There was a Men at Work episode in which the term, "conversational condom" was used. The gist was that when sending a text or an email, regardless of the content, your ass is covered and no one can get angry as long as you have a smiley face at the end of what you say. Today, I learned that this is indeed true...
Today's PSA: Protect yourself, wrap your conversations in a smiley :-P
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Hospice
My hospice patient passed away last Saturday. I had been seeing her since April. For 4 months I was a part of this woman's life. I entered her home every week and read her favorite book to her, Anne of Green Gables. I listened to her stories, of all the events that made up her life. I got to know her during one of the most vulnerable times in her life and she welcomed me with a smile each time and bid me farewell with a kiss on my hand each time I left.
Hospice is unique that way. Unlike volunteering at a soup kitchen or at your local shelter, you aren't left to wonder about the people you helped. You don't get to imagine that their life took a different turn and they are now out in the world living a full life. In hospice you know the ending. You get that phone call or that email that tells you without any uncertainty that the final chapter in this volume of their existence has been written. There is no wondering...about this life anyway.
But hospice is unique in another way as well, you get to see life and death in all it's glory, pain, and passion. You realize that death, while permanent in someways is merely a thin sheen painted over our eyes. Their memories and their energy live on in everything they did and everyone they knew. From a smile offered to a neighbor to the kind word offered to a weary stranger. Those small moments are our legacy. It is not only through our family and friends that we continue on, but through the seemingly insignificant events thy touch others and inspire them to do the same.
I am deeply touched by Mrs. P and her daughter for welcoming me into their lives and giving me the wonderful gift that was getting to know them and hopefully contributing to their lives. Thank you.
Hospice is unique that way. Unlike volunteering at a soup kitchen or at your local shelter, you aren't left to wonder about the people you helped. You don't get to imagine that their life took a different turn and they are now out in the world living a full life. In hospice you know the ending. You get that phone call or that email that tells you without any uncertainty that the final chapter in this volume of their existence has been written. There is no wondering...about this life anyway.
But hospice is unique in another way as well, you get to see life and death in all it's glory, pain, and passion. You realize that death, while permanent in someways is merely a thin sheen painted over our eyes. Their memories and their energy live on in everything they did and everyone they knew. From a smile offered to a neighbor to the kind word offered to a weary stranger. Those small moments are our legacy. It is not only through our family and friends that we continue on, but through the seemingly insignificant events thy touch others and inspire them to do the same.
I am deeply touched by Mrs. P and her daughter for welcoming me into their lives and giving me the wonderful gift that was getting to know them and hopefully contributing to their lives. Thank you.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Buns of Steel...
Hello my online minions! I know it's been a while since I last blogged...what can I say, life has been busy to say the least. But never fear I am back...for now.
So, I will admit right here and now that I like workout videos. I have The Firm, Taebo, and my latest and greates, The Brazilian Butt Lift. If you aren't familiar with BBL all you need to know is that for $80 you too can have 7 workout videos with the personal trainer of a Victoria's Secret Angel. Like all workout videos, he guarantees that my body is just going to transform by the end of it all. Now I should break here and admit that my body is pretty alright all on it's own (combo of good genes-thanks mom!, good jeans, and working out) so there is never going to be this 150lb weight loss story for me. But still, who doesn't want a perkier ass?
So I ordered the videos and read the recommended schedule and eating guide that came with it. Lets just say following that guide lasted about 2 days... And amazingly my ass did not transform itself into a VS Angel ass in that time. Damn. I am out $80 and stuck with my same old ass. I know it seems silly, but just openning the videos I could feel my ass get tighter and lift. As if a new ass literally comes in every box... Sigh, if only.
You see, the lack of dedication came in when I noticed chocolate and carbs weren't in the plan. Since those two things make up 80% of my spiritual experience (the other 20% is shoes) I knew I was doomed. Who wants to give up garlic bread? Pasta? Double fudge brownie ice cream? It would be like someone telling me I had to wear ugly brown man-sandals with socks for 3 months. No way. Ain't going to happen. No amount of perkie assness will be able to make that ok (the brown sandals/sock or the lack of chocolate and carbs. Both are just wrong).
But the purchase wasn't an entire waste. I still use a few of the workouts... Or at least parts of them. I can usually be found munching on a fudge brownie during the parts of the workout I don't use... But hey, dont I get some points for sticking around and watching those parts at least?
So, I will admit right here and now that I like workout videos. I have The Firm, Taebo, and my latest and greates, The Brazilian Butt Lift. If you aren't familiar with BBL all you need to know is that for $80 you too can have 7 workout videos with the personal trainer of a Victoria's Secret Angel. Like all workout videos, he guarantees that my body is just going to transform by the end of it all. Now I should break here and admit that my body is pretty alright all on it's own (combo of good genes-thanks mom!, good jeans, and working out) so there is never going to be this 150lb weight loss story for me. But still, who doesn't want a perkier ass?
So I ordered the videos and read the recommended schedule and eating guide that came with it. Lets just say following that guide lasted about 2 days... And amazingly my ass did not transform itself into a VS Angel ass in that time. Damn. I am out $80 and stuck with my same old ass. I know it seems silly, but just openning the videos I could feel my ass get tighter and lift. As if a new ass literally comes in every box... Sigh, if only.
You see, the lack of dedication came in when I noticed chocolate and carbs weren't in the plan. Since those two things make up 80% of my spiritual experience (the other 20% is shoes) I knew I was doomed. Who wants to give up garlic bread? Pasta? Double fudge brownie ice cream? It would be like someone telling me I had to wear ugly brown man-sandals with socks for 3 months. No way. Ain't going to happen. No amount of perkie assness will be able to make that ok (the brown sandals/sock or the lack of chocolate and carbs. Both are just wrong).
But the purchase wasn't an entire waste. I still use a few of the workouts... Or at least parts of them. I can usually be found munching on a fudge brownie during the parts of the workout I don't use... But hey, dont I get some points for sticking around and watching those parts at least?
