Missy is the poo

Of all things to show on TV here, last night the movie Bring It On was showing, and since The Dad had gone to bed, Isabel chose it to watch. I wanted to die of embarrassment; first that my country ever made this movie in the first place, and secondly because I think it’s hilarious. Of course, the only things that are funny about it, you can’t appreciate unless you can relate to it in some way and yeah, I think the language is pretty funny, but of course that’s not translated. They only translate the substance of the story line, of which this particular movie is lacking if you were raised in a country that only watches soccer.

The title here is actually a line in the movie that I had forgotten about until last night (or that one of the main characters is named Missy), at which point I nearly peed on myself trying to hold in my laughter. I was rather relieved that they didn’t translate that line (among others) … I’m not sure it would translate with the same tone.

I’m tempted to tell a few of my 8th grade cheerleading stories … particularly our own lame attempt at a competing (needless to say, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into). I only had one year of cheerleading glory days. I was head cheerleader actually. This distinction only privileged me with being the one that shouted “Ready” before every cheer, I truly have no other abilities required of a cheerleader beyond yelling and smiling. Anyway, I’m not sure our miserable failure of a competition would make for interesting reading … they were OH so much better after I “opted out” for the following year. I’m sure they all breathed a sigh of relief.

This little poo needs a nap. And dear God it has gotten so hot here the past few days. Probably God’s way of acclimating me before I return home.

I watch Dawson’s Creek every day.

Yesterday I was overwhelmingly busy and I missed it, but I think that’s been just about the only time. I’ve never before in my life watched Dawson’s Creek and I have no idea what season I’m watching now … perhaps I’ve seen more than one season. Umm … let’s see … Dawson and Joey got together, split up, and got together again, and Andie just moved to … err … Boston? … Pacey was quite sad. Anyway, I really can’t believe that this is part of my daily ritual, but part of my ritual it is. I’ve really been counting my blessings that Dr. J’s family has satellite, there really are some good channels and I’m also more caught up on Lost, CSI, and on the days I have lots of emails to do, I see Gilmore Girls … that one’s for Suze though. Sadly, I still haven’t seen any of the shows that I actually like to watch, and I missed the last two episodes of everything. Mom, please tell me that you still have Scrubs Tivo’d (which reminds me how super it is that I can make just about anything into a verb or an adjective as I see fit)

So I have been here for exactly 5 weeks and have 2 more to go. I’m really enjoying myself and could stay longer, but for the whole I-haven’t-lived-in-the-same-town-as-Dr.-J-for-almost-a-year thing. I’m WAY more rested than I’ve been since … maybe high school. I wake up at 6:30 a.m. every day because, well, actually I have no idea. I guess I’m just done sleeping about that time.

Unrelated to anything: Mom and Dad, please pick me up from the airport with a thermos of unsweetened, freshly brewed, iced tea. (Let’s see if they remember)

Two quick thoughts

Saturday we saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith in the theater. I was surprised it released here the same time as in the US, but it did – yay for me!! Anyway, I’m not sure how GREAT of a movie I think it was, but I did enjoy it. However, 1 hour and 43 minutes spent with Brad in the theater is time well spent. Am I right, ladies, or am I right?

Also, I was thinking. You know how when you look at ancient scribblings on cave walls, papyrus or whatnot the writings look so primitive and basic (this could be just me and no, I haven’t frequented ancient caves, but that’s how imagine them … bear with me) … then I look at Asian lettering and it’s so artistic, creative and detailed. And then our letters are generally nothing more than curved lines and straight lines and combinations there of. So, I wonder if when Asian people, with their aesthetically pleasing letters, look at letters in Romance Languages, if it’s more reminiscent of an archaic pen and wall scribbling … the art of children like me who can produce nothing beyond a stick family, stick trees with circle puff leaves, curly-q-flowers and a circle smiley sun with stick rays.

Anyway, I'm just saying.

Oh how I miss the extremities!

I want nothing more than a glass of freezing cold water or scalding hot coffee. To leave behind the tepid bowl of soup and burn my tongue on a sip that hadn’t yet cooled. To flee the luke-warm plate of rice and take refuge in the blazing hot arms of a steaming casserole. To sit down for lunch with a chilled salad, complete with a smorgasbord of frost covered raw vegetables. To enjoy a cold beer with friends, at a perfect 32 degrees Fahrenheit, held at such a delicious state by a glass mug that had been kept for hours in a deep freezer. To get a brainfreeze from an overzealous gulp of frapuccino.

That and I really miss having an afternoon of television and an entire bag of Doritos all to myself.

Some overdue photos

I've had some computer difficulties, but I'm overcoming them. Finally. Truly, this has to be the easiest place in the world to take beautiful pictures. The museo de la caña was a tourist visit this past weekend that I really enjoyed (who doesn't like gnawing on a little fresh sugar cane?)





and a few pictures from a stop above the city while in Bogota ...

Cholados

Witness my dinner this evening:

Cholado
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

Essentially a cup of every type of fruit imaginable, plus shaved ice, lechera (sweet milk), sprinkled with a decorative touch of cinnamon. Fruits included are: mango, papaya, melon, piña, banana, guanabana, maracuya, lulo, mora, apple, mandarin. I could swear there were more but that’s all I can remember right now. Don’t worry parents, I’m definitely taking you there when we are here in August, it’s about a 5-minute drive. If my father actually looks at that picture I can guarantee you that he’s salivating. The man loves his fruit.

When I get to heaven, there will be cholados lining each of my spiral staircases.

You’ve got a friend in me

I have a friend here that speaks English, of course she’s German and well on her way to knowing a third language, but I am no less proud of my own meager achievements (I actually understood the squawks of a 12-year old whining to her mother last night. I stopped what I was doing, picked up my left hand and patted myself on the back. It was quite the moment). She is a student abroad here for about 6 months and although she wouldn’t admit it right now, things are going well with the guy she moved here for and I think she may not actually be leaving at the end of that 6-month period. Anyway, so we usually catch up for a few minutes after my class every day. It’s a blessing and a curse to have a friend that speaks English, it could really hamper my ability to try and learn Spanish, but since I don’t really see her too often, I’m not inclined to fret over it.

It’s actually completely uncanny how quickly we became friends. We were introduced because we both speak English and within minutes, I knew we would be bosom friends. Dr. J does the same thing over and over, he pretty much only met Colombians in St. Louis until I moved there and has done the same thing in Columbia. People would ask me how he meets Colombians so fast … like it’s a part of Colombian culture, and I always explained that if we lived in a different county and we met someone from our own country, we would do the same thing and it wasn’t limited to Colombians. But I had no idea how easy it is to make those friends and how comforting it is. So I’m thankful for my little friend, she is a kindred spirit indeed.

Here’s the thing…

We don’t really ever do much here but Lord if it doesn’t take all day to do it. And I am dying for a weekend where I don’t spend 6+ hours in the car so we can do ½ and hour to and hour touring something, and eat lunch. I think something similar is in the works for next weekend but I think I’m gonna say that I’m ready to spend a weekend with some friends and maybe hit a bar or a juice stand and swing over and watch Señor y Señora Smith. That would just be awesome right about now.

And does someone know how many people live in the DFW Metroplex? Or Texas? You can’t imagine how often I am asked this question and it is just beyond me to know the answer. I keep thinking I’ll remember to look on the internet, but I never do. The Texas question is new as of today, but it’s catching on like wildfire, believe you me. I also think my English is getting all screwed up, I spent like ½ hour yesterday trying to remember how to politely tell someone you can’t hear what they are saying … eh? Huh? I’m sorry? Beg your pardon? Took me a full 30 minutes to come up with that.

Before I get off the topic of Señor y Señora Smith, do you guys realize that you get RESERVED SEATS AT MOVIE THEATERS HERE?!?! This is such an amazingly wonderful idea and I have no idea why the movies in the US don’t offer it. Can you imagine how many unfilled seats there would be in baseball stadiums if you just sat as you pleased? Oh the inefficiency!! And it never occurs to you to mind if you sit next to a stranger at a basketball game because that’s where his seat is ... However, if the unpleasant duty of sitting immediately adjacent to a stranger in a movie theater is forced upon you, it takes the duration of the trailers and the first few scenes of the movie to relax. Absolutely absurd. And the pressure having to get to the theater 30 minutes or more before the movie starts (depending on how close you are to the release date)?? Gone! You can call in and request/purchase your tickets, request your preferred seating area, and then arrive at the theater shortly before the feature film begins … and voila! You have your reserved seats sandwiched between two sets of unknowns and nobody cares!! (oh yeah, that, and it’s about $4 to see a movie here)

I am totally on rice overload right now

I like a good helping of rice from time to time, but twice a day for three weeks has finally burned me out. Today I was planning on politely decline the rice before it hit the plate, but someone else serves my plate for me here, so before I got to the table I received my healthy lunchtime portion. But I just couldn’t eat it, seriously! I’m burned out! And I felt so guilty about leaving it untouched on my plate that I spent and extra half hour in conversation with Dr. J’s father so I could leave the table last and maybe they wouldn’t notice. I don’t know why I feel so guilty about it. I still feel guilty!! Why else would I be ranting about this on the internet!?

Colombia does one thing fantastic – every time there is a holiday, the move the day off work to the next Friday or Monday. So it is ALWAYS a three-day weekend or in some cases, a four-day weekend. In the three weeks I’ve been here, we’ve had two, three-day weekends. Rock on Colombia.

