Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The day that I am supposed to acknowledge all that I am thankful for.
But today? Today is my day to acknowledge the crappy last few days that I have had.
Last week, I had car troubles. Took the car to get fixed, spent a little over $200 to "fix" it, then got stuck in Seattle and had the car towed 45 miles or so.
Monday was the worst though. It snowed heavily on Monday and I live on top of a series of hills. I got stuck. Royally stuck. About a foot from hitting the car parked by the sidewalk behind me. Finally got home 4 1/2 hours later.
Still working on the details of the posts for the above mentioned "mishaps". Suffice it to say, this week has sucked. Hopefully, I will have a fun happy post for you tomorrow!
Anyone else want to vent about their shitty lives at the moment? Now is the time to do so.
Showing posts with label Hella Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hella Random. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Joys of Aging
Has anyone noticed the lack of posts lately? Well, I have. It has everything to do with my lack of exercising and dieting.
A few weeks back, my right hip was hurting pretty badly. But it was one of those things that I figured would go away on its own. Well, it didn't. Three weeks of aches and limping caused me to finally call my doctor. That same week, I had stopped running and going to the gym. Wouldn't ya know it, my hip started to feel better. My doctor advised to continue to lay off the whole running bit for now, but it was ok to continue to go to the gym I would just have to avoid exercises working out my hip flexor area. Of course I took that as a sign to discontinue working out altogether.
At the time of my appointment, my doctor advised that I see a sports medicine specialist to figure out what is going on with my hip. Ha! The thought of me, me of little exercise and lots of eating, going to a sports medicine doctor was unfathomable, but whatever, I do what I am told. One of the prerequisites to seeing a sports medicine doctor is to have an x-ray done of the affected area. Well, that was back on August 27th.
They apparently found something out of the norm in my x-ray and they wanted to do an MRI. Don't fret folks, the person I spoke to was clear that it isn't something to be concerned about, but because the x-ray didn't come back 100% normal, they need to do the MRI as a precautionary thing.
I have never had an MRI done. I know what the machine looks like and was nervous to lay inside a coffin-like contraption. What made me even more jittery and anxious was the questionnaire they conducted over the phone: No, I don't have shrapnel in my body. No, I don't suffer from claustraphobia (although I have never really tried to lock myself inside of a closet before - you know, just to see how it feels). No, I don't have siezures. No. No. No, to all of their questions. I found out after the call that I should've said "yes" to claustraphobia because I would've gotten a lovely prescription for Vallum.
Anyway, everyone I spoke to said the exact same thing about an MRI:
1.) It is no big deal.
2.) They give you headphones with music playing.
3.) It takes about 20-25 minutes.
On Monday, the date of my MRI (which had been pushed back by a week, by the way), my nerves were calmed down a bit by all the reassurances I was getting. John drove me there and he likes to show up for functions at least an hour early (no joke). Around 1:20-ish, a very nice lady came to get me, but she appeared to be going in the wrong direction because she was headed outside and all that was back there was a trailer.
Oh, but the joke was on me. That's right, I was going into a trailer. This is where I should've realized itwas not going to be the easy breezy experience everyone lead me to believe. I get into the lift (because apparently they don't want me to hurt myself clambering up the two foot staircase) and they roll up the door to the trailer.
There it is: the MRI machine. Located in a handy dandy, sturdy trailer.
The hole I am supposed to lay in is even smaller than I had imagined. I lay down and am immediately uncomfortable. I should've asked for a pillow under my lower back. I don't have a voluptious booty or anything, but I do have quite the mass of body in my hips (attractive, I know) which caused my back to be arched the entire time. To make matters worse, I had to point my feet slightly inwards. Sound easy? You try it then! My feet naturally turn outwards when I lay on my back. I believe this is true for most people because the tech had her tape ready to tape my feet in place.
Let's recap: Im in a trailer. My back hurts. My feet are taped in an awkward position.