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Swinging and Swingers: Discovering the Difference
So Butt Boy wants to learn country swing and wants me to be the guinea pig. I am all for that, I previously dated a guy who could really dance. Growing up in a rural ranching area, he learned how to do country western swing. And I am not just talking about a dip here and a turn there. I am talking full blown toss-you-up-in-the-air-and-make-you-look awesome-while-doing-absolutely-nothing-except-hanging-on-for-dear-life dancing. It was one of the best things about dating him. So of course now that Butt Boy has expressed an interest I am all in. The only problem: he doesn't want to do lessons.
This is fine and dandy if all he is looking for is to learn a basic moving step. But I want to fly! And that is not something you do without adult supervision. No one needs to be dropped on their head while attempting an Around The World. There is nothing fun about that. So I decided to take the initiative (what else is new?) and look up local dance lessons. I found a few, West Coast Swing this, East Coast Swing that. Then there was the "(*insert city name here*) Swingtime Dance." They even boasted about being the longest running swing dance in the state. So, naturally I thought I had hit gold. But as I read on, I soon found some interesting bits of information, such as, "we do not have the facilities for sexual activity on site," and "Dancing for mature couples." Me being the innocent little flower that I am initially thought these were addressing some issue they had in the past with younger people behaving immaturely at the dances... Oh how naive I am...
Nope, as it turns out they are talking about "dancing" in the biblical way. A full blown Swingers club. As in I will trade you this same-ol' same-ol' penis I have to sleep with every night for that shinny new one you brought with you. Yep, Swingers. Needless to say, I will not be inquiring about their next meet up. When it comes to THAT type of dancing, I am a single partner kinda gal.
So now I am back at square one. Oh well, maybe I will go see Butt Boy and "dance" with him
This is fine and dandy if all he is looking for is to learn a basic moving step. But I want to fly! And that is not something you do without adult supervision. No one needs to be dropped on their head while attempting an Around The World. There is nothing fun about that. So I decided to take the initiative (what else is new?) and look up local dance lessons. I found a few, West Coast Swing this, East Coast Swing that. Then there was the "(*insert city name here*) Swingtime Dance." They even boasted about being the longest running swing dance in the state. So, naturally I thought I had hit gold. But as I read on, I soon found some interesting bits of information, such as, "we do not have the facilities for sexual activity on site," and "Dancing for mature couples." Me being the innocent little flower that I am initially thought these were addressing some issue they had in the past with younger people behaving immaturely at the dances... Oh how naive I am...
Nope, as it turns out they are talking about "dancing" in the biblical way. A full blown Swingers club. As in I will trade you this same-ol' same-ol' penis I have to sleep with every night for that shinny new one you brought with you. Yep, Swingers. Needless to say, I will not be inquiring about their next meet up. When it comes to THAT type of dancing, I am a single partner kinda gal.
So now I am back at square one. Oh well, maybe I will go see Butt Boy and "dance" with him
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Caprese Bites, Doorbells, And Panic Attacks
What do you get when you mix an introvert with an extrovert? A series of bumbling comedic moments you say? Oh, sorry, that is incorrect. The answer we were looking for was, awkwardness on a whole new level of humiliating.
I am not big into socializing (the fact that I blog should have clued you into that). I have a close knit group of friends and family that I love and trust with everything that I am. And that is it. I have no desire for more because truthfully I find anything more to be to exhausting.
Well, Butt Boy is not only an extrovert, he is the worst type of extrovert. He is the extrovert who thinks he is an introvert. I come from a family of introverts (you can find us pretty easily in any social gathering, just look for the ones standing off in the most secluded spot possible, trying to block out the sensation of being over stimulated). I know what an introvert is and what they are not. And let me tell you, an introvert does not throw a party of 40+ people for their birthday. Hell, an introvert probably doesn't know 40 people.
So, Butt Boy threw a birthday party for himself and two friends (who had birthdays right next to his) and invited me to attend. I hemmed and hawed over it before finally deciding, why not? At the very least it could be my new thing for the week. The theme of the party was cheese. Yep, cheese. And thanks to my wonderful sister and her girlfriend who suggested it, I brought with me lovely little stuffed tomato caprese salad bites. I picked out the perfect outfit- comfortable, complimenting, and simple. And I held many a long conversation with my sister and her girlfriend regarding the various social protocols I never was indoctrinated into because I have avoided parties like the plague.
I knew the appropriate amount of food to contribute, the expected small talk conversation starters, and the acceptable amount of non-drinking and eating (because I was beyond anxious). I was ready.
It was right before I left for the party that I realized I had over looked one crucial social protocol debriefing- to knock or not to knock? At what point does a party become big enough that you just walk into the house? You see, as an introvert, no one is allowed to just walk into my house. Not even my most loved and trusted. They better damn well knock on the door that bars the rest of the world away from me. So, since I have no experience with this knocking protocol I was pretty clueless. Obviously if you are the first to arrive you knock, but what if you're the last? Then the party is in full swing and they might not even hear your knock. After a brief conversation it was decided that I should knock, wait, and then if no one answers enter.
So I had the outfit, the food, the social protocols, and even a knocking plan in place. I was ready. I made my way over to the party and as soon as I turned onto the street, my stomach dropped. The street was packed with cars. I could hear the house was loud with voices and I felt bile rise into my throat. The urge to run was overwhelming, but I held fast and walked up to the door. And, as luck would have it, he was outside so I even got to avoid the knocking dilemma.
I can only liken the feeling I had upon entering the house/party as what I would imagine someone walking down death row to their lethal injection would feel. Sheer dread. I was there for no more than 15 minutes (half of which was spent going out to my car for a fake reason) before fleeing like the building was on fire. So just to recap:
I am not big into socializing (the fact that I blog should have clued you into that). I have a close knit group of friends and family that I love and trust with everything that I am. And that is it. I have no desire for more because truthfully I find anything more to be to exhausting.
