Crying Babies make me Panic...

I just got out of my yearly exam (aka yearly molestation).

I was scared that I would have to pee in a cup, so I chugged a whole lot of water right before I went in.

I didn't have to pee into a cup, but I went anyway (not in a cup, though), just to show that I was prepared.

I was sitting there, in a waiting room that smelled like poopy diapers with pregnant women everywhere, chugging my water, waiting to get this crap over with.

The OB/GYN offices are right next to the pediatrics offices, so there were a lot of screaming babies and angry children.

I was sitting there, trying to read, and this baby was crying bloody murder, and I was gritting my teeth trying not to throw my book against the wall, when I started to wonder what these ladies who were preggers were thinking about in the waiting room.

Were they so wrapped up in thinking about their little bun in the oven that they weren't thinking about the screaming child?

Or were they FREAKING OUT because they are about to have their own banshee pop out?

When a woman gets preggers, does she forget about all of those terrible things and just focus on the end goal?

Or does the sound of an angry child with an ear infection who has just finished receiving their first round of shots make her break out in cold sweats and have heart palpitations?

The woman sitting closest to me kept her face completely impassive and looked very calm as she got up and waddled away when the nurse called her.

Or was she just keeping the rising panic to herself?

I have a feeling I am not the one she would have confided in... so I'll never really know.

The other thing that I noted about the waiting room: free samples for pregnant ladies. There were vitamins, and books, and even a first trimester journal (I almost took one because I like pads of paper...) all just sitting in baskets for them to take.

Were there any free samples those of us who are without child?

Not in the waiting room... but there were open boxes of tampons in the bathroom...

Good thing I went pee, or else I would have totally missed out on the free swag.

(Note that I am referring to "free stuff"... I just looked swag up on Urban Dictionary to try to link to, and apparently swag also means "low grade marijuana". No, I did not find "low grade marijuana" in the bathroom of the OB/GYN offices... they only carry high quality shit.)

To Atone or Not to Atone: Now THERE'S a Mother Effin' Question

Thursday is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.

Jews really enjoy celebrating guilt.

That's all I really know about Yom Kippur (I know, I'm a bad Jew)... so see here for more info...

On this most guilty of all holidays (except for Valentine's Day... I often feel guilty on Valentine's Day), Jews are supposed to fast.

Mom: I'm staying home on Thursday because I'm fasting.
Me: Why do we fast?
Mom: To atone for our sins. I have quite a few, but you probably have a grand total of two... so you probably don't need to fast.
Me: Well, I don't know about that... I did accuse a co-worker of poisoning JJ... that's pretty sinful.

OK, maybe I should explain that.

As of yesterday, I launched an investigation against a co-worker who I think is poisoning JJ.

JJ thinks that she is having stomach problems because she is allergic to dairy.

I don't think that it's that simple.

Nope, I think that either she has some rare rain-forest disease that only affects poultry, or she is in the center of a work-related conspiracy.

How did I come to this theory?

Its customer service appreciation week (how about Bonnie and Hannah's mommy appreciation week, huh? That's my next project). Some of the managers were going around the office and passing out treats as part of their appreciation. One of those treats was hot apple cider topped with caramel sauce and whipped cream.

About 10 minutes after we drank it, JJ started to feel sick.

JJ: I think that it's the whipped cream...
Me: Or... Betty (not her real name... I cannot reveal her name until my investigation is complete and cleared through the FBI... but she does look like a Betty...) is poisoning you.
JJ: You think?
Me: Listen to the professional, JJ. Look at the evidence. Who gave you the thing that made you sick? Betty. Let's examine all of the evidence before having you give up ice cream.

And so my investigation began. I told her that she should NOT accept ANYTHING from Betty without someone else testing it first. (I would do that myself, but what would happen if I, too, was poisoned... who would carry out justice?)

And so, if I am wrong about Betty, then I guess accusing someone of poisoning a co-worker under the guise of customer service appreciation week, might be considered a sin.

And so we are back to the question: should I fast?

I've never done it before. I don't really believe that fasting atones for anything... I don't really believe in sins in the first place. I believe in right and wrong. It's wrong to poison someone... but would not eating your morning Eggo make up for that? Probably not.

Mike thinks that I would just fast to loose weight, but I am fully aware that one day of not eating will do absolutely nothing for my bodacious (flabby) body.

No, that's not why I'm considering it.

I could take that day to at least think about things that have happened in the past year that I have done that I would like to stop doing...

But I wouldn't necessarily have to fast to think, though. Actually, fasting would probably hinder my thinking abilities.

Part of me wants to do it because I've never done it before, but I'm not sure if I could do it. I have little to no control when it comes to food... and I am very sensitive to hunger. I get panicky and queasy and shaky...

