I was a little worried about the location of my new place in Savannah. There are certain roads you shouldn't live near if you want to feel safe, and I am a block away from one, and a block away from another. If I were one block east or south of where I am, I would be in an iffy part of town.
Keep in mind that the couple moving in above me won't be there for another 3 weeks after I move in. It will be just me and Sammy at first, all alone in the new place.
Math time!
One big, old empty house
living on the edge of the safe part of town
+ my overactive imagination
-------------------------------
= major panic.
Who knows an area better than the people who live there, right? I mean, after being in Columbia for 6 years, I can tell anyone where to live and where to avoid. So I hit up some Savannah message boards to gather some opinions about the level of safety I could expect.
EVERY person (there were about 10) who replied told me that if I can get out of my lease, I should. The phrases "not a good area at all" and "I would not want my daughter to live there" and "wouldn't be able to find a less desirable location if you tried" were used. Oh dear. That's not good.
So last week, I basically freaked out and thought about breaking my lease. Or buying a gun. Or a very large German Shepherd with a nasty temper. Or a taser. Or something. Anything. All I could think was "I am alone, on the ground floor and it would not be very difficult to break into my house if you were a very large and very violent bad guy. I am toast. I might as well start preparing myself to be beaten up, robbed and gang-banged." After he stopped teasing me about being so paranoid, I made CN promise to stay with me for a few days once I move in.
Luckily, MJ calmed me down a LOT and reminded me that I will probably be fine and that there's no way to 100% avoid crime anywhere you live. She lived in a really REALLY bad part of town when she first moved to Columbia, and she had no problems. Just because you might live near some sketchy areas doesn't meat you're guaranteed to be a crime victim. And just because you're in a nice part of time doesn't mean you won't be a target, either. She said the message board people were probably trying to freak me out and all of them probably live in a cushy suburb somewhere. One man's ghetto is another man's "oh, this is fine."
And the most common crime in my part of downtown is car break-ins. (I looked it up on the police dept website) Which probably won't happen to me, because I drive a friggin Pontiac Vibe and all I keep in there are some scratched up CDs. I'm not much of a target.
So I asked my landlord if I could install some motion-detector lights, and he said yes. I asked MJ if I could borrow her super-scary chocolate lab mix, Nabisco. She said yes. I felt that would be good, but if I started to feel a little nervous, I would think about getting a taser or a home security system.
Yesterday, MJ and I went down to Savannah so she could see my place and I could start moving some of my stuff in, get my key, think about where my furniture will go, etc. Once we were all done, we took a walk, grabbed some lunch and came back to the house. We sat on the front steps and watched the neighborhood for a while. We didn't see anything scary or sketchy. It was actually very very quiet. We went back inside and were about to leave when we heard a commotion outside. It was a group of kids. Two of them were having a fist fight in the middle of the street! These kids were maybe in middle school. After a little noise, a bunch of people came outside to see what was going on, and one of the moms in the building across the street broke it up. It was maybe 30 seconds of craziness. No biggie.
I took advantage of the situation and introduced myself to a neighbor and began asking questions about the safety of the neighborhood. "You just witnessed the worst thing I've seen since I moved here," he said. WHEW! That was good to hear! "Everyone on this street expects everyone else to look out for each other," he continued. The street was about half renters, half owner-occupied. Which is a good mix, I think.
He introduced me to a few more neighbors, and they all said they felt fine living there. They had never seen any crimes or anything unusual or dangerous. The iffy-looking building across the street was full of low-income families -- lots of single moms with kids who never bothered anyone. They said I had nothing to worry about, as long as I don't do anything stupid (like leave my doors unlocked) or showy. (Not like I have any fancy gadgets to be showy with!) My house is surrounded by college kids with irregular schedules who throw house parties on the weekends. If their parents can sleep at night knowing their kids are ok, then I can, too.
So I feel a LOT better. But I'm still going to borrow one of CN's golf clubs and put up motion detector lights. Just in case.
Showing posts with label sheer panic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheer panic. Show all posts
Monday, February 16, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Big News!!
Hi, Everybody! I know I've been MIA lately, but there's a good reason for it!!!!
No, I'm not engaged.
I know, that's what you were hoping for, right? Don't hold your breath. I know I'm not! My eggs will be shriveled into mummified remains before CN ever pops the question. Argh.
No, I have big news! Good news!! I can tell you what my big secret is now!!
I am moving to Savannah, GA in three weeks.
I am really excited, because that's where I want to live. But I'm really stressed because it's all happening REALLY fast and I am not super-prepared for all of this.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been busy with interviews and job applications and shopping for interview suits for more interviews...and then yesterday, I was offered the position. I'll be working at the library for a well-known Savannah art school.
And I'm scared shitless.
This job will expect a LOT more from me. I will be someone's boss for the first time--2 people, actually. I will be able to work a lot more independently. I am expected to travel more and do more overall. The working environment is (not to dis my current job!) a lot less laid-back and a lot more fast-paced than what I'm used to, so I will have to bring my "A game".
These are all good things, though. I'm just freaking out. I can do it. I'm excited for the challenge. It's just scary to give up all this stability: my house, my friends, my stable job, my boyfriend being right across the street....
So, in addition to that stress, I have the following problems:
1. I am broke as a joke. Moving costs money. And no, they aren't paying any moving expenses. I asked. I will need to get my tax refund ASAP.
2. I have to find someone to rent my house. NOW. (Trying to sell it in this economy is probably a waste of time. Besides, I just started getting equity. I wouldn't even profit if I sold it now.)
3. I can't rent a place in Savannah until I rent mine out, because that will determine if I can get a nice apartment or if I will have to live in my car. (Or in a van down by the river! LOL)
4. I do not know what CN is going to do. He is going to request a transfer from his job, but we don't know if he will get it. If not, we are looking at a long distance relationship until further notice. Which will stink, but it won't be the end of the world. It's only two and a half hours distance.
5. If he does get the job transfer, it will rock because they will pay for the movers.
6. But that also means we would probably end up living together, which is something I really don't want to do because I am old-fashioned, even though financially it makes a LOT of sense.
7. CN's dad took a turn for the worse and it's REALLY bad, so CN and I are stressed out about that, too. (I really think his dad might be pretty much near the end at this point. It's bad, y'all. It's so sad, because he's in a lot of pain. It seriously sucks right now.) And CN is not going to want to move anywhere if his dad stays like this for any length of time. (Which is fine and I totally understand and wouldn't expect him to move under those circumstances anyway. It's just another piece to the puzzle -- if he is planning on moving later, should I get a bigger apartment in anticipation??)
8. I can't tell my boss I am quitting until they finish my background check (no, I have nothing to hide, but it's just a good idea to make sure I'm cleared before I go blabbing about it). Hopefully they will finish it before I would need to give my 2 weeks' notice. *crosses fingers*
9. And did I mention that I am not really getting a raise? On paper, I am. But because of the higher cost-of-living for Savannah, my quality of life will stay pretty much the same.
I have 21 days to figure all this crap out. So if you don't hear from me a whole lot over the next month or so, that's why. But I'm sure I'll be stressed and will need to vent, so stay tuned.
I am a giant ball of anxiety right now. I am not sleeping and food disgusts me. I could totally barf on command, thanks to all the butterflies and stress knots in my tummy. The upside to all of this is that it's the best diet ever. I have zero interest in eating!
I will turn 30 in the town I want to live in. Cool. My first day will be the Monday before my birthday. :)
No, I'm not engaged.
I know, that's what you were hoping for, right? Don't hold your breath. I know I'm not! My eggs will be shriveled into mummified remains before CN ever pops the question. Argh.
No, I have big news! Good news!! I can tell you what my big secret is now!!
I am moving to Savannah, GA in three weeks.
I am really excited, because that's where I want to live. But I'm really stressed because it's all happening REALLY fast and I am not super-prepared for all of this.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been busy with interviews and job applications and shopping for interview suits for more interviews...and then yesterday, I was offered the position. I'll be working at the library for a well-known Savannah art school.
And I'm scared shitless.
This job will expect a LOT more from me. I will be someone's boss for the first time--2 people, actually. I will be able to work a lot more independently. I am expected to travel more and do more overall. The working environment is (not to dis my current job!) a lot less laid-back and a lot more fast-paced than what I'm used to, so I will have to bring my "A game".
These are all good things, though. I'm just freaking out. I can do it. I'm excited for the challenge. It's just scary to give up all this stability: my house, my friends, my stable job, my boyfriend being right across the street....
So, in addition to that stress, I have the following problems:
1. I am broke as a joke. Moving costs money. And no, they aren't paying any moving expenses. I asked. I will need to get my tax refund ASAP.
2. I have to find someone to rent my house. NOW. (Trying to sell it in this economy is probably a waste of time. Besides, I just started getting equity. I wouldn't even profit if I sold it now.)
3. I can't rent a place in Savannah until I rent mine out, because that will determine if I can get a nice apartment or if I will have to live in my car. (Or in a van down by the river! LOL)
4. I do not know what CN is going to do. He is going to request a transfer from his job, but we don't know if he will get it. If not, we are looking at a long distance relationship until further notice. Which will stink, but it won't be the end of the world. It's only two and a half hours distance.
5. If he does get the job transfer, it will rock because they will pay for the movers.
6. But that also means we would probably end up living together, which is something I really don't want to do because I am old-fashioned, even though financially it makes a LOT of sense.
7. CN's dad took a turn for the worse and it's REALLY bad, so CN and I are stressed out about that, too. (I really think his dad might be pretty much near the end at this point. It's bad, y'all. It's so sad, because he's in a lot of pain. It seriously sucks right now.) And CN is not going to want to move anywhere if his dad stays like this for any length of time. (Which is fine and I totally understand and wouldn't expect him to move under those circumstances anyway. It's just another piece to the puzzle -- if he is planning on moving later, should I get a bigger apartment in anticipation??)
8. I can't tell my boss I am quitting until they finish my background check (no, I have nothing to hide, but it's just a good idea to make sure I'm cleared before I go blabbing about it). Hopefully they will finish it before I would need to give my 2 weeks' notice. *crosses fingers*
9. And did I mention that I am not really getting a raise? On paper, I am. But because of the higher cost-of-living for Savannah, my quality of life will stay pretty much the same.
I have 21 days to figure all this crap out. So if you don't hear from me a whole lot over the next month or so, that's why. But I'm sure I'll be stressed and will need to vent, so stay tuned.
I am a giant ball of anxiety right now. I am not sleeping and food disgusts me. I could totally barf on command, thanks to all the butterflies and stress knots in my tummy. The upside to all of this is that it's the best diet ever. I have zero interest in eating!
I will turn 30 in the town I want to live in. Cool. My first day will be the Monday before my birthday. :)
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I Now Pronounce You...Diet Queen
**Updated!!**
Have I told you that my friend (and MJ's old roommate) KT is getting married next June?
Yup.
Did I mention that KT asked me to be a bridesmaid?
She did. I accepted.
Today, I was informed that the bridesmaid dresses have been selected. They will be light green and are described by KT as "sexy". Here is a photo of the dress:
Pretty, right? Except for that one part where KT describes the dress as "sexy". This is an ominous word to anyone who is currently 30 pounds overweight, such as yours truly. Especially when that person has hips as wide as the Mississippi. And the dress is clingy in the hip area. For me to wear dresses like this AND still have the ability to sit down, it is necessary that I lose a LOT of inches in the hip/ass area of my body.
"Ok, I might need to think about getting serious in the diet and exercise arena in preparation for this wedding," I thought to myself.
"This will be good. You were looking for some motivation to get going on losing some weight," I thought.
"And even if you don't lose a ton of weight, like you should, at least everyone will be looking at the bride, not you," I comforted myself.
"And at least you love the light green color she picked out," I thought.
Then MJ pointed out that the other bridesmaids are probably all aerobics instructors, like KT.
[Insert panic here.]
Now, if you will excuse me, I have 14 miles to run, followed by a dinner of water and 3 grapes.
Update on Tuesday morning: I only had ONE twizzler yesterday. Everything else I ate was relatively nutritional. :) It's a start, right??? Hopefully, I will be going to the gym tonight. No time like the present!
Have I told you that my friend (and MJ's old roommate) KT is getting married next June?
