the third row next to a girl only a few years older than me. ULTIMATE SCORE! Not only will there be a seat between us for extra room, but I won't have to sit next to a creepy old man trying to hit on me the whole way home (made for an interesting/disturbing ride home from Annapolis, Maryland when I was but seventeen. Long flight too). So I ask her if anyone is sitting there because she must have saved the seats for them to be open. "No," she replies, "But I have a dog." Picture this: I have already put my backpack overhead and am in the middle of sitting down with one hand on each armrest slowly lowering myself into the seat when I suddenly stop mid-air, jerk my head to the right, and say, "I'm sorry; you have a what??" "Umm, I have a dog," she says as she points to a little Yorkie yipping in its Louis Vuitton carrying case. Of course. Of course a woman from Dallas would not put her precious companion in the luggage area beneath us. Of course she wouldn't dream of boarding him in an animal shelter place-thing while she traveled for the holidays. No, no, no sir! He is her pride and joy and deserves to ride in the cabin with her. I try to keep a straight face from laughing as I slowly stand up and say, "Ok, thanks." And run to find another seat before all the good ones fill up. I find one still close enough to the front but far enough away so that I don't hear that dog yapping the whole time. Seriously, it was worse than a baby on the plane! And that baby atleast deserves to be there.
I'm sorry, little dog. I really don't have anything against you. It's just your owner. I mean really, lady, its already obnoxiously early in the morning to be flying and what if someone was really allergic to dogs (like my brother)? And I know you have learned to deal with the yipping that your precious little dog makes because you just love her so much you can learn to deal with anything, anything at all as long as you get to be with her...but the rest of us haven't, ok? I know she looks absolutely presh--especially in that oh-so-cute designer carrying case--and you just love to show off your little baby, but (and this is a very big but, madam) your dog is NOT a baby and no, I do not want to hold her or hear about all the cute things she does. And no, humping a chew toy is not cute. It's disturbing. So I will kindly slump away so you're not embarrassed that no one wants to sit next to you. Just so you know, it's not so much about the dog (well, ok yeah kinda). But everyone is also wondering what else goes on in your little brain if you think that bringing a dog onto an airplane is normal.
I really didn't even know that they allowed dogs into cabins of airplanes anyway! I was actually pretty shocked.
Then to top it all off, I finally get home, walk in the door, and am greeted by a small, loudly yapping Shorkie (half Shitzu, half Yorkie) that my parents decided to get as soon as my brother and I moved out of the house. Home sweet home. It must be the Holidays...
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Mom, why didn't you tell me it would be this hard?
Whew! Life is rough. I really didn't know it was this hard. Mom, you could have told me that there was a little bit more than going to high school, then college, then working, getting married, making babies and living happily ever after. Then again, my 5-year-old self would have been traumatized for life and you probably wouldn't have been able to get me out of the house for the next 15 years. Which would have sucked for everyone involved.
I've been going through a slump recently. My mom and I think I have a mild case of SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year around this time I get a little more sad, have less energy and drive to do the things I love to do, and crave really, really bad food. Which is weird because I am usually a very healthy eater--especially in the summer. Everything is different in the summer. I love to be outside and workout and do everything but eat. In the winter it's totally different. I only want chocolate and to lounge around and do nothing. And I don't like it, even though I want to do it. Does that make sense?
SAD can be caused by different things related to the seasons changing and varies into different levels of severity. I obviously have a very mild case because I am still a functioning girl/woman/adult/kid/whatever-you-are-at-20. Well, normal for me anyway. Most people with it are affected by the lack of light experienced in the winter versus summer. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I decided to move to Texas. No, it wasn't a huge reason, but it was still a factor in my thinking.
This happened to me every year in high school starting freshman year. And we could never figure out what was going on until after a few years. So this year, I'm trying really hard to fight it. Like, really, really hard. I'm trying to eat right so I don't gain weight and get even more unhappy. But it's so hard not to do something that your brain is telling you it wants to do! And it's so hard to try and make yourself happy when your brain is telling you that you aren't as happy as you're used to being. And I'm usually a very happy person. I'm a born optimistic.
Don't get me wrong or anything! I'm not depressed! It's just a little slump due to the weather and stresses of school that always builds up around this time of the year. It's still unfortunate, but I'll get over it.
Man, this post is kind of depressing! Haha sorry! But it's still interesting, maybe? Like now you know something about me that not many people know? Wow, now I feel kind of vulnerable. But hey, you're taking time out of your day to read what I have to say so that must mean something right?
Now don't get me started on the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life! I have so many life plans that I don't know which road to take! I think I want to do something like AmeriCorps or TeachforAmerica right out of college. You know, go somewhere I've never been and help people I've never met. If I get married and start a family or career then I'll never have that opportunity again. But what if while I'm gone I miss out on married life and having kids? Or my life takes a different path and I never quite get back to that opportunity?
I'm also thinking about Grad school or law school. Which means debt. Yay. My dad has this awesome plan for me where I graduate from SMU, go to Law School, start working for the NCAA and eventually work my way up so that I help put together the major tournaments. Which did sound really cool when he was describing it...until my brain clicked. "Uhh, dad? This means you want courtside tickets to the the Final Four?" "Uhhh...."
You see, the biggest thing I fear in my life is regrets. I am such a second-guesser and always live in fear that I'm not optimizing my time doing what I'm doing or I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for me or if I really and truly like what I'm doing or I just tell myself I like where I am so that I can pretend that everything is great....
sorry, that was a mouthful.
I'm such a worrier. And I try not to be a worrier but it's just who I am! It's like, I think I know what I want, and then when I get it, I actually don't want it, I want something else, but no, that thing is no good either.... I guess I'm just not satisfied. And I've heard it's good to not be satisfied? So that you'll always be looking for something more? But what about being totally sure of your life and what you're doing? Shouldn't that be a good thing to do too?
Wow, depressing post. But at least I got it out. And was semi-philosophical.
Or maybe just crazy.
You're welcome.
I've been going through a slump recently. My mom and I think I have a mild case of SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year around this time I get a little more sad, have less energy and drive to do the things I love to do, and crave really, really bad food. Which is weird because I am usually a very healthy eater--especially in the summer. Everything is different in the summer. I love to be outside and workout and do everything but eat. In the winter it's totally different. I only want chocolate and to lounge around and do nothing. And I don't like it, even though I want to do it. Does that make sense?
SAD can be caused by different things related to the seasons changing and varies into different levels of severity. I obviously have a very mild case because I am still a functioning girl/woman/adult/kid/whatever-you-are-at-20. Well, normal for me anyway. Most people with it are affected by the lack of light experienced in the winter versus summer. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I decided to move to Texas. No, it wasn't a huge reason, but it was still a factor in my thinking.
This happened to me every year in high school starting freshman year. And we could never figure out what was going on until after a few years. So this year, I'm trying really hard to fight it. Like, really, really hard. I'm trying to eat right so I don't gain weight and get even more unhappy. But it's so hard not to do something that your brain is telling you it wants to do! And it's so hard to try and make yourself happy when your brain is telling you that you aren't as happy as you're used to being. And I'm usually a very happy person. I'm a born optimistic.
Don't get me wrong or anything! I'm not depressed! It's just a little slump due to the weather and stresses of school that always builds up around this time of the year. It's still unfortunate, but I'll get over it.
Man, this post is kind of depressing! Haha sorry! But it's still interesting, maybe? Like now you know something about me that not many people know? Wow, now I feel kind of vulnerable. But hey, you're taking time out of your day to read what I have to say so that must mean something right?
Now don't get me started on the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life! I have so many life plans that I don't know which road to take! I think I want to do something like AmeriCorps or TeachforAmerica right out of college. You know, go somewhere I've never been and help people I've never met. If I get married and start a family or career then I'll never have that opportunity again. But what if while I'm gone I miss out on married life and having kids? Or my life takes a different path and I never quite get back to that opportunity?
I'm also thinking about Grad school or law school. Which means debt. Yay. My dad has this awesome plan for me where I graduate from SMU, go to Law School, start working for the NCAA and eventually work my way up so that I help put together the major tournaments. Which did sound really cool when he was describing it...until my brain clicked. "Uhh, dad? This means you want courtside tickets to the the Final Four?" "Uhhh...."
You see, the biggest thing I fear in my life is regrets. I am such a second-guesser and always live in fear that I'm not optimizing my time doing what I'm doing or I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for me or if I really and truly like what I'm doing or I just tell myself I like where I am so that I can pretend that everything is great....
sorry, that was a mouthful.
I'm such a worrier. And I try not to be a worrier but it's just who I am! It's like, I think I know what I want, and then when I get it, I actually don't want it, I want something else, but no, that thing is no good either.... I guess I'm just not satisfied. And I've heard it's good to not be satisfied? So that you'll always be looking for something more? But what about being totally sure of your life and what you're doing? Shouldn't that be a good thing to do too?
Wow, depressing post. But at least I got it out. And was semi-philosophical.
Or maybe just crazy.
You're welcome.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
MY BODY DOESN'T BEND THAT WAY!!!!
Alright, soooo I've recently developed some back issues. What a semester, huh? It's actually not that big of a deal. My back has been a little tweaked on and off for last year and this semester. Lots of girls on my team have back issues so I'm thinking that it's kind of normal....except for the fact that pain really isn't normal...I think our coach just wants us to keep rowing....
It's like child labor except that I'm 20 and in college in the 21st century. I probably shouldn't say that in case anyone at SMU Athletics is reading this. Which I'm sure they're not. They're probably too busy counting the money they're saving from their new policy where Student-Athletes can't drop a course even if their failing. But that's a rant for another day....
So today I had an appointment for A.R.T. It's just this place outside of SMU that our trainer sends us for deep stretching (a.k.a. I don't know what it stands for). And when she told me that people were going to be stretching me out, she was making a HUGE understatement. As soon as I walked in the door they were like, "Woah, what's wrong with you?" "Umm..nothing. I'm just walking??" "Well, uhh, you're really messed up." "Thaaaaanks." They could just tell from the way I was walking that something was wrong with my glutes, hamstrings, and back muscles. This will be fun, I thought. I'll get a good deep stretch and feel completely refreshed. WRONG.
What followed for the next hour was intense, excruciating pain. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. Two big men were making me curl up into a ball while they dug their hands into my muscles (to hold them still) as they slowly pulled and twisted my legs and arms away from my body. When my trainer said deep stretching, I think she meant that they were going to turn me into a contortionist against mine and my body's will. While they were "stretching me out" I am 100 percent positive that they were attempting to touch the wall 30 feet away from my bed. And I'm really not just trying to be funny when I say that. While they were pulling on my legs I really thought there was a bull's eye on the wall across from my bed and they got a bonus if they hit the big red circle. I looked after they let me get up but they must have taken it down while I was taking inventory of my muscles and ligaments.
Don't even get me started on where they put their hands. I was like, "Is this legal? Should I be concerned?" Talk about every single muscle of my butt got some. I'm pretty sure their orientation went like this: 1) Dig a hand as hard as you can into a muscle in patient's cheek. Go extra hard if she's a girl. 2) Pull the leg gently (optional, of course) away from the body and hold your hand firm in its place to be sure to not let the muscle go anywhere--this is what it's naturally trying to do as you pull the leg away but you need to fight that. 3) Move your hand a few tiny centimeters down from the spot you were just at. Be careful not to move too far or you'll miss something in that cheek and you'll have to start all over again. Then again, feel free to start over. Hey, it's not your body that's feeling the pain. 4) Go to the front side to get the "hip flexers". (Don't even get me started on that area--you don't wanna know.)
I also chose the completely wrong outfit to wear. I wore a t-shirt and gym shorts. That seems perfectly acceptable for stretching, right? WRONG. Every time they moved my leg, my shorts began to creep up and I was worried that, well....I was revealing too much leg.
Note for next time: wear pants. If there even is a next time. I'm standing while I'm writing this because I can't sit on my behind because it's yelling at me. Really loudly, too. Or is that about the chocolate I ate today? I can't tell anymore!!!!
But really, I would like to thank those people. I think. I'm pretty sure my body will feel better tomorrow. Or Friday. In the long run, I think it was worth it. Obviously, or else my trainer wouldn't have sent me there. So thank you, big burly men, for making me very uncomfortable for an hour as you tried to get my body back to normal. Too bad I'm no where close to normal. Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of them from now on. First name basis, here I come.
Oh, and I'm stealing that bull's eye sheet.
It's like child labor except that I'm 20 and in college in the 21st century. I probably shouldn't say that in case anyone at SMU Athletics is reading this. Which I'm sure they're not. They're probably too busy counting the money they're saving from their new policy where Student-Athletes can't drop a course even if their failing. But that's a rant for another day....
So today I had an appointment for A.R.T. It's just this place outside of SMU that our trainer sends us for deep stretching (a.k.a. I don't know what it stands for). And when she told me that people were going to be stretching me out, she was making a HUGE understatement. As soon as I walked in the door they were like, "Woah, what's wrong with you?" "Umm..nothing. I'm just walking??" "Well, uhh, you're really messed up." "Thaaaaanks." They could just tell from the way I was walking that something was wrong with my glutes, hamstrings, and back muscles. This will be fun, I thought. I'll get a good deep stretch and feel completely refreshed. WRONG.
What followed for the next hour was intense, excruciating pain. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. Two big men were making me curl up into a ball while they dug their hands into my muscles (to hold them still) as they slowly pulled and twisted my legs and arms away from my body. When my trainer said deep stretching, I think she meant that they were going to turn me into a contortionist against mine and my body's will. While they were "stretching me out" I am 100 percent positive that they were attempting to touch the wall 30 feet away from my bed. And I'm really not just trying to be funny when I say that. While they were pulling on my legs I really thought there was a bull's eye on the wall across from my bed and they got a bonus if they hit the big red circle. I looked after they let me get up but they must have taken it down while I was taking inventory of my muscles and ligaments.
Don't even get me started on where they put their hands. I was like, "Is this legal? Should I be concerned?" Talk about every single muscle of my butt got some. I'm pretty sure their orientation went like this: 1) Dig a hand as hard as you can into a muscle in patient's cheek. Go extra hard if she's a girl. 2) Pull the leg gently (optional, of course) away from the body and hold your hand firm in its place to be sure to not let the muscle go anywhere--this is what it's naturally trying to do as you pull the leg away but you need to fight that. 3) Move your hand a few tiny centimeters down from the spot you were just at. Be careful not to move too far or you'll miss something in that cheek and you'll have to start all over again. Then again, feel free to start over. Hey, it's not your body that's feeling the pain. 4) Go to the front side to get the "hip flexers". (Don't even get me started on that area--you don't wanna know.)
I also chose the completely wrong outfit to wear. I wore a t-shirt and gym shorts. That seems perfectly acceptable for stretching, right? WRONG. Every time they moved my leg, my shorts began to creep up and I was worried that, well....I was revealing too much leg.