But I also wonder if I could overcome all of that. If I could have enough self-control to do it.

But there is a VERY good chance that I would commit some sort of crime while hungry... and therefore I would be sinful... and then my atoning would be all screwed up...

Quite a predicament...

And now I'm hungry.

How the Hell did I end up Looking for Kylie Minogue Videos on YouTube Tonight???

I don't drink... so I guess that I just don't get the appeal of getting really trashed and then stumbling up and down my street screaming profanities by oneself...

Again, since I don't really drink, I just must not be cool enough to understand the freaking awesomness of what multiple people have done all the live long night.

And what is it about football that brings the most self-respecting people to drink themselves into oblivion?

Now, I could understand if you had to drink to keep yourself from dying of boredom during the game... or to get over the fact that you were virtually molested in the nacho line by drunk freshmen... but I get the impression that this is not the reason behind said drunkeness/stupidness.

I sound bitter.

Well, why would I sound bitter? It's only 1:30 in the AM on a Saturday night... and I am here, writing my second post of the day (third if you include Leo's Vote Video) while watching season 10 of FRIENDS on DVD...

And why would I sound bitter after my most exciting event of the night was giving Boris a bath after Hannah possibly peed on him (I'm not sure if she actually did pee on him, but is it really something that you want to take a chance on?)... and then chasing Hannah away from the drying rack as he drip-dried for the rest of the night...?

At least I was able to relax (except when the frat kids were yelling and pushing each other in front of oncoming traffic in front of my house), unlike Mike, who had to serve a whole bunch of hungry Texas fans.

But at least he made mad money.

Nope, not bitter at all.

So maybe I should have a drink...

But what if someone calls me and asks me to please come pick them up from some bar...

So I should probably not drink that whole bucket of frozen margs in my freezer.

I always thought that I didn't drink because I was raised to not... but my brother would be out at some house party kicking ass at beer-pong if he were here right now... so that's not it.

Nope, I'm just completely weird.

And kinda pathetic.

But so not bitter.

I just ate a crappy quesadilla because apparently I am STARVING at 1:30 AM.

STARVING!!!

Grr... my tummy is going to eat itself soon... and then move onto other vital organs and ligaments.

So I just opened a hundred calorie pack.

Hmm... I am choc full of life and vitality now.

And now, for NO apparent reason, I have a Kylie Minogue song stuck in my head.

Why god? Why?!?!?

Aren't I suffering enough?!?

And I am too hungry/bitter/tired to appreciate the irony that the song that I can't get out of my head is called Can't Get you Outta My Head.

Dammit.

Well, if I have to suffer, so do you:

I Really Hope at Least 5 People Read This Blog...

I wish I had a Birthday Every Month... Without Getting Any Older, Of Course...

Yesterday was one of those uber exciting and exhausting days.

It was my fake-birthday!

Happy fake-birthday to me!

My birthday present from Mikey was a day in Denver. So, we got tickets to the Last Comic Standing tour for last night, and dedicated the whole day to couple activities.

So we slept in, then went to Lucille's. It was Friday morning and there were a million people there. It was a 40 minute wait. "Why are all of these people here on a work day?" I asked myself... is it everyone's fake birthday today? Don't you people have jobs? (Side note: Yes, I have a job, but I was responsible and took PTO... it's my fake-birthday people.)

And then we heard them talk. Turns out most of them are Texans (dundunduh!) in for the game with CU. Who travels for a college football game? Do you seriously have enough time and money to infest our cute little city with your families?

It makes no sense to me...

Maybe I'm a little bitter, because they all got in the way of me and my food.

And that is so not OK.

So we finally battled it out with the Texans (dundunduh!) and were seated. And ate WAY TOO MUCH. I have this problem where I can't not eat too much. I think that it is a psychological/physical condition that should be listed in medical books. They could call it the Ally B Over-eatin syndrome...

They should do an episode of Grey's Anatomy about me...

So I ate beignets and giant biscuits and potatoes and eggs and grits and jam and spiced tea...

And my tummy hurt really badly.

But it was SO good.

The waitress kept asking if we wanted half-orders of our stuff.

Silly waitress... I am practically a professional at eating a lot.

Half-orders are for small-stomached sissy boys....

Then we walked along Pearl Street to try to work off some of the 5500 calories that I had just consumed.

I was able to get my ring cleaned, since I'm pretty sure small creatures were living in the setting and grits were stuck to the gems...

Then we went home where Mike studied google maps for about 30 minutes so that we could avoid any fist fights while trying to get to Denver.