Well, Butt Boy is not only an extrovert, he is the worst type of extrovert. He is the extrovert who thinks he is an introvert. I come from a family of introverts (you can find us pretty easily in any social gathering, just look for the ones standing off in the most secluded spot possible, trying to block out the sensation of being over stimulated). I know what an introvert is and what they are not. And let me tell you, an introvert does not throw a party of 40+ people for their birthday. Hell, an introvert probably doesn't know 40 people.
So, Butt Boy threw a birthday party for himself and two friends (who had birthdays right next to his) and invited me to attend. I hemmed and hawed over it before finally deciding, why not? At the very least it could be my new thing for the week. The theme of the party was cheese. Yep, cheese. And thanks to my wonderful sister and her girlfriend who suggested it, I brought with me lovely little stuffed tomato caprese salad bites. I picked out the perfect outfit- comfortable, complimenting, and simple. And I held many a long conversation with my sister and her girlfriend regarding the various social protocols I never was indoctrinated into because I have avoided parties like the plague.
I knew the appropriate amount of food to contribute, the expected small talk conversation starters, and the acceptable amount of non-drinking and eating (because I was beyond anxious). I was ready.
It was right before I left for the party that I realized I had over looked one crucial social protocol debriefing- to knock or not to knock? At what point does a party become big enough that you just walk into the house? You see, as an introvert, no one is allowed to just walk into my house. Not even my most loved and trusted. They better damn well knock on the door that bars the rest of the world away from me. So, since I have no experience with this knocking protocol I was pretty clueless. Obviously if you are the first to arrive you knock, but what if you're the last? Then the party is in full swing and they might not even hear your knock. After a brief conversation it was decided that I should knock, wait, and then if no one answers enter.
So I had the outfit, the food, the social protocols, and even a knocking plan in place. I was ready. I made my way over to the party and as soon as I turned onto the street, my stomach dropped. The street was packed with cars. I could hear the house was loud with voices and I felt bile rise into my throat. The urge to run was overwhelming, but I held fast and walked up to the door. And, as luck would have it, he was outside so I even got to avoid the knocking dilemma.
I can only liken the feeling I had upon entering the house/party as what I would imagine someone walking down death row to their lethal injection would feel. Sheer dread. I was there for no more than 15 minutes (half of which was spent going out to my car for a fake reason) before fleeing like the building was on fire. So just to recap:
- $30-$40 for my food contribution
- 1.5 hours of cutting, gutting, and stuffing cherry tomatoes
- 2 hours of social protocol training and outfit determination
- 2 hours of driving (1 hour each way)
- $10 in gas for those trips
- 15 minutes at the party (7 of which was me faking a reason to go to my car)
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Jesus Loves Me, This I Know...
Hummm, where to begin...
Butt-Boy and I are still going out so I guess, considering most of my dating adventures end before the 1 month mark, I could count that as my new thing. But never fear, I have many more stories to regale you with!
I have such a plethora for stories to choose from I am finding it hard to decide... I guess I will go with 2 separate stories:
Story 1- Work+Party+Drinking= Awkward moments with a board member.
So, the organization I work for throws a fundraising party each year in April. This year we revamped everything and it actually turned out pretty darn good! We had live music, food, and the always awesome alcohol (btw- I still haven't finished that bottle of Arbor Mist...). I of course was running around like a crazy woman making sure everything went off with as little hitch as possible. I speed from room to room so often, the security guys knew me by sight within the first 5 minutes.
For the sake of fully understanding the awkward humor of this story I need to break here and let you know that one of our board members is not only a total flirt (in an annoying way) but also looks like Jesus. I mean, he seriously looks like Jesus. Right down to the semi long hair and semi grown in beard...
Anyway back to the story. Because I was working I didn't have anything to drink, however, that did not stop my coworkers (or board members) from partaking. Which is fine and dandy... until you have a board member say he loves you. Que awkward silence and crickets... He said it in a jovial manner, but with just a little to little humor behind it to give the whole exchange a super weird vibe. I just laughed it off and ran off to do more work, but man... talk about overstepping professional boundaries...
Story 2- Finding a Mentor and a Silver Lining
I finally had the opportunity to meet with the physician who has been such an inspiration to me as I search for a way to practice medicine in a humane way. It was truly amazing to see her work. She wasn't scared of her patients. What a novel idea.
I spent 4 hours with her and in that time she saw 3 patients. 3. When I shadowed the orthopedic surgeon, he saw 20 in that same time frame. Sitting in her office, the plush teal carpet beneath my feet and a comfortable over stuffed futon couch at my back, I could see why her patients liked coming here. The scent of nature (wooded incense?) hung lightly in the air and the lighting was a muted yellow that highlighted the large canvass painting of a serene ocean scene. I instantly wondered if my blood pressure would test lower here than at my doctor's office- I always test a little higher than normal when I go to see the doctor because of the anxiety I feel in the doctors office. Something about the smell of sterilized bodily fluids and florescent lighting puts me on edge.
Each patient who met me couldn't say enough good things about Dr. W. They raved about her and stressed the importance of me (and others like me) carrying on her work. They told stories of how they came to be her patient and why it is so imperative that the medical environment be changed.
Patients want this. They want a physician they can talk to as they would a friend. And physicians want this. They want to care about their patients. Yet somehow we continue to go around in this dysfunctional cycle. But after seeing Dr. W, I have hope. Hope that perhaps we are on the cusp of change. Of something big that will bring back the idea that we should treat the whole patient (mind, body, spirit). It will be a revolution that changes how we treat each other and I definitely know which side I am rooting for. :-)
Butt-Boy and I are still going out so I guess, considering most of my dating adventures end before the 1 month mark, I could count that as my new thing. But never fear, I have many more stories to regale you with!