Yup.
Did I mention that KT asked me to be a bridesmaid?
She did. I accepted.
Today, I was informed that the bridesmaid dresses have been selected. They will be light green and are described by KT as "sexy". Here is a photo of the dress:
Pretty, right? Except for that one part where KT describes the dress as "sexy". This is an ominous word to anyone who is currently 30 pounds overweight, such as yours truly. Especially when that person has hips as wide as the Mississippi. And the dress is clingy in the hip area. For me to wear dresses like this AND still have the ability to sit down, it is necessary that I lose a LOT of inches in the hip/ass area of my body.
"Ok, I might need to think about getting serious in the diet and exercise arena in preparation for this wedding," I thought to myself.
"This will be good. You were looking for some motivation to get going on losing some weight," I thought.
"And even if you don't lose a ton of weight, like you should, at least everyone will be looking at the bride, not you," I comforted myself.
"And at least you love the light green color she picked out," I thought.
Then MJ pointed out that the other bridesmaids are probably all aerobics instructors, like KT.
[Insert panic here.]
Now, if you will excuse me, I have 14 miles to run, followed by a dinner of water and 3 grapes.
Update on Tuesday morning: I only had ONE twizzler yesterday. Everything else I ate was relatively nutritional. :) It's a start, right??? Hopefully, I will be going to the gym tonight. No time like the present!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The Stalker
I have mentioned my stalker before. See here and here.
If you look at the dates on those posts, you will see that he's been bothering me since at least March 2007. Thankfully, it has not been continuous because he doesn't attend school every semester. I had kind of forgotten about him, because he wasn't here for the spring semester or the summer. But now, he's back. Every Monday and Wednesday, when he's got classes, he camps out in the library pretty much all day long. (We have learned that his mom drops him off in the mornings and then picks him up when she gets off of work. So he doesn't have a car, which is GOOD.) When he's here, I have to strategically avoid him and hope that he won't follow me to my car. This is not a good working environment!!!
He came up to the desk the other night and asked if he could talk to me. (Unfortunately, I stupidly told him my first name a long time ago, before I knew he would give me the creeps.) My coworker informed him that I had left for the day. But he creeped her out so much that she emailed me about it. He gives everyone the creeps around here, but for some unknown reason, he has become fixated on me, especially. In addition to dealing with his creepiness (staring, lurking, hanging out for no apparent reason, smacking his lips incessantly), I have also had to endure personal questions about my boyfriend and love life. It's pretty evident that this guy has some screws loose, so in a way, I have some sympathy for him. Which is why I have, in the past, sugar-coated my responses to his nosy and inappropriate questions.
As you can probably guess, this only encouraged him. Despite my heavy hints to leave me alone, he still wants to talk to me. It culminated with him finding my myspace page last April and emailing me a bizarre email. Since he was not here at school at the time, I didn't worry about it too much. But I kept the email he sent me, just in case. (When he is not at school, I do not have to really worry about him, as he does not have a car and lives on the other side of town. So the good thing is, he cannot follow me home or anything like that.)
Fast forward to last week, when he asked my coworker if he could talk to me. After hearing that he's now bothering everyone, and not just me, I have decided that I have had enough. In addition to his creepiness, he has been confrontational with some of my coworkers in the past. He's got a mouth and isn't afraid to get mouthy whenever one of us asks him to be quiet or obey the library rules. My coworker and I were talking about his attitude and ultra-creepiness the next day when she reminded me that some criminal records are considered public information here in SC, and were therefore, online. So we looked him up.
Here's what we found: disorderly conduct, domestic violence (multiple offenses against his own mother), resisting arrest, driving on a suspended license and assaulting an officer. And he's spent some time in jail. His rap sheet goes back to 1998, when he was still in high school.
After reading that, I was officially freaked out. If it had been one minor offense, I would not have really worried about it. But to see multiple offenses, some of which are violent, really worried me. He has the ability to turn violent. Against anyone. This guy has a temper, and I know that stalkers do not deal well with rejection. Grrrrrrrrrreat.
I knew I had to do something. But what??? Going to the police and getting a restraining order would only make me a target for revenge. He would know I am the one who filed it. And he could come into the library and totally wig out and/or shoot me or something. Or ramp up his efforts to talk to me. (Stalkers often see restraining orders as challenges to overcome. Yes, I did some research. I'm a librarian -- what did you expect?)
CN wanted to come to campus and follow him into the men's room with a crowbar. I told him that would not be necessary. But I appreciated the thought. He offered a less-violent, more legal idea -- how about he just come to campus and talk to the stalker? I turned down this idea. The last thing I need is for CN to be a target, too.
I decided to go to the office here on campus that deals with problem students. That way, it would be the school that is making the complaint, and my name would not be involved. I was pretty sure that he'd been causing problems around campus, so I was thinking maybe my statement would be the straw that could break the camel's back. If enough people complained, they'd have to do something, right???
I met with one of the student services peeps and told him everything. I even brought a print-out of the strange email he had sent me. When I informed him of my stalker's rap sheet, he looked at me in amazement. "How did you know about all that?" he asked. I told him it was public information. He made some scribbles in his notes, I assume listing all his criminal offenses. He said his office is very familiar with this student and they are "keeping an eye on him", whatever that means. He told me that if all he's doing is being creepy, they can't really do anything. He had sympathy for me, but he's right -- it's not a crime to be a wierdo. I knew the student services office had their hands tied until I could prove my stalker refused to leave me alone or did something violent. Unfortunately, this is the world we live in. And I understand that. But I at least wanted it on record that I had made a complaint.
But he did tell me that this student does have some mental problems, and that as long as I am firm but respectful, I should have some success in getting him to leave me alone. The student services guy said that other people on campus have had success with this strategy. He told me to always keep my phone with me, no matter where I am on campus. He also told me to never walk to my car alone. He also advised me to write down every encounter I have with him, including the date and time and place and what was said, so that we can start keeping track of everything. Yes, I realize now that I should have been doing this all along, but I stupidly didn't take this guy seriously. Luckily, I have mentioned him in this blog, which will help me at least report how long it's been going on.
According to their records, he's never been violent on campus, just mouthy. "There's a first time for everything," I thought. So I informed him that the only reason I was talking to his office instead of the cops was because I didn't want my name on a restraining order. I didn't want to make myself a target. I also said that if he didn't have a violent criminal history, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I had really wanted to go straight to police, to be honest.
Anyway, I am waiting to hear back from his office about what we can do. I told him I would like it if he was banned from the library entirely, if possible. And without my name specifically involved. Ideally, he would be kicked out of school! Until then, I have to just watch my back, be really firm with him and make myself more unavailable online. I am going to remove even more personally identifiying information on my myspace and facebook accounts. It can't hurt.
What makes me angry is that the whole office didnt' even know about his criminal record!!! You would think that after the Virginia Tech shootings, we would not have to deal with crap like this anymore! I mean, I know the school needs to make money via tuition, and I believe in privacy laws and giving people 2nd chances to turn their lives around, but at what cost? I'm not getting the impression this guy is interested in behaving himself or trying to overcome his bad past decisions. I think he's a potentially violent stalker who could flip at any moment and should not be allowed on campus. And I'm a little angry at how vulnerable my place of employment is leaving me. Who knows what other wack jobs are roaming around out here?! If I'm at risk, so are all of my coworkers. I hate that they basically wont' do anything until it's too late. That is a crappy policy. Have we learned nothing after Virginia Tech????
If you look at the dates on those posts, you will see that he's been bothering me since at least March 2007. Thankfully, it has not been continuous because he doesn't attend school every semester. I had kind of forgotten about him, because he wasn't here for the spring semester or the summer. But now, he's back. Every Monday and Wednesday, when he's got classes, he camps out in the library pretty much all day long. (We have learned that his mom drops him off in the mornings and then picks him up when she gets off of work. So he doesn't have a car, which is GOOD.) When he's here, I have to strategically avoid him and hope that he won't follow me to my car. This is not a good working environment!!!
He came up to the desk the other night and asked if he could talk to me. (Unfortunately, I stupidly told him my first name a long time ago, before I knew he would give me the creeps.) My coworker informed him that I had left for the day. But he creeped her out so much that she emailed me about it. He gives everyone the creeps around here, but for some unknown reason, he has become fixated on me, especially. In addition to dealing with his creepiness (staring, lurking, hanging out for no apparent reason, smacking his lips incessantly), I have also had to endure personal questions about my boyfriend and love life. It's pretty evident that this guy has some screws loose, so in a way, I have some sympathy for him. Which is why I have, in the past, sugar-coated my responses to his nosy and inappropriate questions.
As you can probably guess, this only encouraged him. Despite my heavy hints to leave me alone, he still wants to talk to me. It culminated with him finding my myspace page last April and emailing me a bizarre email. Since he was not here at school at the time, I didn't worry about it too much. But I kept the email he sent me, just in case. (When he is not at school, I do not have to really worry about him, as he does not have a car and lives on the other side of town. So the good thing is, he cannot follow me home or anything like that.)
Fast forward to last week, when he asked my coworker if he could talk to me. After hearing that he's now bothering everyone, and not just me, I have decided that I have had enough. In addition to his creepiness, he has been confrontational with some of my coworkers in the past. He's got a mouth and isn't afraid to get mouthy whenever one of us asks him to be quiet or obey the library rules. My coworker and I were talking about his attitude and ultra-creepiness the next day when she reminded me that some criminal records are considered public information here in SC, and were therefore, online. So we looked him up.
Here's what we found: disorderly conduct, domestic violence (multiple offenses against his own mother), resisting arrest, driving on a suspended license and assaulting an officer. And he's spent some time in jail. His rap sheet goes back to 1998, when he was still in high school.
After reading that, I was officially freaked out. If it had been one minor offense, I would not have really worried about it. But to see multiple offenses, some of which are violent, really worried me. He has the ability to turn violent. Against anyone. This guy has a temper, and I know that stalkers do not deal well with rejection. Grrrrrrrrrreat.
I knew I had to do something. But what??? Going to the police and getting a restraining order would only make me a target for revenge. He would know I am the one who filed it. And he could come into the library and totally wig out and/or shoot me or something. Or ramp up his efforts to talk to me. (Stalkers often see restraining orders as challenges to overcome. Yes, I did some research. I'm a librarian -- what did you expect?)
CN wanted to come to campus and follow him into the men's room with a crowbar. I told him that would not be necessary. But I appreciated the thought. He offered a less-violent, more legal idea -- how about he just come to campus and talk to the stalker? I turned down this idea. The last thing I need is for CN to be a target, too.
I decided to go to the office here on campus that deals with problem students. That way, it would be the school that is making the complaint, and my name would not be involved. I was pretty sure that he'd been causing problems around campus, so I was thinking maybe my statement would be the straw that could break the camel's back. If enough people complained, they'd have to do something, right???
I met with one of the student services peeps and told him everything. I even brought a print-out of the strange email he had sent me. When I informed him of my stalker's rap sheet, he looked at me in amazement. "How did you know about all that?" he asked. I told him it was public information. He made some scribbles in his notes, I assume listing all his criminal offenses. He said his office is very familiar with this student and they are "keeping an eye on him", whatever that means. He told me that if all he's doing is being creepy, they can't really do anything. He had sympathy for me, but he's right -- it's not a crime to be a wierdo. I knew the student services office had their hands tied until I could prove my stalker refused to leave me alone or did something violent. Unfortunately, this is the world we live in. And I understand that. But I at least wanted it on record that I had made a complaint.
But he did tell me that this student does have some mental problems, and that as long as I am firm but respectful, I should have some success in getting him to leave me alone. The student services guy said that other people on campus have had success with this strategy. He told me to always keep my phone with me, no matter where I am on campus. He also told me to never walk to my car alone. He also advised me to write down every encounter I have with him, including the date and time and place and what was said, so that we can start keeping track of everything. Yes, I realize now that I should have been doing this all along, but I stupidly didn't take this guy seriously. Luckily, I have mentioned him in this blog, which will help me at least report how long it's been going on.
According to their records, he's never been violent on campus, just mouthy. "There's a first time for everything," I thought. So I informed him that the only reason I was talking to his office instead of the cops was because I didn't want my name on a restraining order. I didn't want to make myself a target. I also said that if he didn't have a violent criminal history, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I had really wanted to go straight to police, to be honest.