Note for next time: wear pants. If there even is a next time. I'm standing while I'm writing this because I can't sit on my behind because it's yelling at me. Really loudly, too. Or is that about the chocolate I ate today? I can't tell anymore!!!!
But really, I would like to thank those people. I think. I'm pretty sure my body will feel better tomorrow. Or Friday. In the long run, I think it was worth it. Obviously, or else my trainer wouldn't have sent me there. So thank you, big burly men, for making me very uncomfortable for an hour as you tried to get my body back to normal. Too bad I'm no where close to normal. Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of them from now on. First name basis, here I come.
Oh, and I'm stealing that bull's eye sheet.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Keep Walkin'
So this weekend was SMU Homecoming and my mom, dad, and brother came down to visit me, hangout, Boulevard, and go to the game. Well I thought they wanted to go to the game, but came to find out that they had no intentions because "Rice has not won yet this season so there's basically no point." After hanging out on the Boulevard for an extra hour and finally deciding to go to the game, I notice we are DOWN 7 to 20 to a team that HASN'T WON A GAME YET THIS SEASON. Only SMU. We finally pulled it together and won, Thank God.
Anyway, my birthday was last Tuesday. I turned 20. I am no longer a teenager. The first thing my roommate Outdoors Woman said to me was, "Congratulations! You will never be a teen pregnancy statistic!" Phew! I was really worried about that! That was the main reason I was excited to turn 20--I really didn't want to add to that problem...
So my mom took me shopping for birthday presents on Friday. Shopping with mom is always fun. She picks things out and I tell her they're "cute". If she puts them back on the rack, then all is good. When she considers buying them I tell her, "Umm I'm not so sure I like it that much." When she actually starts walking towards the cash register and is about to whip out her wallet, I get out in one last hurried breath, "Mom-don't-buy-it--it-reminds-me-of-an-old-lady!!" She has never pursued a purchase after one of those comments--that's always a sure-fire way to stop her dead in her tracks. My mom would NEVER want to look like an old lady. EVER EVER EVER. She's not old. Right?
Mother does like to shop though. I can't complain. I do too. We went to Nordstrom Rack on Friday (it's like a T.J. Maxx with all Nordstrom stuff 50-75% off) and were in there for THREE HOURS. Three. We finally decided to go and pay. I was done for the day. So was she...so she said. We paid and were walking out of the store when she saw some sunglasses. "Keeeep Walkin'," I said. She turned around and laughed because she knew exactly wheat I was getting at.
This continued to happen all weekend. We would be in a store and mom's wandering eye would get distracted by a deal or item or something. I would notice her head start to turn as she slowed her pace and began to contemplate venturing over until I would knowingly say, "Keep Walkin'." She would pretend not to know what I was talking about until I tilted my head to the side and looked sideways out of my eyes to let her know that I knew exactly what was going on in that little brain of hers.
This even happened on the Boulevard yesterday. My parents wanted to go to the Delta Gamma (sorority I am now affiliated with) tent. I initially knew this was not such a good idea. This year, the Boulevard Organizing Committee or whatever decided to get all the Greek students out of the main part of the Boulevard. (I wonder why they would want to do that?) So, they pushed them all up on Dallas Hall Lawn (the north part of the Boulevard). So basically the whole north part of campus is covered by drunk fraternity brothers and sorority sisters listening/dancing to questionable music. Obviously I don't mind it but this is not a place for a mom, dad, 12-year-old brother, and family friend. I showed them the tent (from a great distance away) and suggested we go back to the student athlete tent. As we meandered through the crowd thick with the smell of beer and sweaty Greeks, my family began to slow their pace and look around. I had to say, "Keep Walkin'," before they realized what kind of group I was going to begin affiliating myself with....and refuse to pay for it.
At the end of the weekend, my mom said that if my dad asked, my clothes cost more than they actually did....that way he wouldn't notice the (ahem) few extra things she picked up for herself. Looks like I need new techniques to help my mom with her wandering eye....
Love ya mom!! :)
Anyway, my birthday was last Tuesday. I turned 20. I am no longer a teenager. The first thing my roommate Outdoors Woman said to me was, "Congratulations! You will never be a teen pregnancy statistic!" Phew! I was really worried about that! That was the main reason I was excited to turn 20--I really didn't want to add to that problem...
So my mom took me shopping for birthday presents on Friday. Shopping with mom is always fun. She picks things out and I tell her they're "cute". If she puts them back on the rack, then all is good. When she considers buying them I tell her, "Umm I'm not so sure I like it that much." When she actually starts walking towards the cash register and is about to whip out her wallet, I get out in one last hurried breath, "Mom-don't-buy-it--it-reminds-me-of-an-old-lady!!" She has never pursued a purchase after one of those comments--that's always a sure-fire way to stop her dead in her tracks. My mom would NEVER want to look like an old lady. EVER EVER EVER. She's not old. Right?
Mother does like to shop though. I can't complain. I do too. We went to Nordstrom Rack on Friday (it's like a T.J. Maxx with all Nordstrom stuff 50-75% off) and were in there for THREE HOURS. Three. We finally decided to go and pay. I was done for the day. So was she...so she said. We paid and were walking out of the store when she saw some sunglasses. "Keeeep Walkin'," I said. She turned around and laughed because she knew exactly wheat I was getting at.
This continued to happen all weekend. We would be in a store and mom's wandering eye would get distracted by a deal or item or something. I would notice her head start to turn as she slowed her pace and began to contemplate venturing over until I would knowingly say, "Keep Walkin'." She would pretend not to know what I was talking about until I tilted my head to the side and looked sideways out of my eyes to let her know that I knew exactly what was going on in that little brain of hers.
This even happened on the Boulevard yesterday. My parents wanted to go to the Delta Gamma (sorority I am now affiliated with) tent. I initially knew this was not such a good idea. This year, the Boulevard Organizing Committee or whatever decided to get all the Greek students out of the main part of the Boulevard. (I wonder why they would want to do that?) So, they pushed them all up on Dallas Hall Lawn (the north part of the Boulevard). So basically the whole north part of campus is covered by drunk fraternity brothers and sorority sisters listening/dancing to questionable music. Obviously I don't mind it but this is not a place for a mom, dad, 12-year-old brother, and family friend. I showed them the tent (from a great distance away) and suggested we go back to the student athlete tent. As we meandered through the crowd thick with the smell of beer and sweaty Greeks, my family began to slow their pace and look around. I had to say, "Keep Walkin'," before they realized what kind of group I was going to begin affiliating myself with....and refuse to pay for it.
At the end of the weekend, my mom said that if my dad asked, my clothes cost more than they actually did....that way he wouldn't notice the (ahem) few extra things she picked up for herself. Looks like I need new techniques to help my mom with her wandering eye....
Love ya mom!! :)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I Crashed
I Crashed.
Mentally and physically crashed.
A girl can only do so much.
These past few weeks have been rough.
We've been at 20 hours of practice a week for rowing with excruciating workouts.
I've had midterm after midterm and paper after paper.
I'm the head of the committee for the Student Athlete Tent for Boulevarding (the SMU version of "tailgating"...because we're too classy to use pick-up trucks). I have food, furniture, and people to organize.
I joined a sorority. (Yes, I'm biting my tongue right now, thankyouverymuch)
I have a social life. I think.
So yes, I crashed. It was the morning of last Wednesday. I was in the boat at 6 am just about to begin a workout when I fell asleep. SITTING UP in a boat in the middle of the lake. And I had a dream. A legitimate dream. I woke up when our coxswain started yelling at us to start. After doing part of the workout and been given a break, I honestly did not know how I was going to finish. It was soooooo hard to lift my arms to fix my ponytail, much less push my legs back over and over until they filled with lactic acid...and then keep doing it through the pain. I had a Business Statistics midterm at 10. After practice I would have one and a half hours to review before I had to take it. I remember thinking, "You just have to get through today and then you will be ok. You can sleep and everything will be ok. Just get through today." Do I need to say that that did not happen?
Do I need to say that I left my apartment looking terrible? Like I had been up all night experimenting with and mixing drugs? As I brushed white powder off my sweatpants, I got into my car. Thinking, thinking, thinking all the way to school: "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can.....ohh don't hit that girl crossing the crosswalk....." BOOM.
No, I didn't hit the girl. I was too focused on her to see a car coming right at me. Yes, we collided. I looked up and made eye contact with the poor guy behind the wheel. Did I realize that I had just been in a car acident? Not until I got out of the car and was assessing the damage in the middle of the intersection right in front of the school's parking garage and just off of campus while everyone was walking to school did I realize that I had been in a car accident. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. All of it.
I lost it. Completely and utterly in hysterics. Was there alot of damage? No. Not even. I wasn't even moving and he hit me going a mere 2 mph. There is a little dent on his front bumper and my car looks the same as always--pristine condition. I was bawling my eyes out in the middle of the intersection because I had failed to get through the day. As far as I knew at that moment in time, my life sucked. The amount of tears coming out of my eyes could have filled up a lake. I was kindof wishing that it did so that I could row away from the mess.
The nice gentlemen, after securing a witness, came over to the hott mess that I was. He asked if I was ok and then gave me a big hug and said everything was going to be all right. I put my arms around him like a bear trap. I was not letting go. NOT AT ALL. Yes, this is the man that I just hit and no, I don't know him at all, but he had an English accent that made him seem friendlier so why not? And besides, I really needed a hug.
I cannot get over how nice he was. He couldn't understand why I was crying so hard because it really wasn't "that big of a deal". He knew something else was wrong. He said, "Haley," (because we were on first name basis by then) "I sure hope its not the boys stressing you out?" trying to make me laugh. He even felt bad about me missing class! When I said I was missing an exam, he was like, "Oh heavens! Well let's get this wrapped up quick so you can go take that!" He asked the policeman to write me a "pass" to re-take the exam.
I made it to my next class looking like I took a few more hits inbetween passing periods. And shot something into my eyeballs to make them swell half-shut.
But now I'm good. For now....
Mentally and physically crashed.
A girl can only do so much.
These past few weeks have been rough.
We've been at 20 hours of practice a week for rowing with excruciating workouts.
I've had midterm after midterm and paper after paper.
I'm the head of the committee for the Student Athlete Tent for Boulevarding (the SMU version of "tailgating"...because we're too classy to use pick-up trucks). I have food, furniture, and people to organize.
I joined a sorority. (Yes, I'm biting my tongue right now, thankyouverymuch)
I have a social life. I think.
So yes, I crashed. It was the morning of last Wednesday. I was in the boat at 6 am just about to begin a workout when I fell asleep. SITTING UP in a boat in the middle of the lake. And I had a dream. A legitimate dream. I woke up when our coxswain started yelling at us to start. After doing part of the workout and been given a break, I honestly did not know how I was going to finish. It was soooooo hard to lift my arms to fix my ponytail, much less push my legs back over and over until they filled with lactic acid...and then keep doing it through the pain. I had a Business Statistics midterm at 10. After practice I would have one and a half hours to review before I had to take it. I remember thinking, "You just have to get through today and then you will be ok. You can sleep and everything will be ok. Just get through today." Do I need to say that that did not happen?
Do I need to say that I left my apartment looking terrible? Like I had been up all night experimenting with and mixing drugs? As I brushed white powder off my sweatpants, I got into my car. Thinking, thinking, thinking all the way to school: "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can.....ohh don't hit that girl crossing the crosswalk....." BOOM.
No, I didn't hit the girl. I was too focused on her to see a car coming right at me. Yes, we collided. I looked up and made eye contact with the poor guy behind the wheel. Did I realize that I had just been in a car acident? Not until I got out of the car and was assessing the damage in the middle of the intersection right in front of the school's parking garage and just off of campus while everyone was walking to school did I realize that I had been in a car accident. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. All of it.
I lost it. Completely and utterly in hysterics. Was there alot of damage? No. Not even. I wasn't even moving and he hit me going a mere 2 mph. There is a little dent on his front bumper and my car looks the same as always--pristine condition. I was bawling my eyes out in the middle of the intersection because I had failed to get through the day. As far as I knew at that moment in time, my life sucked. The amount of tears coming out of my eyes could have filled up a lake. I was kindof wishing that it did so that I could row away from the mess.
The nice gentlemen, after securing a witness, came over to the hott mess that I was. He asked if I was ok and then gave me a big hug and said everything was going to be all right. I put my arms around him like a bear trap. I was not letting go. NOT AT ALL. Yes, this is the man that I just hit and no, I don't know him at all, but he had an English accent that made him seem friendlier so why not? And besides, I really needed a hug.
I cannot get over how nice he was. He couldn't understand why I was crying so hard because it really wasn't "that big of a deal". He knew something else was wrong. He said, "Haley," (because we were on first name basis by then) "I sure hope its not the boys stressing you out?" trying to make me laugh. He even felt bad about me missing class! When I said I was missing an exam, he was like, "Oh heavens! Well let's get this wrapped up quick so you can go take that!" He asked the policeman to write me a "pass" to re-take the exam.
I made it to my next class looking like I took a few more hits inbetween passing periods. And shot something into my eyeballs to make them swell half-shut.
But now I'm good. For now....
Friday, September 25, 2009
Anti-Obsession of the Week: Angel Soft Toilet Paper
Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it.
DON'T BUY ANGEL SOFT TOILET PAPER.
IT IS NOT "ANGEL SOFT."
So I've decided to do an anti-obsession of the week because there has been something that has been bugging me ALL week. AND I HATE IT. Yep, that's right, toilet paper. How can toilet paper get me so peeved, you ask? Well, just think about it, and I'm sure you can figure it out. Don't make me spell it out for you.
So I went to the store because we were out of toilet paper. Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm not that knowledgeable about TP. My mom was the CEO of toilet-paper-buying when I was living at home. And I was kinda forced to use whatever she bought because, hey, am I gonna buy it? HAHAHAAH no. So it all worked out fine. I never even really thought about toilet paper before. That's a good thing right? TP shouldn't be something that takes up some of your thinking time. It just shouldn't. You've got many more important things...hopefully. Therefore, living in my own apartment this year, I was forced to get my own TP. Not a big deal--it's not that expensive. And it's kind of an evil necessary. You really CAN'T live without it. And I don't really wanna try.....
I have not had a few years, like some of you have had, to try out a few brands until I found one I liked. So when browsing the grocery store, I first went with the ones that were priced cheaper (wrong choice number one) and one that I had seen advertised on TV since I was little (wrong choice number two). The more expensive TPs are more expensive for a reason: THEY'RE BETTER. They're made better and they're better for you too.