So in our three day weekend this weekend, we are going to be going to the pool, touristy things, and going to a lake on Monday which I hear is very cold. I haven’t gotten much sun here because I spend all my time in class or running errands … check that, my feet have an AWESOME tan … anyway, so I’m looking forward to a weekend in the sun. I can’t visit the equator for two months and come back my normal pastey self.

El Vaquero

el vaquero
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

I know, I know, I know ... now we ALL want to go and marry Dr. J. Tough luck, ladies.

What. A. Cutie.

Congratulations to Mom

Many of you know that I like to brag about what an amazing teacher my mother is, and this year, she FINALLY received a very long overdue ...

TEACHER OF THE YEAR!!!

Go Mom!!

I like to think I use my powers for good, and not for evil

While I am sure no one in the United States would exactly describe me as waif-like, here I am nothing short of burly. Which is probably why I found myself hauling a Colombian woman with a broken leg, whom I had never met, up half a mile of bumpy, inclined, salt-paved corridors.

Allow me to explain.

On Sunday, one of our many, many, many, many tourist sites was at the Cathedral of Salt. To actually outshine the fact that I visited a Cathedral made entirely of salt (a mine in an old salt deposit from an ancient sea of yesteryear that has been tunneled and chiseled into an active cathedral) a truly remarkable event must have taken place. Indeed, indeed. The tour took us about ½ a mile into the mine (the front of the cathedral) at which point I noticed many a wheelchair circling the choir loft and altar. I thought to myself how nice that it was handicapped accessible; there weren’t any stairs that had to be avoided or anything. However, on our way out, we realized that the patchwork flooring of 4” deep and wide, bumps and holes was less than ADA desirable. After 3 minutes of watching this moth of a girl try to push her mother up the unruly slopes, I offered to take over. Isabel helped as well, but Isabel is about the size of one wing of that moth.

To make a short story long, it was easiest to sort of lay the chair half on its back and just roll the larger wheels up the terrain, but that required me to more or less carry half this woman’s weight. It was fine, there really were no other options, and after it was all over, Isabel was more winded than I was.

There is something to be said for an extra 30 pounds of American. I’ll take my good Samaritan powers over your unusually voluptuous figure any day.

What a weekend it was!

We certainly kept ourselves busy touring the likes of greater Bogota all weekend - very cool city, I gotta say. Anywhere that has meringue cookies on the street for the buying is a happy place. I have much to relate, and it will come in due time, I assure you.

I hope everyone had a happy memorial day, I love traveling but I do hate to miss any holidays that include hot dogs and cheetoes. I'll have to help myself to an extra helping come the 4th.

For today, I'll sign off with this little tidbit about Colombia... they have chicken flavored potato chips here. Chicken - as in poultry on a sliver of deep fried potato. No I didn't try them, I fear the repercussions.

The results are in

Thought you guys would be interested in knowing that after a worrysome 5-hour wait at the embassy, Isabel has a visa to come to the wedding.

Thanks for your prayers and pilates.

Isabel Needs a Visa

Tomorrow, Dr. J's sister and I are going to Bogota for the weekend for her appointment at the US Embassy. As of right now, she doesn't have a visa to come to the states for the wedding. The appointment is Friday morning at 7:00 a.m. and we will stay the weekend, I'll be back on Monday afternoon. So friends, I bequeath you ...

To my praying friends, pray that she gets a visa.

To my non praying friends, visualize Isabel with a visa in her hand during your yoga classes.

Personal Space

When Dr. J moved to the states, one of his main complaints was that when he didn't understand people, they would talk louder rather than clearer. I've heard the in-Colombia-people-actually-will-talk-softer-but-more-clearly-instead-of-yelling-at-you speech many times and I'm gonna have to disagree for the most part. However, I'm not really bothered by the loud talking, perhaps I'm slightly hearing impaired, who knows, but I'm greatly affected by the invasion of personal space whilst talking louder. I'm pretty sure I can't hear or understand them because holding my breath and trying to look comfortable requires about all the effort I can muster (I have this thing about breathing other people's exhale ... simply won't happen). If I don't know you very well, and I can touch you with my elbow, you are too close. If you see me squirm and awkwardly look on either side of your face rather than make eye contact, my eyes probably can't actually focus on your face ... thus, again you are too close. And this happens all day long.

Also, Dr. J's father is The Most Difficult Person to understand here, his voice is unimaginably deep, and it seems to be in a constant murmur-like state. Even if he patiently spaces his words out, it's SO unbelievably deep and monotone, I almost always have to get someone to repeat what he said. Not only that, but he never smiles when he talks, so it's this slow, low rumbling of a murmur, and of course, he's 4.5" from my face and his questions take for-e-ver, so it always feels like he's about to tell my he just ran over my cat. He'll come up to me and say, "Missy ... que ... ... queires ... mirar ... en la .... television?" but before he reaches the end of the sentence my emotions have already responded to, "I'm sorry ... I have ... to tell you ... your father .... has passed away", and I'm halfway to a nervous breakdown and on my way to find my toothbrush. And this is the only part of Spanish that is clearly not had any improvement whatsoever.

When I return in August I'm bringing surgical masks. And I have a birthday coming up if any of you want to jump on that for me.

Pepper, fishing and flooding

It’s true love. Despite what you may or may not misconceive about South American food, the only spices they use are salt and garlic. My salads, eggs and some other choice foods long for some cracked pepper. However, yesterday Dr. J’s mom bought some pepper at the store for me. I’m so going to marry that lady’s son.

Sadly, yesterday was the only day it hasn’t rained in quite a while, providing us ample time to make a day trip for fishing. I (along with Dr. J’s sisters and mother) was really dreading this, mostly because I’m not that thrilled with fishing all together, although sometimes it can be relaxing … you know, out in the woods, no one really talking, the calming waves from the water. It wasn’t quite like imagined though, we actually went to a sort of … how do you say … a fishing theme park. Complete with a miniature little water park for the kiddos, there were four small, stocked ponds (and by ponds I mean half the size of the one you just pictured in your head) surrounded by “stations” with a bench and an overhand for shade and two small pedestals to rest your bamboo fishing rod while you wait for the fish to nibble. After you caught your share of marine life, there was someone standing nearby to take it to the kitchen and prepare it for you along with a few delectable side items. Laborious, it was not. And no, I’m not kidding about the bamboo fishing rod. You really can’t complain about anything here, because as odd as the whole process was, the scenery is without a doubt, breathtaking.

With the rains this morning, we are on the brink of flooding over here. Soon you are all going to be able to sit around after work and watch the flood waters rise on CNN – I think you should have to throw back a shot of Jack every time you see a blonde girl fleeing the city with all the locals. Game ends when I’m positively identified.

Update: Things are good.

I’ll tell ya though, I’m exhausted. It seems like every night I have a social commitment and we never leave for any of them until 7 or 8 pm and get back pretty late. I like it when Dr. J’s youngest sister comes along because she has to be in bed early, so we get to leave a little bit earlier. I’m starting to actually need an afternoon nap.

And I am never hungry here. This must be what Jesus meant when he said a place where you will not hunger. We keep eating though. Fairly large breakfast, GI-normous lunch, bird food for dinner and extremely late, no snacks of any kind, yet every time we sit down my body is all – Again? But I don’t want any more food! I don’t know if it’s the heat (although it really hasn’t been very hot at all … sweatshirts galore) or the eating pattern. However, I have noticed the veins in my hands starting to swell and that’s a little odd. Maybe I’m aging rapidly here.

Much effort has been focused on non-English activities, I brought a lot of books with me to read, but now I’m thinking I might read half of what I brought. It simply takes too much time away from listening or speaking in Spanish. I’ve taken to watching a couple of dubbed shows on Nickolodeon, I couldn’t stand these for twelve seconds in English but it beats the hell outta watching Colombian soap operas, Whoop!! (Love thy Aggies as thyself) Not that those actors aren’t great, certainly they redefine dramatic roles, I think I just missed out on the Soap Opera gene. Not that I'm sad about that.

Karo, give Max Tivoli another go. I’m really enjoying it.

Just because you aren’t sweating through your clothes doesn’t mean it’s sweater time

It’s technically winter here, and by technically, I mean that it’s raining a lot. For those of you that are geographically challenged, we are practically sitting on the equator here, so no seasons. Anyway, we had about 3 dry days and it’s rained almost every day since. Sometimes at night but really, it has rained quite a bit.

Making it very humid. But not cold. Overcast. But not cold. It was about 85 degrees this morning cooler than last week, or maybe the same, but overcast so it felt … What’s the word … not cooler … umm … less hot. So I got up and got dressed and put on a tank top and some jeans for school and Dr. J’s mom walks in and tells me I’m going to freeze to death. As if this is possible on the equator. For a moment though, I thought to myself, did it turn cold during the night, then I remembered, no my window is open and I’m on the brink of perspiration now, so I should be fine.

As I walk through the entrance to school though, I notice that everyone is wearing sweatshirts or pullovers.

Did you hear me people? SWEATSHIRTS. And it’s in the mid 80 degrees with about 155% humidity. I took pictures just to prove it, I really have to figure out when a good time for uploading pics is, because I can’t keep these to myself. Too much.

Do I have a treat for all you coconut lovers!

Yesterday on the way to the club (and I did take pictures – some turned out good so I’ll work on posting them later), Dr. J’s father made a lurch to the right and we found ourselves staring at a sign that read, “Coco Hielo” … I think. That’s what we had anyway and all I can say is DELICIOSO!