I have such a plethora for stories to choose from I am finding it hard to decide... I guess I will go with 2 separate stories:
Story 1- Work+Party+Drinking= Awkward moments with a board member.
So, the organization I work for throws a fundraising party each year in April. This year we revamped everything and it actually turned out pretty darn good! We had live music, food, and the always awesome alcohol (btw- I still haven't finished that bottle of Arbor Mist...). I of course was running around like a crazy woman making sure everything went off with as little hitch as possible. I speed from room to room so often, the security guys knew me by sight within the first 5 minutes.
For the sake of fully understanding the awkward humor of this story I need to break here and let you know that one of our board members is not only a total flirt (in an annoying way) but also looks like Jesus. I mean, he seriously looks like Jesus. Right down to the semi long hair and semi grown in beard...
Anyway back to the story. Because I was working I didn't have anything to drink, however, that did not stop my coworkers (or board members) from partaking. Which is fine and dandy... until you have a board member say he loves you. Que awkward silence and crickets... He said it in a jovial manner, but with just a little to little humor behind it to give the whole exchange a super weird vibe. I just laughed it off and ran off to do more work, but man... talk about overstepping professional boundaries...
Story 2- Finding a Mentor and a Silver Lining
I finally had the opportunity to meet with the physician who has been such an inspiration to me as I search for a way to practice medicine in a humane way. It was truly amazing to see her work. She wasn't scared of her patients. What a novel idea.
I spent 4 hours with her and in that time she saw 3 patients. 3. When I shadowed the orthopedic surgeon, he saw 20 in that same time frame. Sitting in her office, the plush teal carpet beneath my feet and a comfortable over stuffed futon couch at my back, I could see why her patients liked coming here. The scent of nature (wooded incense?) hung lightly in the air and the lighting was a muted yellow that highlighted the large canvass painting of a serene ocean scene. I instantly wondered if my blood pressure would test lower here than at my doctor's office- I always test a little higher than normal when I go to see the doctor because of the anxiety I feel in the doctors office. Something about the smell of sterilized bodily fluids and florescent lighting puts me on edge.
Each patient who met me couldn't say enough good things about Dr. W. They raved about her and stressed the importance of me (and others like me) carrying on her work. They told stories of how they came to be her patient and why it is so imperative that the medical environment be changed.
Patients want this. They want a physician they can talk to as they would a friend. And physicians want this. They want to care about their patients. Yet somehow we continue to go around in this dysfunctional cycle. But after seeing Dr. W, I have hope. Hope that perhaps we are on the cusp of change. Of something big that will bring back the idea that we should treat the whole patient (mind, body, spirit). It will be a revolution that changes how we treat each other and I definitely know which side I am rooting for. :-)
Friday, April 13, 2012
This Just In!
I got invited to observe the physician I admire so much! I am sooooo excited and thrilled and happy and any other exuberant adjective you can think of. I will definitely be writing about this as my new thing as soon as it happens!
Until then! :-)
Until then! :-)
Monday, April 2, 2012
I Get It Now...
I never really understood the "unlimited text" option on cell phone plans. Who is sending so many texts that they literally need an unlimited amount available to them? Isn't it easier to just give someone a ring rather than writing out a book on your tiny touch pad (and unhelpful autocorrect)?
Well, once again, I have been schooled. It appears that whoever invented the unlimited texting option was someone with a social life. More specifically, they were dating. My mind boggles at how many texts I have sent and received. And it's not like I am writing love sonnets or sending my unabridged autobiography. It is just simply logistical things like, "Oops, I forgot I have class, lets meet later." Nothing fancy. Nothing too wordy. But man, I am watching my text usage inch up (via my online account info) like it never has before. I have 500 available to me and while I am still nowhere near that limit (come on now, how much of a life did you think I was going to get?) it is still significantly higher than ever before.
On a similar note, bless the person for inventing texting. It really saves you from awkward phone conversations with someone you don't know well enough to really get what their saying over the static, background noise, and depraved personal humor.
As my new thing, I went indoor rock climbing and made it all the way to the top (42.5 ft!)! I had a blast and will be going again this week. Yay! :-)
Well, once again, I have been schooled. It appears that whoever invented the unlimited texting option was someone with a social life. More specifically, they were dating. My mind boggles at how many texts I have sent and received. And it's not like I am writing love sonnets or sending my unabridged autobiography. It is just simply logistical things like, "Oops, I forgot I have class, lets meet later." Nothing fancy. Nothing too wordy. But man, I am watching my text usage inch up (via my online account info) like it never has before. I have 500 available to me and while I am still nowhere near that limit (come on now, how much of a life did you think I was going to get?) it is still significantly higher than ever before.
On a similar note, bless the person for inventing texting. It really saves you from awkward phone conversations with someone you don't know well enough to really get what their saying over the static, background noise, and depraved personal humor.
As my new thing, I went indoor rock climbing and made it all the way to the top (42.5 ft!)! I had a blast and will be going again this week. Yay! :-)
Friday, March 23, 2012
You Did What With Your Butt?!
Somehow this has turned into a dating misadventures blog...I guess technically they can count as new things, but I will try to be better about finding more diversity in my new thing every week.
But until then...
As I am sure you have realized by now, my dating life is...interesting to say the least. After realizing that I could very well pass through nearly all my 20's without dating I decided to get proactive. That's right folks I entered the world of online dating. Between the matchmaker setting me up with people old enough to be my grandfather (and younger people who treat me like cattle) and meeting people like Mr. $1.69, I figured what do I have to lose? Well, apparently I was still pretty far from scrapping the dating pool bottom, but I am pretty sure I am well on my way.
After meeting Mr. Visor for coffee, (read about it here. Btw- I named him that because nearly all of his race photos feature him in a visor...but I am realizing now that he should be named Mr. 32-Beats/minute. I will leave that up to you to decipher) I was contacted by a guy who seemed nice, if not a little...we'll call it goofy. One of our emails entailed him retelling a story that involved him picking someone up by his ass. You heard me right. He hoisted someone up using his butt. If your mind is boggling as to how this is physically possible just imagine creating a scoop in your lower back and having someone sit there.