So the advertisement I would see all the time when I was little was of this Angel Soft TP and a little puppy. What, you ask, does a puppy have to do with TP? I have no idea except for maybe this toilet paper was a chew toy for the puppy. Seriously. Anyway, the little boy in the commercial would put a layer of toilet paper up against the wall and the little puppy would run and run towards the little boy and then couldn't stop on the hardwood floor so he would run into the toilet paper. I always thought it was a really cute commercial. But now I have no idea what it has to do with TP. The TP never even came out of its container. And now I know why. The people in the commercial didn't actually want to use it. The little boy just wanted to use it in his little sadistic animal-torture game. I can't believe his mother was supporting that behavior by buying Angel Soft. At least those Charmin commercials show the bears using the TP and liking it. Even if they are cartoons. So now I feel the need to ask the advertising agencies what the connection is with animals and toilet paper. Is that something they teach you in college?
Needless to say, I ended up buying something that feels like a cheese grater. Yeah.... Every time I have to go the bathroom, I let out a small groan. Not WHILE I'm going to the bathroom, you sickos. Just when I realize that I have to get up and go again. I actually really hate going to the bathroom now. But you shouldn't hate that! I'm so weird. This should not be taking up my time. Going to the bathroom is now an evil necessary for me. It's a chore and I can't wait until we run out of toilet paper. I'm actually trying to use toilet paper for anything and everything I can think of just so it goes faster. Why, do you ask, don't I go get some new toilet paper that I will like? Because I bought the value-pack to save money and so we won't run out quickly. BAD IDEA. When trying out toilet paper, only buy a few rolls until you're absolutely sure that you definately like it. Also, we already have so much toilet paper that I don't have the room for more. That, and I hate wasting money. That, and I got a 50 dollar parking ticket this week--bigger groan. So there goes my toilet paper money (like I was gonna shell out more money for TP anyway.)
But seriously, I might have to soon. This is getting ridiculous.
DON'T BUY ANGEL SOFT TOILET PAPER.
IT IS NOT "ANGEL SOFT."
So I've decided to do an anti-obsession of the week because there has been something that has been bugging me ALL week. AND I HATE IT. Yep, that's right, toilet paper. How can toilet paper get me so peeved, you ask? Well, just think about it, and I'm sure you can figure it out. Don't make me spell it out for you.
So I went to the store because we were out of toilet paper. Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm not that knowledgeable about TP. My mom was the CEO of toilet-paper-buying when I was living at home. And I was kinda forced to use whatever she bought because, hey, am I gonna buy it? HAHAHAAH no. So it all worked out fine. I never even really thought about toilet paper before. That's a good thing right? TP shouldn't be something that takes up some of your thinking time. It just shouldn't. You've got many more important things...hopefully. Therefore, living in my own apartment this year, I was forced to get my own TP. Not a big deal--it's not that expensive. And it's kind of an evil necessary. You really CAN'T live without it. And I don't really wanna try.....
I have not had a few years, like some of you have had, to try out a few brands until I found one I liked. So when browsing the grocery store, I first went with the ones that were priced cheaper (wrong choice number one) and one that I had seen advertised on TV since I was little (wrong choice number two). The more expensive TPs are more expensive for a reason: THEY'RE BETTER. They're made better and they're better for you too.
So the advertisement I would see all the time when I was little was of this Angel Soft TP and a little puppy. What, you ask, does a puppy have to do with TP? I have no idea except for maybe this toilet paper was a chew toy for the puppy. Seriously. Anyway, the little boy in the commercial would put a layer of toilet paper up against the wall and the little puppy would run and run towards the little boy and then couldn't stop on the hardwood floor so he would run into the toilet paper. I always thought it was a really cute commercial. But now I have no idea what it has to do with TP. The TP never even came out of its container. And now I know why. The people in the commercial didn't actually want to use it. The little boy just wanted to use it in his little sadistic animal-torture game. I can't believe his mother was supporting that behavior by buying Angel Soft. At least those Charmin commercials show the bears using the TP and liking it. Even if they are cartoons. So now I feel the need to ask the advertising agencies what the connection is with animals and toilet paper. Is that something they teach you in college?
Needless to say, I ended up buying something that feels like a cheese grater. Yeah.... Every time I have to go the bathroom, I let out a small groan. Not WHILE I'm going to the bathroom, you sickos. Just when I realize that I have to get up and go again. I actually really hate going to the bathroom now. But you shouldn't hate that! I'm so weird. This should not be taking up my time. Going to the bathroom is now an evil necessary for me. It's a chore and I can't wait until we run out of toilet paper. I'm actually trying to use toilet paper for anything and everything I can think of just so it goes faster. Why, do you ask, don't I go get some new toilet paper that I will like? Because I bought the value-pack to save money and so we won't run out quickly. BAD IDEA. When trying out toilet paper, only buy a few rolls until you're absolutely sure that you definately like it. Also, we already have so much toilet paper that I don't have the room for more. That, and I hate wasting money. That, and I got a 50 dollar parking ticket this week--bigger groan. So there goes my toilet paper money (like I was gonna shell out more money for TP anyway.)
But seriously, I might have to soon. This is getting ridiculous.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Facebook Stalking Central: Apartment 201
We've all done it. It's ok. I admit it. I am a Facebook Stalker. Don't judge.
You can't say you've never done it. You're innocently writing on your friend's wall then you see photos of them a little ways down the page posted by someone you kinda-know-but-not-really so you click on the pictures and one thing leads to another and you're 3 hours into a session where you only meant to check your inbox and now you're looking at pictures of your neighbor's girlfriend's cats. It happens. You snap out of it and realize what a creeper you are and casually look over your shoulder just to make sure no one else has noticed. You're alone in your room. But you still feel weird. But kinda like you got away with something...
One of my friends has a cousin who is very attractive. I creep on him sometimes. I've talked to him maybe a few times in my life. I am so embarrassed repeating this but there's no judging allowed at this site so I know I'm ok. I know I am not alone. Plus my roommates are waaay bigger Facebook creeps than I am.
Take Saturday night, for example. Bag Lady has known the guy I finally started a FB chat with for awhile. And by know, I mean she knows his Facebook page. She Facebook stalked him like it was going out of style--like the makers of Facebook were going to shut it down any moment without any notice at all. I would be sitting in my room and then all of a sudden hear squeals of delight from her room. WTF? "OH EM GEEE! His status says he got a new puppy and LOVES her. Soooo cute! It means he has a sensitive side." "Maybe next time (or the first time) you talk to him you can ask about his dog he's never told you about. You'll know the name and everything. That way you can bypass all those little details of getting to know him because you've already read his info/interests/wall/pictures 1928908234 times. That wouldn't be sufficiently akward or anything..." I say.
Our adoptive roommate, Beautiful Hair Girl, is even worse. She likes this guy, Milo, but is not Facebook friends with him. They have a class together. She's afraid to Facebook befriend him because he doesn't know she exists. And yet every class she's drooling in the back. I THINK she's passing.... Anyway, he is Facebook friends with Bag Lady so BHG gets on Bag Lady's Facebook to stalk him. Not creepy (or desperate) at all. I'm getting ready in the bathroom when Bag Lady starts going through his site one day. "He takes weird pictures. In a lot of them he's posing with a purse........OMG his profile says "Married" do you think he's married? He's a sophomore! Is that a joke?.....Wait a second....(as she goes deeper into the archived pictures)...does he have a KID?!?! There is a legit kid with him in a lot of pictures that looks like him." A few days later, BHG is over and I hear something going on in the room next door so I go over and they are watching some BET thing on the internet and reading a personal-writing-thing. What are you guys doing? "Ohh Milo had these things on his Facebook so we are trying to learn more about him and what he likes and see if we like it too."
(I literally stood there for a few minutes because there was NOTHING I could think of to say. I also just stopped typing for a few minutes because there was nothing for me to type after that. My mind was blank. I was trying to comprehend.) So I just laughed. REALLY LOUD. Probably like you might have.
There needs to be an FBSA or something. Facebook Stalkers Anonymous. Oh wait, that's the problem isn't it? My B.
You can't say you've never done it. You're innocently writing on your friend's wall then you see photos of them a little ways down the page posted by someone you kinda-know-but-not-really so you click on the pictures and one thing leads to another and you're 3 hours into a session where you only meant to check your inbox and now you're looking at pictures of your neighbor's girlfriend's cats. It happens. You snap out of it and realize what a creeper you are and casually look over your shoulder just to make sure no one else has noticed. You're alone in your room. But you still feel weird. But kinda like you got away with something...
One of my friends has a cousin who is very attractive. I creep on him sometimes. I've talked to him maybe a few times in my life. I am so embarrassed repeating this but there's no judging allowed at this site so I know I'm ok. I know I am not alone. Plus my roommates are waaay bigger Facebook creeps than I am.
Take Saturday night, for example. Bag Lady has known the guy I finally started a FB chat with for awhile. And by know, I mean she knows his Facebook page. She Facebook stalked him like it was going out of style--like the makers of Facebook were going to shut it down any moment without any notice at all. I would be sitting in my room and then all of a sudden hear squeals of delight from her room. WTF? "OH EM GEEE! His status says he got a new puppy and LOVES her. Soooo cute! It means he has a sensitive side." "Maybe next time (or the first time) you talk to him you can ask about his dog he's never told you about. You'll know the name and everything. That way you can bypass all those little details of getting to know him because you've already read his info/interests/wall/pictures 1928908234 times. That wouldn't be sufficiently akward or anything..." I say.
Our adoptive roommate, Beautiful Hair Girl, is even worse. She likes this guy, Milo, but is not Facebook friends with him. They have a class together. She's afraid to Facebook befriend him because he doesn't know she exists. And yet every class she's drooling in the back. I THINK she's passing.... Anyway, he is Facebook friends with Bag Lady so BHG gets on Bag Lady's Facebook to stalk him. Not creepy (or desperate) at all. I'm getting ready in the bathroom when Bag Lady starts going through his site one day. "He takes weird pictures. In a lot of them he's posing with a purse........OMG his profile says "Married" do you think he's married? He's a sophomore! Is that a joke?.....Wait a second....(as she goes deeper into the archived pictures)...does he have a KID?!?! There is a legit kid with him in a lot of pictures that looks like him." A few days later, BHG is over and I hear something going on in the room next door so I go over and they are watching some BET thing on the internet and reading a personal-writing-thing. What are you guys doing? "Ohh Milo had these things on his Facebook so we are trying to learn more about him and what he likes and see if we like it too."
(I literally stood there for a few minutes because there was NOTHING I could think of to say. I also just stopped typing for a few minutes because there was nothing for me to type after that. My mind was blank. I was trying to comprehend.) So I just laughed. REALLY LOUD. Probably like you might have.
There needs to be an FBSA or something. Facebook Stalkers Anonymous. Oh wait, that's the problem isn't it? My B.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Yesterday Actually Happened
So yesterday began with me waking up at 5:30 to be at the boathouse at 6:00 for a race at 7:15. Bowl of cereal. Unisuit. Smooth sailing. We came in 3rd, which is ok, but I like to get 1st. Come back to the apartment with Bag Lady, after ganking some fruit from the food table (because I go through fruit like it's no body's business) shower, clean my room. 'This is shaping up to be a really great Saturday,' I think, 'I'm going to get a lot done.' WRONG.
On Monday, I think I got bit by a spider while I was sleeping. I noticed it and went to the training room to get a band-aid and medicine on it before lifting weights (because the weight room is known to have staph and yeah, I guess I didn't want to get it.) Too bad.
After weights, I show my trainer and she thinks it's an ingrown hair or a pimple. On the back of my thigh. This is not an ingrown hair OR a pimple. Whatever. I keep medicine on it and covered all week. It slowly balloons. My friends are concerned, but for some reason I'm not. I still take care of it. I show another trainer on Thursday and she's like, "OHHHH MAN. Yeah, you need to go to the health center. I will write you a pass right away." FINALLY, I'm thinking. I go to the SMU health center, they say, "It might be staph, it might not. It probably is staph. Here's some medicine." "Are you going to run a test or anything?" "Nope. There's the pharmacy." Start taking the medicine.
Friday evening I go to a movie with a friend. At this point I can only wear skirts and shorts because if something even touches the area close to it, it huuuuurts. I can't sit comfortably in class. Then, during the movie, it starts burning. I think: This is not normal. My friend, Chicago, says she is taking me to the doctor tomorrow. Bag Lady wants to come. I call it a night and go to bed. Can't take the uncomfortableness.
Saturday afternoon we go to Prima Care because I was referred by a few people. Watch Shrek in the waiting room for an hour before they call us. Wait in the other room for an hour and 20 minutes. So bored that we start talking about Rugrats facts (???) It actually was a lot of fun waiting because we were basically talking and laughing the whole time. I love my friends. The nurses hated us. After an hour in the room, Chicago opens our curtain a little to let them know that yes, we are still here. One of the female nurses gives us the evil eye as she forcefully closes it. Hahahaa. Our nurse comes in. Let the fun begin.
His name is Rodrigo. He takes my blood pressure and temperature and asks the normal questions: height, weight, etc. Then he asks my last cycle. I say, "Aug 20." Bag Lady smirks and looks at her watch and then looks at me and I know what we are both thinking: September 19th. Before I can stop myself, I say, " 'Bout that time of the month, eh?" and she looses it. Rodrigo whips around and asks, "Ma'am, are you going to be able to handle this?" Apparently not. Her face is buried in her hands and she's shaking from laughing so hard. Chicago pretends to be looking for something in her bag.
The doctor comes in. I show him the medicine I am currently taking. He says it's basically right. 'Great,' I think, 'It's not doing anything.' He tells me he is going to try to drain the thing. I am going to receive a huge needle in the back of my leg while I'm face down in a clinic. He gives me numbing medicine, poking me with another needle 3 times before the actual process begins. I'm laughing because Chicago and Bag Lady have moved to where they are at the end of the bed right in front of my face and I see the disturbed looks on their faces as they watch the whole thing. Nothing comes out. It was a waste. Can't feel the back of my leg. The doctor prescribes me more antibiotics and says that I will get an antibiotic shot. I lose it. I'm crying, I'm exhausted, I raced over 5 miles this morning, my leg hurts/is numb, and I just want to go home. I want a glass of wine and some ice cream and to watch movies. Chicago and Bag Lady promise all three.
Rodrigo comes back in with the shot and tells me to lie face down again. Hmm...I thought I was going to get this in the arm. Probably going to put it on the back of my leg near the area. NOPE. Before he says anything, he pulls down the back of my skirt and stabs me in the butt. Bag Lady starts laughing again (as do I). Rodrigo asks her again, "Ma'am, can you handle this?" No, she can't. He starts rubbing the area and we start laughing again because, well, its jiggly. This is when Rodrigo says, "You know what they say, if it ain't Jello, it's Jelly!" WTF?
"Haley, you have a reeeeeeally white butt." Chicago and Bag Lady inform me as we leave. "You saw it?" "Yep. The WHOLE thing. It's white." "Well it's not like I tan without bottoms on, dum dums. When would my butt have seen the light of day?"