Get yourself some shredded coconut (I’m thinking that this was unsweetened coconut, the sweetened kind would work, although it might be too sweet) and mix it with sweetened condensed milk and freeze it. Just enough to make the coconut stick together well. It’s “coconut ice” and it’s 95% coconut, 5% sweetened condensed milk – my portions may be off, it’d take some experimenting and make it to your taste. They made it in small glasses with a Popsicle stick in it, but you could do the same thing in an ice tray with toothpicks and have slightly smaller portions. It’s more of a food, than a Popsicle, just to give you an idea of the desired outcome.

Complete heaven.

La primera clase

I suppose today is the get-to-know-each-other day. This is what I remember most about the class. My teacher is a crazy lady. Unfortunately for me, she is the exact personality that I have the hardest time getting along with – you know, the very abrasive if-you-don’t-agree-with-everything-they-say-they-attack-you type. We spent the first twenty minutes or so with her asking me about things I like, things I don’t like, whatever … and every third thing I said I liked or didn’t like she had the opposite feeling so she would ask me why I don’t like them. Huh? I don’t like them, because I don’t like them. It wasn’t so much like why don’t you like this restaurant … because I don’t like that type of food/service … there was no reason. Like, I don’t like science fiction – why? Because, I don’t like science fiction. It doesn’t appeal to me.

She teaches yoga. I would love to take yoga but I never wanted to pay $10 per class. She tells me that $10 per class (23,000 pesos) is a very good price and I should jump at the chance. She tells me that yoga is one of the most important things in life and that it would do me a world of good.

QUE????

She also tried to cut our class ½ hour short out of two hours. We stayed the full two hours, but she wasn’t happy about it. My assignment for tonight is to write a couple paragraphs about what I do and don’t like – for example: I don’t like people that try to con me. She took about 10 minutes to write about herself on the blackboard. It’s not that I don’t care about her likes and dislikes, but I’m not sure I learned anything except that she likes extreme sports, does not like to go to church, and does not want to have kids. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that she doesn’t like others that have or want kids or those that go to church. She squirmed noticeably in her seat when I said I liked to attend church. Dios mio.

I’m gonna regroup tonight and be more prepared tomorrow. Wish me luck.

On a good note, we had banana juice for lunch. YUUUUUMMMMM!

La Galeria

This is not a fancy mall, and I am furious with myself for not taking my camera. We’ll go again and I will definitely take photos. Since it was raining, it probably wasn’t he most photogenic morning anyway. Actually, I haven’t remembered to take my camera with me anywhere yet.

So, what, you ask, is la galleria? Simply, it is a fruit market. However, think of it more as a gypsy carnival where the gypsies are all 5 feet tall and speak Spanish. The U.S. has so very few types of fruit compared to the rest of the world. It is very sad. It makes me appreciate how little Dr. J complains about the things he misses. If I grew up with all this fruit and then it was taken away from me, the world would know. There is a lot I can learn from Dr. J.

They never snack here (this is why they are SO very thin compared to us) so I suppose I have to wait for dinner or breakfast to try some of the luscious goodies from this morning. I think we bought 10 kinds of fruit and none of them were strawberries or apples or oranges. Many of them are to make juice. I introduced Karo to Juice a couple days before I left town, but for any of you that have never experienced South American juice – it is a MUST. Some of the juices are made in water and some are made in milk, but they are all thick and incredibly rich in flavor, very different than the juice we have. And people drink them with every meal, not just breakfast. However, no one really drinks water here and they all look at me like I’m nuts when I inhale as little as 4 oz at a time. I really don’t understand how they are not all completely dehydrated. Maybe they are, and it’s in the form of slender bodies and large breasts. I mock because I am jealous.

And the fruit is oh so cheap! We bought TWELVE of something green and juicy-like and it cost $0.50. FIFTY CENTS. Maybe a little less. Oh yeah, and the gypsy at that stand threw in an extra so I guess we got a baker’s dozen of fruta for like $0.45.

So next time, I promise to take pictures and I will definitely take pics of the fruit we bought and juice ... We’ll see.

Esta lloviendo

That would be that it is very, very wet outside, and I have the afternoon in. I’m in a horrible mood having nothing to do with the rain, but I am falling behind in the log of my journey so I will persevere. On top of that, I just realized that the hem fell out of both legs of my new Capri jeans proving the age old saying of, you get what you pay for.

We went to Dr. J’s aunt’s apartment last night and returned extremely early for a Colombian party – I think we were home by 11:30 or so. People around here really party. And I do mean, par-TAY. The last time I was here, I think I went to sleep during at least two parties because I just couldn’t say up any longer. And those of you that are shaking your heads because I always get tired early, it was about 3 or 4 a.m. when I was sleeping on the couch or floor or wherever I made myself comfy. Anyway, last night was tons of fun – good food, good company. His Aunts and Uncles really vary in age, therefore his cousins do also. There is a group of cousins about my age and another group about 15 years younger. His cousins that are close in age to me are great people and tons of fun – lots of them speak quite a bit of English. So the Spanish challenge is getting them to stop practicing their English with me so I have to speak in Spanish. The breaks are nice though. I got tons of offers to come and stay with them or go out with them if/when I get tired of staying with the in-laws. I will take them all up, not because I get tired of my in-laws (who have been just amazing!) but because it will be fun.

I never really get tired of speaking in Spanish (yet) because we constantly run into people that want to practice their English. And if I don’t know a word and I say it in English, chances are there is someone standing nearby knows that word and translates it for me. Not really a good thing for learning since I’m not forced to come up with something, but it really cuts down on the headaches. This is another reason why the class will be good for me. Did I mention it’s a one-on-one class? Good stuff.

Problem number two is that I seem to be satisfied with having countless conversations with myself in my head, so I’m not really listening as much as I should be. It’s so easy to just withdraw into my own little playground and just let the unrecognizable murmur fade out. I think my English is suffering too though. I keep writing sporadic words in Spanish. Sigh.

May 13th

I have absolutely no idea what day of the week it is. That happened embarassingly fast.

I am starting my Spanish classes on Monday and I can't wait! Generally, they are 2 hours a day, four days a week. Give or take.

The family is starting to trickle over and say hi. Tonight is the first major gathering, I've been told I have to get drunk to be initiated into the family. If I haven't mentioned it, the last gathering I attended that contained most of Dr. J's family had somewhere close to 80 people. I have two cousins on each side. Que sera.

Bienvenidos a Colombia!

The moment I landed in Miami yesterday, I began operating on the sandtimer of Colombia. The plane was delayed about 3 hours due to a malfunctioning air conditioner. I highly doubt there's a Colombian alive who can even tell the difference between an air conditioned and a non-air conditioned plane ride, but I'm happy to endure any sort of delays created by the smallest mechanical malfunction. What if the necessary energy from the air conditioner were unavailable to rig up an emergency landing worthy of Apollo 13? Let's not chance it.

You definitely have to adapt to the pace of things here quickly or the idleness will make you nuts. It's as if the whole country is on a morphine drip. Two o'clock in the afternoon and I've bought shampoo, spoke to someone about starting a Spanish class on Monday, and I'm about ready for my nap. Actually, Juan's father and I are messing with computers and email - if only I were slightly more computer savvy, this would be easier.

A couple of fun tidbits from yesterday's travel. I only slightly blended in on the plane, I spoke enough Spanish that I didn't stick out horribly, I could generally answer the questions asked of me, my clothing is distinctly American - but no one looked too much different from me (mind you, I'm still in los Estados Unidos at this point). However, dire transformations took place mid-flight and upon arrival, the women were all scantily clad and the men were wearing too much duty free cologne. The drench of cologne took place the moment we landed - thankfully I only had to choke in those fumes for a couple of minutes, however, I must have slept through the announcement that it was time for females under 40 to strip down to bras and underpants and I walked off the plane more closely resembling the men on board. While we were waiting in line to go through Customs at approximately 10:45 p.m., the management apparently decided to go home and proceeded to turn off the hallway lighting, leaving us to fumble through our customs declarations by kerosene. Oh, the fun that was had.

Chao! (yes, that's how you spell it in Spanish)

Although I had my day of laziness I have been mostly all consumed by social engagements and playdates that have had me running around like I've just been shocked by a 400 Volt gun. This week has flown by. I did go to a Ranger's game last night with my brother and his fiance. We were on the 8th row right behind 3rd base. Awesome seats. However, people in Texas really don't watch baseball - they just go for the nachos and beer. I remembered how when I moved to St. Louis I was surprised by how focused people were on the game. Then last night, I couldn't believe that no one would let me watch the game. It took me a while last night to get back into social mode ... show up half way through the 2nd inning ... get your beer on the way in ... I didn't even look to see who we were playing until the 7th inning stretch! I did win the dot game though - go Blue!!

Let none of you doubt my friend's abilities to powerhouse out a kareoke of Bobby McGee at her own wedding reception. Truly, it was a site. Some of you will have the pleasure of seeing an encore performance at my own reception in two months. Feel free to anticipate, she will not disappoint. I would post a picture except that I can't find my camera and the essence would be lost in a still photo anyway. Maybe I'll make a flip book.

I leave tomorrow. I spent 4 hours packing yesterday and still have miscellaneous things that need to be taken care of before my 11 a.m. departure. I think I'll end up giving myself a Spanish crash course (la leccion) on the plane (el avion) so I can get through customs with little effort. Yesterday I was informed that this weekend I am going on my first trip-within-the-trip, so I will be in Cali for 2 days, and then to Popayan for the weekend. For those of you that are counting, this will be my 7th home in the last 6 weeks. And yes, I am counting.

Wish me well, see you on the other side!

This one's for you ... you former coworkers, you

Yesterday was spent in a haze of previously Tivo'ed episodes of House, Desperate Housewives, Everwood ... and I think a partial episode of Law and Order SVU even slipped its way in there. Dad made my lunch and I had to simply trapse over to my grandmother's for the Tuesday dinner.

