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Dear Joss Whedon,
I love you. No, seriously, I do. You are brilliant and I admire your mind so very much. Do not fear, I will not suddenly start stalking you because a) I do not know where you live, b) my criminal tendencies have been quelled by Beth constantly telling me to “be good” every time she says goodbye to me and c) I do not drive and none of my friends have responded well to my pleas of “Hey, let’s go stalk Joss Whedon. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Okay, no, I’ve never actually said that.
Why do I love thee?
- First there was Buffy. And with Buffy came the glorious Angel, a vampire with a soul. Brooding, somewhat vain (the guy is obsessed with his hair after all) and oh-so-cute, you proved to the world that real vampires do NOT sparkle but can have a sense of humor.
- Then there was Spike. Taking the sense of humor even further and making it rather twisted, Spike burst into my heart like a runaway train. And having Billy Idol get his sense of style from Spike? Brilliant.
- And Xander. Ah, my heart pines for the poor one-eyed Xander. Demon magnet extraordinare. No special powers but can deliver jelly donuts like nobody’s business.
- And Oz. Master of the one liner and a werewolf? How can we resist him?
- Giles with the divine English accent and an incredible singing voice? Oh, also, thank you for “Once More with Feeling.” Best musical ever and also I listen to it daily on my iPod.
- If it wasn’t enough that you held me captive on Tuesday nights, then Angel moved to LA and we were introduced to Doyle and Lindsay. I am still not pleased about Doyle dying but get it. He was a hero. Lindsay, well, there’s a reason why I love the bad boys. And my God, can the man sing.
- Wesley as a rogue demon hunter (“What’s a rogue demon?”).
- Then you brought me Firefly with beautiful Mal and rough Jane and sweet Wash (although I have not quite forgiven you for killing him) and the really cute doctor even though I have forgotten his name.
- And although I have not yet watched Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, I plan on buying it some day soon. Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion? Be still my heart.
- Speaking of my heart, thank you so much for the Dollhouse. Especially Friday’s episode. Boyd is awesome. Watching Echo and Agent Ballard fight was fantastic. Plus, I cried. So, again, thank you.
PS Did I mention that I love you?
Sunday night, Beth pulls into my parking lot and, as we are wont to do, we spend some time talking about the past weekend and upcoming plans for scrapbooking weekends. The song “Brandy” by Looking Glass comes on. Beth automatically turns the song up and we sing along quite happily. The windows are rolled down because it is 50 (FIFTY!) degrees at 11:30 PM. It’s a heat wave!
As the song is coming to a finish, we realize there is a man walking past the car. He has his recycling in hand. While he doesn’t acknowledge us, we laugh as we realize he was just treated to the impromptu concert.
DM: I have this on my iPod and was listening to it one day at work. I asked if anyone ever wondered what happened to her.
Beth: She serves them whiskey and wine.
The conversation went like this:
DM: Do you guys ever wonder what happened to Brandy?
Co-Worker Christy: Brandy who?
DM: You know. Brandy, you’re a fine girl…
CWC: I still didn’t know who that is.
DM: ARGH! You are so young (she’s 23).
Co-Worker Rykken: I know who she is, Dana.
DM: Good. Do you ever wonder what happened to her?
This makes us crack up because, while Beth has never met Co-Worker Rykken, she is more than aware of his dry sense of humor.
But don’t you ever do that? Wonder about what happened after the song or the story or even the movie ends? I do.
I like to think that the sailor shows up one day, walks up to Brandy and says “Hey, babe, how about you and I settling down?” And Brandy smiles prettily and says “Dude, I got over you, married someone else, own my own bar and am completely and utterly happy without you.” And the sailor is very upset by this and throws himself into the cruel, cruel Sea.
Or, if I’m in a romantic and sappy mood, I like to think that the sailor realizes that the cruel, cruel Sea is not exactly true love material and he takes Brandy on the ship with him and they are still sailing around to this very day (except, you know, really old. Perhaps they are ghosts. That’s romantic!).
I’m back at work after my glorious vacation and the procedure that took place on the 12th. Sorry for not updating you sooner.
Vacation was fun. Procedure (endometrial ablation) went smoothly. Except for one or two minor details.
Here is something that I would recommend you not do if you ever think that you might need surgery at some point in your life.
Get your “nether regions” pierced.
Why? Because apparently you cannot wear jewelry while in the operating room because it could cause a spark and there could be a fire. While my earrings were easy enough to remove, the lower piercing took some work. I was not able to remove it myself so you can imagine my sister’s reaction when she was shown into my room by the nurse.
Nurse: She’s having some difficulty removing a piercing and needs some help.
Kari: Where exactly is this piercing?
DM: Um, hi.
Kari: Oh, God, no.