We go to the pharmacy. They don't accept my insurance card so I will have to pay the full price for the prescription. I lose it again and can barely drive away as the attendant tries to ask me if I'm ok. No, I'm not ok! I'm in pain and this sucks! And I'm crying. And what can you do? You're in a pharmacy and I don't even know you. Ohhh yes I do know what you can do--you can give me medicine!!
I go home and, for the rest of the evening, everyone was really nice to me. I am so lucky to have such great friends who want to take care of me and make sure I'm ok.
Bag Lady and I decide to make cookies, so we go to the grocery store. As we are leaving, we almost get hit by a grandma behind the wheel. I stop in the middle of the crosswalk, thrust my hip to the side (where the thing is) and say to Bag Lady, "Hit me here! RIGHT here. It's not like this day could get any worse! Maybe getting hit by a car will help the thing! Look, there's a bulls eye for you already!" (The thing is purple in the middle and red around it)
I'm feeling better so Bag Lady and I decide to go out. We are ridiculous together. The night was crazy and, as my parents read this, I will not post everything. I can tell you this:
1) I broke the handle off the front door of the house where the party was at. Bag Lady, me, and our gay friend could not get outside. I try to escape before anyone notices it was me. Bag Lady is plastered to the storm door thinking that, by osmosis, she might be able to get outside.
2) A guy I met last weekend comes over and says, "Hey! Aren't you the lesbian I met last weekend?!" WHAAAAAT THEEEE FFFFFFF. "Uh no. WHAT?" "Yeah, you were showing me these pictures and..." "THAT WAS NOT ME." "Are you just playin' with me right now? Because you look just like her and... This is not cool if you're messin' with me right now." "I am not 'messin' with you."
3) Go outside to see how my friend is doing. There are five wooden stairs to go down. Slip and fall down ALL OF THEM. Everyone on the patio stops talking, turns, and stares. FML. I have not been drinking.
4) Hear someone call my name from across the yard. What guy here knows my name? "Haley! Do you remember me? We met last weekend." I can't see him very well, so he makes a motion with his hand in the air that looks like a Bell Curve. "Here's a hint." "Hmm..." I yell, "Normal Distribution! Are you in my Statistics class?" He lowers his hand and stares, dumbfounded. I am a nerd. "No." "Ok...hill...the hills are alive with the sound of music!" (Did I really just say that?) "What?" He is confused. "Hill....ohhh your name!" "Yes."
5) Bag Lady and I are ready to go home. Its 3. We decide to walk because had already spent about 20 dollars on cab fares. It's about a mile. We are walking and two bicyclists ride by and say, "Hey ladies! Need a ride home?" Yeah, just let me hop on your handlebars and you can ride me off into the night. Good life choice. Now that I think about it, who rides their bike at 3 am? Well, who takes a walk at 3 am? Touche.
6) We get back home around 4 and Bag Lady gets on Facebook. Really. The guy she likes is online and as she gets ready for bed I start a chat with him...as her. Before she comes back, I go into my room and pretend to be asleep. She comes into my room and literally drags me out of bed by the ankles saying, "YOU STARTED THIS, YOU HAVE TO FINISH IT." We put our two heads together to come up with the most eloquent things to say, making sure we wait atleast 1-2 minutes before responding so as to not appear desperate. Finally go to bed.
Wake up in the morning and take the band-aid off where I got the shot. I have a bruise the size of a quarter in the middle of my cheek. Beautiful. The thing on the back of my leg is bigger. Bag Lady and Outdoors Woman make me lay down on my bed as they play Art Class on the back of my leg drawing pictures and a circle around the thing. I'll keep you posted.
No, this was not some dream (or should I say nightmare?) This was my Saturday.
On Monday, I think I got bit by a spider while I was sleeping. I noticed it and went to the training room to get a band-aid and medicine on it before lifting weights (because the weight room is known to have staph and yeah, I guess I didn't want to get it.) Too bad.
After weights, I show my trainer and she thinks it's an ingrown hair or a pimple. On the back of my thigh. This is not an ingrown hair OR a pimple. Whatever. I keep medicine on it and covered all week. It slowly balloons. My friends are concerned, but for some reason I'm not. I still take care of it. I show another trainer on Thursday and she's like, "OHHHH MAN. Yeah, you need to go to the health center. I will write you a pass right away." FINALLY, I'm thinking. I go to the SMU health center, they say, "It might be staph, it might not. It probably is staph. Here's some medicine." "Are you going to run a test or anything?" "Nope. There's the pharmacy." Start taking the medicine.
Friday evening I go to a movie with a friend. At this point I can only wear skirts and shorts because if something even touches the area close to it, it huuuuurts. I can't sit comfortably in class. Then, during the movie, it starts burning. I think: This is not normal. My friend, Chicago, says she is taking me to the doctor tomorrow. Bag Lady wants to come. I call it a night and go to bed. Can't take the uncomfortableness.
Saturday afternoon we go to Prima Care because I was referred by a few people. Watch Shrek in the waiting room for an hour before they call us. Wait in the other room for an hour and 20 minutes. So bored that we start talking about Rugrats facts (???) It actually was a lot of fun waiting because we were basically talking and laughing the whole time. I love my friends. The nurses hated us. After an hour in the room, Chicago opens our curtain a little to let them know that yes, we are still here. One of the female nurses gives us the evil eye as she forcefully closes it. Hahahaa. Our nurse comes in. Let the fun begin.
His name is Rodrigo. He takes my blood pressure and temperature and asks the normal questions: height, weight, etc. Then he asks my last cycle. I say, "Aug 20." Bag Lady smirks and looks at her watch and then looks at me and I know what we are both thinking: September 19th. Before I can stop myself, I say, " 'Bout that time of the month, eh?" and she looses it. Rodrigo whips around and asks, "Ma'am, are you going to be able to handle this?" Apparently not. Her face is buried in her hands and she's shaking from laughing so hard. Chicago pretends to be looking for something in her bag.
The doctor comes in. I show him the medicine I am currently taking. He says it's basically right. 'Great,' I think, 'It's not doing anything.' He tells me he is going to try to drain the thing. I am going to receive a huge needle in the back of my leg while I'm face down in a clinic. He gives me numbing medicine, poking me with another needle 3 times before the actual process begins. I'm laughing because Chicago and Bag Lady have moved to where they are at the end of the bed right in front of my face and I see the disturbed looks on their faces as they watch the whole thing. Nothing comes out. It was a waste. Can't feel the back of my leg. The doctor prescribes me more antibiotics and says that I will get an antibiotic shot. I lose it. I'm crying, I'm exhausted, I raced over 5 miles this morning, my leg hurts/is numb, and I just want to go home. I want a glass of wine and some ice cream and to watch movies. Chicago and Bag Lady promise all three.
Rodrigo comes back in with the shot and tells me to lie face down again. Hmm...I thought I was going to get this in the arm. Probably going to put it on the back of my leg near the area. NOPE. Before he says anything, he pulls down the back of my skirt and stabs me in the butt. Bag Lady starts laughing again (as do I). Rodrigo asks her again, "Ma'am, can you handle this?" No, she can't. He starts rubbing the area and we start laughing again because, well, its jiggly. This is when Rodrigo says, "You know what they say, if it ain't Jello, it's Jelly!" WTF?
"Haley, you have a reeeeeeally white butt." Chicago and Bag Lady inform me as we leave. "You saw it?" "Yep. The WHOLE thing. It's white." "Well it's not like I tan without bottoms on, dum dums. When would my butt have seen the light of day?"
We go to the pharmacy. They don't accept my insurance card so I will have to pay the full price for the prescription. I lose it again and can barely drive away as the attendant tries to ask me if I'm ok. No, I'm not ok! I'm in pain and this sucks! And I'm crying. And what can you do? You're in a pharmacy and I don't even know you. Ohhh yes I do know what you can do--you can give me medicine!!
I go home and, for the rest of the evening, everyone was really nice to me. I am so lucky to have such great friends who want to take care of me and make sure I'm ok.
Bag Lady and I decide to make cookies, so we go to the grocery store. As we are leaving, we almost get hit by a grandma behind the wheel. I stop in the middle of the crosswalk, thrust my hip to the side (where the thing is) and say to Bag Lady, "Hit me here! RIGHT here. It's not like this day could get any worse! Maybe getting hit by a car will help the thing! Look, there's a bulls eye for you already!" (The thing is purple in the middle and red around it)
I'm feeling better so Bag Lady and I decide to go out. We are ridiculous together. The night was crazy and, as my parents read this, I will not post everything. I can tell you this:
1) I broke the handle off the front door of the house where the party was at. Bag Lady, me, and our gay friend could not get outside. I try to escape before anyone notices it was me. Bag Lady is plastered to the storm door thinking that, by osmosis, she might be able to get outside.
2) A guy I met last weekend comes over and says, "Hey! Aren't you the lesbian I met last weekend?!" WHAAAAAT THEEEE FFFFFFF. "Uh no. WHAT?" "Yeah, you were showing me these pictures and..." "THAT WAS NOT ME." "Are you just playin' with me right now? Because you look just like her and... This is not cool if you're messin' with me right now." "I am not 'messin' with you."
3) Go outside to see how my friend is doing. There are five wooden stairs to go down. Slip and fall down ALL OF THEM. Everyone on the patio stops talking, turns, and stares. FML. I have not been drinking.
4) Hear someone call my name from across the yard. What guy here knows my name? "Haley! Do you remember me? We met last weekend." I can't see him very well, so he makes a motion with his hand in the air that looks like a Bell Curve. "Here's a hint." "Hmm..." I yell, "Normal Distribution! Are you in my Statistics class?" He lowers his hand and stares, dumbfounded. I am a nerd. "No." "Ok...hill...the hills are alive with the sound of music!" (Did I really just say that?) "What?" He is confused. "Hill....ohhh your name!" "Yes."
5) Bag Lady and I are ready to go home. Its 3. We decide to walk because had already spent about 20 dollars on cab fares. It's about a mile. We are walking and two bicyclists ride by and say, "Hey ladies! Need a ride home?" Yeah, just let me hop on your handlebars and you can ride me off into the night. Good life choice. Now that I think about it, who rides their bike at 3 am? Well, who takes a walk at 3 am? Touche.
6) We get back home around 4 and Bag Lady gets on Facebook. Really. The guy she likes is online and as she gets ready for bed I start a chat with him...as her. Before she comes back, I go into my room and pretend to be asleep. She comes into my room and literally drags me out of bed by the ankles saying, "YOU STARTED THIS, YOU HAVE TO FINISH IT." We put our two heads together to come up with the most eloquent things to say, making sure we wait atleast 1-2 minutes before responding so as to not appear desperate. Finally go to bed.
Wake up in the morning and take the band-aid off where I got the shot. I have a bruise the size of a quarter in the middle of my cheek. Beautiful. The thing on the back of my leg is bigger. Bag Lady and Outdoors Woman make me lay down on my bed as they play Art Class on the back of my leg drawing pictures and a circle around the thing. I'll keep you posted.
No, this was not some dream (or should I say nightmare?) This was my Saturday.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Obsession of the Week: PEANUT BUTTERRRRRR
I tried for weeks to not buy it. Really, I tried. I tried SOOOOO hard. Why, you ask, did I have to avoid peanut butter like an alcoholic does alcohol and a druggie does drugs? Well, my friends, that's because I have a life-long addiction to peanut butter.
This began as every childhood begins: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Had them as a kid and LOOOOOOOOVED them. So good. It was like manna from the gods. Saving me every lunch day and taking me to my special paradise at the lunch table, palm trees and waterfalls included.
My baby brother was born when I was 8. He was found to have a peanut allergy. HAHAHAHAAHAH the gods are uniting against me, you're thinking. Well, we still had peanut butter in the house because my brother was a baby and couldn't eat anything you didn't physically put into his mouth. And I wasn't making my lunches yet because I was only 8. Therefore, I did not have control over the peanut butter...yet.
When I was in grade school, my mom had to go to school earlier in the morning than I did so I had to make my own lunch if I wanted it. The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches started off normal at a 1:1 ratio. Gradually, however, as the peanut butter taste bud on my tongue grew and grew, the ratio grew to 2:1...then 4:1....and next thing you know, it's a sandwich of peanut butter and a little bread and maybe jelly. It got that bad.
This continued on into high school. I was going through that phase...you know that phase....come on don't make me say it....that phase that girls go through? Yeah that one. Well, I happened to gain a little weight and, about the same time, my mom got kind of concerned about The Golden Child (this is what my younger-older brother, only 18 months younger than me, and I call him. Because he is the baby of the family. TO THE EXTREME) getting into the peanut butter. Irrational fear. She was worried about the kid who, since he was 3, would go trick-or-treating and before the homeowners could barely open the door would say, "I can't have anything that says, 'Makes and trains peanuts.' " (When we would first read the back of the labels to him that said, "May contain peanuts," he took that to mean that this came from a magical place where the peanuts were trained.) No more peanut butter in our house. Except I would find jars of peanut butter hidden in baby bro's room (this is what I'll call my younger-older brother). And then I would find them in the laundry room. "Who are they hiding the peanut butter from?" I would think. "Golden Child knows not to eat this stuff." Secretly, I was grateful. My urge was uncontrollable.
Well now I'm on my own and I finally broke down. I was trying not to buy it because I seriously looooove peanut butter. Did you know that? So this week I got a little baby jar to make small steps. "Control, control, control." I thought as I opened the lid. Well I might as well have opened Pandora's box. This was Monday.
All week I got creative with my applications of peanut butter: peanut butter on a bagel, honey and peanut butter sandwich, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter with a little bread...I mean a piece of bread with a little peanut butter, a spoonful of peanut butter as an after-dinner treat, peanut butter on an oreo (just kidding-I didn't do that but Outdoors Woman did. I didn't take it that far.) One day I even had peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You don't think my fat intake has gone up much, do you? Yeah, me neither.
So I'm trying to be the grown-up that I promised my parents I would be while I am two states away. I'm going to control this addiction, this...this...obsession with peanut butter. I can do it.....right?
This began as every childhood begins: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Had them as a kid and LOOOOOOOOVED them. So good. It was like manna from the gods. Saving me every lunch day and taking me to my special paradise at the lunch table, palm trees and waterfalls included.
My baby brother was born when I was 8. He was found to have a peanut allergy. HAHAHAHAAHAH the gods are uniting against me, you're thinking. Well, we still had peanut butter in the house because my brother was a baby and couldn't eat anything you didn't physically put into his mouth. And I wasn't making my lunches yet because I was only 8. Therefore, I did not have control over the peanut butter...yet.