Sweet, sweet unemployment.

Down with the World Wide Web

More than likely, postings will slow down for the next week - Mom and Dad had a falling out with AOL in the late twentieth century and refuse to partake in the information superhighway from home any longer. Apparently, it was so emotionally damaging to my father, that the mere mention of internet at home drives him into a full on rage that can only be consoled with an evening of heart healthy Pop Secret and Miss Congeniality, Collector's Edition (he has a small crush on Ms. Bullock).

Although this has nothing to do with the reason for my parents e-boycott, I like to think back to the day that mom phoned me in college, distraught with little bro yet again (my going away to college left my very juvenile brother home alone with two people he had never been forced to maintain a conversation with before ... he most definitely embodied the tall, silent type). Yes, apparently bro managed to set the home page of the family computer on porn site, so every time the computer was turned on, it would spiral through an unending circle of pop-up pornographic advertisements. Mother lacked the deftness required to click these away before they completely overtook the computer and so went the battle of the treacherous computer porn, with mouse and keyboard as her godly weapons. Throughout town, cries could be heard pleading to the sweet Lord that they not be held accountable for their sins and lo! a swifter unplugging of the PC there never was.

And then there was one

After I leave for the evening, I will just have tomorrow left for work. Pretty surreal at this point.

A friend of mine, currently also a coworker, had a baby boy this morning - congrats to Regan!! It's been about 12 hours since he was born and he is yet to be named. Regan is one of the pickiest people to have ever walked the earth, so none of us are really surprised by this inability to make a decision. It's probably killing her to not be able to do additional internet research before deciding the best available option. Anyway, so I get to finish my second to last day at work by visiting a new baby in the hospital ... awesome!!

Do I really have to be the one that stands up and points out the conspiracy that is Scott Savol's continued presence on American Idol?

I thought we had press for this.

Only Me

I believe I have warned you that I am a sympathetic vomiter, truly my queasy stomach is rivaled by none.

I am no longer staying with my foster parents, but am residing at a friend's place while she is out of town. The sink in her bathroom drains painfully slowly. This morning, I ran the water just a couple seconds before I spit out the foamy morning mouth toothpaste after brushing my teeth. Instead of the thick, pastey, nastiness washing down the drain immediately, it lingered in a small pool of water. I did what any red-blooded American would do and vomited 3 times, on the spot.

I am way beyond ridiculously pathetic.

The Missing

If I didn't mention it before, when I moved all my things to South Carolina about a month ago, the moving company managed to lose one box. This comes across as more than just a little suspicious to me. Losing one box seems so much less likely than losing 10 boxes, or losing all of the boxes. However, Dr. J and I are most happy to have the other 52 boxes and just have the one missing.

The problem is that we can't seem to figure out which box is missing. The company kept a numerical tally of all the items (i.e., numbers 130 - 182 or so were recorded as "boxes") and one of those numbers didn't surface at the move in date, thus, the Missing Box. Every time I think of something that could have been in The Box, I jump on the horn with Dr. J and declare that, alas!, I've finally figured it out, but he has been able to locate all of the possible missings within a couple of days. (Yes, Dr. J is slooowwwwwly getting all the boxes unpacked) We are both starting to think that there is nothing missing whatsoever, which would be fantastic! Not only would we not be missing anything, we can never really be sure, and will hence have a fallguy for many future problems.

Allow me to explain.

A year into our future there comes a day that Dr. J simply can not find that cable that allows you to download pictures from the digital camera ... I certainly did not accidently leave it at the lab over the weekend allowing it to be stolen, it must have been in The Box. Same with the Special Edition Spiderman DVD that Dr. J carelessly lent to a friend without requiring him to leave behind a government issued form of identification, it was in The Box.

Something tells me that if you have ever given Dr. J or I a gift that was .... ahem, less than worthy ... that was probably in The Box as well.

Rude Awakening

As I refilled the lead in my mechanical pencil it occurred to me ... as of Monday I have to start purchasing my own pens and pencils (or ganking the ones at the checkout counters)!

I have 3 days left working for The Man

I can say one good thing that comes from working for The Man .... The Paycheck. Not that it is a good one, by any accounts, just that there is one. With my leaving on Friday, I will have tres meses to survive on uno paycheck, so I'm guessing this means no more Friday Lattes. There was a grander plan to survive off of two paychecks since I didn't pay rent this month, but that was quickly absorbed into having to pay for temporary health insurance, car repairs, and oh yeah, the bill for that little jaunt over to the emergency room came through. I guess my rent doesn't quite total a paycheck, this may have been part of the flaw.

This last week has been a blur of listmaking - dear God, the things that I have to complete by May 10. I'm hoping to move into the side of checking things off the list rather than accumulating them ... and soon.

I will take this chance to say one other good thing about working for The Man - I have great coworkers that have really made me feel like I will be missed. Carry on the banner, fellas, carry on.

It's Funny Cause It's True

If you aren't in my profession or a related one, this will probably mean nothing to you, but in the spirit of engineer joke Friday, I give you my favorite.

A mathmatician, a physicist, and an engineer were all given a red rubber ball and told to find the volume.
The mathmatician carefully measured the diameter and evaluated a triple integral.
The physicist filled a beaker with water, put the ball in the water, and measured the total displacement.
The engineer looked up the model and serial numbers in his red-rubber-ball table.



Imagine! A red rubber ball table!

Classic.

I feel bad because I shouldn't have been rude to her even if she is a crack addict

Every now and then, I make small ... ahem ... teeeeeensey advances in the planning of the wedding. Yesterday, I decided it was time to do call and get prices for getting hair done*.

A friend gave me a recommendation for a place in Hachie, let's call it F-, and ask for K-. I was most definitely unprepared for K-'s personality, especially in a town where people speak at the pace of a casette player with an aging battery. I mentioned to K- that I was getting married in July and trying to do some price research on stylists for the Day Of. Oh, and actually, I am badly in need of a haircut right now. I get about one-third of the way through this sentence when K- pummels me with her autobiography, complete with where she was schooled and by whom and why her prices are as outrageous as they are and how justified she is in making them so and how the city should be thrilled that she bless them with her talents when she could be working anywhere in the world. Since I never got to the part where I actually asked her a question the first time, I finally interjected with the, so how much do you charge for an updo? if i were to bring in, say seven people in the span of two and a half hours, would you give me a reduced rate?

Ladies and gentlemen, I kid you not. Her response:

"Doctors don't reduce the rates they charge to their patients just because there are more of them"

Now, I'm not sure what choice you would make in this situation, but I have to admit I was floored with her arrogance. I mean, I'm the first to admit that saving roots is right on par with saving lives, I just hadn't really put it into words so eloquently before.

My response:

"waaaa ha ha ha AHAHAHAAHA".

Needless to say, we probably don't have a healthy enough of a relationship to make this work in the end. And so the research continues.


* Boys, you may find this premature, but this will be a morning of a least a quintet of "updos". These things must be planned - that and I'm about to be out of the country for dos meses.

Dad and Mom are 56 and 9 years old, respectively

So when I get home from my evening run last night I had 2 messages on my voicemail from the parents.

Message 1 [6:32 pm]:
[Mom spitting words through fits of hysterical laughter] CALL ME!! (aaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha AHAHA) It's so FUNNY! CALL AS SOON (AHAHAHAHHHAAA] AS YOU GET THIS!!

Message 2 [6:47 pm]:
[Dad] This is your father. Call me. Your mother wants to publicly humiliate me.

(sidenote: this is the same dad thatwould send packages to me at college containing a sheet of paper with the word M E M O R A N D U M along the top of the page. And yes, there was a listing of all enclosed articles - encl. - in the lower left hand corner of the memo.)


A little background. Mom and Dad are taking a Spanish class together, once a week, on Mondays, from ... I don't know. But it must begin close to 5:00 or 5:30 because my Dad can't seem to get there on time. After walking in late last week, the teacher asked my father to stand and recite the days of the week (in Spanish, in case you missed that). Dad obediently stands up, takes a deep breath, and begins reciting, "Tuna ... ..." To those of you that don't speak Spanish, let me assure you there are no days of the week with the same name as a canned meat.

Moving forward to this week. So I return their phone call and my dad answers the phone. It went something like this...


[Dad] I'm out trying to earn a living and so I'm a little tardy to class. I try to come in unnoticed since the room is silent and so I go sit by your mother and try to find where we are supposed to be reading in the book.

[Mom, in an inaudible whisper] She wants you to stand up and recite the days of the week.

[Dad, frantic and hurried] What?!?

[Mom, in a slightly less inaudible whisper] The teacher wants you to stand up and recite the days of the week.

[Dad, quickly standing to not lose any more time begins in a confident voice] Lunes ... Martes ... Miercoles ...

[Mom guffaws hysterically and points at the slow-witted class dunce ... cackling alone since no one else was in on the joke ... eventually has to apologize to the class because she is unable to control her laughter. Church giggles remain long after the laughing subsides....]

To Do:

- Buy a house.

This was added to my To Do List (yes, mine is an ACTUAL to do list, written in my red vinyl planner - and if someone out there cringed that I carry a vinyl planner, I won't turn down $150 so I can hop over to Franklin Covey and purchase me the leather one with the smart little buckle that I've been eyeing. Until then, yes, vinyl) I don't know the first thing about buying a house other than it sounds like a much smarter thing to do than to take that sum of money equal to my apartment rent, puree it in a blender with a little peanut butter and a squeeze of honey and slap it between two pieces of enriched white bread. Plus, I don't have to worry so much about having to repaint the walls white when my time comes to an end.