I am then told that the MRI will be about 45 minutes. What?! I try my best to not let my shock and fear show. Ok, breathe. I am good. Give me my headphones.
Tech: "Ok, I am going to give you these earplugs because the machine is so loud."
Ear plugs? Don't you mean headphones with nice relaxing music to put me at ease? Nope, full on squishy, neon yellow ear plugs. I figure it is too late to run now and I shove those suckers into my ear canal and pray that I make it through. The machine sucks me in and the first thing I see are faint long marks/scratches on the inner chamber of the MRI. Realistically, I am sure it was left by someone cleaning the machine or even possibly someone a little larger whose buttons have scraped the machine a bit. But reality wasn't setting in at that moment and to me, well, to my irrational mind saw those marks as someone desperately trying to claw their way out of the coffin! I nearly pressed my panic button at that point.
Then the clicking came on. Then, the noise. The Noise. For those of you that have never had an MRI done, let me explain The Noise to you: it is a mix between the whooshing of hearing a baby's heartbeat while in the mother's womb and the siren of a police car. It was a constant wave of wah! wah! wah! wah! and weoh! weoh! weoh! weoh!
Finally, nearly an hour later, it was over. But I couldn't get up! My back was so achy that the tech had to reach out a hand to assist me. And for those of you that think I was just being a big baby, the tech had apologized that I had to be in there that long!
Tech: "Most of them are a lot shorter than what you had to do, but some of them are even longer."
Me: "So for the most part I should be happy mine was as short as it was, right?"
Tech: "Um, no. You were in there for a pretty good amount of time."
A to the w-e-s-o-m-e.
A few weeks back, my right hip was hurting pretty badly. But it was one of those things that I figured would go away on its own. Well, it didn't. Three weeks of aches and limping caused me to finally call my doctor. That same week, I had stopped running and going to the gym. Wouldn't ya know it, my hip started to feel better. My doctor advised to continue to lay off the whole running bit for now, but it was ok to continue to go to the gym I would just have to avoid exercises working out my hip flexor area. Of course I took that as a sign to discontinue working out altogether.
At the time of my appointment, my doctor advised that I see a sports medicine specialist to figure out what is going on with my hip. Ha! The thought of me, me of little exercise and lots of eating, going to a sports medicine doctor was unfathomable, but whatever, I do what I am told. One of the prerequisites to seeing a sports medicine doctor is to have an x-ray done of the affected area. Well, that was back on August 27th.
They apparently found something out of the norm in my x-ray and they wanted to do an MRI. Don't fret folks, the person I spoke to was clear that it isn't something to be concerned about, but because the x-ray didn't come back 100% normal, they need to do the MRI as a precautionary thing.
I have never had an MRI done. I know what the machine looks like and was nervous to lay inside a coffin-like contraption. What made me even more jittery and anxious was the questionnaire they conducted over the phone: No, I don't have shrapnel in my body. No, I don't suffer from claustraphobia (although I have never really tried to lock myself inside of a closet before - you know, just to see how it feels). No, I don't have siezures. No. No. No, to all of their questions. I found out after the call that I should've said "yes" to claustraphobia because I would've gotten a lovely prescription for Vallum.
Anyway, everyone I spoke to said the exact same thing about an MRI:
1.) It is no big deal.
2.) They give you headphones with music playing.
3.) It takes about 20-25 minutes.
On Monday, the date of my MRI (which had been pushed back by a week, by the way), my nerves were calmed down a bit by all the reassurances I was getting. John drove me there and he likes to show up for functions at least an hour early (no joke). Around 1:20-ish, a very nice lady came to get me, but she appeared to be going in the wrong direction because she was headed outside and all that was back there was a trailer.
Oh, but the joke was on me. That's right, I was going into a trailer. This is where I should've realized itwas not going to be the easy breezy experience everyone lead me to believe. I get into the lift (because apparently they don't want me to hurt myself clambering up the two foot staircase) and they roll up the door to the trailer.