When I was in grade school, my mom had to go to school earlier in the morning than I did so I had to make my own lunch if I wanted it. The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches started off normal at a 1:1 ratio. Gradually, however, as the peanut butter taste bud on my tongue grew and grew, the ratio grew to 2:1...then 4:1....and next thing you know, it's a sandwich of peanut butter and a little bread and maybe jelly. It got that bad.
This continued on into high school. I was going through that phase...you know that phase....come on don't make me say it....that phase that girls go through? Yeah that one. Well, I happened to gain a little weight and, about the same time, my mom got kind of concerned about The Golden Child (this is what my younger-older brother, only 18 months younger than me, and I call him. Because he is the baby of the family. TO THE EXTREME) getting into the peanut butter. Irrational fear. She was worried about the kid who, since he was 3, would go trick-or-treating and before the homeowners could barely open the door would say, "I can't have anything that says, 'Makes and trains peanuts.' " (When we would first read the back of the labels to him that said, "May contain peanuts," he took that to mean that this came from a magical place where the peanuts were trained.) No more peanut butter in our house. Except I would find jars of peanut butter hidden in baby bro's room (this is what I'll call my younger-older brother). And then I would find them in the laundry room. "Who are they hiding the peanut butter from?" I would think. "Golden Child knows not to eat this stuff." Secretly, I was grateful. My urge was uncontrollable.
Well now I'm on my own and I finally broke down. I was trying not to buy it because I seriously looooove peanut butter. Did you know that? So this week I got a little baby jar to make small steps. "Control, control, control." I thought as I opened the lid. Well I might as well have opened Pandora's box. This was Monday.
All week I got creative with my applications of peanut butter: peanut butter on a bagel, honey and peanut butter sandwich, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter with a little bread...I mean a piece of bread with a little peanut butter, a spoonful of peanut butter as an after-dinner treat, peanut butter on an oreo (just kidding-I didn't do that but Outdoors Woman did. I didn't take it that far.) One day I even had peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You don't think my fat intake has gone up much, do you? Yeah, me neither.
So I'm trying to be the grown-up that I promised my parents I would be while I am two states away. I'm going to control this addiction, this...this...obsession with peanut butter. I can do it.....right?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I may or may not be in a commercial with Michael Irvin
So we had to lift weights on Monday. We do it every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I live off campus so I had to bring clothes to change into after class. I woke up late so I could arrive fashionably late to class, therefore forcing myself to grab the most random outfit of clothes I could find PLUS the unattractive socks that I only wear in the boat in the morning when it's dark out and no one can see how ridiculous my feet look. As if they care. Anyway, so I also grabbed the most unattractive pair of spandex I own. To lift weights in. Plus this shirt that hugs you in ALL the wrong places. Don't you hate that? This pair of spandex, for some reason, has extra threading at the end of the thigh holes so it hugs your thighs extra tight. (I also wear these in the boat in the morning in the dark when no one can see me. Hey, they put off laundry for one extra practice. Don't judge.) Thus, they make my thighs look like upside-down triangles of black. So unattractive. So I'm wearing this ridiculous looking excuse for work-out gear when I walk downstairs to go to the weight room when I see cameras, lights, backgrounds, and people EVERYWHERE. I'm also void of all make-up and, at this point, self-esteem. To top it off, the boy's swimming team is lifting at the same time as us that day and, as you know, all boy's swimming teams have the bods of gods. ALL OF THEM. It's like you have to be beautiful to be on the swimming team in the first place. Who cares if you can swim! As long as you look good and can flex every muscle while you're swimming, then jump on in! They'll teach you to go fast because, with that body, you can pretty much do whatever you want....
Anyway, so we are lifting weights when this very nicely dressed gorgeous man comes walking in and sits down at one of the lifting stations in front of the camera and crew. They are doing a commercial or a public service announcement or something. We get a water-break. Our weights coach obviously wants a good look as much as we do. The football boys keep popping their heads into the room to get a good look as this guy. "Back off," I think, "This is OUR weights time. Maybe your coach should have scheduled yours when a famous person is doing a commercial. Now scram." Bag Lady and I are walking over to get a drink from the water cooler (which just so happens to be RIGHT NEXT TO the station he's sitting at) when she starts drooling. "Pull yourself together! We don't even know who that is!" "I can't help it. He's just so...so...so....sexy. God help me." She almost faints, but makes the most of her water break by drinking no less than 5 cups of water. And drooling most of it out of her mouth. Now that I think about it, that's why she sprinted out of the room and down the hall when our coach dismissed us after weights....
So they start rolling the cameras and that's when Bag Lady and I decide to start walking back to our station. After walking extra slow behind his station so that we might have a chance to look like creepers in the background of this oh-so-classy commercial, I again realize what I look like. So now I'm half-hoping they keep that shot and half-hoping they don't. Either way, that man was goooood-looking. And I'm not afraid to admit it. And I may or may not have been in a commercial with him.
Did I mention he used to play for the Dallas Cowboys, is in the Hall of Fame, and has is own show....
.....and apparently was invovled with some sort of drug possession? I was looking for pictures of him and found this little bit of info:
(Circa 1996)
Police interrupted Irvin's 30th birthday party, finding 10.3 grams of cocaine, marijuana, and two topless dancers. Reportedly, Irvin threatened one of the topless dancers, Rachel Smith. Her boyfriend Johnnie Hernandez -- an officer of the Dallas Police Department -- was arrested after he paid $2960 to a DEA agent in order to have Irvin murdered. Irvin pleaded no contest to cocaine possession in a plea bargain, for which he received four years probation and a $10,000 fine, in addition to eight hundred hours community service.
He also has about 10293981209843 brothers and sisters.
Source:
So......how 'bout them Rangers?
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I'm In A Glass Case of Emotion!!
....or should I say 30 case...
When you mix alcohol with college kids, you know there's bound to be trouble. But it's kind of like separating peanut butter and jelly or jam and bread or mac and cheese: NOT GONNA HAPPEN.
Last night was Saturday night and oh what a night! Starts off at my friends' townhouse where we are just hanging out and relaxing until people come and pick us up to take us to another apartment where we, again, just hangout and relax until we go to the actual party around 11 (at another apartment). Why 11 and so late? Because that's the time that people actually start going out and you don't want to get somewhere so early and have no one be there. Duh. The boys watch the game--I think USC?--and the girls play with the dog or take pictures of themselves (guilty). Then, my friend asks me to go to the bathroom with her. Yes, she is a fully enabled human being who is pretty good (most of the time) at dressing and grooming herself, so I immediately knew she wanted to talk about something kinda big and maybe not all that good because A) the bathroom is where you go when you're around alot of people in an unfamiliar place and even though the music is loud it's that big of a deal so you need privacy and B) she asked me and not her twin sister (who was also there). Uhh oh.
So she tells me she likes this guy, we'll call him Jason, who we have been hanging out with recently. Great, I say. Go for it. He's cute, you're cute, what's amiss here? Nothing. WRONG.
So my friend, we'll call her Mary-Kate, starts hanging around him more and they play a drinking game and everything is good. I'm talking to someone else when her sister, we'll call her Ashley, asks me to go to the bathroom. Are you guys trying to make me look like I have a bladder disorder so no guys here will talk to me? So we're coming back down the stairs when Ashley tells me that she likes Jason too. Ohh shit. I say, "Ohh ok. Umm I think you should talk to your sister." "Why?" "I don't know. Have you told her you like him?" "No. Why would that matter?" "Ohh, it wouldn't. I just assumed that you had told her. Before you do anything, you guys should talk." "Oh my God does she like him too?!?" "Uhh......."
Seriously. Out of ALL the guys in the world, ALL the guys at SMU, ALL the guys at the party, they have to like the same one. Superb.
So we come back from the bathroom and go talk to different people. Five minutes later I see, out of the corner of my eye, Mary-Kate and Ashley BOTH talking to Jason, vying for his attention, and he's cornered. Poor guy.
Go to the party. It's fun. I meet people. A guy from Russia and a guy from Germany, among others. Mary-Kate and Ashley are trying to talk to Jason a lot throughout the night as well as other people to not seem desperate...but mostly him. While giving each other the evil eye. So I'm talking to Russia when, all of a sudden, he starts taking jabs at me and making fun of me! What the hell? "It's all in good fun," he assures me. "No, it's not. It's not funny." I turn to leave when he grabs my hand and WON'T. LET. GO. Germany tries to direct my attention by talking about the weather in Germany and the Winter Solstice (WTF?) and Russia reassures me that I DO want to stay and talk to him and listen to him make fun of me some more. Riiiiiight. I give him the death stare as I command him to LET GO OR REGRET IT. So weird. What is it with internationals? Communication barrier. Weird sense of humor. It's not attractive.
So I'm kind of liking this one guy who Mary-Kate knows. I ask her to introduce me and all is good. I tell her that if she talks to him later to bring me up and see what he says. She does. Then, later, I'm talking to Mary-Kate and Jason when this guy, we'll call him Freddy, starts motioning for me to come over. Ok cool, I think. WRONG. He asks if Mary-Kate has said anything about him. What? I'm confused. He likes her. Should he ask her out? he asks. Trying to be a nice person but really wanting to scream, "SHE DOESN'T LIKE YOU AT ALL-I DO!" I politely say, "I don't know. Just go talk to her." Before she's blindsided, I give her a heads up. She's ecstatic! Not. Not knowing what to do and fed up with Russia AND Freddy, I realize that this is not turning out to be my night. I decide to go outside for fresh air and find one of our friends, we'll call him Kruger, outside and sad. Good, I think, a bonding opportunity. We can bond in our sucky nights. I ask him what's wrong and, bet you would never have guessed it, he's basically in love with Ashley and she's not giving him any attention and he doesn't know why. HAHAHAHAAAHA, I think, you couldn't write this stuff! Everyone likes someone else who likes someone else who likes someone else. Fabulous. We bond.
Then Mary-Kate comes out to tell me that we're going to leave. Finally. It's 3 AM but it feels like we've only been there for 20 minutes. It was a fun...scratch that...interesting and life lesson learning night. Then Freddy comes out, gives me the thumbs up, and says he got her number. "Great," I say, trying to be reassuring with my plastered smile. One of our friends drank too much and we have to carry her to the car. In the rain. It's pouring buckets and you can't see ten feet in front of you. The umbrella rips. I'm soaked. And in a white t-shirt. Carrying my friend. So fun. We get back to their apartment and everyone who jammed themselves into the car with us decided that they're ALL going to spend the night. I get my friend upstairs and safely in bed and when I come back down, everyone has claimed their sleeping spots. I get to sleep in a little chair while one of the guys takes over the blow up mattress. Chivalry is definitely dead. I find the floor much more comfortable until I finally resign to going upstairs and sleeping next to my friend on her pillow-top mattress. This is around 4 AM after the guys decided that they wanted Chinese. Yes, there is a Chinese food delivery place that delivers until 4 AM. Who would have known.
Wake up to some really loud noises coming from the middle floor. The twins don't have dogs but it legitimately sounds like there are dogs BARKING in their house. Ten Bull Dogs. I go down to see what the deal is when the sound reverberates off the walls and stuns me still. It like traps me and I cannot think of what to do, where to go, or how to get my body moving. The sound takes over my brain. The guys are ALL snoring. The sound is so loud when they snore, but it bounces off the walls and makes it twice as loud in the second floor until it travels up the stairs to the twins' rooms. I find ear plugs on the kitchen counter and am really surprised that they have such a random thing lying around and put a few in. NOT HELPING. There is no way I can go back to sleep and it's only 8 in the morning. 4 hours of sleep. I go back upstairs to lay in bed for an hour trying, trying, trying to sleep. No luck. The sounds are haunting me.
Ashley finally wakes up and we go over the previous night, laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness and hoping against hope that it never happens again. So until the next Saturday night, this is Ron Burgundy and
Stay Classy. Or just try to get there in the first place.
When you mix alcohol with college kids, you know there's bound to be trouble. But it's kind of like separating peanut butter and jelly or jam and bread or mac and cheese: NOT GONNA HAPPEN.
Last night was Saturday night and oh what a night! Starts off at my friends' townhouse where we are just hanging out and relaxing until people come and pick us up to take us to another apartment where we, again, just hangout and relax until we go to the actual party around 11 (at another apartment). Why 11 and so late? Because that's the time that people actually start going out and you don't want to get somewhere so early and have no one be there. Duh. The boys watch the game--I think USC?--and the girls play with the dog or take pictures of themselves (guilty). Then, my friend asks me to go to the bathroom with her. Yes, she is a fully enabled human being who is pretty good (most of the time) at dressing and grooming herself, so I immediately knew she wanted to talk about something kinda big and maybe not all that good because A) the bathroom is where you go when you're around alot of people in an unfamiliar place and even though the music is loud it's that big of a deal so you need privacy and B) she asked me and not her twin sister (who was also there). Uhh oh.
So she tells me she likes this guy, we'll call him Jason, who we have been hanging out with recently. Great, I say. Go for it. He's cute, you're cute, what's amiss here? Nothing. WRONG.
So my friend, we'll call her Mary-Kate, starts hanging around him more and they play a drinking game and everything is good. I'm talking to someone else when her sister, we'll call her Ashley, asks me to go to the bathroom. Are you guys trying to make me look like I have a bladder disorder so no guys here will talk to me? So we're coming back down the stairs when Ashley tells me that she likes Jason too. Ohh shit. I say, "Ohh ok. Umm I think you should talk to your sister." "Why?" "I don't know. Have you told her you like him?" "No. Why would that matter?" "Ohh, it wouldn't. I just assumed that you had told her. Before you do anything, you guys should talk." "Oh my God does she like him too?!?" "Uhh......."
Seriously. Out of ALL the guys in the world, ALL the guys at SMU, ALL the guys at the party, they have to like the same one. Superb.
So we come back from the bathroom and go talk to different people. Five minutes later I see, out of the corner of my eye, Mary-Kate and Ashley BOTH talking to Jason, vying for his attention, and he's cornered. Poor guy.
Go to the party. It's fun. I meet people. A guy from Russia and a guy from Germany, among others. Mary-Kate and Ashley are trying to talk to Jason a lot throughout the night as well as other people to not seem desperate...but mostly him. While giving each other the evil eye. So I'm talking to Russia when, all of a sudden, he starts taking jabs at me and making fun of me! What the hell? "It's all in good fun," he assures me. "No, it's not. It's not funny." I turn to leave when he grabs my hand and WON'T. LET. GO. Germany tries to direct my attention by talking about the weather in Germany and the Winter Solstice (WTF?) and Russia reassures me that I DO want to stay and talk to him and listen to him make fun of me some more. Riiiiiight. I give him the death stare as I command him to LET GO OR REGRET IT. So weird. What is it with internationals? Communication barrier. Weird sense of humor. It's not attractive.