Anyway, I am waiting to hear back from his office about what we can do. I told him I would like it if he was banned from the library entirely, if possible. And without my name specifically involved. Ideally, he would be kicked out of school! Until then, I have to just watch my back, be really firm with him and make myself more unavailable online. I am going to remove even more personally identifiying information on my myspace and facebook accounts. It can't hurt.
What makes me angry is that the whole office didnt' even know about his criminal record!!! You would think that after the Virginia Tech shootings, we would not have to deal with crap like this anymore! I mean, I know the school needs to make money via tuition, and I believe in privacy laws and giving people 2nd chances to turn their lives around, but at what cost? I'm not getting the impression this guy is interested in behaving himself or trying to overcome his bad past decisions. I think he's a potentially violent stalker who could flip at any moment and should not be allowed on campus. And I'm a little angry at how vulnerable my place of employment is leaving me. Who knows what other wack jobs are roaming around out here?! If I'm at risk, so are all of my coworkers. I hate that they basically wont' do anything until it's too late. That is a crappy policy. Have we learned nothing after Virginia Tech????
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
A Slap in the Face
I went to the dentist on Monday afternoon to discover that I have not one, not two, but THREE cavities. When I get them filled next week, I have to shell out $500. And yes, that IS after insurance, in case you're wondering. And although needles and cavity experiences aren't one of my main phobias, they aren't exactly a walk in the park for me, either. I sweat buckets and tense up anytime I sit in those chairs. It's what I would call a high-stress situation for me.
Because that's what I need: more stress and less money.
"I'm sorry. You must have the wrong mouth," I wanted to reply when the dentist broke the news to me. But unfortunately, my mouth was full of his gloved fingers and a small mirror. So I was unable to do more than whimper.
I was shocked to hear this news. According to The Czarina, I inherited her excellent teeth, rather than my father's disgusting and sad excuses for teeth. I have only had one teeny tiny cavity in my whole life. So what was this?? I mean, I can understand ONE. But THREE??? What did I do? Too much candy?? Not enough flossing?? I do have a bad habit of not always brushing my teeth before bedtime. I guess it caught up to me.
My coworker provided an interesting theory: I may have caught CN's mouth bacteria from kissing him. Since he has bad teeth, he may have spread his cavity bacteria into my mouth and made mine worse with every smooch. My boyfriend is giving me cavities. Great. What a jerk.
Well, at least I don't feel so terrible now about what happened the other night. He and I are kind of even now. This is what happened:
MJ got a new cell phone. For some reason, her new phone hasn't been communicating well with mine. When she sends me a photo, I receive it about 6 times. Over a 6 hour period. So when it's 2:30am and you are being awakened by your cell again, only to see that you are getting something you've already received four times, it's a little aggravating.
I know what you are thinking: Duh, VB. Turn your phone to silent.
To which I reply: My cell = my alarm clock, so I can't. Back to the story.
So the other night, I spent the night at CN's. I was totally exhausted. I had been getting that repeat photo from MJ, but figured it had stopped at three copies. I fell into what was a very pleasant and extremely deep slumber.
And that's where I stop remembering things. I was THAT sleepy. According to CN, this is what happened around 2:30am:
My phone beeped. (It was the same stupid photo from MJ again. And can I just state right here how much I hate Motorola? Because their phones will beep until the cows come home when you have a new message. You are not allowed to ignore it. You MUST deal with it. NOW. This is the stupidest design flaw I've ever seen. This Motorola phone will be my last.)
I woke up, and in my sleepy stupor, reach over to shut the damn phone up. The beeping also woke up CN, World's Lightest Sleeper. He starts cuddling and kissing on me. I reply:
"GET THE F**K OFF OF ME OR I WILL SLAP YOU IN THE FACE!!!!"
Taken aback, CN apologizes and moves away, telling me I am mean.
For some reason, I half-way comprehend what has just happened, and I go over to kiss him and apologize. "Kiss?" I say.
"No! You're mean!" CN replies, half-joking.
"Fine. Whatever," I reply.
Then, I proceeded to roll over and immediately go back to sleep.
I have absolutely no recollection of this entire event. But I can assure you, CN isn't letting me forget it. Anytime I touch him, I have to hear "Get the f**k off of me or I will slap you in the face!"
Which is fine with me. I can't afford a fourth cavity, anyway.
Because that's what I need: more stress and less money.
"I'm sorry. You must have the wrong mouth," I wanted to reply when the dentist broke the news to me. But unfortunately, my mouth was full of his gloved fingers and a small mirror. So I was unable to do more than whimper.
I was shocked to hear this news. According to The Czarina, I inherited her excellent teeth, rather than my father's disgusting and sad excuses for teeth. I have only had one teeny tiny cavity in my whole life. So what was this?? I mean, I can understand ONE. But THREE??? What did I do? Too much candy?? Not enough flossing?? I do have a bad habit of not always brushing my teeth before bedtime. I guess it caught up to me.
My coworker provided an interesting theory: I may have caught CN's mouth bacteria from kissing him. Since he has bad teeth, he may have spread his cavity bacteria into my mouth and made mine worse with every smooch. My boyfriend is giving me cavities. Great. What a jerk.
Well, at least I don't feel so terrible now about what happened the other night. He and I are kind of even now. This is what happened:
MJ got a new cell phone. For some reason, her new phone hasn't been communicating well with mine. When she sends me a photo, I receive it about 6 times. Over a 6 hour period. So when it's 2:30am and you are being awakened by your cell again, only to see that you are getting something you've already received four times, it's a little aggravating.
I know what you are thinking: Duh, VB. Turn your phone to silent.
To which I reply: My cell = my alarm clock, so I can't. Back to the story.
So the other night, I spent the night at CN's. I was totally exhausted. I had been getting that repeat photo from MJ, but figured it had stopped at three copies. I fell into what was a very pleasant and extremely deep slumber.
And that's where I stop remembering things. I was THAT sleepy. According to CN, this is what happened around 2:30am:
My phone beeped. (It was the same stupid photo from MJ again. And can I just state right here how much I hate Motorola? Because their phones will beep until the cows come home when you have a new message. You are not allowed to ignore it. You MUST deal with it. NOW. This is the stupidest design flaw I've ever seen. This Motorola phone will be my last.)
I woke up, and in my sleepy stupor, reach over to shut the damn phone up. The beeping also woke up CN, World's Lightest Sleeper. He starts cuddling and kissing on me. I reply:
"GET THE F**K OFF OF ME OR I WILL SLAP YOU IN THE FACE!!!!"
Taken aback, CN apologizes and moves away, telling me I am mean.
For some reason, I half-way comprehend what has just happened, and I go over to kiss him and apologize. "Kiss?" I say.
"No! You're mean!" CN replies, half-joking.
"Fine. Whatever," I reply.
Then, I proceeded to roll over and immediately go back to sleep.
I have absolutely no recollection of this entire event. But I can assure you, CN isn't letting me forget it. Anytime I touch him, I have to hear "Get the f**k off of me or I will slap you in the face!"
Which is fine with me. I can't afford a fourth cavity, anyway.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Father Knows Best?
My only non-Czarina day off for the month of June was Father's Day. Which meant that I had to go with CN to spend it with his family. Which was fine. I guess. I usually spend Father's Day trying to forget that it's Father's Day. Every year, I feel pangs of grief, because I miss my dad so much. And Father's Day is always near what would have been his birthday, too. So June is kind of hard for me. But I wanted to hang out with CN, since it was my day off.
I like his family, and his dad is sick, so you know, it wasn't the end of the world. Even though I didn't have to go, it's almost a familial obligation at this point. His parents love me and he and I have been dating too long for me to skip out on family gatherings. But it was my ONLY day off. *sigh* So I sucked it up and went to church with them and then back to their house for some of his mother's yummy food. (Best macaroni & cheese EVER)
I was afraid I would get antsy to get home, but I ended up having a really good time. CN and his sisters told me stories about their childhood, and they were all hilarious. CN's whole family is extremely funny. My favorite story was about a cat that CN had when he was very young. One day, the cat disappeared. When CN asked his dad where his cat went, his father told him that the cat had to go. You see, it worked for a logging company, and it had to go drive the logging truck.
Maybe you had to be there, but this mental image left me crying laughing. I was picturing this little cat, driving a big rig, paws outstretched to steer the huge wheel. It reached up to grab its CB radio, only to meow into the speaker. After I stopped laughing, CN pointed out that this mental image is eerily similar to an old SNL skit, which I had forgotten all about -- Toonces, the Driving Cat.
Right before we left to go back to Columbia, I was in the living room, alone with CN's dad. He was showing me old photographs of his ancestors and telling me stories about them. The photographs were in double frames -- the ones where you have one person on the left and one person on the right. Each double frame showed a husband/wife duo, and these frames were lined up along a desk, in chronological order. Based on the clothing worn in the photographs, I would say that some of these photos went all the way back to pre-Civil War times. (Which I think is SO COOL, because I'm such a history buff.)
He tells me a story about each person -- the Civil War veteran, the adopted daughter, the preacher, etc. One great-great grandfather drowned in a logging accident (I guess logging was the theme of the day), and since the Edisto River was full of logs when he fell in, and it was in the middle of the winter, they couldn't retrieve his body for THREE weeks. Ugh. Gross.
So we are working our way through the generations, and I'm asking him questions, and it's all very interesting. We started to get to more modern times, and we got to CN's parents. We talked about those photos, and finally, we are on the last double frame. It's a photo of CN, from the day he graduated high school. He told me to pick it up.
"You know who that is, of course," CN's dad said.
"Yeah. It's CN," I replied.
"And you see what's next to his photo?" he continued.
"There's nothing there. There is no photo," I said.
"I know. You'd better talk to that boy about that!" he exclaimed.
WOW. I didn't know what to say, other than, "Um, I think that needs to be his idea. I can't talk to him about that."
CN's dad kept repeating that I need to talk to CN about it. I was starting to get a little self-conscious, when CN came back in the room.
"What are you two talking about? Talk to me about what?" CN asked.
"NOTHING!" I said loudly, putting the picture frame back on the desk.
Smooth, VB. Real smooth.
"You ready to go, honey?" I asked.
It may have been my imagination, but I think CN's dad winked at me.
I like his family, and his dad is sick, so you know, it wasn't the end of the world. Even though I didn't have to go, it's almost a familial obligation at this point. His parents love me and he and I have been dating too long for me to skip out on family gatherings. But it was my ONLY day off. *sigh* So I sucked it up and went to church with them and then back to their house for some of his mother's yummy food. (Best macaroni & cheese EVER)
I was afraid I would get antsy to get home, but I ended up having a really good time. CN and his sisters told me stories about their childhood, and they were all hilarious. CN's whole family is extremely funny. My favorite story was about a cat that CN had when he was very young. One day, the cat disappeared. When CN asked his dad where his cat went, his father told him that the cat had to go. You see, it worked for a logging company, and it had to go drive the logging truck.
Maybe you had to be there, but this mental image left me crying laughing. I was picturing this little cat, driving a big rig, paws outstretched to steer the huge wheel. It reached up to grab its CB radio, only to meow into the speaker. After I stopped laughing, CN pointed out that this mental image is eerily similar to an old SNL skit, which I had forgotten all about -- Toonces, the Driving Cat.
Right before we left to go back to Columbia, I was in the living room, alone with CN's dad. He was showing me old photographs of his ancestors and telling me stories about them. The photographs were in double frames -- the ones where you have one person on the left and one person on the right. Each double frame showed a husband/wife duo, and these frames were lined up along a desk, in chronological order. Based on the clothing worn in the photographs, I would say that some of these photos went all the way back to pre-Civil War times. (Which I think is SO COOL, because I'm such a history buff.)
He tells me a story about each person -- the Civil War veteran, the adopted daughter, the preacher, etc. One great-great grandfather drowned in a logging accident (I guess logging was the theme of the day), and since the Edisto River was full of logs when he fell in, and it was in the middle of the winter, they couldn't retrieve his body for THREE weeks. Ugh. Gross.