Unfortunately this resulted in much pain from Kari trying to unscrew it and so I had to ask Doctor Jory (not Joy, remember) to do so. He decided to wait until I was sedated. Probably a wise decision.
Since I have sleep apnea, the person in charge of anesthesia (I know what they’re called but I can’t remember how to spell it so deal with this) thought it would be best to do a combination of sedating me and giving me something for pain instead of a “general.” He offered to do a nerve blocker but I didn’t think that was such a great idea. It just sounds scary.
Sedation worked well. Apparently I started singing when they put me under. This does not surprise me at all. I remember them bringing me into the surgery room and saying “Okay, Dana, it’s going to be kind of chilly and bright in here” and my response was “Oh, thank God, I’m finally comfortable.” I had been hot before. They’ve never actually had that reaction. Most people complain about the cold.
Also I apparently started coughing during the procedure and instruments shot out. This also doesn’t surprise me. I mean, it’s me, right? Obviously there has to be some sort of adventure involved.
The piercing was removed safely. I may scrapbook it. Because that’s the kind of person I am.
I was not kept overnight, they let me go at about 5:30 because, even though my oxygen levels started dropping every time I started falling asleep (I was so damn bored!), every thing else was fine. And hello, I have sleep apnea, of course my oxygen levels fall when I am sleepy. Kari, Josh and I had a lovely dinner at Key’s Café.
The only problem at all is that Wednesday night I started breaking out in hives on my neck. I took Tylenol PM which has Benadryl in it so the itching stopped shortly after that. I just have some lovely scratch marks on my neck. They are very pretty.
Patti, no, I did not go any where warm on vacation. Beth and I were going to go to Canada to take pictures of a frozen waterfall but, because it was snowing so badly on Monday, we instead decided to go to Duluth and take pictures of a frozen lake. Why? Because we are crazy. I’ll be loading pictures soon. There was at one point where I thought “If I can get the picture I want, it doesn’t matter if I lose my finger.” You’ll be happy to know that, while I didn’t get the shot, I didn’t lose my finger either.” My mom was worried that Beth and I were taking pictures underneath a bridge because apparently that’s where the homeless people hang out in Arizona. She needed to be reminded that you don’t find many homeless people under the bridges in March, at least not in Duluth.
It was a great birthday. I do not feel 41. I barely feel a day over 39. Pictures soon!
Oh, since NPW asked, the “nether regions” piercing is not new. I’ve had it for many, many years. I don’t know how many years this has been, however. Possibly 8 or 9? Kari asked me why I ever would possibly think that this piercing was a good idea and when I replied that it was supposed to increase sexual pleasure, wanted to know if this was true. And then I had to say “How would I know? It’s not like I’ve had sex since I’ve had it.”
Oh again. When I had to have a pre-op physical on Monday (thanks to Beth for rushing me to the doctor so I could get this done because I swear this was the first time I had heard of it), I was told I needed to give a urine sample so they could perform a pregnancy test. I know. Apparently this has to be done for legal purposes to make sure they don’t accidentally do an abortion but um, if someone tells you they haven’t had sex this Millennium, wouldn’t you take their word for it? Sheesh.
I have a big, gigantic, huge post that I’m working on about my weekend (which was awesome) but right now I just wanted to let you know something that happened yesterday.
I got hit on. By a guy. By a cute guy who had a sense of humor, all of his teeth and did not appear to be insane, a crack addict or an axe murderer. AND he knew how to give change back properly (putting the change into your hand and then the bills on top of it instead of letting the change slide all of the bills and annoying me immensely). AND he knew how to do math which is very important because I hate math and like it when other people do it for me.
I do not see us having a great and exciting relationship, however. Unfortunately afforementioned hitting on occured on the way home from Waupon. Since the weather was being stupid and there was an even more stupid than the weather person in front of Beth, we pulled off at the Black River Oasis (home of the Orange Moose Bar & Grill!) gas station. This is about 100-150 miles away from my home. I don’t drive. I also don’t know his name or he mine. So, you know, not much chance there for Twue Wuv.
But I have been sitting here, with our systems down, 12 people holding (it was at 40 one time), dealing with the rain, scratching the 5 million bug bites from yesterday and I have been smiling. Because I got hit on. Amazing what a boost that is to your ego.
What I wouldn’t give for a huge, hulking, gigantic man who could squash Craig like the little bug that he is. I could see it now.
Craig: Hi, kids. Can I sit with you?*
HHGM: No. My woman don’t like being called kid. You go now. Or HHGM stomp face.
DM: Oh, HHGM, you’re so wonderful.
I’m not really sure why I can’t fantasize about a HHGM who is also intelligent but hey, at least he’s not Craig.
*Actually karaoke is no more on Sundays so you’d think we’d not run into Craig but he seems to be stalking Beth. He has shown up at Fridleykins 3 times. My theory is that he has a GPS tracker on her car.