So I'm kind of liking this one guy who Mary-Kate knows. I ask her to introduce me and all is good. I tell her that if she talks to him later to bring me up and see what he says. She does. Then, later, I'm talking to Mary-Kate and Jason when this guy, we'll call him Freddy, starts motioning for me to come over. Ok cool, I think. WRONG. He asks if Mary-Kate has said anything about him. What? I'm confused. He likes her. Should he ask her out? he asks. Trying to be a nice person but really wanting to scream, "SHE DOESN'T LIKE YOU AT ALL-I DO!" I politely say, "I don't know. Just go talk to her." Before she's blindsided, I give her a heads up. She's ecstatic! Not. Not knowing what to do and fed up with Russia AND Freddy, I realize that this is not turning out to be my night. I decide to go outside for fresh air and find one of our friends, we'll call him Kruger, outside and sad. Good, I think, a bonding opportunity. We can bond in our sucky nights. I ask him what's wrong and, bet you would never have guessed it, he's basically in love with Ashley and she's not giving him any attention and he doesn't know why. HAHAHAHAAAHA, I think, you couldn't write this stuff! Everyone likes someone else who likes someone else who likes someone else. Fabulous. We bond.
Then Mary-Kate comes out to tell me that we're going to leave. Finally. It's 3 AM but it feels like we've only been there for 20 minutes. It was a fun...scratch that...interesting and life lesson learning night. Then Freddy comes out, gives me the thumbs up, and says he got her number. "Great," I say, trying to be reassuring with my plastered smile. One of our friends drank too much and we have to carry her to the car. In the rain. It's pouring buckets and you can't see ten feet in front of you. The umbrella rips. I'm soaked. And in a white t-shirt. Carrying my friend. So fun. We get back to their apartment and everyone who jammed themselves into the car with us decided that they're ALL going to spend the night. I get my friend upstairs and safely in bed and when I come back down, everyone has claimed their sleeping spots. I get to sleep in a little chair while one of the guys takes over the blow up mattress. Chivalry is definitely dead. I find the floor much more comfortable until I finally resign to going upstairs and sleeping next to my friend on her pillow-top mattress. This is around 4 AM after the guys decided that they wanted Chinese. Yes, there is a Chinese food delivery place that delivers until 4 AM. Who would have known.
Wake up to some really loud noises coming from the middle floor. The twins don't have dogs but it legitimately sounds like there are dogs BARKING in their house. Ten Bull Dogs. I go down to see what the deal is when the sound reverberates off the walls and stuns me still. It like traps me and I cannot think of what to do, where to go, or how to get my body moving. The sound takes over my brain. The guys are ALL snoring. The sound is so loud when they snore, but it bounces off the walls and makes it twice as loud in the second floor until it travels up the stairs to the twins' rooms. I find ear plugs on the kitchen counter and am really surprised that they have such a random thing lying around and put a few in. NOT HELPING. There is no way I can go back to sleep and it's only 8 in the morning. 4 hours of sleep. I go back upstairs to lay in bed for an hour trying, trying, trying to sleep. No luck. The sounds are haunting me.
Ashley finally wakes up and we go over the previous night, laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness and hoping against hope that it never happens again. So until the next Saturday night, this is Ron Burgundy and
Stay Classy. Or just try to get there in the first place.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Obsession of the Week: TRUE BLOOD
YAY FOR OBSESSIONS! Or not, because this one has been keeping me from doing my homework, cleaning my room, venturing off of the couch....basically being a real living, breathing person (which is actually scarce in this show anyway). I'm THAT obsessed. We all are. Last weekend, as you know, I went to Austin with my friends for Labor Day. We went to Blockbuster to rent a movie and instead decided to check out this new HBO series called True Blood. It's about vampires. I saw an episode when I was in Wisconsin this summer and wasn't impressed; I didn't want to rent it. I'm not one for vampires: I refuse to read the Twilight books and I mistakingly went to see the movie after my friend begged me for a week (those are a precious few hours that I will never get back..tear....) but we started watching and--holy cow--it's good! We watched the first two episodes that Saturday night and, after they were done, were on the computer looking for anyplace, anyplace at all, that sold/rented/pawned the series. No luck. We called every Blockbuster in the area to see if they had discs two and three but they were all checked out! My friend was even willing to drive to a Blockbuster 40 minutes away to pick one up, but I thought that was a little excessive. She, however, was serious.
Sunday rolled around, we went shopping, then stopped by Walmart to see if they were selling it. We found THE LAST COPY and I picked it up: 40 bucks. Not worth it, I thought. They, however, were basically ripping the cover off to look at the discs as if the episodes would melt into their brains and they wouldn't have to wait the ten minutes it would take to get home to watch them. I put the series back on the shelf just when a mom and her little daughter walked down the aisle. They were looking at Thomas the Tank Engine (which happened to be next to True Blood) when Beautiful Hair Girl came running down the aisle, pushed me out of the way, and plucked the series back up again because she was convinced the mom and her sub-ten-year-old were dying to watch a rated R blood and guts, basically porno about vampires. Riiiiiiight. Yeah, if you get even a little squeamish at the mention of blood, don't watch this. If you get uncomfortable during movies when a sexual act is even alluded to, don't watch this. Vampires get staked and burst into bloody goo on the screen. There are sex scenes like I have never ever seen in any movie or anything EVER (guess that's why it's on HBO--and I thought HBO was tasteful and "upscale"!) I pretty much avert my eyes when that happens because, come on, who really wants to see that? The plotline is really, really, really good and interesting. Something is always happening and the tables are always being turned. It's like a really good and interesting movie that never ends, and I know we all sometimes wish certain movies would keep going on. Unfortunately, the Rocky ones did. Spiderman is in close second.
The day we got back from Austin, Outdoors Women promptly went to the TV and recorded EVERY True Blood Episode showing within the next month. Yes, we have HBO. No, I don't know how to work our TV. I don't really even watch TV except for this. It's that good. How do three real starving college students afford HBO you ask? Well we got cable at the beginning of the year and it kept messing up. So we had someone come out and fix it. And it STILL kept messing up. So Bag Lady called the cable service, ends up talking to this guy for AN HOUR basically flirting and carrying on and gets us free HBO, STARZ, movie channels, and no cable bill for two months! We're that cool.
Now we are on Season Two. Yes, we finished a whole season in a weekend; don't judge. This season is a little weird, but I'm still hypnotized. It must be all the ripped guys appearing on the screen teasing me because I KNOW no guys are actually like that in real life. That's the problem with shows these days--the characters are obnoxiously good-looking, thin, and ripped. ABNORMAL. I'm gonna go do abs for an hour now that I've lowered my self-esteem possibly past the point of no return. Just kidding. But really, check it out. Or.....don't. Because it's addictive and if you want to keep any semblance of a real life then you probably shouldn't start down this road that is leading me to nothing but my couch. But is that really a bad thing in the end? (Just say no and make me feel better. Thanks.)
Sunday rolled around, we went shopping, then stopped by Walmart to see if they were selling it. We found THE LAST COPY and I picked it up: 40 bucks. Not worth it, I thought. They, however, were basically ripping the cover off to look at the discs as if the episodes would melt into their brains and they wouldn't have to wait the ten minutes it would take to get home to watch them. I put the series back on the shelf just when a mom and her little daughter walked down the aisle. They were looking at Thomas the Tank Engine (which happened to be next to True Blood) when Beautiful Hair Girl came running down the aisle, pushed me out of the way, and plucked the series back up again because she was convinced the mom and her sub-ten-year-old were dying to watch a rated R blood and guts, basically porno about vampires. Riiiiiiight. Yeah, if you get even a little squeamish at the mention of blood, don't watch this. If you get uncomfortable during movies when a sexual act is even alluded to, don't watch this. Vampires get staked and burst into bloody goo on the screen. There are sex scenes like I have never ever seen in any movie or anything EVER (guess that's why it's on HBO--and I thought HBO was tasteful and "upscale"!) I pretty much avert my eyes when that happens because, come on, who really wants to see that? The plotline is really, really, really good and interesting. Something is always happening and the tables are always being turned. It's like a really good and interesting movie that never ends, and I know we all sometimes wish certain movies would keep going on. Unfortunately, the Rocky ones did. Spiderman is in close second.
The day we got back from Austin, Outdoors Women promptly went to the TV and recorded EVERY True Blood Episode showing within the next month. Yes, we have HBO. No, I don't know how to work our TV. I don't really even watch TV except for this. It's that good. How do three real starving college students afford HBO you ask? Well we got cable at the beginning of the year and it kept messing up. So we had someone come out and fix it. And it STILL kept messing up. So Bag Lady called the cable service, ends up talking to this guy for AN HOUR basically flirting and carrying on and gets us free HBO, STARZ, movie channels, and no cable bill for two months! We're that cool.
Now we are on Season Two. Yes, we finished a whole season in a weekend; don't judge. This season is a little weird, but I'm still hypnotized. It must be all the ripped guys appearing on the screen teasing me because I KNOW no guys are actually like that in real life. That's the problem with shows these days--the characters are obnoxiously good-looking, thin, and ripped. ABNORMAL. I'm gonna go do abs for an hour now that I've lowered my self-esteem possibly past the point of no return. Just kidding. But really, check it out. Or.....don't. Because it's addictive and if you want to keep any semblance of a real life then you probably shouldn't start down this road that is leading me to nothing but my couch. But is that really a bad thing in the end? (Just say no and make me feel better. Thanks.)
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Haley and Chantie + Seven
Alright so I got a job! Yes, I know what you're thinking: college, 20 hours a week spent practicing, a social life, AND a job?! So, yes, I am superwoman. Until my next breakdown atleast :)
My job involves watching seven 18 month olds for a few hours every other Tuesday morning with my friend Chantie. So, yes, I'm crazy. Today was the first day and we had five lovely little ones with us in the room and just when the words "I can't believe no one has cried yet" were coming out of my mouth, a mom brought in two twin boys who were hysterical and stayed that way for the next hour. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut. So we were playing and everything was going nice when the schedule said to take them outside. Oohhh man. It took us half an hour to get everyone DOWN THE HALL. I was carrying two kids and trying to corral two others as they ran in and out of every other door EXCEPT the one they were actually supposed to go out of. Go figure.
Lunch time. Uggghh. More food ended up on the floor and all over them than actually made it into their mouths. Was I this bad when I was 18 months? Doubt it. Plus they took apart the piano. Ok, I've got to admit I was pretty impressed at this point. I have no idea how to take apart a piano and I don't even have the creativity it takes to come up with this idea. And then they put it back together! Ha, just kidding. You believed me though. I don't know how Kate does it. After 3 hours I was done and ready for lunch. No way could I ever live like that. My wardrobe, however, was instantly upgraded by Cheerios, slober, dirt, and blueberry mush. Then I had class and I looked like a hot mess. Can't wait for the Tuesday after next!
As promised, here are pictures and the video from SUP-ping. (Pronounced like what'SUP) Sorry, that's the best I can do. And they weren't up yesterday because Bag Lady had already gone to bed and it was like 11 by the time my post was done. Anyway, you're welcome for the ab workout that follows (from laughing, if you're too dense for my humor)!
Beautiful Hair Girl and Bag Lady just starting out. You have to go on your knees for a little while to get used to it.
Outdoors woman after she fell in. Note: This is NOT the correct way to SUP.
ME!!! I look like a grandma but hey I didn't go in! I got waked so many times by the boats but managed to stay afloat. It was the orange sunglasses I'm told. You can't see them in this picture but they're the color of that orange thing at the bottom (plus some more brightness).
And now for the grand finale:
My job involves watching seven 18 month olds for a few hours every other Tuesday morning with my friend Chantie. So, yes, I'm crazy. Today was the first day and we had five lovely little ones with us in the room and just when the words "I can't believe no one has cried yet" were coming out of my mouth, a mom brought in two twin boys who were hysterical and stayed that way for the next hour. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut. So we were playing and everything was going nice when the schedule said to take them outside. Oohhh man. It took us half an hour to get everyone DOWN THE HALL. I was carrying two kids and trying to corral two others as they ran in and out of every other door EXCEPT the one they were actually supposed to go out of. Go figure.
Lunch time. Uggghh. More food ended up on the floor and all over them than actually made it into their mouths. Was I this bad when I was 18 months? Doubt it. Plus they took apart the piano. Ok, I've got to admit I was pretty impressed at this point. I have no idea how to take apart a piano and I don't even have the creativity it takes to come up with this idea. And then they put it back together! Ha, just kidding. You believed me though. I don't know how Kate does it. After 3 hours I was done and ready for lunch. No way could I ever live like that. My wardrobe, however, was instantly upgraded by Cheerios, slober, dirt, and blueberry mush. Then I had class and I looked like a hot mess. Can't wait for the Tuesday after next!
As promised, here are pictures and the video from SUP-ping. (Pronounced like what'SUP) Sorry, that's the best I can do. And they weren't up yesterday because Bag Lady had already gone to bed and it was like 11 by the time my post was done. Anyway, you're welcome for the ab workout that follows (from laughing, if you're too dense for my humor)!
Beautiful Hair Girl and Bag Lady just starting out. You have to go on your knees for a little while to get used to it.
Outdoors woman after she fell in. Note: This is NOT the correct way to SUP.ME!!! I look like a grandma but hey I didn't go in! I got waked so many times by the boats but managed to stay afloat. It was the orange sunglasses I'm told. You can't see them in this picture but they're the color of that orange thing at the bottom (plus some more brightness).And now for the grand finale:
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ahhhhh!
Ok, so this post is waaay over due and I apologize. I've got so much going on and barely enough time for this right now. So, sorry if this post lacks. I had practice and a ton of homework and just got in town from being out-of-town for the whole weekend. Could have used this extra-long weekend to catch up on necessary stuff....nah. I spent the weekend in Austin, TX with three of my great friends and it was awesome. Well, most of the time.
No, no it had nothing to do with them! Just some friends from back home (Kansas). Or should I say, used-to-be-friend. Have you ever had someone try to ruin something you have on purpose? Have you ever had someone intentionally hurt your feelings? I'm sure everyone who is reading this has because we are all human and, hey, some people out there just suck. They're just mean. There's no way around it. So for you mean people, be a nice person! I know what you're thinking, "I'm not mean." Well, yes you are. Well ok I guess not everyone who is reading this is a mean person but mean people, please just be nice (and you should know who you are because you probably don't have that many friends and if you do, they are probably just your drinking buddies and aren't your real friends anyway and if that's the case then I fear the day you have too much to drink and your "friends" leave you at a bar and you are forced call a cab and your cab driver has a really thick Russian accent and drops you off on the wrong side of town and you are too drunk that you don't know where you are so you decide to sober up and sleep next to a garbage man and tell him he is hogging all the newspaper and you're cold and you're so drunk that you start hallucinating Oscar the Grouch). Yeah, THAT would suck. I've never heard of hallucinating when you're drunk but that just means that you're really, really drunk. Daaaang. Ok so to prevent that from happening, just be a nice person. Otherwise, well, you know. ^^
Anyway, yes, this certain person, on a few occasions, has tried to ruin my friendship with someone else. And they almost succeeded. Luckily, I got up the balls to call this other person and figure it out. Well his/her story was completely different and actually made sense! Go figure! Calling the person who the "rumor" is actually about. Now who would actually do that? Well I'm so smart that I did. So, yes, a "friend" may tell you something about another friend, but don't believe it until you talk to that other person. Best advice EVER. Heed it. It's hard to do, trust me, but if the friendship is worth saving, then the embarrassment you may suffer is definately worth it. So my weekend, while I was having fun and just hanging out, was overshadowed by this nonsense. But I did go sup-ing today! Don't know the actually spelling or whatever but see pictures below. Now that was fun. You've got to try it. I video-ed Baggie and Beautiful Hair Girl (adoptive roommate) doing it so I'll get the video from Baggie's camera tomorrow. Sooooooo funny.
