Friday, January 29, 2010

Public Service Announcement

The first (and only) time that I've gotten a cavity I was about nine. And I was ashamed. I thought that I had done something terrible; that I had messed up. I hid in my room and was afraid for my daddy to come home.

(I had issues.)

(I still have issues.)

Of course, my dad didn't care. He told me it was okay and it happens and no worries, we'd get it fixed and be better about taking care of my teeth.

Even though it made my shame dissipate a little, I still hated the feeling like I had screwed up.

Well, I felt that same tooth related shame this week. I decided to make an appointment for the dentist because I hadn't been in a while.

Or, you know, four years.

FOUR GOD DAMN YEARS.

Yeah... my dentist was not pleased. And neither were my gums.

My poor, poor gums.

Which leads me to the main part of this blog post:

YOU NEED TO FLOSS.

Seriously. Floss like a mother fucker.

Thankfully, my problems can all be reversed with floss, regular visits to my dentist (like, you know, NOT every four years), and brushing my teeth for the recommended two minutes.

And now I'm telling you to floss, because otherwise your dental hygienist will scrape your gums with an instrument that looks like it belongs in the arsenal of someone responsible for getting top secret information out of a very stubborn war criminal.

(And today my mouth was the war criminal and my poor gums didn't have any information to tell.)

So there. I've passed along my advice. Because I care.

(I also visited the eye doctor and was told that your actually not supposed to wear your contact lenses for 4 months at a time, because they're kind of supposed to be replaced every two weeks. Apparently that's a bad thing...)

(I think I need some sort of professional care... I obviously can't take care of myself.)

PS: You know who doesn't need to go to the dentist? Bonnie. And you know how she showed me that her teeth are totally strong and healthy? By using those teeth to bite through her gentle leader on her walk today.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

New Directions

I recently decided to take a class at CU. I want to go to grad school, but I'm not positive what I want to study.

My background is in Women and Gender Studies, but I'm not interested in going back for another degree in that or Sociology. I decided to look for something that made me excited, and to take an intro undergrad class in that subject.

I decided on Speech, Language and Hearing Sciences, so I'm taking an Intro to Human Communication Sciences this semester. So far, I love it. I belong in school, and I'm happy to be learning something totally new and different.

Going back to school now is very different than being an undergrad. I'm there because I want to learn something. I want to possibly start a new career. I want to soak it up. I'm not there for the grade, for the credit, or to fill a spot. I'm there for me.

Which is awesome.

(PS: Even though I'm really enjoying this and all, I still wait until the last possible second to do my homework. Because I love to procrastinate... I'm really good at it, and you gotta play to your strengths.)

(PPS: One thing I've learned being back on campus: wearing leggings as pants is totally acceptable. Especially when it's 39 degrees.)

(PPPS: I guess that's probably okay since it's also super awesome to wear Uggs with said pant-leggings, therefore keeping you nice and warm?)

(PPPPS: I am learning *so* much.)

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Stop Being a Stalker Day

Are you someone who reads blogs but never comments? Someone who follows people on twitter but never says anything? Yeah, you're a lurker.

(It's okay... I don't judge.)

(Except that I totally do.)

Well, today is Delurker Day, which means it's time to come out from the shadows and say hi.

Let me know you're there. Let me know what you think. Tell me your favorite color. What's your dog's name? Anything will do. I'd love to know who's out there, reading and judging me.

I want to hear from you, so stop stalking, and start talking.

(I totally just made that up. I should copyright it.)

(Because it's awesome.)

(I feel the need to point out that stalking is really serious and really bad, so don't do it.)

(Though I must also say that I'm going to Blissdom '10 in a couple of weeks where Harry Connick, Jr. will be and I will be following him around and I might take a lock of his hair.)

(Fair warning.)

(Don't worry, I totally won't take some of his hair. That's creepy. I'm just going to take his empty wine glass to harvest his DNA.)

(That's science.)

(Yes, I realize that I could harvest DNA from his hair, too. I'm just trying to plan strategy and I'm pretty sure that it would be a lot easier to pretend to be a waitress clearing the dirty dishes from his table than to steal a lock of his hair without him getting suspicious and then calling the cops.)

(These are the things I think about.)

(Leave a comment.)

(Please.)

PS: The color scheme and theme of this blog are slowly changing. The purple and paper are just the first steps. We're working on making it totally kick-ass. You just wait.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Welcome to the Future

I know that ordering pizza on the internet is exactly brand new, but last night was the first time that I did it, so it's new to me.

(And it's all about me.)

Last night Mike and I wanted some Domino's Pizza (because we're classy). I decided to avoid human contact completely and use their online ordering system.

Holy shit, people, it's amazing. Really. Who needs flying cars and robots? This is the future.

My favorite parts?

Making your pizza is basically like being a PIZZA GOD.


But they totally ruin you're pizza making high.


But the best part? They have a progress tracker (see? FUTURE) that shows you when the order was taken, when your pizza is being prepared, baked, and checked over (to make sure no hair is on it?) (I actually appreciate that step), and when it leaves the store. It even tells you who's doing all of this.


Apparently "Hannah" took care of our order. As we were watching the little tracker thing, we started to get crazy hungry. ("Crazy hungry" occurs when you start screaming at your computer.) Soon we were yelling "BAKE IT FASTER HANNAH. TURN UP THE DAMN OVEN," and "HUSTLE UP HANNAH. WE NEED PEPPERONI STAT, WOMAN".

(Of course, this caused some problems for us. We had a very distraught golden retriever pacing back and forth wondering why the hell we were yelling her name so much.)

When the blinking light moved to "out for delivery", it told us that "John" was on his way. We proceeded to sit at the window calling "JOOOOOHHHHNNNNN" and wondering which car was his.

(Remember? Crazy hungry.)

It was awesome. I felt like I was in Star Trek or something.

(Actually, if it were Star Trek, my pizza would have appeared out of my computer.)

(Dude, they totally have a Wikipedia article about that machine that creates food in Star Trek.)

(Geeks are so organized.)

PS: The new Domino's pizza is actually really good.

PPS: FULL DISCLOSURE: Domino's didn't ask me to write anything and I didn't get anything to do so. I'm just a happy member of THE FUTURE.

PPPS: I don't think I actually have to disclose that, but it makes me feel fancy to do it.

PPPPS: OTHER DISCLOSURE: I'll gladly accept free pizza, though... just so you all know.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Palindrome Princess

Happy Palindrome Day!

Today is 01/02/2010, or 01022010, front and back.

Which means? Hannah is the princess of today because her name is also the same front and back.

In honor of today and the princess, please honor Her Awesomeness by sending some of Hannah's most favorite things to her.

Like tennis balls.

And napkins.

And socks.

And toys that squeak.

And bananas.

Please:

Do NOT iron anything, as it scares her.

Do NOT touch her paws, because it makes her upset.

And finally, please do NOT chew on her back leg while she's trying to get through the dog door.

(I'M TALKING TO YOU BONNIE.)

(Obviously.)

PS: Even though Hannah also loves dead rodents, please don't send any of those. I'll just assume that you would if you could, and it's really the thought that counts.