So my weekend was excellent, actually. Saturday I went shopping with Keem. We went to Catherine’s and I bought clothes (yay!). Bath and Body Works where I spent way too much money on hand soap (okay, I bought other things like lip gloss but that is not the point). Joann’s where I bought a laminating machine because I have now decided to make bookmarks. Said bookmarks are collage like and are fashioned from magazines. My favorite one so far is the one I made of this girl from a Physician’s Formula add where she is hiding her face behind a book because she apparently has broken out. The bookmark now says “Investigate the world. Provide the imagination. Renew your sense of discovery. You. A true story.” Would you like a bookmark? I will make you one. Just email me at greenduckiesgirl AT comcast DOT net with your address and the three words you would use to describe yourself and I will come up with a nifty new bookmark just for you! Disclaimer – those three words will probably not end up on your bookmark but it will give me an idea of what would be perfect for you.
I showed Co-worker Eric the bookmarks I had made so far and he said I have weird hobbies and wanted to know just how many books I read at a time.
Co-worker Eric has been amused by me this morning. So far I have sliced my thumb on my scissors while cleaning it (do not clean your scissors by running your thumb down it. It doesn’t work. Oh. And Purel hurts when it gets into your cut (because you’re using the Purel to clean the scissors because it is pure alcohol and will remove the stickiness from the laminator). Just so you know) and sung different songs because they are stuck in my head.
Here’s a sampling…
Islands in the stream. That is what we are. Nowhere inbetween. Blah blah blah. Sail away with me.
Co-worker Eric: Hahahaha. This is gold.
I have also managed to get Sweet City Woman stuck in Keem’s head by email (we heard it on Thursday on the way home). She is somewhat annoyed with me. On Saturday, as I was waiting for her to finish purchasing the clothing, I was sitting in a chair and doing a little dance to the song. I was not singing it out loud but apparently she knew what it was because of the dance. Co-worker Eric said it sounds like a dangerous game and he could see us in a gladiator arena with microphones and ukeleles.
Another Co-worker Eric quote.
Co-worker Eric: I blame you for the queue blowing up.
DM: I didn’t do it! You did it!
CWE: No. No, I did not. I said “Can you believe it.” So I could have been talking about the queue. But the queue didn’t know that.
DM: I am so quoting you.
You can never ever say “Hey, there aren’t any calls holding” around here. Because if you do, the queue Gods will become angry and smite us with calls. He said “Can you believe it” when there were no calls holding and I said “Don’t say it!” because I was in fear of the queue Gods. But then I said “Yeah, this is pretty amazing for a Monday.” So it probably is my fault that we’re now at 22 calls holding. Not that I care because I am on the help desk until 3 PM today. Hee hee.
Oh. I was talking about my weekend, wasn’t I? Beth and I played pool last night. It was fun. I won 3 games by default (she scratched on the 8/9 ball depending on the game that we were playing) and won an actual game by sinking the 9 ball. There may have been a happy dance. And then we went to Fridleykins and drove through the parking lot and convinced ourselves to leave because we didn’t want to take the chance of seeing Craig and then we said why are we leaving, this is Beth’s Perkins and dammit, it’s the best Perkins ever, how dare he drive us away? And then we were happy because he wasn’t there.
Guess what. He showed up about a half hour later. He either has a GPS tracking system on her car or there’s a curse on his name and when you say it, he shows up. Why no, I’ve never ever read a Harry Potter book. What do you mean?
Anyway, as you may or may not know, sometimes when I get annoyed, I like to pick up forks and make vague stabbing motions. I did this last night but a quote from a movie ran through my mind.
DM: Why a spoon, cousin?
Beth (laughs because she knows exactly what I am thinking): Because it’ll hurt more. I can’t believe I got that. I’m not even sure what movie that’s from.
DM: Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. Unlike Robin Hood, Men in Tights “Where, unlike other Robin Hoods, I speak with an English accent.” I watch too many movies.
Some odd song has come on the radio. Apparently the music for the evening is Top 40. Now, back in my day, Top 40 was actually fairly decent. But these songs now play on the Oldies Station (which is so depressing) and instead we were stuck with songs that were written by whiny, annoying people who have lost their love (probably because they were whiny and annoying) or people on crack.
Some song comes on that is about feet or losing the love of your life or, quite possibly, a gay man’s house (I’m pretty sure that’s not the lyric but I have blocked the rest of the song from my mind so I can’t look it up).
DM: Who writes this crap? I could do this.
Beth: You should.
DM: Of course, the only song that I’ve ever written was about “grind you out like a cigarette” and “unlike my cigarettes, you gave me cancer of the soul.”
DM: I should give my poems to John and have them set them to music.
DM: Or Bryan. Bryan would work.