So we are working our way through the generations, and I'm asking him questions, and it's all very interesting. We started to get to more modern times, and we got to CN's parents. We talked about those photos, and finally, we are on the last double frame. It's a photo of CN, from the day he graduated high school. He told me to pick it up.
"You know who that is, of course," CN's dad said.
"Yeah. It's CN," I replied.
"And you see what's next to his photo?" he continued.
"There's nothing there. There is no photo," I said.
"I know. You'd better talk to that boy about that!" he exclaimed.
WOW. I didn't know what to say, other than, "Um, I think that needs to be his idea. I can't talk to him about that."
CN's dad kept repeating that I need to talk to CN about it. I was starting to get a little self-conscious, when CN came back in the room.
"What are you two talking about? Talk to me about what?" CN asked.
"NOTHING!" I said loudly, putting the picture frame back on the desk.
Smooth, VB. Real smooth.
"You ready to go, honey?" I asked.
It may have been my imagination, but I think CN's dad winked at me.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Faux Pas Over Faux Pearls
I was working at Dildo's the other night. So far, so good. I'm still getting used to my crammed schedule, but my coworkers are nice and the work is pretty fun. Until I can "prove" myself as a salesgirl, I am currently working in the accessories department, awaiting permission to move over to the Clinique counter.
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Friday, May 16, 2008
Nightmare
Last night, I had what was one of the worst dreams of my life. I've had dreams where my parents die or where my dad was cheating on my mom. I've had dreams where my friends and family are upset, or that someone is harassing me. But last night, my dream played out more like a horror movie than a personal drama. It really freaked me out!!
MJ and I were trying to get to Philly to meet up with The Rat Pack. (This is the same group of 4 guys we hung out with on last year's NYC/Vermont trip. And we are trying to plan a trip to Philly next month, since two of The Rat Pack members live in Philly. So I'm assuming this is what my subconscious was thinking about when I had this dream.)
In the dream, for some reason, MJ and I didn't have access to our credit cards. We were stuck with just whatever cash we had on us. And it made more financial sense for us to take a Greyhound bus to Philly, rather than drive in MJ's car. So we got on the bus, where we were joined by KT and a couple members of The Rat Pack. (This makes no sense, because MJ and I are the only ones who do not live in New England, but what do you expect? This is a dream, after all.)
By the time the bus stops, we are exhausted. I don't know where we are, but it is a city of some kind. We don't go to a hotel. Instead, we go to a boarding house because it was cheaper. (Do boarding houses even exist anymore??) It may have been a hostel....I can't remember. We are still limited to whatever cash we have, at this point, so I think we were looking for somewhere to crash so we could figure out how to get to Philly the next day.
This hostel/boarding house was an old, early 20th century home. It was a late Victorian style, so it had a big front porch, huge front staircase, wide hallways, tall ceilings, big windows and large rooms. The boarding house was owned and operated by an elderly couple who creeped me out. Of course, even more disturbing, no one else thought they were creepy.
So we are all so broke that we can only afford to rent one very large bedroom upstairs. There are at least 5 of us. We take our suitcases up the big, main staircase to go find our room. I notice that the wallpaper in the house looks to be original, because it is water-damaged, faded and peeling. In fact, everything in the house looked original, from the carpet to the furniture to the doorknobs. Everything was a sort of beige or rose color. With dark wood paneling. It was kind of creepy. And quiet. Very, very quiet.
At the top of the staircase, there is a big hallway. Our room is at the end of the hall. Here's the really creepy part: on the floor of the hallway, in front of each closed bedroom door, there was a baby doll head. Each one had a different facial expression, and they all faced the door nearest to them. Some dolls were smiling, others were angry or terrified. They were all creepy. I mean, someone had obviously ripped the heads off of baby dolls and set them down like this in the hallway! And who's ever heard of a baby doll with angry or scared facial expressions???! I told my friends this place was creepy and I didn't want to stay. They thought I was nuts.
Again, I am the only person who seemed to have a problem with the creepiness. Great.
Our room had several beds, and everyone was so tired that they went to bed immediately. They didn't brush their teeth or even get into pajamas. They just crashed. Meanwhile, I cannot sleep for shit because I'm still thinking about the creepy baby heads in the hallway.
To make it even spookier, we are the only tenants in the place. It's eerily quiet and empty. Just us and the baby doll heads.
When we paid for our room, I had noticed there was a sign by the desk saying that meals were served at certain times. So I decided that I would go back down to the desk to see if it was time to eat yet. I couldn't bear to be near those baby heads anymore. I woke up my friend to tell him where I was going, tip-toed down the hallway, trying not to touch the baby doll heads (which moved on their own to turn and look at me with their varying facial expressions as I passed by!!!).
I made my way to the front desk downstairs, and asked if dinner was served yet. The wife told me that there was still an hour before it would be served. So I decided to make my way back upstairs to try and get my friends to leave this creepy place.
Then, something-- I can't remember what, maybe it was a little voice in my head-- tells me what is going on: the husband and wife who run the place are actually serial killers who are trying to make us their next victims!!!! I am totally freaked out by this realization, obviously. Then the little voice in my head tells me that depending on the expression of your room's baby doll head, you will know if the elderly couple likes you enough to let you live.
Yeah. At this point, even my dream self is like, "Dude, this is f**ked up. Get the hell outta here!!"
So now I need to know which expression our room's baby doll head has. I am back upstairs, walking slowly down the hallway. I know which rooms have dead bodies in them, because the baby doll heads have angry or scared looks on their faces. And of course, the baby doll heads are watching me again. Which is just freaking fantastic.
Sure enough, our room now has its own baby doll head. It had appeared while I had been downstairs!!! I didn't look at its expression -- at this point, I didn't care. We were all checking out right now, no questions asked. I wake everyone up and freak them out enough (I believe I was crying and screaming) to convince them that we need to leave -- NOW. I think they only agreed so that I would shut up and they could finally get some sleep!
We pack up all our stuff and head back down the main staircase. As we are waiting at the bottom of the stairs to check out (why we are taking the time to do this, I don't know), the old man flies down the stairs, holding a knife (or maybe it was a gun?) , trying to stop us from leaving, even if it means he has to kill us!!! We all scream and try to escape. The next thing I know, a large piece of wood falls off of the upstairs banister and impales the old man before he can hurt us! WHAM! It goes right through his torso, killing him instantly.
We must have either ignored or fought off the old lady, because I remember she was protesting our escape, too. We ran out of the house and down the street. That's when I realized we had been in Philly the whole time.
Ugh. No more Jersey Mike's before bedtime.
MJ and I were trying to get to Philly to meet up with The Rat Pack. (This is the same group of 4 guys we hung out with on last year's NYC/Vermont trip. And we are trying to plan a trip to Philly next month, since two of The Rat Pack members live in Philly. So I'm assuming this is what my subconscious was thinking about when I had this dream.)
In the dream, for some reason, MJ and I didn't have access to our credit cards. We were stuck with just whatever cash we had on us. And it made more financial sense for us to take a Greyhound bus to Philly, rather than drive in MJ's car. So we got on the bus, where we were joined by KT and a couple members of The Rat Pack. (This makes no sense, because MJ and I are the only ones who do not live in New England, but what do you expect? This is a dream, after all.)
By the time the bus stops, we are exhausted. I don't know where we are, but it is a city of some kind. We don't go to a hotel. Instead, we go to a boarding house because it was cheaper. (Do boarding houses even exist anymore??) It may have been a hostel....I can't remember. We are still limited to whatever cash we have, at this point, so I think we were looking for somewhere to crash so we could figure out how to get to Philly the next day.
This hostel/boarding house was an old, early 20th century home. It was a late Victorian style, so it had a big front porch, huge front staircase, wide hallways, tall ceilings, big windows and large rooms. The boarding house was owned and operated by an elderly couple who creeped me out. Of course, even more disturbing, no one else thought they were creepy.
So we are all so broke that we can only afford to rent one very large bedroom upstairs. There are at least 5 of us. We take our suitcases up the big, main staircase to go find our room. I notice that the wallpaper in the house looks to be original, because it is water-damaged, faded and peeling. In fact, everything in the house looked original, from the carpet to the furniture to the doorknobs. Everything was a sort of beige or rose color. With dark wood paneling. It was kind of creepy. And quiet. Very, very quiet.
At the top of the staircase, there is a big hallway. Our room is at the end of the hall. Here's the really creepy part: on the floor of the hallway, in front of each closed bedroom door, there was a baby doll head. Each one had a different facial expression, and they all faced the door nearest to them. Some dolls were smiling, others were angry or terrified. They were all creepy. I mean, someone had obviously ripped the heads off of baby dolls and set them down like this in the hallway! And who's ever heard of a baby doll with angry or scared facial expressions???! I told my friends this place was creepy and I didn't want to stay. They thought I was nuts.
Again, I am the only person who seemed to have a problem with the creepiness. Great.
Our room had several beds, and everyone was so tired that they went to bed immediately. They didn't brush their teeth or even get into pajamas. They just crashed. Meanwhile, I cannot sleep for shit because I'm still thinking about the creepy baby heads in the hallway.
To make it even spookier, we are the only tenants in the place. It's eerily quiet and empty. Just us and the baby doll heads.
When we paid for our room, I had noticed there was a sign by the desk saying that meals were served at certain times. So I decided that I would go back down to the desk to see if it was time to eat yet. I couldn't bear to be near those baby heads anymore. I woke up my friend to tell him where I was going, tip-toed down the hallway, trying not to touch the baby doll heads (which moved on their own to turn and look at me with their varying facial expressions as I passed by!!!).
I made my way to the front desk downstairs, and asked if dinner was served yet. The wife told me that there was still an hour before it would be served. So I decided to make my way back upstairs to try and get my friends to leave this creepy place.
Then, something-- I can't remember what, maybe it was a little voice in my head-- tells me what is going on: the husband and wife who run the place are actually serial killers who are trying to make us their next victims!!!! I am totally freaked out by this realization, obviously. Then the little voice in my head tells me that depending on the expression of your room's baby doll head, you will know if the elderly couple likes you enough to let you live.
Yeah. At this point, even my dream self is like, "Dude, this is f**ked up. Get the hell outta here!!"
So now I need to know which expression our room's baby doll head has. I am back upstairs, walking slowly down the hallway. I know which rooms have dead bodies in them, because the baby doll heads have angry or scared looks on their faces. And of course, the baby doll heads are watching me again. Which is just freaking fantastic.
Sure enough, our room now has its own baby doll head. It had appeared while I had been downstairs!!! I didn't look at its expression -- at this point, I didn't care. We were all checking out right now, no questions asked. I wake everyone up and freak them out enough (I believe I was crying and screaming) to convince them that we need to leave -- NOW. I think they only agreed so that I would shut up and they could finally get some sleep!
We pack up all our stuff and head back down the main staircase. As we are waiting at the bottom of the stairs to check out (why we are taking the time to do this, I don't know), the old man flies down the stairs, holding a knife (or maybe it was a gun?) , trying to stop us from leaving, even if it means he has to kill us!!! We all scream and try to escape. The next thing I know, a large piece of wood falls off of the upstairs banister and impales the old man before he can hurt us! WHAM! It goes right through his torso, killing him instantly.
We must have either ignored or fought off the old lady, because I remember she was protesting our escape, too. We ran out of the house and down the street. That's when I realized we had been in Philly the whole time.
Ugh. No more Jersey Mike's before bedtime.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
CN and the Doctors
On Saturday afternoon, I made strawberry shortcake for CN. He loved it.
But after he ate, he said he didn't feel well. After some jokes about how I am poisoning him and/or not washing the strawberries, he decided to lie down. I joined him, because I didn't feel well either (little did I know, I was hours away from getting a migraine, and this was my body trying to warn me). Besides, my calves were killing me, thanks to my trainer's brilliant idea that I do 150 calf raises AND 30 pound lifts (45 times) on the calf weight machine at the gym. I would spend the weekend trying to stretch out my calves, only to end up hobbling around on my tippy toes, like some geriatric Barbie doll.