Why would someone write this? Email is not IM, you have time to re-read what you wrote and reconsider saying weird stuff like this...I mean, really? Don't you think while you are checking grammar and spelling you should also be checking to make sure you leave the ass stories for a later time? Like when the person actually knows you a little better?
At this time, I would like to take a little detour and rant about "body types" as described in profiles. Apparently there needs to be some sort of rule book for these things. Here is the brief knowledge I have picked up in the last 1.5 weeks in regards to men's profiles:
Until next time! :-)
But until then...
As I am sure you have realized by now, my dating life is...interesting to say the least. After realizing that I could very well pass through nearly all my 20's without dating I decided to get proactive. That's right folks I entered the world of online dating. Between the matchmaker setting me up with people old enough to be my grandfather (and younger people who treat me like cattle) and meeting people like Mr. $1.69, I figured what do I have to lose? Well, apparently I was still pretty far from scrapping the dating pool bottom, but I am pretty sure I am well on my way.
After meeting Mr. Visor for coffee, (read about it here. Btw- I named him that because nearly all of his race photos feature him in a visor...but I am realizing now that he should be named Mr. 32-Beats/minute. I will leave that up to you to decipher) I was contacted by a guy who seemed nice, if not a little...we'll call it goofy. One of our emails entailed him retelling a story that involved him picking someone up by his ass. You heard me right. He hoisted someone up using his butt. If your mind is boggling as to how this is physically possible just imagine creating a scoop in your lower back and having someone sit there.
Why would someone write this? Email is not IM, you have time to re-read what you wrote and reconsider saying weird stuff like this...I mean, really? Don't you think while you are checking grammar and spelling you should also be checking to make sure you leave the ass stories for a later time? Like when the person actually knows you a little better?
At this time, I would like to take a little detour and rant about "body types" as described in profiles. Apparently there needs to be some sort of rule book for these things. Here is the brief knowledge I have picked up in the last 1.5 weeks in regards to men's profiles:
- Slender- means "I am a skeleton. I am easily blown down by a stiff wind. And you will be afraid to give me even the daintiest of hugs because you might break me in half."
- About Average: This could mean anything from- "Why yes, I have noticed my gigantic gut is useful for resting my beer on," to "I am a skeleton. I am easily blown down by a stiff wind. And you will be afraid to give even the daintiest of hugs because you might break me in half"
- Athletic and Toned: Well, I am sure Mr. 32-Beats/minute shows one end of the spectrum, with the other falling around, "So what if my treadmill doubles as my clothes rack? I still own one so I must be athletic."
- Curvy: I have no clue what this means on a guy. I have been too scared to look.
- Stocky: Danny Devito + the girl in the original Willy Wonka movie that turned into a blueberry.
- A Few Extra Pounds: "I'm famous! I am sure you saw me on TLC's 'My 600lb Life'!"
- Slender: Kira Knightly after she lost a ton of weight. Or any runway model.
- About average: Lauren Graham.
- Athletic and Toned: Renee Zellweger after she lost the Bridget Jone's Diary weight.
- Curvy: Eva Mendes.
- Stocky: Kathy Bates.
- A Few Extra Pounds: Gabrielle Sidibe.
- Slender: Orlando Bloom/Johnny Depp.
- About average: Jason Biggs.
- Athletic and Toned: Brad Pitt.
- Curvy: Nathan Lane in The Birdcage.
- Stocky: Danny Devito/John Goodman
- A Few Extra Pounds: "I'm famous! I am sure you saw me on TLC's 'My 600lb Life'!"
Until next time! :-)
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Dangers of Online Stalking...
We've all done it. You meet someone and want to know more about them so you do a little google here and a little google there and bam! Before long you have their entire history for the last 5 years (thanks Facebook for making online stalking super easy! BTW- how can some people not have learned to make their profiles private...?). Normally this ends in harmless knowledge such as "oh, I see he likes fly fishing." But occasionally you dig shit up that isn't bad for anything other than your self esteem.
Take Mr.Visor, who I met recently. He seems nice enough, has a good job, doesn't appear to be clingy, and is comfortable in his own skin. Plus he isn't the same age as my dad (this hint is for you Ms. Matchmaker). Oh yeah, and he likes triathlons. I mean he seriously likes triathlons. Based on my googling, if there is a triathlon, marathon, or whatever-athon within 200 miles, that boy is there. Googling his name brings up race reports from all over (and he is good too, usually finishing within the top 5). But I can handle that. I don't feel the need to be a Ironwoman in order to date someone like that. I am comfy in my own skin. At least I was until I found his Facebook page...
I swear on everything holy, he appears to only have friends (and worse, ex girlfriends) who are seriously into fitness. And every post is about something fitness related- running times, biking photos, even the weather is commented on in relation to his workout. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love hiking and getting my heart rate up, maybe even doing some pilates or yoga. But not like this. This is way over my head. Who runs for 10 miles, swims for 5, and then bikes for 20 (or a more pressing question- who runs a 4:40 minute mile)?! I enjoy swimming and, until my knees recently decided to hate me, I loved jogging (I've never liked riding a bike though), but I don't enjoy doing them all at once, all day long, until I feel like my heart will give out...
So yeah, given his past history I will admit I am a bit intimidated. Damn, who knew online stalking could be bad for you?! Someone should post a warning about this when you get online. Like the warnings on a pack of cigarettes, it could say something like, "WARNING: Online snooping can lead to diminished belief in your own awesomeness."