DM: Your John.*
Beth: Oh! I was trying to figure out what John you know that is musical.
*Her totally awesome employee who calls her and leaves voicemails for her that consist of him playing Stairway to Heaven or Paint it Black and other songs. The man is amazing. I’ve never actually met him but he’s amazing.
Craig is leaving.
Craig: Beth, I just wanted to let you know that when you said “Who writes this crap?”, that was great.
Beth: I didn’t say it.
DM: That was me (I did not add bonehead. I was thinking it but I didn’t say it).
Craig: Oh. Well, it was communely funny.
John (Craig’s friend who is only easy to deal with because you can talk about boys with him. Anything else and he is a whiny, obnoxious, annoying man who is always complaining about working in a convenience store and the dregs of society that he runs into): I got accused of stealing change.
DM: What? That’s stupid. Why would you steal change?
John: Blah, blah, blah, the world is out to get me, blah, blah, I am truly annoying, blah.
DM: Uh-huh. See you.
Beth and I then spent the rest of our time at Perkins bemoaning the fact that Craig and John have taken our wonderful home away from home (well, more Beth’s because I don’t get out there that often) and seem to have invaded it and why, why, why is he stalking her and his last name is what you do when you’re bored (Yawn (it’s hopefully spelled differently than that but hey, it is true. You yawn when you’re bored and you’re usually bored when he is around)) and my God, could he be anymore annoying? And then we stopped talking about him and continued playing Liverpool Rummy which is either the coolest game in the world or the most annoying, depending on if you are stuck with a set of 6 8’s and need a run of 6 and a set of 3.
So it was a good weekend. Next weekend Beth and I are going to Wisconsin because they’re having an inpromtu family reunion and I am tagging along for the ride (and the steaks and garblic bread). It’ll be fun. Hope you had a good weekend as well.
Oh, and I have to add this because of Joe. He posted it and this guy is seriously going to be my next boyfriend. I was laughing so hard watching this. Anyone who would film this video of himself is obviously the perfect guy for me.
Ask the iPod was right! My future love IS in New York.
Suit: Do you have any headache medication?
Production assistant pulling random stuff out of pockets: Yeah, sure. Do you have a headache?
Suit: No, but I might later… Oooh! Band-Aids!
How can you not love a man like this? I think I may have found my future husband. He’s planning ahead which means that he is probably logical (and let’s face it, if I am ever going to marry, it should be a logical person) BUT he also appreciates the fun that is Band-Aids and would understand my ability to be distracted by all that is bright and/or shiny (or, you know, plastic with some gauze). This indicates that he would probably be fun enough so I wouldn’t end up killing him, which I’m sure you all realize is the foundation of a successful marriage.
Do not panic. I’m okay. Really.
I’ve been forgetting to take my Effexor lately. I don’t know why. I put it in the medicine cabinet. It’s right next to the Seraquel. It’s not invisible. But I don’t remember to take it. I don’t forget the Seraquel, of course, if I don’t take that I can’t sleep for hours and then I have these horrible images that flash through my head (oh, such as faces melting and blood and random torn off limbs and evil witch like creatures that cackle at me (Yes, I’m a ton of fun at parties). You would think I would look and say “Oh. Look. Here is my Effexor. I should probably take it.” But I don’t. You would think that I would realize how important it is because I can tell when I’m starting to mess up my dosage. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m exhausted all the time. I don’t want to do anything except sleep and read and eat (because no, I can’t be one of those people that doesn’t eat when they’re depressed (although I do a pretty good job of not eating when I’m depressed, I am not so good at saying “Hey, Dana. You have just devoured a full portion of food. STOP eating now!”). I know everything will be okay; I just have to get into the habit of taking my pills again. Oh, and my iron pills. Because maybe one of the reasons I’ve been feeling so dizzy and weak lately is because I’m somewhat anemic and I’m supposed to take the damn pills. And I should take vitamins. I have vitamins. Somewhere. It’s kind of like the ginkgo bilboa I bought to help with my memory. I just forgot to take them.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I know what the problem is and I know how to solve it. I’m not finding myself staring out windows and wanting to jump which is a good thing, considering I’m on the 27th floor.
Okay. Back to the funny portion of my post (aka: where I ramble about signs and commercials and never actually make a point (and quite possibly scare you all)).
Today on the ride in, I was listening to the radio. Part of my lovable charm is my irritation with certain signs or commercials. I’m not sure exactly what it is but there are some things that just set me off. For example, Beth has been witness to my irrational hatred of a business next to her apartment. For some reason, the idea of a graphic arts business named “Let’s Get Graphic!” just irritates the heck out of me. Beth has asked me why. I don’t know what it is. It’s just wrong. That’s all I know (she was telling her Dad about this and his response was “I think she may be the weirdest person you know. Oh, wait, you hung out at that pool hall for awhile”). I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know that the name tells you what they do. But still it makes me so irritated.