And did I mention that I'm going to be going back to school starting this fall? I'm pretty sure I swore on my mother's grave I would never go back (no, she's not dead. maybe that's why it didn't work. no hard feelings, mom.) So the home buying will be taking place right about the time my current salary is cut in half. I have two words for that. Awe. Some.

Good God.

She really did use this word in an actual interview.

Paris Hilton's found a new pop singer's daughter for her Simple Life
escapades, USA Today reports. Rod Stewart's daughter Kimberly will slum it with
the heiress in Maui for the fourth installment of the Fox show. Hilton told
reporters she wanted the change to make the fourth season
"funner."

I'm not sure I would ever use the word "fun" to describe this show in the first place. Miserably depressing, maybe. Perhaps soul-less. Fun? No. Funner? No-er.

Now I've Gone and Done it

So I posted my blog address on my profile of my high school alum page*. Am I insane? Am I setting myself up for incessant judgings and ridicule that could otherwise have been avoided? I mean, yeah, there are My Peeps from high school - and themz knowzez whos theyz are, and Iz stillz loves ya - but do I want to open myself up to a pool of the unknown KNOWNS? I'll let you know if I crack and decide that I can't take the stress of knowing they're all just still sitting around in a puddle of green and white pom-poms, eating their dry cauliflower and snickering at my stupidity. They may never have been this bad, but my I-showed-up-naked-at-high-school-and-was-forced-to-audition-for-the-cheerleading-squad-and-sweat-through-a-series-of-poorly-executed-toe-touches-in-front-of-the-entire-student-body nightmares say otherwise.

*Run by "a local". Hachie alum, if you're out there and interested, email me and I'll give you the site

Mish Mash

My foster parents are going out of town for the weekend and my only duties are to walk the dog, feed the cat, and have dinner ready when they get home on Sunday so we can have Family Night and Scrabble it up. In exchange, I have a weekend alone with TWO TIVOS 'n da house!! And last night I scheduled a dozen or so movies/shows for my solitary viewing enjoyment. Most of which were classic 80s movies, it's lookin very much like I'm going to enjoy myself a large pizza with side of breadsticks to the tune of Breakfast Club/All the Right Moves/Sixteen Candles. Gotta love WE and O - they really know how to make a good lineup. I actually have tons to do this weekend that require me sitting and writing/computer-ing, so the Company will be nice.

By the way, have I mentioned that I have 14 days left here? CRAAAAAZZZZYY!

Which means that (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!) I leave for ColOmbia, South America in a little less than 4 weeks. (Note to embarrassingly lazy self: do SOMETHING in Spanish starting this weekend) I know it's out there. But I'm not really dealing with it just yet. Not so much.

Cough, cough ... hack, hack

In case you are tempted, the Reduced Fat Nilla Wafers are NOT Nilla Wafers. Just suck up the extra 1.2 grams fat/serving.

[offstage right: dry heave and splatter of vomiting]




I'll probably eat them anyway though.

It's absolutely true that I am getting younger every day

This says I have the health age equivalent of a 14 year old and that I will live to the ripe old age of 84. Awesome. I wish my waistline reflected that, but a few evenings spent panting on the eliptical machine should cure that. I bet my mom comes out as a 7 year old.

So, public, let's hear it from you. How old do you feel?

Addendum:

After some replies from several people (and Dr. J saying he is "happily married" and coming out with an age of 18 and he is SO 35), I had to do a recheck. Apparently, post-wedding in July when I will THEN be "happily married" I will have a health age of 12. The benefits of marriage are seemingly unending.

I got this as a forward, but it's important enough to post!

I hate when people forward unwarranted warnings or virus alerts, but this one is important!!

If someone comes to your front door saying they are conducting a survey on deer ticks and asks you to take your clothes off and jump around to see how many fall off..., DO NOT DO IT! IT IS A SCAM! They only want to see you naked.

I wish I'd gotten this yesterday. I feel so stupid now...

Your Favorite Athlete (a quickie update)

stl marathon 7
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

You know, we walked it, but we had SO MUCH FUN!!! I did convince my Newest Training Partner to run the last mile and a half-ish, but mostly because it hurt so much to walk by that point that the running was a HUGE relief. I am a proud 3,686 finisher. And I totally smoked her there at the end (I tricked her into thinking I was ok with a tie - seriously though, that's her fault for believing me) but the official results either have it backwards, or we had our chips switched. That's what I get for being a chump.

I will spare you the photos of the blisters Mullsey and I have on our feet. I am only sorry that I don't have any of the post-post-post race photos (i.e., after lunch, after the nap, during the netflix movie soaking in Icy Hot, heating pads, ice, and a pan of brownies between us).

Mullsey, my original training partner, did AWESOME and ran the WHOLE long leg (that Mullsey is unstoppable) for her relay.

Sniff

Soon, I am going to just start delivering all my mail by hand.

And in case you are wondering, it is no coincidence that this is happening the year I am mailing out OH so many thank you cards, wedding invitations and the like. The Postmaster General has always had it out for me since the day I opened a piece of my neighbor's mail without realizing it didn't belong to me. And then for some reason I got flustered and decided I couldn't give it to them opened and threw it in the trash.

Whoa. whoa. whoa. WHHHOOAAAAA.

What in god's name is going on with people voting for American Idol's Scott Savol? WHAT? WHY?? WHO is voting for him?????? I am CLUUUUEEEEELESS. This guy is on the brink of committing probably his 32nd felony, cannot sing, CANNOT perform, cannot put together a coherent sentence worthy of a 2nd grade essay, cannot tuck in his shirt, cannot shave the line 1/2" below his jawline, cannot shave the 1/8" above his upper lip, and cannot breathe with his mouth closed. Mother of god, how has this guy lasted so long??

You may or may not agree with me about the singing part, but come. on. But it is not even possible that there is someone that thinks he's a performer. Need I remind you about the wire-rimmed glasses strip tease? Creepy. Raise your hand if you felt the need to go wash your hands after that one.

I ask you, Americans, to unite. Next Tuesday night, get out your cell phones and help me put an end to this circus.

A Friendly Reminder

To those of you who have been putting off your taxes: You have 8 days to postmark.

Get. On. It.
(to no one in particular)


My refund coincidently showed up on the day that I found the cutest little sundress. Happily, there is still probably enough left to justify the jean shopping that will commence this weekend.

Speaking of things that are this weekend, remember that half-marathon I was training for? That would be this Sunday. Things I have learned throughout this process are 1) I get sick too easily to battle 20 degree weather 2) I fall off the wagon like a watermelon off a 20-story balcony. This little debacle has been nothing short of catastrophic ending with my pneumonia and cracked rib, and severe shin splints and a hip injury for my running partner. She has consented to run the marathon relay with three of our other friends and I conned a friend into walking the 13 miles with me (the rib still does not permit the running). I paid the entry fee, I might as well cross the finish line and get all the goodies that come with. However, the "walk" begins at SIX A.M. I can only imagine that this is the penalty for my laziness.

Booooooooooooo.

I managed to thigh-rub a sizeable hole into the upper leg / lower crotch of my favorite jeans

Luckily, I noticed it before too many others did (I think).

Unluckily, I now must go jean shopping. I hate jean shopping. And it is always very unlikely that your new jeans will be anywhere near worthy of the old favorites that are down for the count. It seems to take me two or three pairs of moderately satisfactory jeans to find The Ones.

And there are no good outlet stores around here, which means I will probably be paying full price for the first test pair. Poor wounded wallet.

And to top it off, I forgot that I had a "package" sent to my parents house (since I'll hold temporary residence there for the next three months) and when I spoke to my dad this morning, I told him, "no, I don't know anyone in Las Vegas". Suspicion got the better of me so I am really the only one to blame for asking my dad to open my newly delivered birth control.

Awesome.


Addendum: apparently, he thought it was actually "medication" (see comments)

Long Time, No Post

Things are starting to wind down in the land of the overwhelmed. Although, I think I have a few more days of craziness before I go into full scale t.v. watching for some weeks. I should be working on my Spanish right now, because if you remember, este blog-o was created to have a place to post the Spanish learning process during my upcoming two months in ColOmbia. I can give you a quickie update for the now - it's going nowhere. The milestones I have left to complete between now and then are waning - merely dealing with some final "job hunting" issues, finishing up a project at work, attend a friend's wedding, polish up a couple bags of Doritos, and I think there is still a box of brownies left to be made. Knowing me, I'll probably start with the last one first.

I have a friend coming in tonight on business that I haven't seen in a very VERY long time. In fact, we used to date for some time, so this should be fun and awkward. I haven't seen him in about 5 years (I can't believe I'm even old enough to have not seen someone for FIVE YEARS that I dated until my senior year of college! Can this be right?!?!?!) Anyway, an evening of awkward silences probably lay ahead. This of course got Mullsey and I talking yesterday about what men we would much prefer come in town to visit us, and while we had a few that varied (I DO NOT SEE what you people see in Orlando Bloom and I refuse to put him on my list), we were able to essentially narrow our list down to a few:

1. John Cusack
2. Zach Braff
3. Ewan McGregor (me only, and not the Star Wars one)
4. Luke Wilson
5. Jude Law (me only)
6. Matt Damon
7. Edward Norton
8. Brad Pitt (really, it's cliche, but no list is complete without him)
9. Spiderman (late entry, see below)

We also made a similar list of men that are attractive, but have no real appeal since they seem to lack the quirky personality that makes men interesting:

1. Tom Cruise (notable exception: Top Gun, Risky Business)
2. Matthew McConaghey
3. Brad Pitt (yes, I KNOW he's on the list above. But ladies, let's give it to him, he's just THAT good looking)

There are many, many more men that belong on this list but my memory is failing me. Thus, there are blanks for your write in votes. I would love to put Tobey Maguire on the first list but I just read too much about him that makes him seem shallow enough that I half expect him to appear on the next season of The Bachelor. Spiderman, however, is a completely different story.