One: On the way back from practice, Outdoors Woman tells us that she was trying to light a candle in her room for 5 minutes. We asked why it took her so long to light a candle. "Well, I lit the match in the kitchen and tried to carry it to light the candle in my room. I did this four times until I finally figured out to just take the matchbox into my room and light the match near the candle."
Two: Walking into my room, I hear Bag Lady watching TV in her room. She asks me if I have seen her remote. Nope, sorry. "Well, is it in the bathroom? Dryer? Kitchen sink?" she asks as she goes to look in these places. I'm a little alarmed at the random places she is considering but then realize that Baggie's TV is always on so I don't doubt that she carries the remote with her everywhere and will probably find it in one of those three places.
Three: Went to the grocery store today. My turn to buy paper towels and toilet paper. Get 8 rolls of toilet paper, which is plenty for Baggie and I, and 6 paper towel rolls (or so I thought). Come home to put everything away and realize I actually got 8 TP rolls and another TWELVE rolls of toilet paper. I kindof want to TP someone's apartment now because I know we aren't going to need that TP anytime soon. It's probably gonna grow mold or something.
Speaking of something going bad: my bananas got smushed on the way home from the store today. Guess that means more banana bread!!!!!!
So I hope everyone had a great weekend and you aren't up as late as I am (with a few hours of homework ahead and 5 A.M. practice). I know what you're thinking. You don't even CARE that I only go to class for 2 hours on Friday; you definately don't want to be me right now. Totally understandable. I can see it now: tomorrow is gonna be a mess.
No, no it had nothing to do with them! Just some friends from back home (Kansas). Or should I say, used-to-be-friend. Have you ever had someone try to ruin something you have on purpose? Have you ever had someone intentionally hurt your feelings? I'm sure everyone who is reading this has because we are all human and, hey, some people out there just suck. They're just mean. There's no way around it. So for you mean people, be a nice person! I know what you're thinking, "I'm not mean." Well, yes you are. Well ok I guess not everyone who is reading this is a mean person but mean people, please just be nice (and you should know who you are because you probably don't have that many friends and if you do, they are probably just your drinking buddies and aren't your real friends anyway and if that's the case then I fear the day you have too much to drink and your "friends" leave you at a bar and you are forced call a cab and your cab driver has a really thick Russian accent and drops you off on the wrong side of town and you are too drunk that you don't know where you are so you decide to sober up and sleep next to a garbage man and tell him he is hogging all the newspaper and you're cold and you're so drunk that you start hallucinating Oscar the Grouch). Yeah, THAT would suck. I've never heard of hallucinating when you're drunk but that just means that you're really, really drunk. Daaaang. Ok so to prevent that from happening, just be a nice person. Otherwise, well, you know. ^^
Anyway, yes, this certain person, on a few occasions, has tried to ruin my friendship with someone else. And they almost succeeded. Luckily, I got up the balls to call this other person and figure it out. Well his/her story was completely different and actually made sense! Go figure! Calling the person who the "rumor" is actually about. Now who would actually do that? Well I'm so smart that I did. So, yes, a "friend" may tell you something about another friend, but don't believe it until you talk to that other person. Best advice EVER. Heed it. It's hard to do, trust me, but if the friendship is worth saving, then the embarrassment you may suffer is definately worth it. So my weekend, while I was having fun and just hanging out, was overshadowed by this nonsense. But I did go sup-ing today! Don't know the actually spelling or whatever but see pictures below. Now that was fun. You've got to try it. I video-ed Baggie and Beautiful Hair Girl (adoptive roommate) doing it so I'll get the video from Baggie's camera tomorrow. Sooooooo funny.
This is exactly what we looked like. Ok, I lied. This is what we looked like.
Ok, I lied again. I'm not that ripped (yet). Pictures will be up tomorrow. But you get the idea.
Now to end your day (and mine) on a good note, I have a few roommate stories:One: On the way back from practice, Outdoors Woman tells us that she was trying to light a candle in her room for 5 minutes. We asked why it took her so long to light a candle. "Well, I lit the match in the kitchen and tried to carry it to light the candle in my room. I did this four times until I finally figured out to just take the matchbox into my room and light the match near the candle."
Two: Walking into my room, I hear Bag Lady watching TV in her room. She asks me if I have seen her remote. Nope, sorry. "Well, is it in the bathroom? Dryer? Kitchen sink?" she asks as she goes to look in these places. I'm a little alarmed at the random places she is considering but then realize that Baggie's TV is always on so I don't doubt that she carries the remote with her everywhere and will probably find it in one of those three places.
Three: Went to the grocery store today. My turn to buy paper towels and toilet paper. Get 8 rolls of toilet paper, which is plenty for Baggie and I, and 6 paper towel rolls (or so I thought). Come home to put everything away and realize I actually got 8 TP rolls and another TWELVE rolls of toilet paper. I kindof want to TP someone's apartment now because I know we aren't going to need that TP anytime soon. It's probably gonna grow mold or something.
Speaking of something going bad: my bananas got smushed on the way home from the store today. Guess that means more banana bread!!!!!!
So I hope everyone had a great weekend and you aren't up as late as I am (with a few hours of homework ahead and 5 A.M. practice). I know what you're thinking. You don't even CARE that I only go to class for 2 hours on Friday; you definately don't want to be me right now. Totally understandable. I can see it now: tomorrow is gonna be a mess.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Obsession of the Week: DMB
Alright! So I have decided to dedicate every Friday to tell you my obsession of the week. I have a very distinct personality trait where I get obsessed with things very easily (and this is both good AND bad). I just hop into these certain habits seemingly effortlessly and just keep doing them and doing them and doing them and...yeah, you guessed it: doing them. For example, I can stay on the exercise bandwagon VERY easily. It's just getting on it that sometimes is the hard part. Once I'm on, however, WATCH OUT. I'll try and get you to exercise with me almost all the time. Just ask my parents and my friends (who lately think I'm crazy for wanting to exercise outside of scheduled practice times). See? Told you. It's weird.
Therefore, every Friday, I am going to look back on my week and tell you what cool/crazy/weird/bad thing I was obsessed with. Maybe I can turn you on to something that is extremely cool! Or maybe I can deter you from something horrendous. Or maybe you will laugh. See? It's a win-win-win. You'll always win from my obsessions even if I don't!
Anywho, Obsession of the Week belongs to the newest Dave Matthew's Band CD! Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King. Holy Jesus this stuff is good! And I didn't even pick it up on purpose. Honestly, I saw a commercial on TV for the CD and was like, "Ok that's really weird--why would anyone name a CD like that? Def not buying it." I mean I value Dave just as much as the next person--he's good to listen to but I've never been to a concert and he's not my favorite artist; it's just some good and random chill music. So I didn't go out and buy the CD. My brother used to take my car all the time (without my permission, mind you) and put his CDs in there to listen to while he was driving. Well he must have forgotten to take this one out! Hahahaa how does it feel now, Baby Bro, to know that your beloved CD will most likely be worn out by the time I make it back for Christmas Break? Were all those times stealing my car for your little joy rides and hiding illegal things in my trunk only for the kids I was babysitting to find them and make me explain what THEY were doing in MY trunk worth losing this awesome CD? (Props for a movie my friends are shooting, kids, I swear. They aren't real. But let's just keep this our little secret. If you don't tell your mom you can be in the movie!)
So basically, this CD was a gift from God (and probably not my brother's carelessness as I aforementioned. Ha riiiight.) Anywho, I found myself listening to it every day as I drove to school, and practice, and wherever else. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I listened to it over and over and over again. I even listened to it on my run yesterday when I have about 6,000 other songs on my iPod. I know, don't tell me, Obsessed. You should really listen to a few of his songs on there, especially "Seven", "Why I Am", and "Funny the Way it Is". Goooood stuff.
Well I have to go now, because class starts at One. Yeah, I only have class today from 1-3. Be jealous; be very, very jealous. I would be jealous of me if I were you. Ha. Have a great extra-long weekend!
Therefore, every Friday, I am going to look back on my week and tell you what cool/crazy/weird/bad thing I was obsessed with. Maybe I can turn you on to something that is extremely cool! Or maybe I can deter you from something horrendous. Or maybe you will laugh. See? It's a win-win-win. You'll always win from my obsessions even if I don't!
Anywho, Obsession of the Week belongs to the newest Dave Matthew's Band CD! Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King. Holy Jesus this stuff is good! And I didn't even pick it up on purpose. Honestly, I saw a commercial on TV for the CD and was like, "Ok that's really weird--why would anyone name a CD like that? Def not buying it." I mean I value Dave just as much as the next person--he's good to listen to but I've never been to a concert and he's not my favorite artist; it's just some good and random chill music. So I didn't go out and buy the CD. My brother used to take my car all the time (without my permission, mind you) and put his CDs in there to listen to while he was driving. Well he must have forgotten to take this one out! Hahahaa how does it feel now, Baby Bro, to know that your beloved CD will most likely be worn out by the time I make it back for Christmas Break? Were all those times stealing my car for your little joy rides and hiding illegal things in my trunk only for the kids I was babysitting to find them and make me explain what THEY were doing in MY trunk worth losing this awesome CD? (Props for a movie my friends are shooting, kids, I swear. They aren't real. But let's just keep this our little secret. If you don't tell your mom you can be in the movie!)
So basically, this CD was a gift from God (and probably not my brother's carelessness as I aforementioned. Ha riiiight.) Anywho, I found myself listening to it every day as I drove to school, and practice, and wherever else. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I listened to it over and over and over again. I even listened to it on my run yesterday when I have about 6,000 other songs on my iPod. I know, don't tell me, Obsessed. You should really listen to a few of his songs on there, especially "Seven", "Why I Am", and "Funny the Way it Is". Goooood stuff.
Well I have to go now, because class starts at One. Yeah, I only have class today from 1-3. Be jealous; be very, very jealous. I would be jealous of me if I were you. Ha. Have a great extra-long weekend!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
You'll start your diet AFTER my banana bread!
Living off-campus has been great. Really, REALLY great. I love my friends I live with and after having a disaster roommate last year (I'm sure you'll hear a story or two about her on here sometime), I was ready for the move. Dorm life just wasn't for me. My coach tried to tell me that if I was on scholarship, which I am, then I had to stay on campus until I was a senior. AKA two more years. This was so the extra money could be fed back into the school to pay for my room and board instead of being given to me to pay for my off-campus expenses. I almost pulled out the waterworks then and there but decided to instead say that living on campus would be detrimental to my mental health and, therefore, impact my performance in a negative way. He bought it.
So there we were, two sophomores and a freshman, trying to navigate the real estate industry in what is know as the city of Dallas. Yeeeeeah, forget about it. We pretty much just drove up and down the streets around campus calling the phone numbers on signs that said FOR RENT or FOR LEASE. We called one property asking for the price and the lady said, "900,000 dollars." Trying not to laugh, Bag Lady (my other roommate besides Outdoors Woman) said we just wanted to rent it. The realtor asked if we went to SMU. "Yes," Bag Lady replied. "Then why don't you have one of your parents buy it? You can use it while you go to school and then they can sell it when you're done." WHY HADN'T I THOUGHT OF THAT?! Mom, Dad, please please please buy me a 900,000 dollar piece of property worth way more than your place so that I can live there and go to school for only a few hours a day and throw awesome parties in it at night. According to the realtor this was a no-brainer. My parents' brains, on the other hand, couldn't even comprehend. Ok, ok, I never even asked.
After a few more months of looking high and low for something that would fit our budget, we found it. AND I LOVE IT. It's not a regular beige-carpeting-and-ivory-wall apartment. It's a condo with a pool, grills, hammocks, palm trees, brick and stone and textured grass everywhere. Its got character. And its a steal. Something a starving college student (and I mean a real starving college student, not an SMU starving college student who likes to look like he or she is starving because it is "attractive") can afford. I've got my own balcony and its a mere three minutes drive from campus. I'm so so so so so so SO happy.
So today Outdoors Woman and I are driving to practice and I say, "That's it. I want to lose ten pounds (doesn't everyone want to lose "ten pounds" these days?) and that's what I'm going to work on this semester!" She says, "Ok, yeah I want to do it too! I want to be healthier." So we went to practice hoping to burn some major cals but all we did was sit on the erg (its an ergometer--see picture below) and think about rowing while our coach talked. Damn.
So I offered to make dinner tonight. Pasta with sauce and vegetables and chicken. A good, wholesome dinner. When I'm done making dinner and Outdoors Woman and I are just about to sit down, Bag Lady comes in with groceries from the store. We tell her that we are going to be healthier and she wants in. Then, while OW (Outdoors Woman) and I are eating, Baggie (Bag Lady) starts pulling out random things from her bags. "Do you guys like French Bread, pudding, fried chips?" "Baggie! We just told you that we are trying to eat healthier!" OW says. Baggie ignores us. "Ohh I forgot I have bad bananas. I'm going to make Banana Bread tonight!" "Baggie! We are on a diet!" OW replies. Baggie slowly turns around from putting things away in the fridge and I know something bad is coming. Like when the music starts in a scary movie and your body gets all tense and nothing bad has even happened yet and sometimes nothing bad even happens at all and its just the director trying to have a little chuckle at your expense and all of a sudden you get Charlie Horses all over your body from your muscles freaking and spazzing out and the next thing you know there is something warm and liquidy all over your hands and you were so scared that your nails cut into your skin? Yeah uh I've never had something like that happen to me either....uhhh. Well let's hypothetically say we all have experienced something like that and I almost hid under the kitchen table right before she roared: "WELL YOU CAN START YOUR DIET AFTER MY BANANA BREAD!!!!!!"
It was all over. I couldn't start my diet (I mean start being a healthier person) immediately like I had wanted to (or like I tried to tell myself I wanted to, even though I didn't believe myself). So I got some more pasta.