DM: Let’s get graphic. I’ll get graphic! I hate your stupid name!
B: Why? Why do you hate them so much?
DM (after struggling to formulate the perfect answer that will reveal all and cause the sky to open and a group of angels sing “Hallelujah” while the world suddenly corrects all of its problems): Because!
Yes. Because. That’s a great reason, isn’t it?
Last Sunday or the Sunday before, John observed me drawing on a piece of paper. When I am bored (or, in this case, not bored but annoyed with both him and Craig because Beth and I have so much fun at karaoke by either scrapbooking (well, drawing layouts, actually) or playing Trivial Pursuit (not easy to do when they are there because they act as if they know everything and can get pretty condescending and not understand that half of the fun of Trivial Pursuit is the incredibly wrong answers. Rat bastards) and can’t think of anything to write (or, in this case, can’t write what I want to write which is something along the lines of “Oh for the love of God, can you please go away? Please? Craig. Under no circumstances is Beth ever going to find you attractive. You repulse her. And you wear too much cologne. And your accent is so very fake and not at all sexy. Desmond from LOST has a sexy Scottish accent. You do not. Also, Desmond doesn’t just have a sexy Scottish accent. He is also tall and pretty to look at. You are not. And John, while you are less annoying than Craig because we can talk about boys with you, you are one of the most cynical people I know. And yes, I can be pretty cynical myself (we discovered that we share the same favorite poster from Despair.com) but damn it, there is only so much I can take of your constant bitching about how the world is out to get you and yet another person called you racist because you wouldn’t sell them beer on Sunday (which, hello, stupid people, against the law!) and whatever your complaint du Jour is)…you know, I’m going to start this sentence over.
When I am bored or can’t think of anything to write, I will find myself doodling. My doodling pretty much consists of drawing a box. I then divide the box into sections and then fill in the sections in an alternating manner. Nothing major. I just like it. It relaxes me and keeps me from stabbing people with forks (not that I’ve ever actually stabbed someone with a fork. I just make vague stabbing motions and then Beth or Keem take the fork away from me). Anyway, John was somewhat fascinated with my need to make sure that there was a proper balance of filled in and blank sections. Apparently this makes me somewhat OCD. Since John doesn’t know me that well, he has no clue that I am quite possibly the most extreme opposite of OCD – I would be, as I mentioned earlier, an example of someone who suffers from bright, shiny object syndrome. In other words, I get distracted easily; I’m somewhat hyper & have the attention span of a gnat.
John: Oh my God. You should marry James and have neurotic babies.
Later, when Beth was driving me home, we had the following conversation (of course, I also don’t remember things well so who knows if this is even close).
DM: I’d think that if James and I had babies, we’d have a chance of having a somewhat normal baby. I’m not neurotic.
B (she may have laughed hysterically at this point): If you and James had babies, you’d end up with a kid who feared all condiments or was obsessed with mustard*, lettuce & would yell at random business signs (there was probably more. I so need to start recording our conversations).
DM: But “Let’s Get Graphic” is so stupid!
*Just because I refuse to live in a mustard free household & think the Mustard Museum in Mount Horeb is quite possibly the coolest place ever & suddenly I’m obsessed? Sheesh (although Beth may not have been the one that said I was obsessed. It might have been me. Who knows? Again, reason why I need to start taping conversations).
There was also the series of commercials perpetrated on society by a local grocery store. Not only did they have these really annoying radio commercials where they did this sort of beatnik jazzy number about all the things you can get at Rainbow (including a freaking headache from their commercials) but they also decided “Hey, let’s take a bunch of different foods and dress them up like little people. That will be fun.” No. No, stupid ad people, this is not fun. It is stupid and wrong. Because not only does it cause me to go into a five minute tirade about the French Bread wearing little berets and then looking very phallic, it also means that you’re going to present us with a carrot wearing a little dress and earrings and a necklace made out of peas. Peas. So not only is Rainbow saying “Hey, it’s really cool to dress up food like people, it’s also okay to cannibalize other vegetables for jewelry.” This would be like me saying “Hey, I really like so-and-so’s face. Maybe I’ll make a necklace out of it.” Which would result in me being arrested, rightfully so. Shouldn’t the carrot lady be arrested?
Okay, anyway, the whole point to this was that I was listening to this commercial on the radio today which consists of some loud, obnoxious guy trying to say the tagline but failing miserably. And the guy who is supposedly the man in the sound booth keeps saying “Oh, just say this in a relaxed tone.” So you hear, over and over and over, “Corona Light. It’s the only light beer that’s also a Corona.”
DM: That is so stupid. Obviously it’s the only light beer that’s a Corona because the name is Corona Light!
Keem: Can you think of a better tagline for Corona Light?