There it is: the MRI machine. Located in a handy dandy, sturdy trailer.
The hole I am supposed to lay in is even smaller than I had imagined. I lay down and am immediately uncomfortable. I should've asked for a pillow under my lower back. I don't have a voluptious booty or anything, but I do have quite the mass of body in my hips (attractive, I know) which caused my back to be arched the entire time. To make matters worse, I had to point my feet slightly inwards. Sound easy? You try it then! My feet naturally turn outwards when I lay on my back. I believe this is true for most people because the tech had her tape ready to tape my feet in place.
Let's recap: Im in a trailer. My back hurts. My feet are taped in an awkward position.
I am then told that the MRI will be about 45 minutes. What?! I try my best to not let my shock and fear show. Ok, breathe. I am good. Give me my headphones.
Tech: "Ok, I am going to give you these earplugs because the machine is so loud."
Ear plugs? Don't you mean headphones with nice relaxing music to put me at ease? Nope, full on squishy, neon yellow ear plugs. I figure it is too late to run now and I shove those suckers into my ear canal and pray that I make it through. The machine sucks me in and the first thing I see are faint long marks/scratches on the inner chamber of the MRI. Realistically, I am sure it was left by someone cleaning the machine or even possibly someone a little larger whose buttons have scraped the machine a bit. But reality wasn't setting in at that moment and to me, well, to my irrational mind saw those marks as someone desperately trying to claw their way out of the coffin! I nearly pressed my panic button at that point.
Then the clicking came on. Then, the noise. The Noise. For those of you that have never had an MRI done, let me explain The Noise to you: it is a mix between the whooshing of hearing a baby's heartbeat while in the mother's womb and the siren of a police car. It was a constant wave of wah! wah! wah! wah! and weoh! weoh! weoh! weoh!
Finally, nearly an hour later, it was over. But I couldn't get up! My back was so achy that the tech had to reach out a hand to assist me. And for those of you that think I was just being a big baby, the tech had apologized that I had to be in there that long!
Tech: "Most of them are a lot shorter than what you had to do, but some of them are even longer."
Me: "So for the most part I should be happy mine was as short as it was, right?"
Tech: "Um, no. You were in there for a pretty good amount of time."
A to the w-e-s-o-m-e.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Someone get me out of here!
Something devastating happened to me last Wednesday (ok, not quite as devastating as my story from yesterday).
I am a member of Bally's gym. I pay a grand total of $9.63 a month for my membership, which includes child care while I work out. But you get what you pay for: the gym is older and so is the equipment, the child care area is a room with a TV, a whole bunch of VHS tapes, and toys. Nothing spectacular. But I pay NINE DOLLARS AND SIXTY THREE CENTS A MONTH! You won't find a gym membership for that price anywhere.
So, I went to Bally's and noticed that the parking lot was pretty empty for a Wednesday evening. When I get up to the door, there is a large sign that informed members that the gym was closing. CLOSING?! Nooooooo!!! The closest Bally's to me is 20 minutes out of my way, I have no choice but to look for a new gym.
I settle on L.A. Fitness, which is $34.99 a month, plus $10 for child care. Ouch! I am then asked to make an appointment for a "fit test". I have had to do these before: they pinch your fat with a claw-like contraption to determine your body fat percentage, they take your measurements, they weigh you and they usually work you out and try to sell you on a trainer.
What I didn't know is that they will keep you there for 45 minutes trying to sell you a trainer even after you have made it perfectly clear that you are not interested because you are not ready to sign up with a trainer, you do boot camp, your membership just went up like a thousand percent and you can't afford to pay for the service. The salesman actually had the nerve to ask, "Cost aside, what would be the best option for you? For your health? For your body?"
My favorite conversation from this session was:
Obnoxious Salesman: I know that cost is a big issue, but let me put it to you this way: How many cars have you had?
Me: Two.
OS: Have you ever had a car payment?