And just so I don't get into mucho trouble later, of course, the only man I really want is Dr. J. :-)

Thought for the Week

Based on a conversation Suzie the Bear and I were just having, I think it's time for a new thought for the week.

There is no freedom like that of not having to contain your own gas.
~ Missy

The mascara story goes like this

5th grade consisted of:

- the aforementioned perm/bang combo
- 3" thick lenses engulfed by heavy maroon plastic frame
- the fact that the frames were large enough to dip below my cheekbones and encroach upon the upturned corners of my mouth deserves its own bullet
- i was already nearing 5'4". i spent the next 15 years growing two inches, but when i was 10, i was a giant. in girth and stature.
- although i appreciate them now, my superman-long eyelashes gave me more than a little headache


So, sitting in class one day in 5th grade (mind you, I was right about 10 or 11 ... WAY TOO OLD TO DO THIS) I had reached the breaking point with the eyelashes brushing my glasses. It's not so much the downward part of the blink that's annoying. In the downward stroke, the eyelashes press past the eyewear and sort of invert their upward curly shape and have to lay on their sides at the blink-bottom. On the upward blink stroke, it can happen that the eyes can open entirely, while the inverted curl of the lash is caught on the eyeglasses. Thus, requiring the user to pull off the glasses or stick ones fingers behind the lenses to free the lash from the lens.

Let's add to this that my mother had me wearing mascara when I was 10 so that "people could see my beautiful eyes" from behind the pair of coke bottles on my face.

So in the blinking process, the downward blink caused mascara (aka, bat guano) smears splatterpainted in a line across my lenses, and the upward blink left me unable to open my eyes completely.

It was on one such occasion (blink, blink. strain to open eyes without using my hands, shoving my greasy fingers behind the lenses to release the lashes and leaving a smear of bat guano and palm grease in my wake) that a light bulb went off in my head.
Bathroom pass in hand, I sprinted down the hallway with the dreaded safety scissors tucked in my pocket (lord knows, I didn't run with scissors in my hand) and proceeded to whack off every last lash on both my eyes.

A happy blinker, I was.

Beat this.

If anyone needs me tonight I can be found swimming in a vat of flower-power brownies and bags of Doritos.

Today rocks. I overslept by about 40 minutes and managed to purchase my Friday Latte and still get to work on time. I suppose I should also be grateful that I didn't get a speeding ticket.

Oh, and! I spent the past two nights trying to thoroughly disinfect and repair wall boo-boos in my old apartment so I could get my deposit back. Yesterday, I show up to walk-through the place with the apartment manager and the moment we walk in the door I see two HUGE (1/2") nail holes (dr. j and I have a bit of a problem hanging things on the first try and it's the putting-in and taking-out that causes the large hole-age) that I completely forgot about. Immediately, I knew that would suck up my deposit (damn vultures), however, the manager proceeds to go open the oven door, refrigerator door, and toilet lid (I suppose I could have been storing something ghastly in any of those locations) and said, "looks great! c-ya!".

I really wish I could get those two nights back. I think they just wanted me to vacuum.


oh how times does fly!!!

28 DAYS REMAINING

I am a Girl. At least now.

I feel like the ultimate Ms. Priss. I spent a substantial part of last evening searching for and bidding on a silvery-diamond-ish tiara-comb thing on Ebay. AND my foster father* is going to have to follow up on the auction for me tonight throughout his fantasy baseball draft.

My mom is going to pass that kidney stone when she hears that.

Mom loves to relive the days when I refused to wear/do any of the following:

- a dress/skirt/skort/long towels
- pink
- bows
- makeup (although mom had me wearing mascara when i was about 10 ... something about how my 3" thick lenses kept people from seeing my beautiful eyes. not sure the mascara did anything but smear black goo all over the inside of my glass lenses ... story here ... save for later)
- shoes (i have the callouses to prove this)
- wash my hair more than once or twice a week ("helped" the frizz problem)
- brush my hair (truly i didn't ever brush it)
- tuck in my shirt (erroneous assumption that "baggy" hides the fat)
- not wear overalls/sweats (again, baggy)
- anything that might give someone the urge to tell me i looked "cute"
- socks that were not white
- carry a purse

I was The. Coolest.

Seriously.

It's not so much that I thought I was ugly, as I actually WAS ugly. You can't impose all of the above rules and have anyone still find you attractive. However, as in most things in life, I blame my mother for instigating the efforts-to-shun-my-gender when she gave me that perm/bang combo (to my already miserably thick and frizzy fro) in 4th grade. How do you recover from something like that?


But by 9:00 tonight, I should have my very own tiara. How's that for recovery?


* Since I moved out of my apartment last week and in with friends, I have gained foster parents. And a Tivo for a sibling. Ahhhh ....

My Sweet Baby

Dr. J and Dais
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

Daisy Maria (a.k.a. The Dias) passed away in her sleep on the morning of Monday, March 28, 2005. She leaves behind her parents, Missy and Dr. J, and countless honorary Aunts and Uncles, that loved her so very, very much.

You won't be forgotten.

Series beginning: Only Me

Many, many, many things from this weekend could be called Newsworthy, however since I am swamped with work and an overloaded personal agenda, a few stories will suffice. The most important of which comes from a little lesson I learned going through airport security on Thursday, and I defy you to show me anyone who has been taught a similar lesson.

So while trying to seem kool going through the bustle of declothing at airport security, I found myself in the all-too-common struggle of how to keep the boarding pass handy while taking off every article of clothing I was wearing. Stripping myself of my jacket, shoes, pants, shirt, whatever, required two hands so I was forced to place my boarding pass into my only free appendage, my lips. I did the polite folding-of-the-lips-back-over-my-teeth-so-as-to-not-get-the-piece-of-paper-wet-trick that I have been doing my whole life. Taking my jacket and shoes off required about 20 seconds at which time I was standing face-to-face with a large, beefy woman holding her hand out for me to give her my boarding pass.

Thus the fun began.

As I go to remove the boarding pass from my lips, the paper had completely adhered itself from one side of my bottom lip to the other. Tug. Tug. Nothing. I'm holding up the line and trying to move quickly, also getting quite nervous that this has no chance of ending pleasantly ... I start trying to push it off with my tongue. I'm not so sure if Beefy realized what was going on, if she did she certainly didn't find the fact I had a piece of paper pasted on my face in any way amusing - tug tug. Stuck. I'm wishing now I had torn the paper so that the piece that had become a part of my body could have eventually dissolved, but not having the privilege of hindsight, I firmly YANKED the paper and finally was able to free it from the hold it had on my mouth. However, the YANKING caused all of the skin on my lower lip to rip off and make this little smiley skin-line on the boarding pass and leave me with a bloody lip, trying to act as though nothing had happened.


It was only a matter of time until I started "Only Me". I've been cursed with this title since I was about two and a half. And there will be more.

I get to go home tonight!!

By home, I mean my parents house... back to the land of 10-digit dialing, mexican food yumminess and movie theaters that don't reek of B.O. Ahhh ...

I get to go home!!
I get to go home!!
I get to go home!!

This countdown is vanishing before I know what's happening. Rather exciting.

And I'm going to have to get all gooey and bridey but I AM SO EXCITED THAT I AM GETTING MY WEDDING DRESS FITTED!!! (yeah, no ... I'm not really so much a gooey kind of gal. except when it comes to crying. everything makes me cry. except for real-life things that are actually sad. same thing can happen in a movie and I'll drench my couch pillows with natural saline)

Oh sweet fresh flour tortillas! Oh my blessed chimichanga!! We will be together soon!

Kiss that Snooze GOOD-BYE!

Would someone PLEEEEAASE buy this for me? I don't think I can live another day without it!!!

Clocky

(Thanks, Mulls)

This could really be interesting

I get to fly home to Big-D tomorrow (that's Dallas for all you non-Texan-persons) and L.B. is supposed to pick me up at the airport. I just recieved word from him that his Big Truck (of course it's a truck, it's Texas) is on the fritz with a broken water pump. This is following a weekend of extensive vehicular repairs that required him to have his Big Truck hauled back to Hachie on the Monster Trailer my dad built. Not to worry - he has a solution. He'll pick me up at the airport, hand over the keys to me and LET me drive it to Hachie.

Ummm ... Thanks?

How is it my responsibility to make a 1/2 hour solo drive in a crippled truck? There are no possible times when a second party could follow the truck in case whatever action the water pump performs causes the automobile to strand the motorist?

Everyone who thinks this is a bad idea say "Aye".

Let's go ahead and add to this that the Big Truck is actually 4.3 times the size of the car I normally drive around. I say, if I can lay across the front seat and not have my head or pointed toes touch either door panel, it's too big.

No time to stop now

Are you ready for this????

L.B. is ENGAGED. Details to follow.


I'm currently overburdened with more carboard boxes than I can feasibly handle, all wanting to be filled with every item in my apartment down to the last scrap of toilet paper or elusive phone cable. Mom and I were up to the wee hours each night packing .... and pack we did.

Funny to me that I actually have phone cable strung along my apartment. I think that at one point, I must have intended to get a phone line but just never got around to it. One less utility to cancel. Excellent.