After our nap, I felt a little better, but CN felt worse -- much worse. He had nausea, dizziness, bloating, lower back pain, chills and....let's just say that "things" weren't "moving along". So I spent the evening taking care of him. I felt helpless, because nothing I did seemed to make him feel much better. I tried to stay up late with him -- he was in so much pain that he couldn't sleep -- but I konked out around 11pm. "Wake me up if you need anything," I said drowsily. I suck at being a night owl.
This pattern went on through Saturday night, all day Sunday and all day Monday. CN would eat, feel terrible, lie down, writhe in pain all night, then wake up feeling slightly better in the morning. And he had to go to extreme measures to get things "going", if you know what I mean.
To make things even worse, I woke up with a mild migraine on Sunday, so I was feeling pretty miserable, too. Thanks to a lot of caffeine, I managed to keep most of the pain at bay. So we went to Wal-Mart. But that was it! By the time we left, both of us were feeling worse. We laid around in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like crap!
"Wow, we are one exciting couple," he said.
On Monday morning, CN went to go see Dr. Quack. I call him Dr. Quack because when CN went to him last year, complaining of um....something really gross that can be a sign of something REALLY bad, he told CN to "just cut back on alcohol".
WTF?? A young, otherwise healthy man comes to you, complaining of unexplained bleeding, and you tell him to cut back on beer??! ARG!
"I really wish you wouldn't go see him again," I said. "He's a quack!"
"Well, I already made the appointment," he replied.
CN comes back from the doctor and calls me at work. "Ok, Dr. Quack says I have a kidney infection."
"But you have been complaining about gastro-intestinal issues," I replied, confused.
"Yeah, I know. But he tested my pee, and it came back infected. So I'm on antibiotics."
I remembered his lower back pain -- it must have been in his kidneys. That kind of made sense. I asked him if Dr. Quack said anything else about his other symptoms.
"Yeah, I told him about the dizziness, and he said I probably have congested sinuses, so he told me to go buy some Mucinex," CN replied.
"Do you have congestion?" I asked.
"No," CN answered. "But I bought some anyway. Just took the first dose."
Who the hell is this doctor?? I thought to myself. And why is my normally intelligent boyfriend just accepting everything he is saying as gospel?? Doesn't he see that this doc is a moron?? Apparently, I am going to have to just do all this for CN, because he cannot be trusted to be in charge of his own health. This is so ridiculous.
That's when I recognized this particular Voice in My Head: It was the worst voice of all. It was the voice of The Czarina. I was turning into my mother before my very eyes. As terrifying as it was, I couldn't stop it. It was like a ventriloquist had taken over my body. I was the dummy on her lap, saying whatever she would say.
"Ok, well, I will come check on you when I get home today," I replied. [Czarina Voice Translation: When I come over today after work, I am going to make you go see a real doctor who gives logical answers, because I am pretty sure this doctor got his MD from the back of a cereal box.]
By the time I got home, he was feeling a lot better, but he hadn't really eaten anything that day, so we went to grab some BBQ. As soon as he finished eating, he felt terrible again. Seeing the pattern of eating --> illness, I tell him I really think he should go to see a gastroenterologist. I was worried he might have IBS, diverticulitis or an intestinal blockage -- or worse.
We go home, and he's now really uncomfortable and lying on the couch. "We might need to go to the emergency room," he said. I explained (ok, Czarina's Voice explained) to him that if we go to the emergency room, they will put him at the bottom of the list because he's not bleeding to death and he doesn't have any heart/lung issues. Then, once they get around to seeing us at 4am, they will probably tell us to pop some vicodin and call your regular doctor in the morning.
He agreed and decided to stay put for the time being. He took some tylenol for the pain. To make him feel better, I stayed at his house in case he needed anything.
He felt ok yesterday morning -- not great, but ok. I went to work and came to check on him at lunch. It was time to visit a REAL doctor. One who didn't prescribe medicines for non-existent symptoms.
"But I've already been to the doctor," he whined.
"My coworkers recommend Dr. B," I said, ignoring him. He was going to the doctor whether he liked it or not. [Czarina was in full swing now.]
"Shouldn't we wait until the antibiotics really kick in? I mean, I'm fine! This is no big deal!" he said.
That's when I lost it. I gave CN a tear-filled lecture about how worried I was and how he's got to go to the doctor, if only so that I can stop worrying. I listed off all the reasons I wasn't happy with Dr. Quack and told him a bunch of scary stories I had heard about unresolved gastro-intestinal issues. After about 20 minutes of nagging, lecturing, guilt-tripping and begging, he finally caved in and agreed to call.
Dr. B couldn't see him for 2 days.
"Ok, yeah, Friday is ok, then," CN said into the phone.
"No, it's NOT!!" I hissed. "You need to see someone TODAY!!"
We called the doctor recommended to us by Dr. B's receptionist.
"Tomorrow morning at 9? Sure, that would be ok," CN said into the phone.
By this point, I was ready to grab the phone away from him and do it myself. What is it with men and doctors??!!
"Does he specialize in gastroenterology? Ask her if he specializes in gastro-intestinal issues," I asked. CN asked receptionist #2.
"No, he doesn't," CN told me. He went back to talking to receptionist #2.
"My chief complaint? Uh...I don't feel good. Just, ya know, in pain, in my back, mostly," he said.
"No!! You are having severe abdominal pain and nothing is making it better and you need to see someone TODAY!" I practically yelled. I was hovering over him by this point, like a helicopter.
CN made the appointment for the next morning at 9am. He got off the phone.
"Ok, we are calling a gastroenterologist this time," I said.
"But I just made an appointment with a family doctor for tomorrow," he said, confused.
"Yes, I realize this, but you need a gastroenterologist TODAY. Tomorrow isn't good enough. If you don't take health problems seriously, they will turn into serious health problems," I said. I gave him the number I had looked up in the phone book. He called and made an appointment for 2:30 that afternoon.
I took off the rest of the afternoon so that I could go with him.
"This really isn't necessary," CN said, as I made a list of all his symptoms and all the foods he had eaten in the past 48 hours. "I'm a big boy. I can go to the doctor by myself."
"Oh yeah? You can? What happened last time?" I asked.
"He told me I was congested. And I'm not," he mumbled.
"What else?" I asked, shrewishly. I was on a roll, now. This was Classic Czarina, spewing from my mouth. My hands may have even been on my hips.
"And I forgot to tell the doctor all of my symptoms. Or ask questions," he mumbled again.
"I'm going to the doctor's appointment with you, even if they make me sit in the waiting room the whole time." I announced, one eyebrow raised. "Besides, look at you. You're in so much pain, you can't even sit up straight. You can't drive like this."
We went to the doctor, complete with the list of symptoms I had written and all his medicines, including the over the counter stuff. They let me go into the exam room with CN.
The doctor comes in, and we tell him everything. I make CN show him the list I made.
The doctor tells us that sometimes, when someone gets any kind of infection, it can mess with your gastro-intestinal tract. So it was probably the kidney infection causing the gastro-intestinal problems. The doctor asked CN some questions, just to rule out anything serious. CN was fine. Just a little backed up, was all. (Finally! Some answers!!)
"So what's up with the Mucinex?" I asked.
The doctor turned to CN. "Are you congested?" he asked.
"No," said CN.
"Hmmm....I bet Dr. Quack meant to write down 'Miralax', an OTC laxative, but he wrote down 'Mucinex' by mistake. So stop taking the Mucinex if you don't have congestion. Let's get you some Miralax instead, ok? You can get it at drugstores or grocery stores. It's over the counter," he said.
Oh my gawd. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Jeez Louise. If CN was allowed to do what he wanted, he'd be dead or buying snake oil from some infomercial. I am just going to have to run this show from now on.
"Tell him about your prostate!!" I whispered to CN. CN has an enlarged prostate. It is hereditary in his family. His dad has prostate cancer right now, in fact, which is something you are at a high risk for if you have an enlarged prostate.
CN tells him all about the prostate issues.
"Ok, so let me get this straight. You have a urinary/kidney infection and an enlarged prostate?" asked the doctor.
"Yes," said CN.
"Well, what does your urologist say?" he continued.
"Um, I have never been to a urologist. Dr. Quack just told me to take saw palmetto, that herbal supplement that is supposed to help," CN explained.
You could have knocked the doctor over with a feather! He was visibly shocked. "You mean to tell me that you have prostate cancer in your immediate family, a history of enlarged prostate symptoms AND a urinary/kidney tract infection and you haven't been to a urologist??!" he exclaimed.
Thank you, you genius doctor, I thought. I have been telling him to go to a urologist for months.
"Um. No." CN mumbled.
"I'm referring you to one right away. You really don't need me, you need a urologist," he said.
We made the appointment at the urologist's, paid the bill and drove home.
"Thanks for coming with me, babe," CN said.
"You're welcome. Sorry I had to get all Czarina on your ass, but I was worried sick and you acted like you weren't concerned, and I got scared, which brings out my inner control freak," I said.
"No, I'm glad you did. It shows you care. I was kind of scared that there was something really wrong with me, and I didn't want to deal with it. Thanks for making me talk to a good doctor. I feel a lot better," he said.
"So I wasn't totally obnoxious?" I asked.
"No! You were great. I really appreciate it...Czarina."
"Shut up. Don't call me that ever again," I mumbled.
But after he ate, he said he didn't feel well. After some jokes about how I am poisoning him and/or not washing the strawberries, he decided to lie down. I joined him, because I didn't feel well either (little did I know, I was hours away from getting a migraine, and this was my body trying to warn me). Besides, my calves were killing me, thanks to my trainer's brilliant idea that I do 150 calf raises AND 30 pound lifts (45 times) on the calf weight machine at the gym. I would spend the weekend trying to stretch out my calves, only to end up hobbling around on my tippy toes, like some geriatric Barbie doll.
After our nap, I felt a little better, but CN felt worse -- much worse. He had nausea, dizziness, bloating, lower back pain, chills and....let's just say that "things" weren't "moving along". So I spent the evening taking care of him. I felt helpless, because nothing I did seemed to make him feel much better. I tried to stay up late with him -- he was in so much pain that he couldn't sleep -- but I konked out around 11pm. "Wake me up if you need anything," I said drowsily. I suck at being a night owl.
This pattern went on through Saturday night, all day Sunday and all day Monday. CN would eat, feel terrible, lie down, writhe in pain all night, then wake up feeling slightly better in the morning. And he had to go to extreme measures to get things "going", if you know what I mean.
To make things even worse, I woke up with a mild migraine on Sunday, so I was feeling pretty miserable, too. Thanks to a lot of caffeine, I managed to keep most of the pain at bay. So we went to Wal-Mart. But that was it! By the time we left, both of us were feeling worse. We laid around in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like crap!
"Wow, we are one exciting couple," he said.
On Monday morning, CN went to go see Dr. Quack. I call him Dr. Quack because when CN went to him last year, complaining of um....something really gross that can be a sign of something REALLY bad, he told CN to "just cut back on alcohol".
WTF?? A young, otherwise healthy man comes to you, complaining of unexplained bleeding, and you tell him to cut back on beer??! ARG!
"I really wish you wouldn't go see him again," I said. "He's a quack!"
"Well, I already made the appointment," he replied.
CN comes back from the doctor and calls me at work. "Ok, Dr. Quack says I have a kidney infection."
"But you have been complaining about gastro-intestinal issues," I replied, confused.
"Yeah, I know. But he tested my pee, and it came back infected. So I'm on antibiotics."
I remembered his lower back pain -- it must have been in his kidneys. That kind of made sense. I asked him if Dr. Quack said anything else about his other symptoms.
"Yeah, I told him about the dizziness, and he said I probably have congested sinuses, so he told me to go buy some Mucinex," CN replied.
"Do you have congestion?" I asked.
"No," CN answered. "But I bought some anyway. Just took the first dose."
Who the hell is this doctor?? I thought to myself. And why is my normally intelligent boyfriend just accepting everything he is saying as gospel?? Doesn't he see that this doc is a moron?? Apparently, I am going to have to just do all this for CN, because he cannot be trusted to be in charge of his own health. This is so ridiculous.
That's when I recognized this particular Voice in My Head: It was the worst voice of all. It was the voice of The Czarina. I was turning into my mother before my very eyes. As terrifying as it was, I couldn't stop it. It was like a ventriloquist had taken over my body. I was the dummy on her lap, saying whatever she would say.