Me: Yes.
OS: Did you enjoy having that car payment?
Me: No.
OS: So why did you buy the car then?
Me: I had to.
OS: So, you have had two cars, right?
Me: Yes.
OS: And how many bodies will you have?
Me: One.
OS: So wouldn't this be something you need to do for the one body you will have?
Me: No. Joining the gym was something I felt I needed to do. Getting a trainer is not.
Seriously, this guy was a certified salesman. Never giving in to the word "NO". It got to a point where his "assistant" (who had been the one to actually do the training session with me) was so uncomfortable that he started looking in different directions, trying to remove himself from the awkwardness as much as possible without actually being able to get up and walk away.
Finally, Obnoxious Salesman wrapped the conversation up with, "Ok, so what do you think?" He then leaned back in his chair like he just nailed it and was waiting for his reward.
Instead, I shook my head and finished the conversation with the same statement I started it with, “I am not ready to sign up for a trainer.”
So thank you, Obnoxious Salesman, for wasting your time, wasting my time, wasting my daughter's time who was sitting in your child care area for 45 minutes instead of spending quality time with me. Come to think of it, I should've had my daughter sitting with us at the table. Ten minutes with my rambunctious, hungry 4-year-old and Obnoxious Salesman would've been done. Damn, why didn't I think of that sooner?
The one fun thing about this whole thing was that the salesman thought I was like 22 or 24. For some reason I told him I was 29 even though I don't turn 29 for another few weeks. This is very strange for someone like me who dreads every birthday. Then the assistant thought the same thing and did not believe I was 29 (which, ok, isn't entirely true anyway) and thought I was 24 at most. Of course I realize this could have been a sales trick - you know, flatter the clients to win over their money - but whatever, it kind of worked, I was flattered. Especially after Monday's wonderful ending.
I am a member of Bally's gym. I pay a grand total of $9.63 a month for my membership, which includes child care while I work out. But you get what you pay for: the gym is older and so is the equipment, the child care area is a room with a TV, a whole bunch of VHS tapes, and toys. Nothing spectacular. But I pay NINE DOLLARS AND SIXTY THREE CENTS A MONTH! You won't find a gym membership for that price anywhere.
So, I went to Bally's and noticed that the parking lot was pretty empty for a Wednesday evening. When I get up to the door, there is a large sign that informed members that the gym was closing. CLOSING?! Nooooooo!!! The closest Bally's to me is 20 minutes out of my way, I have no choice but to look for a new gym.
I settle on L.A. Fitness, which is $34.99 a month, plus $10 for child care. Ouch! I am then asked to make an appointment for a "fit test". I have had to do these before: they pinch your fat with a claw-like contraption to determine your body fat percentage, they take your measurements, they weigh you and they usually work you out and try to sell you on a trainer.
What I didn't know is that they will keep you there for 45 minutes trying to sell you a trainer even after you have made it perfectly clear that you are not interested because you are not ready to sign up with a trainer, you do boot camp, your membership just went up like a thousand percent and you can't afford to pay for the service. The salesman actually had the nerve to ask, "Cost aside, what would be the best option for you? For your health? For your body?"
My favorite conversation from this session was:
Obnoxious Salesman: I know that cost is a big issue, but let me put it to you this way: How many cars have you had?
Me: Two.
OS: Have you ever had a car payment?
Me: Yes.
OS: Did you enjoy having that car payment?
Me: No.
OS: So why did you buy the car then?
Me: I had to.
OS: So, you have had two cars, right?
Me: Yes.
OS: And how many bodies will you have?
Me: One.
OS: So wouldn't this be something you need to do for the one body you will have?
Me: No. Joining the gym was something I felt I needed to do. Getting a trainer is not.
*Insert crickets chirping here*
Seriously, this guy was a certified salesman. Never giving in to the word "NO". It got to a point where his "assistant" (who had been the one to actually do the training session with me) was so uncomfortable that he started looking in different directions, trying to remove himself from the awkwardness as much as possible without actually being able to get up and walk away.