It was really fun: we drove in circles looking for free parking... we went to the Denver Art Museum... Mike acted like a child and stuck his face about two inches away from the paintings, causing security guards to follow us around exhibits (for his explanation about why he does this, see this)... my blood sugar dropped so I started to panic and we had to run to Mad Greens to get some food in me before I passed out... then we walked all the way to Tattered Covers bookstore (about a mile).

I know it sounds like I'm complaining about it... but it really was A LOT of fun!


Now, we love bookstores, and from what I've heard, Tattered Covers is the best one around. But both Mike and I were left wanting more. It was cool and all, but they had NONE of the books that I wanted... or the books that Mike wanted... so their selection was crappy, to say the least.

Then we both had really bad tummy aches... I wonder why?

So we went and had tea and muffins for dinner before the show.

Then the security guards at the theater made us chug said tea out on the street because it was not allowed inside. They also told me I couldn't bring our muffin in, so I had to stuff it in a zippered pocket and cover it with tampons so that the male security guard would get uncomfortable and not ask any questions...

We got the muffin in.

The show was fun. We laughed a lot. I was sitting next to a woman who was there with her
twenty something daughter and her daughter's boyfriend. The woman kept turning to her daughter every thirty seconds and yelling, "What did he say?" or "I don't get it"...

It wasn't annoying at all... nor was the fact that she was a heavy mouth breather...

Then we came home and I collapsed in bed...

All in a fake-birthday's day...

Thanks, Kev... it was wonderful (picture a smiley face icon... I would do one, but it looks stupid...).

Lessons Learned

I just had to give Hannah a harsh lesson in reality.

I had to tell her: "If you love him, don't disembowel him."

I hope to pass this lesson onto my human daughter someday.

Thankfully, I was able to salvage Boris, her teddy bear, aka: love of her life and creature being disemboweled.

He's now emptied of most of his stuffing, but still full of Boris-loving-excitement.

We can only hope that this destruction does not become a habit.

For the sake of teddy bears everywhere...

Please Form a Queue and Let me Fix You...

(Hehe... my title rhymes...)

I have a problem...

OK... lots of problems, but there's a specific one that's bugging me.

I have this impulse to give my opinion on things.

More than that, I have a huge desire to help people.

When someone is hurt, I yearn to fix it. I have imaginary conversations in my head where they ask for my advice and I (finally) get to dispense all of this pent of wisdomness onto them.

And then that person thanks me profusely and wishes that they had just sucked it up sooner and asked for my opinion in the first place.

(Or I imagine opening a can of whoop ass on someone and shaking them because they are being stupid... but we all have that fantasy... right?)

But this rarely/never happens (either scenario).

It doesn't help that I have these urges to help people who I have very little business in helping.

They don't want my help.

And they might press charges/disown me if I kicked their ass...

I've been the person who stuck her nose in other people's business... and I've been emotionally pounded for it.

So I'm trying to stay out of other people's lives, unless invited.

Except when it comes to Kevin... it's my job to stick my nose in his life... sorry dude.

And Bonnie and Hannah. I had to give some serious trauma counseling to Bonnie after the deer incident.

And the fam... most of the time.

But with other people, I have to be very careful. I don't want to overstep my boundaries.


So now I just sit here... worrying...

And I wish I didn't. But I've been worried my entire life...

When I was little, I worried about my baby brother. (I still worry about him, but I keep it to myself... for the most part. At some point you just have to let the little bugger climb glaciers and jump out of airplanes...)

As I grew up, I worried about my friends.

When my parents split, I wasn't worried about me... I was worried about them.

When I was younger, my dad would tell me not to worry so much, or else I would get an ulcer.

Then I worried that I had an ulcer...

And those are just the other people that I worry for...

The smell of the inside of airplanes still gives me panic attacks.

Waiting in line gives me panic attacks.

Shopping (believe it or not) gives me panic attacks.

Low blood sugar gives me panic attacks.

And feeling out of control, or that I did something stupid, makes me panic, too.

Granted, it's a whole lot better than it used to be. I don't let it take over my life... and that is a very good thing.

But it's this sick feeling in my tummy that is the problem... the sick feeling when someone else is not doing well.

That's why I don't know if I can be a social worker. I know that it would be interesting, but I have a very hard time drawing the line between other people's feelings/problems and my own.

I don't know how it would all transfer into my own happiness.

Maybe I should just go back to being an ice cream scooper.

Although there is some worry in the ice creaming business... I would imagine that it's fairly less than in social work.

So, do I care too much?

Maybe.

Thinking about it, it may not be a "problem" (at least not in the same way that global warming or poverty are "problems"), but it sure does blow.

Not that I'm looking for sympathy...

Really...

I'm just sharing.

So don't worry about me.