"Ok, well, I will come check on you when I get home today," I replied. [Czarina Voice Translation: When I come over today after work, I am going to make you go see a real doctor who gives logical answers, because I am pretty sure this doctor got his MD from the back of a cereal box.]
By the time I got home, he was feeling a lot better, but he hadn't really eaten anything that day, so we went to grab some BBQ. As soon as he finished eating, he felt terrible again. Seeing the pattern of eating --> illness, I tell him I really think he should go to see a gastroenterologist. I was worried he might have IBS, diverticulitis or an intestinal blockage -- or worse.
We go home, and he's now really uncomfortable and lying on the couch. "We might need to go to the emergency room," he said. I explained (ok, Czarina's Voice explained) to him that if we go to the emergency room, they will put him at the bottom of the list because he's not bleeding to death and he doesn't have any heart/lung issues. Then, once they get around to seeing us at 4am, they will probably tell us to pop some vicodin and call your regular doctor in the morning.
He agreed and decided to stay put for the time being. He took some tylenol for the pain. To make him feel better, I stayed at his house in case he needed anything.
He felt ok yesterday morning -- not great, but ok. I went to work and came to check on him at lunch. It was time to visit a REAL doctor. One who didn't prescribe medicines for non-existent symptoms.
"But I've already been to the doctor," he whined.
"My coworkers recommend Dr. B," I said, ignoring him. He was going to the doctor whether he liked it or not. [Czarina was in full swing now.]
"Shouldn't we wait until the antibiotics really kick in? I mean, I'm fine! This is no big deal!" he said.
That's when I lost it. I gave CN a tear-filled lecture about how worried I was and how he's got to go to the doctor, if only so that I can stop worrying. I listed off all the reasons I wasn't happy with Dr. Quack and told him a bunch of scary stories I had heard about unresolved gastro-intestinal issues. After about 20 minutes of nagging, lecturing, guilt-tripping and begging, he finally caved in and agreed to call.
Dr. B couldn't see him for 2 days.
"Ok, yeah, Friday is ok, then," CN said into the phone.
"No, it's NOT!!" I hissed. "You need to see someone TODAY!!"
We called the doctor recommended to us by Dr. B's receptionist.
"Tomorrow morning at 9? Sure, that would be ok," CN said into the phone.
By this point, I was ready to grab the phone away from him and do it myself. What is it with men and doctors??!!
"Does he specialize in gastroenterology? Ask her if he specializes in gastro-intestinal issues," I asked. CN asked receptionist #2.
"No, he doesn't," CN told me. He went back to talking to receptionist #2.
"My chief complaint? Uh...I don't feel good. Just, ya know, in pain, in my back, mostly," he said.
"No!! You are having severe abdominal pain and nothing is making it better and you need to see someone TODAY!" I practically yelled. I was hovering over him by this point, like a helicopter.
CN made the appointment for the next morning at 9am. He got off the phone.
"Ok, we are calling a gastroenterologist this time," I said.
"But I just made an appointment with a family doctor for tomorrow," he said, confused.
"Yes, I realize this, but you need a gastroenterologist TODAY. Tomorrow isn't good enough. If you don't take health problems seriously, they will turn into serious health problems," I said. I gave him the number I had looked up in the phone book. He called and made an appointment for 2:30 that afternoon.
I took off the rest of the afternoon so that I could go with him.
"This really isn't necessary," CN said, as I made a list of all his symptoms and all the foods he had eaten in the past 48 hours. "I'm a big boy. I can go to the doctor by myself."
"Oh yeah? You can? What happened last time?" I asked.
"He told me I was congested. And I'm not," he mumbled.
"What else?" I asked, shrewishly. I was on a roll, now. This was Classic Czarina, spewing from my mouth. My hands may have even been on my hips.
"And I forgot to tell the doctor all of my symptoms. Or ask questions," he mumbled again.
"I'm going to the doctor's appointment with you, even if they make me sit in the waiting room the whole time." I announced, one eyebrow raised. "Besides, look at you. You're in so much pain, you can't even sit up straight. You can't drive like this."
We went to the doctor, complete with the list of symptoms I had written and all his medicines, including the over the counter stuff. They let me go into the exam room with CN.
The doctor comes in, and we tell him everything. I make CN show him the list I made.
The doctor tells us that sometimes, when someone gets any kind of infection, it can mess with your gastro-intestinal tract. So it was probably the kidney infection causing the gastro-intestinal problems. The doctor asked CN some questions, just to rule out anything serious. CN was fine. Just a little backed up, was all. (Finally! Some answers!!)
"So what's up with the Mucinex?" I asked.
The doctor turned to CN. "Are you congested?" he asked.
"No," said CN.
"Hmmm....I bet Dr. Quack meant to write down 'Miralax', an OTC laxative, but he wrote down 'Mucinex' by mistake. So stop taking the Mucinex if you don't have congestion. Let's get you some Miralax instead, ok? You can get it at drugstores or grocery stores. It's over the counter," he said.
Oh my gawd. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Jeez Louise. If CN was allowed to do what he wanted, he'd be dead or buying snake oil from some infomercial. I am just going to have to run this show from now on.
"Tell him about your prostate!!" I whispered to CN. CN has an enlarged prostate. It is hereditary in his family. His dad has prostate cancer right now, in fact, which is something you are at a high risk for if you have an enlarged prostate.
CN tells him all about the prostate issues.
"Ok, so let me get this straight. You have a urinary/kidney infection and an enlarged prostate?" asked the doctor.
"Yes," said CN.
"Well, what does your urologist say?" he continued.
"Um, I have never been to a urologist. Dr. Quack just told me to take saw palmetto, that herbal supplement that is supposed to help," CN explained.
You could have knocked the doctor over with a feather! He was visibly shocked. "You mean to tell me that you have prostate cancer in your immediate family, a history of enlarged prostate symptoms AND a urinary/kidney tract infection and you haven't been to a urologist??!" he exclaimed.
Thank you, you genius doctor, I thought. I have been telling him to go to a urologist for months.
"Um. No." CN mumbled.
"I'm referring you to one right away. You really don't need me, you need a urologist," he said.
We made the appointment at the urologist's, paid the bill and drove home.
"Thanks for coming with me, babe," CN said.
"You're welcome. Sorry I had to get all Czarina on your ass, but I was worried sick and you acted like you weren't concerned, and I got scared, which brings out my inner control freak," I said.
"No, I'm glad you did. It shows you care. I was kind of scared that there was something really wrong with me, and I didn't want to deal with it. Thanks for making me talk to a good doctor. I feel a lot better," he said.
"So I wasn't totally obnoxious?" I asked.
"No! You were great. I really appreciate it...Czarina."
"Shut up. Don't call me that ever again," I mumbled.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Goal #2
If you didn't read about Goal #1, look at my last post.
Here is Goal #2: Lose weight and get in shape. I want to lose 40 pounds. I want to get back to a healthy BMI (I'm currently at 28.7 and anything over a 25 is considered "overweight"). And a healthy body fat percentage (I'm currently at 37.8% and I need to be no higher than 25%). I'd like to maybe enter a 5k. I want to be able to fit into everything in my closet, even the fantastic and expensive black cocktail dress I have, which I believe is a size 8. I want to look good in photos again. I am hoping to reach this one by the end of the year, too. Like the other goal, it is a lifestyle change. I need to stop looking at food and exercise the way I have been all my life.
Unlike Goal #1, which is a new concept to me, I already know how to reach Goal #2. I am really good at losing weight and getting in shape--I have already lost and re-gained this SAME 40 pounds twice already. :P
My problem isn't the knowledge, it's the motivation. That means I have to stop making excuses and stop the negative thoughts. I have to change the way I view food and exercise and their roles in my life. Instead of thinking, "I really want to eat chocolate cake! This sucks!" I have to think, "Chocolate cake tastes good, but it is empty calories and basically counter-acts all the hard work I did at the gym this week."
Like Goal #1, a lot of the same lessons apply here:
* Know your weakness and avoid it. Mine are brownies, Oreos, Doritos, candy, Cheez-its and fried chicken.
* Plan ahead and prioritize. This means not waiting too long in-between meals and building time into my schedule for exercise.
* Little things can add up. So every calorie, every trip to the gym counts. The good AND the bad.
*Knowledge is power. I recently had my body fat, BMI, BMR, blood pressure and weight calculated. Now I know where I stand, at least. And talk about a wake-up call!!!
* Don't be stupid. The gym charges me $44.50 per month, whether I go twice or 200 times. It is stupid not to make the best use of my membership.
* If you act like a child, you have to treat yourself like one. I am not good at putting the bag of food DOWN. So I just try to make sure the bag-o-goodies doesn't even get past my front door in the first place. And since I am not very good at behaving responsibly in all of this, I have hired a baby-sitter. (More on that later.)
* Try new ways to hold yourself accountable. I just signed up for a "Biggest Loser"-type contest here at work. I don't know if it will help motivate me, but I can try at least.
* Make time to learn how to better achieve your goal. I made an appointment with a personal trainer last Friday. Luckily, it was a FREE (my new favorite word!) service from my gym. I figured, it can't hurt. This guy knows a helluva lot more than I do when it comes to being in shape. And CN was right: Watching "The Biggest Loser" really does motivate and educate you!
* Find what works for you. I love this one weight-lifting class at my gym. And I love going for a run. Sometimes, getting excited about these activities is the only motivation I can muster. So I cling to them desperately as staples in my workout regimen.
So how is it going so far? Well, to be honest, I'm pretty discouraged at this point. I feel like I have been better about what I eat and how often I exercise, ever since January 1. But I have yet to lose a single pound.
Yeah. You read that correctly. I did have one day where it looked like I had lost 3, but that must have been water weight. I weighed myself yesterday -- no dice. I'm back to my original weight. Although, my pants are fitting a tiny bit better. And my stomach feels flatter. And I'm starting to get some muscle definition in my arms and legs. But these are all small differences, visible only to me. I haven't made any real progress yet. So I've been kind of bummed about it. I have moments where I honestly don't know if I can do this or not. Like, maybe I should just try to not gain any more weight, and leave it at that. My goals seem totally overwhelming most of the time. (Yes, I know I should not look at it like that, and that I should take it one day at a time, break my goals down into smaller ones and blah blah blah. But try telling me that when I'm on the scale and it reads the same weight AGAIN.)
What's really frustrating is that my body is adapting to the increase in exercise really well -- in just a month, I am back to being able to run 2 miles straight. I am lifting the same amount of weight (sometimes more) I was back when I was more in-shape. But that number on the scale just won't budge!! I'm having a pudge budge problem! LOL
CN has noticed that my motivation and excitement has waned lately. So we talked about it, because he is being super-supportive. He's like my conscience. Or my own personal trainer-coach.
CN pointed out that we do not eat healthily when we go to restaurants. Oops. He's right. I hadn't really thought about how one bad meal a week could derail all my hard work. And I admit, there are weeks when I only hit the gym twice. That doesn't do much good. So there is lots of room for improvement here. CN has been trying to encourage me and support me, and he's doing great. He's not making me feel fat or unattractive. He's not making me feel like my weight is important to him at all-- just my happiness and my health. He's just being super-supportive and reminds me of my long-term goals. He gives me tips and ideas all the time, without nagging me. He's also being a really good role model -- he's really good about what he eats. I could not ask for a better support system.
So this past week, I have been more motivated than usual. How am I doing?
Since February 3rd, I have worked out 6 times, including a rocked-out cardio workout on Tuesday (I ran 2 miles and walked 4!). I had that appointment with a personal trainer at my gym. And I joined the "Biggest Loser" contest here at work. I have 6 weeks to lose the most body fat percentage.
I even ate a *gasp* SALAD for lunch the other day! (Context: In the rankings of Unpleasant Things that VB Dreads, "salad" falls somewhere between "being mugged" and "pap smear".)
When I met up with the personal trainer (I will call him "Biff", because he is quite the stereotypical meathead!) last Friday, it felt really good to sort of take control of the situation. I was honest with him, I learned a lot, and Biff told me where I could be and how I can get there. Although it sounds like a TON of hard work and dedication, both in and out of the gym, I think I am up for it. I am obviously not good at doing this on my own. I need a baby-sitter. Someone who expects a lot of work from me. Someone who will hold me accountable. I'm tired of yo-yo-ing and I need to start thinking about my health. I need to make this a permanent lifestyle change. So when he offered to sign me up for a year's worth of personal training, I said without thinking, "Ok. Sign me up."