DM: Yes. Beer sucks. Don’t drink it.
Keem: And again I ask, can you think of a better tagline for Corona Light?
DM: Yeah, I’m blogging this.
Next to come? A post in which I write about how I, as a non-driver, do not need to worry about being overcome by road rage. However, I apparently suffer from karaoke rage. Or, you know, I should just take my damn pills already.
Apparently my blog is rated G. There are no bad words on it. Anywhere. Obviously I’m not as hardcore as I thought.
Mingle2 – Online Dating
Except that my bags aren’t packed yet and I have no idea where I’m going.
So Keem and I have been planning to go see Jeff (former roommate) for months. Since he moved out last year. We actually made the request for time off in January, barely minutes after they said “Hey, you can request your time off for the year.” My vacation starts officially at 3:30 PM Thursday, May 3rd.
At this point, Keem and I do not know where we are going. We have been waiting to hear from Jeff about when the best time would be to see him in Colorado (we figured we’d drive around the Denver area on the days he was working and spend quality time with him when he wasn’t) but at last notice, something was going on and he was up in the air as to when that best time would be. Today is, as you may have noticed, April 30th. Something tells me we’re not going to Denver, Toto.
Our thoughts are this. We’re driving. Somewhere. We don’t know where. Thoughts include Duluth. Itasca State Park (because I really want to walk across the Mississippi River again (the last time I was 7 or 8 or somewhere around there) that is somewhere up in North Minnesota. Brainerd. Madison. Milwaukee. Ann Arbor (mainly because Keem said there was a planetarium and I like planets. But Liz said we shouldn’t go there and we should go to Chicago with Beth next year).
Pretty much I think we’re going to get into the car and find a major highway and say “left or right” and then go either left or right.
I think Duluth and Madison/Milwaukee are our two main stops. I want to go to Ella’s Deli again. My boyfriend Dave (when I was living in Madison, people, this is not a new development) took me there once and I loved the place. Of course. It was bright and shiny and there is a carousel. Plus the best tuna fish/cream cheese on a bagel sandwich I have ever had in my life.
We come back on May 12th or 13th. Beth is less than pleased with me because I am going to be missing 3 nights of karaoke. I’m also not going to be blogging unless we come across a place that has computers. I won’t even be reading blogs. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this separation from all of you but hey, I’ll be on the road, with one of my best friends, driving her insane. Examples of things that will drive Keem insane:
- Are we there yet?
- Um, I have to go to the bathroom and you just passed the last rest stop for 40 miles.
- ZZZZZZZZZ (that would be me snoring because I fell asleep).
- Ooh! Let’s go there (this will be followed by Keem saying “What is there? Where is it?” and I will say “I don’t know. It just looked like fun.”)
- Can I drive?
- I’m bored. You never let me do anything fun (in response to the above bullet point).
Expect lots of pictures when I get back.
Oh, for Teri, who seems to have thought I have forgotten about the whole Craig/James love thing.
Craig has a thing for Beth. Beth does not return his affections. This is a good thing because if she did, I think I would have to hit her. James likes to mock Craig because it is fun.
Anyway, a couple of Sundays ago, Craig got up to sing some song. It doesn’t really matter what it was. But James, being the smart ass that we love and adore, had to, well, be a smart ass.
J: What are you going to sing to me, Craig?
C: Nothing! And don’t you be writing me notes like a love struck teenager!
I grab my notebook and start writing the following (picture will follow eventually).
I love you like a love struck teenager.
Then I handed it to James and told him to sign it. After much arguing, he did (James: What? DM: Sign it. James: Okay).
I flung the paper down to where Craig was sitting and John* (who was sitting between Beth and Craig, much to her relief) put it on top of his stuff.
*John, by the way, is this guy that I had a slight, tiny, little crush on, mainly because he is smart and doesn’t creep me out the way that Craig does, even though he is kind of lumpy looking and has an unfortunate hair cut. He also is gay, something I thankfully found out before I embarrassed myself completely by getting drunk some night and comparing him to the Flash.
DM: John’s gay.
DM: He’s more fun to talk to now that we know he’s gay.
B: Yeah. Because we can talk to him about boys.
DM: I know!*
*You’ll all be happy to know that, while Keanu Reeves acting skills were called into question, the opinion is that, as long as he takes off his shirt, none of us care. This is about when Craig said “Oh my God, shut up about men already!” He was probably jealous because he does not look like Keanu Reeves, David Duchovny or whatever other guys we were discussing.
Craig comes back, sits down and sees the note.
C: What’s this?
John: Looks like a love note.
C: Did you put him up to this?
He is looking in my direction.
DM: Hee hee hee hee hee (this would be me dissolving into giggles).