Take Mr.Visor, who I met recently. He seems nice enough, has a good job, doesn't appear to be clingy, and is comfortable in his own skin. Plus he isn't the same age as my dad (this hint is for you Ms. Matchmaker). Oh yeah, and he likes triathlons. I mean he seriously likes triathlons. Based on my googling, if there is a triathlon, marathon, or whatever-athon within 200 miles, that boy is there. Googling his name brings up race reports from all over (and he is good too, usually finishing within the top 5). But I can handle that. I don't feel the need to be a Ironwoman in order to date someone like that. I am comfy in my own skin. At least I was until I found his Facebook page...
I swear on everything holy, he appears to only have friends (and worse, ex girlfriends) who are seriously into fitness. And every post is about something fitness related- running times, biking photos, even the weather is commented on in relation to his workout. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love hiking and getting my heart rate up, maybe even doing some pilates or yoga. But not like this. This is way over my head. Who runs for 10 miles, swims for 5, and then bikes for 20 (or a more pressing question- who runs a 4:40 minute mile)?! I enjoy swimming and, until my knees recently decided to hate me, I loved jogging (I've never liked riding a bike though), but I don't enjoy doing them all at once, all day long, until I feel like my heart will give out...
So yeah, given his past history I will admit I am a bit intimidated. Damn, who knew online stalking could be bad for you?! Someone should post a warning about this when you get online. Like the warnings on a pack of cigarettes, it could say something like, "WARNING: Online snooping can lead to diminished belief in your own awesomeness."
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Ode to a Squeaky Chair
Oh squeaky chair why do you taunt me?
With your comfortable cushions and perfect size, you invite me to rest upon you while I study quietly in the corner.
But then, like a sour patch gummy, you turn bad- squeaking and groaning with each breath I take and each move I make.
Your loud protests draw the attention of everyone seated in the cavernous (and very silent) study lounge.
I discretely try to reposition myself but to no avail, you announce to the world that I am moving, pulling annoyed sighs and disapproving looks from my fellow studiers.
Oh squeaky chair, why do you taunt me so?
With your comfortable cushions and perfect size, you invite me to rest upon you while I study quietly in the corner.
But then, like a sour patch gummy, you turn bad- squeaking and groaning with each breath I take and each move I make.
Your loud protests draw the attention of everyone seated in the cavernous (and very silent) study lounge.
I discretely try to reposition myself but to no avail, you announce to the world that I am moving, pulling annoyed sighs and disapproving looks from my fellow studiers.
Oh squeaky chair, why do you taunt me so?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Is That A Coupon In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?
The time every students fears, finals, is fast approaching. One more week before my fate is sealed. So with the lovely hours of studying that comes with this archaic form of torture, I have been rather boring and have nothing new to write about. However, I do have something old (but new to you) to write about so here it is.
We all remember $1.69 guy, right? He was a keeper to be sure, but I have also met his cousin, Mr. 1st Date Couponer. Yep nothing says romance like pulling out a 1/2 off coupon when the check for lunch comes around. Don't get me wrong, I love a good deal. Nothing makes me happier than finding a pair of $150 Steve Madden shoes for $15.99 at Ross. But there is something psychologically off putting about a man who pulls out a coupon on a date. Coupons shouldn't even come into play until you have been together long enough to know your dates favorite tampon brand, what she looks like when she's had the flu for a week, and what "I'm fine" really means. Until that, keep your couponing under wraps. She does not need to know that you have TiVo'd all the episodes of Extreme Couponing for inspiration (or the fact that you were able to get that TiVo for free by combining your 50% off coupon with a 6 month 1/2 off trial period).
In the animal world the courting period is a time for you to strut your stuff, to show your potential mate that you are all that and a bag of chips. Birds have colorful feathers and pretty songs, crickets chip, and humans pay full price for dinner. That's just the way it works. Happy hunting! :-)
We all remember $1.69 guy, right? He was a keeper to be sure, but I have also met his cousin, Mr. 1st Date Couponer. Yep nothing says romance like pulling out a 1/2 off coupon when the check for lunch comes around. Don't get me wrong, I love a good deal. Nothing makes me happier than finding a pair of $150 Steve Madden shoes for $15.99 at Ross. But there is something psychologically off putting about a man who pulls out a coupon on a date. Coupons shouldn't even come into play until you have been together long enough to know your dates favorite tampon brand, what she looks like when she's had the flu for a week, and what "I'm fine" really means. Until that, keep your couponing under wraps. She does not need to know that you have TiVo'd all the episodes of Extreme Couponing for inspiration (or the fact that you were able to get that TiVo for free by combining your 50% off coupon with a 6 month 1/2 off trial period).
In the animal world the courting period is a time for you to strut your stuff, to show your potential mate that you are all that and a bag of chips. Birds have colorful feathers and pretty songs, crickets chip, and humans pay full price for dinner. That's just the way it works. Happy hunting! :-)
Sunday, March 4, 2012
A Little Humor...
Happy Sunday Everyone! I hope your weekend has been as pleasant as mine (unfortunately my nose is back to the grindstone today). I figured with all the doom and gloom of some of my posts why not let a little levity in. However, I realized as I started copying and pasting some of the funny little cartoons I had found that it might infringe on copyright law. I have no clue, but it is better safe than sorry... so instead, I am going with the much lamer option of linking back to the cartoons. That is me, classy as always :-)
Cartoon 1
Cartoon 2
Cartoon 3
Cartoon 4
Cartoon 1
Cartoon 2
Cartoon 3
Cartoon 4
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Unfortunate Firsts...
This past week I had my first experience denying someone health care...at a free clinic no less. The clinic cannot provide services to anyone with any health insurance, it is part of the required conditions of our operation. Unfortunately, some people who recently acquired state funded health care still can not get into see a physician for over 3 months. This is fine and dandy if all you need is an annual exam, but it doesn't work out so well if you have run out of your mental health meds and are suicidal...