Me and my big fat mouth. Biff charges $40 an hour. And I signed up for twice-monthly sessions.
Ouch.
I'm trying not to think about it. I am having a very hard time justifying this to the Budget-Conscious VB. She is pretty upset with me for not taking some time to think about this before signing on the dotted line. Especially since Biff needed first and last month's fees up front.
Double ouch.
Readers, please tell me this is worth it. Because all I am thinking about is how this has totally effed up this month's budget. Argh.
But there is a silver lining: the cruise we are taking in April motivates me to work on BOTH goals. I want to have plenty of spending money in the Bahamas. I also want to look good in my bikini on the cruise ship. So I have been having thoughts like this:
"Do I want to buy these shoes, or do I want to go snorkeling in The Bahamas?"
"Yes, this push-up sucks, but it will all be worth it when that Caribbean breeze is blowing through your hair!"
I heard a mantra the other day: Progress, not perfection. I really like it, because it takes into account that we are not perfect. We are human. We aren't robots or machines. But that doesn't give us permission to screw around, either. So I think I can work with this.
Wish me luck.
Here is Goal #2: Lose weight and get in shape. I want to lose 40 pounds. I want to get back to a healthy BMI (I'm currently at 28.7 and anything over a 25 is considered "overweight"). And a healthy body fat percentage (I'm currently at 37.8% and I need to be no higher than 25%). I'd like to maybe enter a 5k. I want to be able to fit into everything in my closet, even the fantastic and expensive black cocktail dress I have, which I believe is a size 8. I want to look good in photos again. I am hoping to reach this one by the end of the year, too. Like the other goal, it is a lifestyle change. I need to stop looking at food and exercise the way I have been all my life.
Unlike Goal #1, which is a new concept to me, I already know how to reach Goal #2. I am really good at losing weight and getting in shape--I have already lost and re-gained this SAME 40 pounds twice already. :P
My problem isn't the knowledge, it's the motivation. That means I have to stop making excuses and stop the negative thoughts. I have to change the way I view food and exercise and their roles in my life. Instead of thinking, "I really want to eat chocolate cake! This sucks!" I have to think, "Chocolate cake tastes good, but it is empty calories and basically counter-acts all the hard work I did at the gym this week."
Like Goal #1, a lot of the same lessons apply here:
* Know your weakness and avoid it. Mine are brownies, Oreos, Doritos, candy, Cheez-its and fried chicken.
* Plan ahead and prioritize. This means not waiting too long in-between meals and building time into my schedule for exercise.
* Little things can add up. So every calorie, every trip to the gym counts. The good AND the bad.
*Knowledge is power. I recently had my body fat, BMI, BMR, blood pressure and weight calculated. Now I know where I stand, at least. And talk about a wake-up call!!!
* Don't be stupid. The gym charges me $44.50 per month, whether I go twice or 200 times. It is stupid not to make the best use of my membership.
* If you act like a child, you have to treat yourself like one. I am not good at putting the bag of food DOWN. So I just try to make sure the bag-o-goodies doesn't even get past my front door in the first place. And since I am not very good at behaving responsibly in all of this, I have hired a baby-sitter. (More on that later.)
* Try new ways to hold yourself accountable. I just signed up for a "Biggest Loser"-type contest here at work. I don't know if it will help motivate me, but I can try at least.
* Make time to learn how to better achieve your goal. I made an appointment with a personal trainer last Friday. Luckily, it was a FREE (my new favorite word!) service from my gym. I figured, it can't hurt. This guy knows a helluva lot more than I do when it comes to being in shape. And CN was right: Watching "The Biggest Loser" really does motivate and educate you!
* Find what works for you. I love this one weight-lifting class at my gym. And I love going for a run. Sometimes, getting excited about these activities is the only motivation I can muster. So I cling to them desperately as staples in my workout regimen.
So how is it going so far? Well, to be honest, I'm pretty discouraged at this point. I feel like I have been better about what I eat and how often I exercise, ever since January 1. But I have yet to lose a single pound.
Yeah. You read that correctly. I did have one day where it looked like I had lost 3, but that must have been water weight. I weighed myself yesterday -- no dice. I'm back to my original weight. Although, my pants are fitting a tiny bit better. And my stomach feels flatter. And I'm starting to get some muscle definition in my arms and legs. But these are all small differences, visible only to me. I haven't made any real progress yet. So I've been kind of bummed about it. I have moments where I honestly don't know if I can do this or not. Like, maybe I should just try to not gain any more weight, and leave it at that. My goals seem totally overwhelming most of the time. (Yes, I know I should not look at it like that, and that I should take it one day at a time, break my goals down into smaller ones and blah blah blah. But try telling me that when I'm on the scale and it reads the same weight AGAIN.)
What's really frustrating is that my body is adapting to the increase in exercise really well -- in just a month, I am back to being able to run 2 miles straight. I am lifting the same amount of weight (sometimes more) I was back when I was more in-shape. But that number on the scale just won't budge!! I'm having a pudge budge problem! LOL
CN has noticed that my motivation and excitement has waned lately. So we talked about it, because he is being super-supportive. He's like my conscience. Or my own personal trainer-coach.
CN pointed out that we do not eat healthily when we go to restaurants. Oops. He's right. I hadn't really thought about how one bad meal a week could derail all my hard work. And I admit, there are weeks when I only hit the gym twice. That doesn't do much good. So there is lots of room for improvement here. CN has been trying to encourage me and support me, and he's doing great. He's not making me feel fat or unattractive. He's not making me feel like my weight is important to him at all-- just my happiness and my health. He's just being super-supportive and reminds me of my long-term goals. He gives me tips and ideas all the time, without nagging me. He's also being a really good role model -- he's really good about what he eats. I could not ask for a better support system.
So this past week, I have been more motivated than usual. How am I doing?
Since February 3rd, I have worked out 6 times, including a rocked-out cardio workout on Tuesday (I ran 2 miles and walked 4!). I had that appointment with a personal trainer at my gym. And I joined the "Biggest Loser" contest here at work. I have 6 weeks to lose the most body fat percentage.
I even ate a *gasp* SALAD for lunch the other day! (Context: In the rankings of Unpleasant Things that VB Dreads, "salad" falls somewhere between "being mugged" and "pap smear".)
When I met up with the personal trainer (I will call him "Biff", because he is quite the stereotypical meathead!) last Friday, it felt really good to sort of take control of the situation. I was honest with him, I learned a lot, and Biff told me where I could be and how I can get there. Although it sounds like a TON of hard work and dedication, both in and out of the gym, I think I am up for it. I am obviously not good at doing this on my own. I need a baby-sitter. Someone who expects a lot of work from me. Someone who will hold me accountable. I'm tired of yo-yo-ing and I need to start thinking about my health. I need to make this a permanent lifestyle change. So when he offered to sign me up for a year's worth of personal training, I said without thinking, "Ok. Sign me up."
Me and my big fat mouth. Biff charges $40 an hour. And I signed up for twice-monthly sessions.
Ouch.
I'm trying not to think about it. I am having a very hard time justifying this to the Budget-Conscious VB. She is pretty upset with me for not taking some time to think about this before signing on the dotted line. Especially since Biff needed first and last month's fees up front.
Double ouch.
Readers, please tell me this is worth it. Because all I am thinking about is how this has totally effed up this month's budget. Argh.
But there is a silver lining: the cruise we are taking in April motivates me to work on BOTH goals. I want to have plenty of spending money in the Bahamas. I also want to look good in my bikini on the cruise ship. So I have been having thoughts like this:
"Do I want to buy these shoes, or do I want to go snorkeling in The Bahamas?"
"Yes, this push-up sucks, but it will all be worth it when that Caribbean breeze is blowing through your hair!"
I heard a mantra the other day: Progress, not perfection. I really like it, because it takes into account that we are not perfect. We are human. We aren't robots or machines. But that doesn't give us permission to screw around, either. So I think I can work with this.
Wish me luck.
Friday, January 25, 2008
PSA: Smurf is Driving
WARNING: My little sister, Smurf, turns *16* on Sunday. This means that, according to the Commonwealth of Virginia, she is legally eligible for a driver's license. If you live within a 500 mile radius of Farmville, VA, I highly encourage you to inform your local authorities, call your State Congressman and lock up your pets and small children. Whatever you do, you should definitely stay off any and all roads. This chick has no business whatsoever driving. According to my mother, she has committed the following moving violations during her practice runs:
1. Did not stop AT ALL for a stop sign -- she just followed the car in front of her!
2. Cannot seem to master lane mergings without almost causing 3-car-pile-ups.
3. Believes turn signals to be optional at all times.
4. Literally not looking at the road -- she has always been a space cadet!
5. Speeds terribly.
6. Uses mirrors instead of actually looking over her shoulder.
Ok, now before you panic, keep in mind that she won't actually be legally on the road, driving alone, until about April (you have to be 16 years and 4 months to drive in Virginia). So she's going to practice some more. A LOT more. Smurf has to learn how to drive safely, because right now, my poor mother is carting her all over the place: school, sports (Smurf plays 3 sports), friends' houses, football games, basketball games, parties, movies, etc. For most people, this isn't that big of a burden. But when you live in the boonies, like they do, it takes 45 minutes to get anywhere. So my mother is really ready for Smurf to drive herself around. She's even bought her a used car. A very very large used car. I think it's an old Chevy Suburban kind of like this one.
When I asked The Czarina why she bought such a large car for Smurf, when gas prices are so insane, she replied, "Because I know she's going to get in a wreck. And I feel better if the car is so big, it inflicts more damage than it receives."
"Oh. Ok. That makes sense," I replied. "So how is she going to pay for the gas?"
"She's going to get a JOB!!!" my mother replied gleefully, clapping her hands together.
I snickered, remembering my horrible grocery store job I had in high school. Ah, the days of minimum wage and polyester uniforms....
Anyway, The Czarina has tried to discuss with Smurf the responsibilities involved in operating a motor vehicle. She has lectured, pleaded, begged, yelled and stressed about it. She even went so far as disconnecting the CD player/radio in Smurf's car, in order to eliminate at least one distraction. Of course, being obnoxious older siblings, the rest of us tease her about this incessantly. We even joked about buying her a bunch of CDs for Christmas, which would be useless to her. Tee hee.
I have quizzed her on the Rules of the Road. My brothers have tried to take her driving. She has studied old driver's ed manuals. We share driving tips and advice with her constantly. When we are driving her somewhere, we periodically ask, "Ok, what should I do now?" or "What did that other car do wrong?" -- and her answers are always wrong. She fails miserably at anything even remotely related to driving. All we end up doing is shaking our heads at her.
To be honest, we are all kind of worried about her! Our family is full of good drivers. WLF had one accident when he was 16. That was the only accident he ever had. Fat Dog has never had a wreck. Fungus is a pretty good driver. I have only had 2 accidents, my last one being in 2001. The Czarina has never been at fault in any accidents, although she's the type of driver who backs into poles and trashcans. In short, we have no idea where she got this from. Although we are all notorious speeders in our family, none of us have ever been this clueless about driving.
She's going to be taking driver's ed at school pretty soon. I really hope that will help her out. Because right now, I won't even get into a car she is driving. I guess I was a pretty bad driver at first, too. I really hope her learning curve is better than mine.
Oh! In honor of her birthday, I do have some pics of her when she was little. Here goes:
Here is Baby Smurf. She's the only one in our family with dimples. That is WLF holding her. Yes, I realize he was old to be the father of a baby. What can I say? There were 7 of us. Someone had to be last. This was at Myrtle Beach.
Ok, that is Fungus with Smurf on his shoulders. This pic was taken in about 1992.
I remember Smurf doing this a lot in the car when she was little. She would make these hilarious faces! That is Fat Dog on the left. imitating her, and Fungus on the right. You can see my big ol' feet in the background. This was in our old station wagon, which was the car I learned to drive on. This was soon after we moved to Indiana.