Well, none of us can leave it there, of course. James keeps asking Craig about their “love.” Craig tells him to do something in some sort of slang that may or may not be English but none of us know that because we live in America and so does Craig for the last TWENTY YEARS! And besides, he claims to be Scottish so perhaps he should be using Scottish slang instead of English slang that might have been popular in the Fifties.
I console James because his love has been rejected. Craig is about ready to hit us all. With the stupid baton/beating stick thing he carries around. Apparently to prove he’s a man, I guess.
John grabs the note and writes XXXOOOXXX on it.
John: If I had red lipstick right now, I would kiss this.
DM: Ooh! I have lipstick. It’s not red but it’ll work.
I slather my lipstick on (I was hoping John would do the lipstick but no, he didn’t. Of course I had to. The sacrifices I make for good blogging material) and plant a big kiss on the paper. Then I grab the perfume roll-on I am carrying around for some reason* and wheel the applicator across the paper.
*I don’t typically wear makeup or perfume but I will buy it. I figure I am girly enough to like buying it but not girly enough to go through the hassle of putting the stuff on.
DM: There. Now it’s scented. Scented with James’s love.
This made Liz laugh. That is akin with making Bryan tell me I did a good job singing. While Liz laughs at me alot, this was really the first time it was “Hey, that was damn funny” instead of “Oh my God, you’re such a freak, I am laughing to keep you from stabbing me.” I can tell the difference between her laughs*.
*Okay, sometimes she does this “Heh” sound which is “You have amused me.” This was the first time that it was full laugh. Don’t ask. I’m weird. You should have figured this out already.
Later on, after the laughter about the love letter has passed, John is telling us about the car accident he was in.
John: And then I was in a car accident and the fire department was the first to arrive and…
Liz: You were in a car accident? Was anyone hurt?
DM (at the same time as Liz): There was a fireman? Was he cute?
John (to Liz): No, I’m fine. No one else was hurt.
John (to DM): Yes. Very.
DM: Did you get his phone number?
DM: Why not? I have to live vicariously through someone since the whole Craig/James thing doesn’t seem to be working out.*
Yesterday I had peer coaching. This is when a new hire or temp is sent to sit by me so I can tell them all the joys about working here and they listen to me answer calls and maintain a positive attitude, even after being asked “What’s my cost basis” forty-three million times. Yesterday’s new hire was Mike. Mike is tall and stocky and kind of cute.
I noticed he was wearing a hoodie with the Superman logo on it.
DM: You know, Batman’s cooler.
He holds out his wrist. There is his watch. With the Batman logo.
DM: I love you. Well, in a purely platonic way. Because, you know, I just met you.
Later, I am flipping through documents and click on the Star Trek Transcript I am currently reading.
DM: Yeah, this is what I do when it is slow, I read Star Trek Transcripts. Yeah, I’m kind of a geek.
Mike: I really shouldn’t say anything since I’m wearing 3 superhero logos.
DM: Whose the 3rd one?
Mike starts to unzip the hoodie. I see green.
DM: Green Lantern?
Mike: Green Lantern.
This leads to a discussion about movies based on comic books.
DM: I love them.
Mike: I do too but there’s a few I’m not thrilled with.
DM: Which ones?
Mike: Superman Returns. I didn’t like that one much.
DM: What? How is that possible? That was awesome.*
*I am finding that I am using the word “awesome” way too much. Have I suddenly become a Valley Girl without realizing it?**
**I figured it out last night on the way to karaoke). Barney on How I Met Your Mother (portrayed by the incomparable Neil Patrick Harris) says “Awesome” all the time. I’m blaming him. At least I haven’t started saying “Legendary.” But I’m sure that’s next.
He also reveals that he likes Star Wars and I scoff.
DM: I’m not overly fond of Star Wars.
Mike: That’s okay. I’m not a big fan of Star Trek. Captain Kirk annoyed me.
And that’s when I realized he was not for me. If you dis Kirk, you’re history, dude.*
*Because, yeah, that’s the best way to decide if you’ve met your soul mate. Not finding out whether or not he’s an axe killer or married or anything like that. Nope. That’s too logical.
I am a dork. You know it, I know it. It’s time for the entire world to know it.
Here is what I’ve managed to do so far this week (thankfully, it is Thursday, the week is almost over):
Throw up in my mouth (and then have to swallow it because the only place else it could go would be on the food I was carrying. The words you’re looking for here is “Ew, gross.” Believe me, I know).
Throw up through my nose (the burning acid reflux way).
Start falling asleep on Beth on Sunday night on the way home from karaoke (I’m sorry again, Beth).
Get left behind (not in the scary religious way or in the nice way that Sheryl encountered but by Keem when I overslept on Monday. And it’s not like she hasn’t warned me a hundred times before).
Almost get left behind again yesterday.
Slam the car door shut on my leg.