And I'm desperately trying to get work done despite the fact I have 43 things to take care of before the movers arrive here at 7 in the morning. I am what is medically referred to as a basketcase.

Tomorrow's Countdown

I am fully aware that I am probably the only one that is sincerely concerned about how many days until the Day I Quit My Job, but it's my blog so it will be continued to be posted. Tomorrow, Mum and I are going to be doing shamefully girl-ish things (that I hope results in a pedicure and oh, maybe a pair of cute strappy sandals) and I'll be sans computadora all day (Raise your hands if you caught the TRIO OF LANGUAGES represented in this sentence! YAY FOR YOU!)

Thus the countdown be-eth...

42 DAYS REMAINING

That seems so soon!!

Maybe I'm alone here but ...

Here's the thing. Dr. J is currently in Spain for work and poor little Daisy is having to amuse herself for a week in an empty apartment. Truly, you have never met a more needy cat. I mean, she can't help but provide complete companionship for her owners, but Dear God! she can't handle the despair that comes with any alone time and spirals into deep depression when left alone for more than 24 hours. All of the sudden, our very potty trained cat will poo on the floor, seemingly to express her displeasure, or pee on the bathmat. She seems to have enough respect for Dr. J and I to only pee on things that can be washed relatively easily.

So there's this girl (that speaks very little English) who is going by in the evenings (I think) to feed The Dais. This would be her first time playing this role. I feel for her, truly I do, because The Dais has been at her worst. The first day, the girl was traumatized because she could smell "urine" when she went to the apartment. Bathmat. Got it. On Day 2, The Dais apparently vomitted, and "excrement" was fouhd right in front of the entryway. Now, pet owners round the world know that blantantly visible "excrement" is a sign of flagrant disapproval. The vomit, however, has more to do with her illness, and poor Dais does pray to the porcelain god more often that I like to admit. It was also reported that "the animal" was not eating much. What can I say? She likes company!

Anywhooo, so I let her know that the soiled bathmat would be fine for another week and gave her this tip and comforted her with not-to-worries. But after her Day 2 trip, she let me know that she grudgingly did clean the "excrement" but was unable to attend further to the vomit.

One week old vomit will be ready to greet your arrival come next Tuesday, Dr. J!! HOORAAHH!

Now, I'm a sympathetic vomiter, truly, the mere sound or odor of vomit makes me dry heave, but no matter how much I hated it, I don't think I could leave a puddle of yesterday's partially digested lunch to swell on someone's carpet for a week. Am I alone?

Bring on number 3!!

Sorry I haven't been posting. I missed work Tuesday from antibiotic side effects and L.B. is in town for work so we've been chillin' in the evenings. Well, except for Tuesday. AND Mom comes in town tonight because there is a plethora of activity here in wedding land which includes my moving out of my apartment (Dr. J, you will have furniture soon!!) and a wedding shower this weekend. I'll be nomadic for the month of April - actually, for April, May, June, July, and half of August, something I'm sure will make me appreciate my bed when I finally see it again next August.

Tuesday consisted of me lazing about on the couch with much heating pad-ish action going on. Once I felt a little better I decided it was time to go and rent a movie, which I just almost never do, and about 10 minutes later, I found myself exploring the previewed movie selection at Blockbuster. It took me all of 5 seconds to find Spidey DOS on sale, and then Garden State, at which point I surrendered the silly notion that I would rent anything at all. My 5-minute drive home seemed to last an eternity with Spidey and DVD special features just crying out to be watched. And watch I did!! ALL of the movie, commentary, and Special Features .... the knowledge is now within me. And NO I will not reveal to you the subtle differences in the Spidey costume from I to II.

I am also excited about GS, but since I've had a crush on Spidey since before I was aware of the Y Chromosome, restraining myself was not really an option. Knowing that the third movie will not be released for another TWO YEARS is enough to kill a person. Well ... ok ... so maybe now I should restrain myself.

THANK YOU SAM RAIMI!! You are my hero!

It resulted in me watching Dirty Dancing on the couch, and that's hard to complain about

This wasn't my favorite adventure, but I'm sure someday ... when it stops hurting ... I'll sit back and laugh about it.

So Friday night, Mullsey was to join me for an evening in of watching silly movies and serious down time. I was all ready to make a quick dinner for us and lounge. Lounging we did, but only in the quazi-comfort of the ER waiting room.

After weeks and weeks (and weeks) of coughing, I finally coughed and felt (and I swear I heard) a painful pop in the middle of my back. And I mean PAIN. FUL. Poor Mullsey had to watch me weep and pretend to be fine for about 10 minutes before we decided to go to the hospital. So off we went! Since we had only been at my place for about 15 minutes before The Cough Heard Round the World, we were pretty hungry and after signing in, she left to go get din-din and returned with food, non-chocolate candy, magazines and crossword puzzle books. HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!

This is totally going to turn into an Ode to Mullsey ...

And then she proceeded to stay with me at the ER for SEVEN AND ONE HALF HOURS until they finally told me I had pneumonia, I was not pregnant, and probably a cracked rib. (Prego test only a precaution for the x-ray - don't worry Dr. J!!) The good news is that they told me to call first thing Monday and gloat to my idiot Dr. and tell him what he did. That and they gave me an antibiotic and new cough syrup that has all but cured my cough. However, there is this little side effect of the nauseating, tastes like I'm sucking on a rusty pole on the playground thing going on, apparently produced by the antibiotic. And something is definitely making me produce copious amounts of thick yellow green mucus ... better out than in!

So back to Friday, my favorite part was when I first hurt my rib and was sitting in my rocker, like the decrepit, broken, senior citizen that I have become, when Mullsey walks over to bring me some tissue. Having just been to the gym, she was wearing these sweatpants that, apparently, did not have any elastic in the waist and merely tied on. Just as she was about two feet from me and was handing me the tissue, the black sweatpants made a swooshing sound as they collapsed at her ankles. And no, I don't mean they caught on her hips or knees or anything. She was suddenly standing there in her t-shirt and underpants. I don't know why she didn't pick them up immediately except that maybe she was laughing harder than I was. And yes, it hurt HORRIBLY to laugh, but come on! How often do you get to see someone's pants swimming around their ankles?!

Mullsey, you rock my world.

Thought for the Week

Fish frys in the middle of a work day, do not a pleasant afternoon make.

- Missy

Miracle of miracles!

So today, I was EXCEPTIONALLY late to work so I had to forgo my Friday morning latte HOWEVER! I was here for all of 37 minutes before I get an email from our admin saying she's making a Starbucks run and do I want anything? DO I EVER??! And I've had a bit of a focusing problem lately so I requested a caff latte. CAFF. I'll let you know how this works out. I'm jittery just thinking about it.

Happy Friday everyone! I'm a bit discouraged from the ongoing struggle to find shoes I like for the wedding that aren't boring, expensive, and one-time-ers. I thought I found some last night and while they are great for sundresses and what not, I got them home and tried them on with my winter uniform (sweatpants, sweatshirt), they are just not quite right. Too casual. Sigh.

And the countdown is ...

49 DAYS REMAINING

Wow! Not to state the obvious or anything, but that's totally less than FIFTY!

Oscar Parties Require Feather Boas

Let's All go to the Movies!!
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

A non-kitty photo, as promised. (And a self portrait, to boot!)

Me and my very kewl friend and party co-host sporting our coordinating hot- and baby-pink feather boas. You can't tell from this pic, but we have her little fluffy white puppy in our laps, also wearing a boa. Since he is a boy, his father is concerned that posting pictures of him on the internet wearing a pink feather boa would be detrimental to his acting career. Sorry, Mr. Murph, you can be in the next picture.

Sometimes, I really do have the coolest little bro ever

Ok, so it's like this...

Dr. J and I are having wedding reception #1 in Dallas, the night of the wedding. This is the "official reception" although officially, we are calling it a dinner since the words on the wedding invite will read something to the effect of "reception immediately following ceremony in the church fellowship hall". This is completely unnecessary information to understand the extent of little bro's coolness.

Reception #2 is going to be in ColOmbia at the home of Dr. J's family at which time all members (and there are more than a few) of his extended family will be in attendance. This will take place one week to the day after Wedding Reception #1. My mother and father will be joining Dr. J and I in ColOmbia. This will be their first trip to ColOmbia (no, they don't speak Spanish and no, Dr. J's family does not speak English). Me entiendes?

Little bro (LB) had originally planned on going but since he started a new job about a month ago, I pretty much assumed those plans went out the window. However, as it turns out, LB negotiated this before he actually took the job! WOW!! I TOTALLY UNDERESTIMATED HIM!!


Not only that, but he's coming here for a week for work (next week) and we will get to hang and do things like watch TV in silence and eat hot wings. Sadly, I have a work trip that will be taking me to Albuquerque (there are no words to describe how irritated I get when I have to spell that word. It takes SO much thought) for two days. I never go anywhere! Why do I have to go somewhere the week that LB is in town?

So, what's the verdict? Would I have gotten in trouble

I was just reminded of a little story from my childhood

Once when I was little, I had a friend spend the night. I wish I could remember who it was, seems like something any of us might have done ... maybe it was Leigh-Ann ... anyway ... So I'm sure we drank lots of soda or juice or something and then stayed up talking until way too late at night at which time we found ourselves needing to relieve ourselves. Now, I'm sure Mom and Dad had both come in on multiple occasions to tell us to be quiet and go to sleep, so it seemed obvious to us that we must be as silent as possible during our bathroom excursion. Since our bathroom was right across the hall from my parents room and my dad slept with the door cracked, obviously, we could not use the actual toilet or we would have been in much doo-doo. Logically, we decided to use the only other facility in the house that would not waken my parents slumber, so one at a time, we climbed up on top of the counter and proceeded to use the kitchen sink.