I had to stand in that exam room and watch the patient become overwhelmed by feelings of hopelessness and betrayal as we told them we weren't able to treat them. I watched as they literally ran away from the office as their emotions become too overpowering. I had to watch the patient's 12-13 year old child (who was the one who found out about us and brought their parent down and filled out the intake form in the waiting room...for those of you who aren't getting what I am hinting at- that kid was the caretaker in that relationship) look at us hopelessly and apologetically. I don't know what breaks my heart more, watching a patient get turned away or watching their child look at us apologetically as if they had done something wrong by bringing their parent here.
How is it that we have created a system that even in the free/philanthropic endeavors still manages to isolate and deny people basic care? When I am done, my clinic will stand against everything our current system stands for.
In other disturbing news, it looks like our our right to privacy continues to leak out of that lovely little window our politicians continue to pretend was opened for our own good (read: national security)... and while it seems to outrage people, they still only comment about it. Amazing. When Verizon Wireless looks to charge $2 for customers paying their bills, there is an outrage and people do something, but when the government looks to take away our privacy all we do is write about it (myself included)...there is something terribly wrong with how we are operating on an individual and social level...
I had to stand in that exam room and watch the patient become overwhelmed by feelings of hopelessness and betrayal as we told them we weren't able to treat them. I watched as they literally ran away from the office as their emotions become too overpowering. I had to watch the patient's 12-13 year old child (who was the one who found out about us and brought their parent down and filled out the intake form in the waiting room...for those of you who aren't getting what I am hinting at- that kid was the caretaker in that relationship) look at us hopelessly and apologetically. I don't know what breaks my heart more, watching a patient get turned away or watching their child look at us apologetically as if they had done something wrong by bringing their parent here.
How is it that we have created a system that even in the free/philanthropic endeavors still manages to isolate and deny people basic care? When I am done, my clinic will stand against everything our current system stands for.
In other disturbing news, it looks like our our right to privacy continues to leak out of that lovely little window our politicians continue to pretend was opened for our own good (read: national security)... and while it seems to outrage people, they still only comment about it. Amazing. When Verizon Wireless looks to charge $2 for customers paying their bills, there is an outrage and people do something, but when the government looks to take away our privacy all we do is write about it (myself included)...there is something terribly wrong with how we are operating on an individual and social level...
Friday, February 17, 2012
Renewed Inspiration
I am sure you are all shocked and awed, first no posts for 2 weeks and now 2 posts in one week. What can I say, when it rains it pours. :-)
I attended a talk this week by a physician here in Oregon who is truly an inspiration. All the disheartening moments I have had watching our healthcare system isolate and exclude a significant portion of the population while inadequately treating the lucky few who are not excluded, were washed away as I listened to her. She has done what everyone says is impossible to do, she has abandoned the broken system and forged her own trail. And succeeded. She practices medicine on her own terms and provides care that humanizes patients. What a concept. She is able to treat patients regardless of their ability to pay and is able to spend enough time with them to know them not only as patient #5 but as an actual person. In an article she was featured in (see link below), it was pointed out that in today's climate, spending time with patients could (sadly) be considered alternative medicine...
I still find it disheartening that so many patients and doctors continue to be trapped in the broken system, but with the knowledge that there is another way, I feel a renewed sense of hope and possibility. I really admire her work and what she stands for. I would check out this article if you are interested in getting to know her and her practice better. :-) I can not express how grateful I am for the privilege of hearing about her experience. It has provided me with some grounding and concrete goals rather than simply grasping at intimidating theoretical ideas on how I would love to practice medicine.
If you want to learn more about her, her practice, and her ideas check out her website here. Yay for inspiring people!!! :-)
By the way, to readers not based in the U.S. (yes, I am talking to all you lurkers out there ;-) I would love to hear your thoughts on healthcare. What works where you are, what doesn't?
I attended a talk this week by a physician here in Oregon who is truly an inspiration. All the disheartening moments I have had watching our healthcare system isolate and exclude a significant portion of the population while inadequately treating the lucky few who are not excluded, were washed away as I listened to her. She has done what everyone says is impossible to do, she has abandoned the broken system and forged her own trail. And succeeded. She practices medicine on her own terms and provides care that humanizes patients. What a concept. She is able to treat patients regardless of their ability to pay and is able to spend enough time with them to know them not only as patient #5 but as an actual person. In an article she was featured in (see link below), it was pointed out that in today's climate, spending time with patients could (sadly) be considered alternative medicine...
I still find it disheartening that so many patients and doctors continue to be trapped in the broken system, but with the knowledge that there is another way, I feel a renewed sense of hope and possibility. I really admire her work and what she stands for. I would check out this article if you are interested in getting to know her and her practice better. :-) I can not express how grateful I am for the privilege of hearing about her experience. It has provided me with some grounding and concrete goals rather than simply grasping at intimidating theoretical ideas on how I would love to practice medicine.
If you want to learn more about her, her practice, and her ideas check out her website here. Yay for inspiring people!!! :-)
By the way, to readers not based in the U.S. (yes, I am talking to all you lurkers out there ;-) I would love to hear your thoughts on healthcare. What works where you are, what doesn't?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Sneaky Quarter-Man & Chivalry
Long time, no write. I know. Bad RP...
Now that that's over...
Each year the organization I work for puts on a film event. We do it 4 nights out of the month and for those four nights I am at my hostess best. Greeting attendees, networking with other businesses and organizations, smiling my prettiest smile from 6-10pm. I actually do like this part of my job, it is fun and engaging and I don't really think of it as work. Hell, I am getting paid (theoretically) to play hostess and have fun. Not a bad evening in my mind. But I digress...