Ok, how cute is this pic? That is my youngest brother, Gulgie, and Smurf.
This is a pic of my four full siblings. Remember, I have 2 half siblings, too. I am not in this pic, and I do not know who the guy is in the back ground. L--> R: Gulgie, Smurf, Fungus, Fat Dog. Oh, and the date is conveniently displayed in case you are curious.
Here she is with a friend of the family, when she was little older.
I have more family pics, but that's enough for today.
~~~~~~~
Oh crap. I just realized. Today is January 25th. Every year, I have a horrible, horrible day on or near this day. Examples:
1. I have been dumped.
2. My dad died.
3. I have been in 2 car accidents.
4. I found out this guy had lied to me and cheated on me.
5. I have been sick.
So looks like I will be staying in bed as much as possible this weekend!!! I hope I can end my Curse of the End of January.
Shit. I should have called in today. That was dumb of me. Last night, I had a bad dream that CN and I broke up. Ugh. That is bad timing.
Have a great weekend, everyone! I have to go look for some good luck charm, now, before it's too late! Cross your fingers for me!
1. Did not stop AT ALL for a stop sign -- she just followed the car in front of her!
2. Cannot seem to master lane mergings without almost causing 3-car-pile-ups.
3. Believes turn signals to be optional at all times.
4. Literally not looking at the road -- she has always been a space cadet!
5. Speeds terribly.
6. Uses mirrors instead of actually looking over her shoulder.
Ok, now before you panic, keep in mind that she won't actually be legally on the road, driving alone, until about April (you have to be 16 years and 4 months to drive in Virginia). So she's going to practice some more. A LOT more. Smurf has to learn how to drive safely, because right now, my poor mother is carting her all over the place: school, sports (Smurf plays 3 sports), friends' houses, football games, basketball games, parties, movies, etc. For most people, this isn't that big of a burden. But when you live in the boonies, like they do, it takes 45 minutes to get anywhere. So my mother is really ready for Smurf to drive herself around. She's even bought her a used car. A very very large used car. I think it's an old Chevy Suburban kind of like this one.
When I asked The Czarina why she bought such a large car for Smurf, when gas prices are so insane, she replied, "Because I know she's going to get in a wreck. And I feel better if the car is so big, it inflicts more damage than it receives."
"Oh. Ok. That makes sense," I replied. "So how is she going to pay for the gas?"
"She's going to get a JOB!!!" my mother replied gleefully, clapping her hands together.
I snickered, remembering my horrible grocery store job I had in high school. Ah, the days of minimum wage and polyester uniforms....
Anyway, The Czarina has tried to discuss with Smurf the responsibilities involved in operating a motor vehicle. She has lectured, pleaded, begged, yelled and stressed about it. She even went so far as disconnecting the CD player/radio in Smurf's car, in order to eliminate at least one distraction. Of course, being obnoxious older siblings, the rest of us tease her about this incessantly. We even joked about buying her a bunch of CDs for Christmas, which would be useless to her. Tee hee.
I have quizzed her on the Rules of the Road. My brothers have tried to take her driving. She has studied old driver's ed manuals. We share driving tips and advice with her constantly. When we are driving her somewhere, we periodically ask, "Ok, what should I do now?" or "What did that other car do wrong?" -- and her answers are always wrong. She fails miserably at anything even remotely related to driving. All we end up doing is shaking our heads at her.
To be honest, we are all kind of worried about her! Our family is full of good drivers. WLF had one accident when he was 16. That was the only accident he ever had. Fat Dog has never had a wreck. Fungus is a pretty good driver. I have only had 2 accidents, my last one being in 2001. The Czarina has never been at fault in any accidents, although she's the type of driver who backs into poles and trashcans. In short, we have no idea where she got this from. Although we are all notorious speeders in our family, none of us have ever been this clueless about driving.
She's going to be taking driver's ed at school pretty soon. I really hope that will help her out. Because right now, I won't even get into a car she is driving. I guess I was a pretty bad driver at first, too. I really hope her learning curve is better than mine.
Oh! In honor of her birthday, I do have some pics of her when she was little. Here goes:
Here is Baby Smurf. She's the only one in our family with dimples. That is WLF holding her. Yes, I realize he was old to be the father of a baby. What can I say? There were 7 of us. Someone had to be last. This was at Myrtle Beach.
Ok, that is Fungus with Smurf on his shoulders. This pic was taken in about 1992.
I remember Smurf doing this a lot in the car when she was little. She would make these hilarious faces! That is Fat Dog on the left. imitating her, and Fungus on the right. You can see my big ol' feet in the background. This was in our old station wagon, which was the car I learned to drive on. This was soon after we moved to Indiana.
Ok, how cute is this pic? That is my youngest brother, Gulgie, and Smurf.
This is a pic of my four full siblings. Remember, I have 2 half siblings, too. I am not in this pic, and I do not know who the guy is in the back ground. L--> R: Gulgie, Smurf, Fungus, Fat Dog. Oh, and the date is conveniently displayed in case you are curious.
Here she is with a friend of the family, when she was little older.
I have more family pics, but that's enough for today.
~~~~~~~
Oh crap. I just realized. Today is January 25th. Every year, I have a horrible, horrible day on or near this day. Examples:
1. I have been dumped.
2. My dad died.
3. I have been in 2 car accidents.
4. I found out this guy had lied to me and cheated on me.
5. I have been sick.
So looks like I will be staying in bed as much as possible this weekend!!! I hope I can end my Curse of the End of January.
Shit. I should have called in today. That was dumb of me. Last night, I had a bad dream that CN and I broke up. Ugh. That is bad timing.
Have a great weekend, everyone! I have to go look for some good luck charm, now, before it's too late! Cross your fingers for me!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Babies R (Not) Us
Like many young women, I want to have kids one day. I'm thinking at least 3, maybe as many as 5. (Hey, I come from a big family, so this is normal to me.) And although I am absolutely positive I want to be a mother before I die, and I have a couple of names picked out, that is about as far as I'd taken this thought.
Until this weekend.
Don't freak out -- I'm not having a baby! *knocks on wood to be sure*
But lately, I can't seem to escape the thought of babies, and it's starting to wig me out. Let's make a list, shall we? Yes, let's. Because VB's heart rate is rapidly accelerating, and lists make her feel more in control of her world. Here we go.
1. I had a dream two nights ago that I was talking with an old friend about what it's like to be pregnant. We poked at her belly and discussed her due date. I think that in the dream, I was trying to get pregnant. Whoa.
2. Last week, CN and I were sitting on the couch watching Biggest Loser. I mentioned how it would be so easy to lose weight if you had kids, because you'd feel like you'd have a really good reason -- something to motivate you to live into old age. He replied, "Yeah, but you'll have kids one day. You should start being healthier now." (He's right, as usual.) He was visibly surprised to hear my answer: "No. I don't know if I'm going to have kids. It may not be in the cards for me." And I shrugged, because I am not one to count my chickens (or children?) before they hatch. And then I changed the subject, because the conversation was getting a little to "real" for me. I'm not ready to talk about that with CN yet. Heck, I'm not ready to talk to anyone about that!
2. CN and I were invited to a baby shower this past weekend. So we had to go pick out a present at Babies R Us, which, if you've never been, is like Wal-Mart, only it's filled with pregnancy/baby/toddler stuff. And it's FULL of women who look like this:
Now, I don't know if any of you have ever been in a giant room full of women who look like their water is about to break, unless you are an OB/GYN, but it is terrifying!!! I wanted to run up to each soon-to-be mom and play traffic cop: "Everyone! Now just back up! I need you to keep at least 10 feet back! She's gonna blow any minute!!!" I'm not kidding -- some of those women HAD to be at almost ten months of pregnancy. My fear of accidentally bumping into them and causing their water to break left me temporarily paralyzed. I didn't move an inch.
I looked around some more. There were approximately 7.3 billion baby items to purchase for your baby and/or your pregnancy. Now, unlike some women, my Baby Experience Resume is pretty extensive -- tons of babysitting, the oldest of 5 kids, lover of all things small and cute, oozing with maternal instinct, and a Master's degree in diaper changing.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for the Baby Bonanza that is Babies R Us.
There were these strap-things, which hold your big pregnant belly up. Like a giant seatbelt or something. I don't know. There were covers for your nipples. I don't know why nipples need covers, and I'm wondering if it's because they don't make bras big enough for pregnancy-sized boobs-- a terrifying thought. And I have never seen so many thermometer options in my life. Did you know that pacifiers come in sizes? Yeah. Neither did I.
Between the pregnant women, the bizarre baby items for sale, and the umpteen newborns in the building, my head began to spin. I looked over at CN. He was white as a sheet, and also seemingly cemented to the floor.
"Oh. My. God. There are pregnant women everywhere...." I trailed off, speechless with fear.
"Yeah. And babies," whispered CN.
"This is totally freaking me out. Let's get the hell outta here ASAP!" I said.
We printed off the registry, grabbed the closest thing in our price range (which happened to be a Breast Friend, a product I was actually familiar with) and practically ran to the register. On the way to the register, I explained to CN what a Breast Friend does, and he proceeded to make jokes about how he wants one so he can be my breast friend. Har. Har.
3. On the way to the baby shower, I realized that never in the History of Baby Showers has there only been one baby or one pregnant woman. There were going to be more. And I was right. CN and I walked into a nest of new mothers and fathers, all discussing their new babies and baby products and baby philosophies and organic baby food and....well, you get the picture. There were two babies in addition to the one being celebrated. There were baby-themed cakes, decorations and party favors. Everyone was coupled up, either engaged or already married. It felt like everyone was expected to either have a baby or want to have a baby before even walking through the front door. Like it was a requirement to attend.
It was so overwhelming, I completely forgot that I had a boyfriend. My inner Single Girl said, "Shit! I hate parties like this! I'm single and I can hear my biological clock ticking now more than ever! Why do they never invite more than one single girl to parties like this?? Don't they realize it's torture? Oh. Wait. I am here with someone...Right. Ok." And then I spent the rest of the party trying to see if there were any single girls there, so that I could introduce myself and comfort them. Old habits never die, I guess. Or perhaps I just don't see CN and I as a couple couple yet. Because we haven't been dating long enough to discuss the possibility of making a little VB or CN yet. Does that make sense? I dunno. It felt too soon for us to be in that room with all those.....baby people.
Consequently, I kept to myself and stuffed 3 chocolate-covered strawberries, 4 ounces of dip/chips, one brownie and 17 petit-fours down my gob.
PMS hormones + too many babies + weird baby items + freakishly swollen bellies + a party where I know no one = Time to eat.
Ugh. I am getting a headache just typing this.
Anyway, our gift was a hit, and many "Breast Friend" jokes ensued.
4. After the party, CN and I had hoped to return to the Land of the Childless by attending W's birthday get-together. No such luck. My friend Y was there, and she is about 6 months pregnant with her first child. And a couple was there with their 3 month-old little girl. She was adorable. And they let me hold her. And she was so little! And she had that powdery baby smell! And she stuck out her bottom lip when she cried! And we all cooed over her adorableness.
CN was watching me do all of this. I cooed to him about the cute baby. He said it was impossible to escape babies that day. I nodded and continued to coo.
"You don't want one, do you?" he asked, terrified.
"Oh my God, NO!" I shouted. CN had jolted me back to reality.
And that's when I realized that I really like the idea of having a baby and being a mother. Possibly even with CN. But the whole pregnancy and labor thing totally freaks me out, and I am nowhere close to being ready to have one any time soon!!!
I wish the stork story was true. Because that is the kind of pregnancy/labor I want! Just thinking about how scary labor must be and how pregnancy totally f**ks up your body makes me feel like I'm going to faint. Why can't a nice little bird just drop if off on your doorstep? This is much more logical to me. It also sounds cheaper, safer, faster and cleaner. Scientists should look into this and see if this is indeed a viable option.
I explained all of this to CN and told him that I can't wait to be a mom, because once the baby has arrived, I think I would like it, because I know what to do. It's the whole pregnancy/swollen belly/scary labor stuff that bothers me.
He totally disagreed, saying that the baby's arrival is when all of his fears would start!
I guess it's good to know that we are on the same page about all of this stuff. Kinda.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