Ten minutes later, after Baggie had announced she was going to do homework, I tried desperately to act innocent when I asked, "So are you making that Banana Bread tonight?" She shut her bedroom door and I could hear her laughing inside.
An ergometer is a machine you use to train for rowing. I like to compare it to a treadmill for runners except you would never, ever, EVER hop on an erg by choice. It is always forced upon you.
Monday, August 31, 2009
One of THOSE days...
Do you ever wake up in the morning with that...that...feeling and think, "How the hell am I going to get through today??" Yep, I had one of those mornings when my alarm clock went off at 5 am and I realized something--if not many things--was going to go wrong today. So I rolled over for those precious 2-3 extra minutes I somehow manage to squeeze out of my pre-practice routine when I felt something awful in my stomache. THE BROWNIE.
Last night, after my roommates and I (and our adopted roommate, Beautiful Hair Girl, who actually doesn't live with us but might as well because she's over here so much) had a nice healthy dinner of hamburgers, grilled veggies and a little mac-and-cheese, I made the mistake of mentioning that I was craving a brownie. This was 7pm. I was half-hoping that we didn't have any brownie mix because I actually really didn't want to eat one; I just wanted one. We looked and we didn't. Phew. "I do at home!" BHG said. Nooooooo. This means that I will have to eat one, right? I mean, if brownies are made and they're just sitting there, staring you in the face, you can't be rude and ignore them. You created them so you can't refuse to aknowledge them. It's kind of like a baby. You brought this baby (batch of brownies) into the world and now you have to take care of them and make sure they make it to full adulthood (make sure the pan becomes empty). I know, I know, I'm so good at analogies! Store that one for later when you really want a brownie. It's ok, I promise.
Anywho, after they went and brought back the brownie mix, actually made the brownies, and baked them for ONE HOUR, they were done. It was 10 pm. 'Not a good idea, not a good idea,' my conscious and everyone who replied to my facebook status said. Regardless, I had one.
OHHHH MYYYY GOSSSHHHHH it was sooooo good. Ghiradelli brownies. So rich. So moist. So...so...goood. So good that I could only have one, otherwise it would have pushed my stomache over the edge. If you have never had Ghiradelli brownies, go get a box right now. One of my friends even said, "This is like the brownie of SMU!" Then someone else said, "Yeah, but girls at SMU don't eat brownies so I don't know if you can really say that..." Then I went to bed. And that's why I felt like there was concrete in my stomache this morning. Ugggh.
So I went to practice without a hitch. My roommate, Outdoors Woman, and I were in a double (we row). I never ever leave my shoes on the dock, but this morning I did. Bad idea. We row around the lake and it's fine. We come back to the dock first and lo and behold there is only one of my shoes on the dock. Really. The one time I leave my shoes on the dock (which isn't a very small dock, by the way) someone kicks it in. Why why why. So I look all around the dock, the shore, everywhere for my shoe. I wouldn't make it that big of a deal except for the fact that I have to walk barefoot on gravel to get to the boathouse and then to my car. Not comfy. Never find the shoe. Pray the prayer of St.Anthony for me because I really like that shoe.
Go home. Shower. Take a nap. You know you get up way too early when you can take an hour and a half nap before you have to get up and ready for the day. I make myself a nice egg sandwich to make myself feel better and have a positive outlook on the doomed day. This good intention actually turned out to hurt me. 5 minutes late out the door for class when I realize I conveniently parked extra far away after practice today. I must have been too concerned with my missing shoe to do myself a favor and park close. Running with my backpack full of books that I don't even need for the day (?), I manage to hit every red light, and a train, and take a wrong turn so that I have to double back and take the long way through campus to the parking garage. Along the way, there are way more pedestrian cross-walks than I remember and I actually contemplate hitting a few sorority girls. But I don't. I would just end up being that much later to class anyway. I park and run to class and make it on time! Yay!!!! And then I fail the quiz for the chapter I read and actually studied for. Really.
I made my lunch today and am looking forward to my break between classes to regroup when I realize I have cereal for lunch because I'm too lazy/don't care enough/would rather spend my money on clothes to go to the grocery store to buy myself real food to eat. So far I'm truly lacking in taking care of myself and I've been on my own for a week. Laundry is over-due. I have no food. And homework is, well, not done. This blog, however, is incredibly helpful in the practice of procrastination. :)
Then, when all I wanted to do at the end of the day was relax, I had to go to an Oceanography lab where I learn all about the contours of the ocean and other things that I am DEFINITELY going to use and refer back to as a Business Major when I'm older. Like tonight, when we learned about fathoms. I'm pretty sure the only other time I'm going to use that word (other than in this semester-long course) is when my daughter hears the "Fathoms Below" song from the Little Mermaid and asks what a fathom is. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd survive without knowing it.
Now to make myself feel better I'm going to have a brownie. Don't judge.
Last night, after my roommates and I (and our adopted roommate, Beautiful Hair Girl, who actually doesn't live with us but might as well because she's over here so much) had a nice healthy dinner of hamburgers, grilled veggies and a little mac-and-cheese, I made the mistake of mentioning that I was craving a brownie. This was 7pm. I was half-hoping that we didn't have any brownie mix because I actually really didn't want to eat one; I just wanted one. We looked and we didn't. Phew. "I do at home!" BHG said. Nooooooo. This means that I will have to eat one, right? I mean, if brownies are made and they're just sitting there, staring you in the face, you can't be rude and ignore them. You created them so you can't refuse to aknowledge them. It's kind of like a baby. You brought this baby (batch of brownies) into the world and now you have to take care of them and make sure they make it to full adulthood (make sure the pan becomes empty). I know, I know, I'm so good at analogies! Store that one for later when you really want a brownie. It's ok, I promise.
Anywho, after they went and brought back the brownie mix, actually made the brownies, and baked them for ONE HOUR, they were done. It was 10 pm. 'Not a good idea, not a good idea,' my conscious and everyone who replied to my facebook status said. Regardless, I had one.
OHHHH MYYYY GOSSSHHHHH it was sooooo good. Ghiradelli brownies. So rich. So moist. So...so...goood. So good that I could only have one, otherwise it would have pushed my stomache over the edge. If you have never had Ghiradelli brownies, go get a box right now. One of my friends even said, "This is like the brownie of SMU!" Then someone else said, "Yeah, but girls at SMU don't eat brownies so I don't know if you can really say that..." Then I went to bed. And that's why I felt like there was concrete in my stomache this morning. Ugggh.
So I went to practice without a hitch. My roommate, Outdoors Woman, and I were in a double (we row). I never ever leave my shoes on the dock, but this morning I did. Bad idea. We row around the lake and it's fine. We come back to the dock first and lo and behold there is only one of my shoes on the dock. Really. The one time I leave my shoes on the dock (which isn't a very small dock, by the way) someone kicks it in. Why why why. So I look all around the dock, the shore, everywhere for my shoe. I wouldn't make it that big of a deal except for the fact that I have to walk barefoot on gravel to get to the boathouse and then to my car. Not comfy. Never find the shoe. Pray the prayer of St.Anthony for me because I really like that shoe.
Go home. Shower. Take a nap. You know you get up way too early when you can take an hour and a half nap before you have to get up and ready for the day. I make myself a nice egg sandwich to make myself feel better and have a positive outlook on the doomed day. This good intention actually turned out to hurt me. 5 minutes late out the door for class when I realize I conveniently parked extra far away after practice today. I must have been too concerned with my missing shoe to do myself a favor and park close. Running with my backpack full of books that I don't even need for the day (?), I manage to hit every red light, and a train, and take a wrong turn so that I have to double back and take the long way through campus to the parking garage. Along the way, there are way more pedestrian cross-walks than I remember and I actually contemplate hitting a few sorority girls. But I don't. I would just end up being that much later to class anyway. I park and run to class and make it on time! Yay!!!! And then I fail the quiz for the chapter I read and actually studied for. Really.
I made my lunch today and am looking forward to my break between classes to regroup when I realize I have cereal for lunch because I'm too lazy/don't care enough/would rather spend my money on clothes to go to the grocery store to buy myself real food to eat. So far I'm truly lacking in taking care of myself and I've been on my own for a week. Laundry is over-due. I have no food. And homework is, well, not done. This blog, however, is incredibly helpful in the practice of procrastination. :)
Then, when all I wanted to do at the end of the day was relax, I had to go to an Oceanography lab where I learn all about the contours of the ocean and other things that I am DEFINITELY going to use and refer back to as a Business Major when I'm older. Like tonight, when we learned about fathoms. I'm pretty sure the only other time I'm going to use that word (other than in this semester-long course) is when my daughter hears the "Fathoms Below" song from the Little Mermaid and asks what a fathom is. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd survive without knowing it.
Now to make myself feel better I'm going to have a brownie. Don't judge.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
My mother
Ahh mothers...(that should be read more like a wistful sign than a scream followed by "WHEN do I turn 18 again?!")
But really, my blog, like me, got its start from my dear mom who I love so very much-- and buys me very nice things :)-- but that's not why I love her....really. She enjoys doing that on her own....really. Anyway, I like to talk about things going on in my head and we were driving back from one of our 2-3 hour-long evening walks when I was talking about how the speed limit could be used as a metaphor for something else that sucks (weight) when she said, "You should start a blog." Now I didn't know if this was a compliment (because she thinks I have interesting things to say) or an insult (because she thinks I need another outlet for my thinking besides her). This was at the beginning of the summer and I was a little skeptical. Why would I put myself out there? Would people read it? Would I be embarrassed? Ohh who am I kidding, I embarrass myself all the time and surprisingly don't mind. I look at it as entertaining myself. Plus, whoever is around gets a little free entertainment. So it's kind of like I'm making the world a better place one mistake at a time. And I've got a lot of them, trust me.
So she kept asking me if I was going to start one and I was delaying because I didn't really know where to begin. She suggested I call her friend who has a pretty successful blog: thestilettomom.com. I'm not sure if she posts her real name so I'm not going to either. Anyway, she told me all these technological terms that don't make any sense at all. "Basically, go to blogger.com and you'll be fine." Ok, I can do that; I can go to a website. So I checked out, made a blog with a really really long name and one post. Went back a week later and forgot my blog name and password. This was mid-summer.
To get me going, my mom got me some blogging books from the library (which I half-read, soooo yeah you could say I was really on top of it). Finally, after the summer ended and I had many embarrassing/funny/unfortunate/great things happen to me, the idea started to creep back in. Then today I woke up and said, "You know, I'm going to start today!" My roommate said, "I don't care about your cycle." After having a very busy week in which I started school AND 6am practices accompanied by going out every night (this combo results in a few hours of sleep before a Division 1 practice and is not recommended to ANYONE, breastfeeding or otherwise), I started to accumulate some interesting stories. One involving German male-models, one involving my other roommate calling me a slutty 70's mom "but in a good way!" and one involving a trip to the Choctaw Indian Reservation Resort Casino at midnight.
Have no fear, dear readers. If you aren't able to exactly partake in my many adventures, mistakes, and foot-in-mouth moments, you will be able to have a little chuckle as you unwind from your dreadful job you have to keep because the economy sucks while you play whatever newest and most pointless game Facebook has come up with where you work so hard to make money that really means nothing and still does nothing for you in the real world (where again, the economy sucks, in case you forgot). It's astonishing the amount of time people spend playing those games. They might as well get a real job and make real money that they could actually use to buy real food instead of growing 2D carrots in the garden that they have to "pay" other people to harvest. (Yes, Dad, I know you play that game).
Hmm...ok so this post has been really random and obnoxiously long. For those of you that stuck with me and suffered through to the end, congratulations! You get nothing. Maybe I will get better at this. Probably not. But until then, I will continue to vent and share my ideas for those who are willing to read. I guess this post is kind of like what goes on in my head all the time: different thoughts that turn into different things and when I finally get to the end, nothing makes sense anymore. Yay life.
But really, my blog, like me, got its start from my dear mom who I love so very much-- and buys me very nice things :)-- but that's not why I love her....really. She enjoys doing that on her own....really. Anyway, I like to talk about things going on in my head and we were driving back from one of our 2-3 hour-long evening walks when I was talking about how the speed limit could be used as a metaphor for something else that sucks (weight) when she said, "You should start a blog." Now I didn't know if this was a compliment (because she thinks I have interesting things to say) or an insult (because she thinks I need another outlet for my thinking besides her). This was at the beginning of the summer and I was a little skeptical. Why would I put myself out there? Would people read it? Would I be embarrassed? Ohh who am I kidding, I embarrass myself all the time and surprisingly don't mind. I look at it as entertaining myself. Plus, whoever is around gets a little free entertainment. So it's kind of like I'm making the world a better place one mistake at a time. And I've got a lot of them, trust me.
So she kept asking me if I was going to start one and I was delaying because I didn't really know where to begin. She suggested I call her friend who has a pretty successful blog: thestilettomom.com. I'm not sure if she posts her real name so I'm not going to either. Anyway, she told me all these technological terms that don't make any sense at all. "Basically, go to blogger.com and you'll be fine." Ok, I can do that; I can go to a website. So I checked out, made a blog with a really really long name and one post. Went back a week later and forgot my blog name and password. This was mid-summer.
To get me going, my mom got me some blogging books from the library (which I half-read, soooo yeah you could say I was really on top of it). Finally, after the summer ended and I had many embarrassing/funny/unfortunate/great things happen to me, the idea started to creep back in. Then today I woke up and said, "You know, I'm going to start today!" My roommate said, "I don't care about your cycle." After having a very busy week in which I started school AND 6am practices accompanied by going out every night (this combo results in a few hours of sleep before a Division 1 practice and is not recommended to ANYONE, breastfeeding or otherwise), I started to accumulate some interesting stories. One involving German male-models, one involving my other roommate calling me a slutty 70's mom "but in a good way!" and one involving a trip to the Choctaw Indian Reservation Resort Casino at midnight.
Have no fear, dear readers. If you aren't able to exactly partake in my many adventures, mistakes, and foot-in-mouth moments, you will be able to have a little chuckle as you unwind from your dreadful job you have to keep because the economy sucks while you play whatever newest and most pointless game Facebook has come up with where you work so hard to make money that really means nothing and still does nothing for you in the real world (where again, the economy sucks, in case you forgot). It's astonishing the amount of time people spend playing those games. They might as well get a real job and make real money that they could actually use to buy real food instead of growing 2D carrots in the garden that they have to "pay" other people to harvest. (Yes, Dad, I know you play that game).
Hmm...ok so this post has been really random and obnoxiously long. For those of you that stuck with me and suffered through to the end, congratulations! You get nothing. Maybe I will get better at this. Probably not. But until then, I will continue to vent and share my ideas for those who are willing to read. I guess this post is kind of like what goes on in my head all the time: different thoughts that turn into different things and when I finally get to the end, nothing makes sense anymore. Yay life.
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