This event is free with a suggested donation to help cover the costs. Most people donate, however, this year there is a mystery afoot that involves a boat load of change. We have held 2 out of the 4 nights so far and each time I have noticed that among all the donations, there is over $30 of it...in change. Yep, Someone is tossing in enough coins to make my donation jar sound like Santa's sleigh. And I have to count each and every quarter, dime, nickle, and penny of it. Don't get me wrong, all donations are welcome, but why change? It is not as though the change were carelessly dropped in as an afterthought, there is always an exact whole dollar amount. Which leads me to believe that someone either has no clue how annoying it is to count $30 of change (not probable) or finds this to be very amusing (I can't blame them, I have the same twisted sense of humor that would find it hilarious to give a donation to a non-profit that requires some poor schmuck to count out all the change. Seriously, how funny is that, the organization has to be grateful for the donation but at the same time they are a little miffed that you didn't bother to go to the bank and get cash for all those coins.). That is some funny shit. At least to me. :-)
As the above paragraphs show, I have a quirky sense of humor (that's me, Ms. Quirky) and tend to see most things as humorous (or at the very least amusing) in some way and today's story is no different. Today as I walked back to the office from checking the PO Box, I was walking under the awning that covered half of the sidewalk because it was raining yet again and I had forgotten my umbrella (in case you haven't caught on, I live in a rainy area). Coming toward me, also walking under the cover of the awning were two men (well, perhaps that word doesn't quite suit them, but it will do for now). Instead of being chivalrous and stepping out into the rain to allow me to stay dry, they remained firm in their path, forcing me to swerve around them out into the rain (which by the way, based on driving practices of the states, I had preference since the awning was secured to my side of the sidewalk). As we passed each other, each of them had the gall to give me an approving once over (what woman wouldn't swoon to that kind of treatment) before attempting to hit on me. Ummmmm, wait, did I just miss something? Are you seriously trying to hit on the woman you just forced out into the rain so your dainty, delicate selves wouldn't have to get wet? Seriously? Here's a hint for the future, next time you want a girl to find you attractive, don't force her out into the rain. Take the chivalrous route. Trust me, it will turn out better for you.
Now that that's over...
Each year the organization I work for puts on a film event. We do it 4 nights out of the month and for those four nights I am at my hostess best. Greeting attendees, networking with other businesses and organizations, smiling my prettiest smile from 6-10pm. I actually do like this part of my job, it is fun and engaging and I don't really think of it as work. Hell, I am getting paid (theoretically) to play hostess and have fun. Not a bad evening in my mind. But I digress...
This event is free with a suggested donation to help cover the costs. Most people donate, however, this year there is a mystery afoot that involves a boat load of change. We have held 2 out of the 4 nights so far and each time I have noticed that among all the donations, there is over $30 of it...in change. Yep, Someone is tossing in enough coins to make my donation jar sound like Santa's sleigh. And I have to count each and every quarter, dime, nickle, and penny of it. Don't get me wrong, all donations are welcome, but why change? It is not as though the change were carelessly dropped in as an afterthought, there is always an exact whole dollar amount. Which leads me to believe that someone either has no clue how annoying it is to count $30 of change (not probable) or finds this to be very amusing (I can't blame them, I have the same twisted sense of humor that would find it hilarious to give a donation to a non-profit that requires some poor schmuck to count out all the change. Seriously, how funny is that, the organization has to be grateful for the donation but at the same time they are a little miffed that you didn't bother to go to the bank and get cash for all those coins.). That is some funny shit. At least to me. :-)
As the above paragraphs show, I have a quirky sense of humor (that's me, Ms. Quirky) and tend to see most things as humorous (or at the very least amusing) in some way and today's story is no different. Today as I walked back to the office from checking the PO Box, I was walking under the awning that covered half of the sidewalk because it was raining yet again and I had forgotten my umbrella (in case you haven't caught on, I live in a rainy area). Coming toward me, also walking under the cover of the awning were two men (well, perhaps that word doesn't quite suit them, but it will do for now). Instead of being chivalrous and stepping out into the rain to allow me to stay dry, they remained firm in their path, forcing me to swerve around them out into the rain (which by the way, based on driving practices of the states, I had preference since the awning was secured to my side of the sidewalk). As we passed each other, each of them had the gall to give me an approving once over (what woman wouldn't swoon to that kind of treatment) before attempting to hit on me. Ummmmm, wait, did I just miss something? Are you seriously trying to hit on the woman you just forced out into the rain so your dainty, delicate selves wouldn't have to get wet? Seriously? Here's a hint for the future, next time you want a girl to find you attractive, don't force her out into the rain. Take the chivalrous route. Trust me, it will turn out better for you.
Friday, February 3, 2012
So That's Why the 5'oclock Standard Exists...
After a week filled with days averaging about 15 hours (away from my actual home, not including homework) and at least one 18 hour day, I decided to indulge in some liquid happiness (aka: wine). Now I am not a drinker, I have a margarita once a year on my birthday, other than that I am just not a drinker. But last night I decided to make an exception (Thursday is close enough to Friday, right?) because my day was only 12 hours long- that was something to celebrate! So I decided to indulge my ever so refined palette with Arbor Mist (yes, I like cheap wine) and chocolate chip cookies. Yummm.
The Funyuns were for the next day ;-)
The Funyuns were for the next day ;-)
So I poured myself a glass...make that a generous glass of wine and began my cookie making. Let me tell you, I think I might be instituting wine Thursdays from here on out. Not only was my night incredibly humorous at every turn (yes I am the kinda girl who gets giddy when I get a good buzz) but I slept REALLY well! Last night turned out so well in fact that when I found a 3 hour break in my day at about 3 this afternoon, I decided to head home and indulge in a little glass before heading back out (I have to work tonight until about 10pm). Well, as it turns out, that social standard of not drinking before 5pm is valid...
You see, that little glass of wine gave me that wonderful happy feeling again, but now I find that wonderful little buzz wearing off and being replaced by sleepiness...not good when you are facing another 6 hours of needing to be productive. Ah well, I have learned my lesson, "No wine before the end of the night RP."
Wish me luck!
You see, that little glass of wine gave me that wonderful happy feeling again, but now I find that wonderful little buzz wearing off and being replaced by sleepiness...not good when you are facing another 6 hours of needing to be productive. Ah well, I have learned my lesson, "No wine before the end of the night RP."
Wish me luck!
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