Finally, Obnoxious Salesman wrapped the conversation up with, "Ok, so what do you think?" He then leaned back in his chair like he just nailed it and was waiting for his reward.
Instead, I shook my head and finished the conversation with the same statement I started it with, “I am not ready to sign up for a trainer.”
So thank you, Obnoxious Salesman, for wasting your time, wasting my time, wasting my daughter's time who was sitting in your child care area for 45 minutes instead of spending quality time with me. Come to think of it, I should've had my daughter sitting with us at the table. Ten minutes with my rambunctious, hungry 4-year-old and Obnoxious Salesman would've been done. Damn, why didn't I think of that sooner?
The one fun thing about this whole thing was that the salesman thought I was like 22 or 24. For some reason I told him I was 29 even though I don't turn 29 for another few weeks. This is very strange for someone like me who dreads every birthday. Then the assistant thought the same thing and did not believe I was 29 (which, ok, isn't entirely true anyway) and thought I was 24 at most. Of course I realize this could have been a sales trick - you know, flatter the clients to win over their money - but whatever, it kind of worked, I was flattered. Especially after Monday's wonderful ending.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Weigh-In Wednesday #14
Been a bad week. Caught two seperate viruses in the last two weeks. Not much gym action here. Weight still being maintained though. I am currently at 208.6 lbs.
I went to the doctor's office yesterday to check out my sore throat. Have you ever been tested for strep? It is not pleasant. They take a mile long Q-Tip and swab the very back of your throat. I just about threw up. It kind of caught me off guard and I apologized for gagging. The nurse replied, "Don't worry, if you didn't gag, we didn't do it right."
After the doctor appointment, my daughter and I headed back to the car. While we were in the elevator with a stranger, Bella announced, "I tooted." A to the W-E-S-O-M-E.
PS
Finally listened to the entire Justin Bieber CD. Love most of the songs. Definitely a CD I would recommend purchasing. Or illegaly downloading, however you roll.
PPS
There is a lady sitting in my lobby clipping her nails right now. Not sure what she is doing with her nail clippings. Gross! Get a nail file, lady!
I went to the doctor's office yesterday to check out my sore throat. Have you ever been tested for strep? It is not pleasant. They take a mile long Q-Tip and swab the very back of your throat. I just about threw up. It kind of caught me off guard and I apologized for gagging. The nurse replied, "Don't worry, if you didn't gag, we didn't do it right."
After the doctor appointment, my daughter and I headed back to the car. While we were in the elevator with a stranger, Bella announced, "I tooted." A to the W-E-S-O-M-E.
PS
Finally listened to the entire Justin Bieber CD. Love most of the songs. Definitely a CD I would recommend purchasing. Or illegaly downloading, however you roll.
PPS
There is a lady sitting in my lobby clipping her nails right now. Not sure what she is doing with her nail clippings. Gross! Get a nail file, lady!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
That's What I Get...
I was so excited about my six pounds lost yesterday that I treated myself with a glazed donut with sprinkles of coconut on top. Mmm! Yes, I know that it is this kind of reward system that probably got me to my obscene BMI that it is today, but whatever, that's not what this post is about!
So, there I am enjoying my yummy coconut donut while I am working at my desk. About an hour after I was done, I had to deliver a file to my boss (who seems to be a nice man, but I wouldn't really know seeing as how he intimidates the hell out of me and I have just recently gotten over breaking out into a cold sweat when he would ask to talk to me about something). As I open my mouth to talk to him, I notice that there is this sticky feeling on the right corner of my mouth. I raise my hand to my mouth as I am talking to Mr. Boss Man and whaddya know - the entire lower part of my mouth is covered in glaze! In a split second I had to decide to either:
A.) Leave it there and allow it to crackle and flake off onto my shirt with every word I spoke
B.) Try to lick it off and risk getting a sexual harrassment complaint filed against me
C.) Try to inconspiciously wipe the glaze off with my hand
Nothing could get me out of this embarrassing situation, so I went with option C. It appeared to be the safest option. But just for good measure, I reflexively flung the excess dried glaze onto the floor of his office. Well, it was better than eating it, right?