Hmm .... which do you think we would have gotten in more trouble for? Waking dad while using the actual toilet? Or for using the kitchen sink as a urinal?

Nope we didn't get caught, so I guess we'll never know the answer to that.

I honestly can't roll my eyes hard enough

This guy brings new depths to the meaning of the word idiot.

Coughing on the Treadmill is Not the Fun You'd Think it Would Be

So yesterday evening, I attempted to pick back up the training that has been ... er, stalled ... from all the hacking and illness. My dream of winning the St. Louis Half Marathon went down the toilet with the three weeks worth of mucus filled Kleenex. My new and more realistic dreams are of finding a fourth teammate so that we can run the Marathon Relay (4 people with relay distances assigned to complete the full Marathon). If you know someone who lives in St. Louis, enjoys running but doesn't have the time or desire to train for a whole marathon and has $50, feel free to send me their name.

It's still cold-ish here and with the lingering cough I'm really not up to battling the cold, so I decided to treadmill it yesterday. I got about a mile into it before the coughing started. The thing about coughing on the treadmill is that the buckling-over reflex that is required with the really deep coughing, is more than just a little challenging when the floor is rolling out from under you at a steady pace. The first time I did it, I came inches from being thrown off the back end, just catching the sidebars of the treadmill and sprinting to recovery. It really wasn't that bad or that ungraceful, I'm not even sure that the swollen steriod of a man strolling on the treadmill next to me even really noticed. But then it was just a cough or two. The second time, was much more artistic. It was a full on coughing attack. I started groping for the side bars as soon as I felt it coming on, arms flailing and tripping over my own feet as I struggled to keep myself 1) upright 2) on my own treadmill and not in the lap of some innocent bystander and 3) from developing an audience (I'm not really looking for applause when I go to the gym - I prefer the anonymity that comes with having the body of a mediocre bacci ball player). I was kinda in shock by how quickly the whole thing took place. The clamboring definitely seemed to impede my ability to even cough in a satisfactory manner and of course, I had too much pride to simply stop the run for a moment so I could rid myself of the coughing fit, so the fun continued with the awkward buckling over and clamboring routine for another 15 minutes or so until I finally had enough to call it a successful comeback game ... truly it was a sight.

Sidenote: I'm sure that the poor chumps forced to run on the treadmills next to me were also not amused by the fact that it took more energy than I could muster to actually cover my mouth during any of the fits. At the time, I was so exhausted from the efforts of righting myself that it didn't really occur to me to try or to care.

I promise that I will stop diverting you to other websites but this just can't be helped

This makes me wish that I believed in reincarnation and that I could curse this guy to come back in his next life as a woman, work in middle management, and have three kids at home. Absolutely unbelieveable that there are people in the world with ideas like his.

As it is, please let him get fired (for this very email), and let him have to work under a woman for his next job. Amen.

30 Second Bunny Theatre

There are others on the website but this was my favorite.

It's a Wonderful Life (as re-enacted by bunnies)

Announcing the newest addition

To other friends of Karo, in case you aren't in a habit of checking her blog regularly ...

Check out the news.

I can see how this could happen ... but I'm SO glad it wasn't me!

Here's the story ...

Now, here's the thing. I know that my leaving the television on for Daisy when I have to leave and I had promised her I would be home is more for my conscience than hers, but maybe, just maybe, it lets her know that I care. I mean, obviously this works and makes them less lonely. I think the fact that Dr. J and I left the TV on all weekend when we went to Atlanta and came home to big foot speaks for itself. Clearly, she watched TV all weekend and was entertained and fulfilled.

Maybe we should have been more sensitive to the channel that we left it on ... there could have been a series of Joan London interviews - it was the weekend prior to the Oscars. Maybe she was speaking out in protest.

This is too cute.

Sound on, please.

I got me some Vitamins!

I have been anti-Vitamin for quite some time now. Dad used to force them down my throat every morning at the breakfast table until I was 16 (until my friend Missa sort of just moved in and I happily let her eat my morning meal and vitamin). On days that he stood there and watched, I actually swallowed it. They always did nauseate me. I'm not really so sure if it was the vitamins that did the nauseating, or the fact that we were required to eat from all four of the main food groups every morning before school.

I couldn't wait to go to college and escape this torture. I didn't eat breakfast for like 5 years out of protest once I finally left.

For those of you that are sitting there saying, wow, she is sooo ungrateful .... I'm gonna come into your home every day approximately 30 minutes before you are ready to wake up and make you eat eggs, toast, a pear, and a cup of yogurt every morning before you are even permitted to go to the bathroom. Let's see how hungry you REALLY are at 6:00 in the morning. Every day. Not just the days following the evenings that you FINALLY managed to drag yourself to the gym and you actually have an appetite. And if you still think that sounds nice, how 'bout the mornings that I change it up a little (just so you don't have to eat the same fried/scrambled/poached eggs, toast/bagel/english muffin, canned apple/pear/peaches, yogurt/milk/cheese) and for the carbohydrate, maybe I use the leftover spaghetti from the night before and put a little cheese on it, with a side of bacon and a banana? Mmmm mmm .... gooooood. And yeah. You gotta eat all of it. Before you can get ready. Now take your vitamin. Eat up!

So I was pretty much sick to my stomach by about the middle of first period every day - lots of burping of unwanted pears and bananas, but mostly I remember the vita-burps. Those are the worst.

However, I can't seem to shake this illness, so yesterday I got some vitamins. I got some chewable ones since I tried this once before in college when I got sick and the ginormous multi-vitamin still produced the nausea and the vita-burps, so I'm trying a new avenue. Get well, self!


Dad, you get a big A for effort. And Missa loved it!

So Like I Said ...

Daisy's Fat Foot
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

Never did figure out what made her leg do this, but see!? I'm talkin bout serious swell-time goin on!

There's probably some sick dog somewhere in the world lickin his lips and gettin off on this picture. Lunatic canine sicko.

I promise to one day post a non-cat picture. Really.

Mom, This Should Make you Proud

My coworker, Mullsey, and I were just having a intra-office IM conversation and the last few lines were something to this effect:

Missy: That thing looks like poop.

Mullsey: Whatever, poop is brown, that's grey. What color do you poop?

Missy: Shades of grey, sometimes lemon-lime.

Mullsey: Yes, then, you are right. That thing looks like your poop.

Missy: I remember this one time when I was a kid that I drug my mother to the toilet to show off some bright green poop - wonder what I ate that made me do that?

Mullsery: My friend's cat once ate the green feathers off a toy a he pooped bright green for a while.

Missy: (thinking ... did I eat feathers off a cat toy once? )

Missy: Poop is cool.

Mullsey: Yeah.


This is probably the only thing we've done that has wasted more of our time than when we spent the morning touching each other's noses trying to discover the differences. And I'm here to tell you, there are a few - that Mullsey has a squishy nose.

I'm Just LOVING Fridays

Today I feel MUCHO better - so much so that I stopped and got bagels for the office (attendance is low here, I'm only semi-generous as it only takes about a dozen scrumptious little delicacies to fill the tummys of this workplace). Sadly, the trip did cost me the time that is normally devoted to acquiring the Friday Latte, but a little Good Samaritan every now and then never hurt nobody.

Ahem.

56 DAYS REMAINING

Isn't that AMAZING!? And that's calendar days! And considering that I have 3 vacation days yet to be taken between now and then ... that's not much time! I bes get haulin it on dis here project I dun been assignded. I'm starting to not even mind so much that I'm already being phased out of all the goings on and project assignments here.

Welcome Back to Me

Yeah, I took a turn for the worse yesterday but am back at work again today. Yippee. And yes, I've been sick for about 3 weeks now. Tuesday I made an ultimatum to my cough that it would be no more once I woke on Wednesday, but it was all, "oh yeah, ho? take this", and I was all, "whatever dude, I can take anything you dish", and it was all, "pah-leease! losersaywhat?". And then it turned a nasty fever meltdown thing on me. Anyway, I'm back at about 80% today though.

Probably no one has time to read this whole thing, but it's just hilarious.

10 Worst Album Covers of All Time

The Results Are In

He said I have a cough. Thanks, Mister Doctor Man.

This was a new doctor for me - can't say I was that impressed with his clientelle, of which I was the youngest by at least 83 years, or by his stale nursing-home-smelling workplace. We talked, he poked at my ribs a time or two [shudder, cringe, squelching of cries], and then magically produced a red plastic bottle out from the back of some shelving units, slapped a prescription label on it, warned that it might make me drowsy due to the coedene (sp?) it contained, turned and mumbled something about drive safely.

For a while, the coughing subsided a bit, and [yawn] now I am falling aslelskeep at my keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuybo orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ........

Can't Hardly Wait

The cough is just getting worse and yesterday it went from badgering and annoying to mind blowingly deep to the point that I'm pretty sure I've cracked, if not at least bruised, my rib. The one thats all the way at the bottom on my right side - I'm positive I wasn't completely aware that ribs went down that far until the hacking. I really can't quite sit comfortably now and don't come close to standing up straight (very Kirsten Dunst / Maggie Gyllenhal-esqe).

Yes, finally, I have made a doctor's appointment. It's in about 45 minutes and I want so badly to get some work done between now and then, but the thought of this cough going away sometime soon has so overwhelmed me with excitement that it's pretty much all I can think about [cough, hack, cough].

I wonder if this doctor is aware of my miracle voodoo-like expectations of him?