So, there I am enjoying my yummy coconut donut while I am working at my desk. About an hour after I was done, I had to deliver a file to my boss (who seems to be a nice man, but I wouldn't really know seeing as how he intimidates the hell out of me and I have just recently gotten over breaking out into a cold sweat when he would ask to talk to me about something). As I open my mouth to talk to him, I notice that there is this sticky feeling on the right corner of my mouth. I raise my hand to my mouth as I am talking to Mr. Boss Man and whaddya know - the entire lower part of my mouth is covered in glaze! In a split second I had to decide to either:
A.) Leave it there and allow it to crackle and flake off onto my shirt with every word I spoke
B.) Try to lick it off and risk getting a sexual harrassment complaint filed against me
C.) Try to inconspiciously wipe the glaze off with my hand
Nothing could get me out of this embarrassing situation, so I went with option C. It appeared to be the safest option. But just for good measure, I reflexively flung the excess dried glaze onto the floor of his office. Well, it was better than eating it, right?
Friday, November 13, 2009
Hardy harr harr
I have this friend. I will keep her anonymous, but I can disclose that her name begins with a "G" and ends with and "ermaine". She is funny. Not funny in a stand-up kind of way, but funny in an awkward moments joking kind of way. Basically, she makes me laugh with her wit and off-handed comments.
So, while I was busy looking at other people's blogs, I came across this one: http://kwiatuszkowo.blogspot.com
You will have to actually go and look at that blog to haveGermaine's Anonymous Funny Friend's response make you smile too. No worries, I will wait...
Did you look at it?
No?
Just do it.
Ok.
So, I sendGermaine Anonymous Funny Friend the link with the subject line of "Cool".
Nothing else, no text in the body of the email except the link.
I come in to work this morning with a response from her.Germaine Anonymous Funny Friend wrote:
"Dude the pointy nails are creepy, I hope that's not the new trend. Good luck picking your nose with those things."
She is totally serious.
So, while I was busy looking at other people's blogs, I came across this one: http://kwiatuszkowo.blogspot.com
You will have to actually go and look at that blog to have
Did you look at it?
No?
Just do it.
Ok.
So, I send
Nothing else, no text in the body of the email except the link.
I come in to work this morning with a response from her.
"Dude the pointy nails are creepy, I hope that's not the new trend. Good luck picking your nose with those things."
She is totally serious.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Why Hello, Blog
Have you missed me, Blog? Yes, I am sorry I haven't written in a while. I now realize that maybe I shouldn't be perusing other blogs so much because I tend to forget about my own.
Bad, bad blogger!
Well, Blog, I have written a special post for you that I have called "Ode to My Laundry"
Oh Laundry, why art thou not done?
I spent all of Sunday, with you all around
No, no, this isn’t what I like to call fun
You are scattered all over, all over the ground
I try to finish you all, all in one day
Maybe tis best to work you through the week?
Oh, why can’t I just push you away?
Who will finish you, then? Whom will I seek?
Alas there is no other
None with some brawn
Not even the father
Because football is on
Bad, bad blogger!
Well, Blog, I have written a special post for you that I have called "Ode to My Laundry"
Oh Laundry, why art thou not done?
I spent all of Sunday, with you all around
No, no, this isn’t what I like to call fun
You are scattered all over, all over the ground
I try to finish you all, all in one day
Maybe tis best to work you through the week?
Oh, why can’t I just push you away?
Who will finish you, then? Whom will I seek?
Alas there is no other
None with some brawn
Not even the father
Because football is on
Wah wah wah. Whatever, you come up with something better in 10 minutes.
My job today is done.
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