Get trapped in the car door with the stringy things that hang from my coat. I hate the stringy things.
I am sure that there is other stuff but I seem to have forgotten them all. Maybe I fell and hit my head.
Oh, yeah. I remembered.
Put my shirt on backwards.
Spend five minutes trying to figure out why a shirt that fit loosely before is suddenly choking me before I realized I put my shirt on backwards.
Realize I walked around like this for a good hour before I figured it out.
Spend another five minutes trying to figure out what I did with my work badge. Dig through my purse. Dig through my desk. Say to myself “Well, I know I had it this morning. I opened the door.”
Realize my badge is where I put it. On my shirt. I just can’t see it because I attached it to what I thought was the front of the shirt that morning.
Also, I was working on this today. Since we already discussed Scooby Doo, let’s move on to Star Trek. No, I don’t watch a lot of TV.
As you may or may not know, one of my hobbies, if you will, is to read transcripts of television shows I have enjoyed. I started this with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, moved on to Angel and found myself searching out transcripts for CSI:, Lost and others. Recently I have been working my way through Star Trek: The Next Generation (or Star Trek: TNG as I like to refer to it) scripts.
My favorite Next Gen character has always been Data. I am fond of Worf, had a minor crush on Wesley and Barclay always amused me. But there is just something about Data.
I have mentioned before that, in the Star Trek universe, the character that I have the most affinity with is Captain Kirk. I even did a test once to prove it. We are both open to adventure, likely to jump into a new situation whole-heartedly (even before making sure that that exciting new planet has oxygen). I have made it clear that Spock is my least favorite character. The man is too logical and harshes buzzes.
So what is it about Data? He’s logical, has no emotion, is constantly spouting off facts and figures about why you shouldn’t do something. Why do I like him so much? And the answer is simple. Data wants to be able to feel. He wants to have emotion. He tries.
Today I finished reading one of my favorite episodes – In Theory. It took place in the 4th Season. An ensign, Jenna, decides to make a pass at Data. They start a relationship. He modifies his programming to be able to maintain a romantic relationship.
But it is doomed, of course. He is incapable of feeling. So while he is able to go through the motions, he doesn’t understand the whole point behind it.
One of the most touching scenes in the episode is when Jenna realizes that this will never work out. She tells him that she has learned from this, she got out of one relationship with an unemotional man to fall for a man incapable of emotion. Data says to her, as she is leaving his quarters “Jenna. Are we no longer…a couple?”
When she replies in the affirmative, he says “Then I will delete the appropriate program.”
Reading the episode brought some truths close to home for me. Jenna is a little flighty, not exactly neat, artistic and a lot like me. Data is logical, smart and very much like James. I have gone and made the same mistake Jenna did. I fell in love with an android.
So what do I do? Do I continue to pine after him, hoping that the day will come when he will insert an emotion chip and realize that I’ve always been the perfect one for him? Or do I, like Jenna, come to my senses and realize it will never happen? That it is better to just enjoy his friendship and forget about anything romantic?
I’m leaning towards the latter. And I’ll probably be able to keep this opinion. At least until I see him tonight.
In my last post, I mentioned in the comments that my recent nose bleed had triggered a few memories and I have a story to tell you.
Let’s go back in time, my friends, to the late 1980’s or early 1990’s, when our heroine (that would be me, in case there are any doubts) worked in the Maplewood Mall (to be known as “the mall” from now on) for a company called Taco Bell. The mall had done some remodeling and the food court was being moved from the strange circular area in the middle of the mall to a new, state of the art food court off of one of the department store wings. The old food court, by the way, was mentioned in a post I did in December 2004 and it was very funny and it is somewhat Christmas related and yes, I am begging you all to read it. I have no shame.
Anyway, one of the absolutely spectacular things about living in Minnesota is the awesome bronchitis that I got every single year. And, no, it wasn’t because I smoked approximately a pack of cigarettes a day, this was something I had been getting since I turned about 13. No clue why I was chosen to receive this wonderful gift but hey, who wants to look a gift bug in the mouth, right?
When you have bronchitis, one of the lovely benefits is that you can’t sleep. This is because your lungs keep filling up with fluid and then you hack up a lung trying to get rid of the fluid. Believe me when I tell you it is gross. Plus you have to work because, hello, you work in fast food and fast food franchises are not exactly known for their wonderful health benefits and you have no time off so you are taking a lot of severe cold medicine (because you can’t get the stuff you need because you don’t have any health insurance as well) that makes you wired and a little goofy.
During this onset of bronchitis, I finally fell asleep at around midnight. And then I had this incredibly bizarre dream where my bedroom was in Taco Bell’s store room and the owner of the restaurant was standing over my bed, yelling at me because I was daring to sleep instead of moving anything. And I looked at him and said “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning. And you’re in my bedroom. Back off.” I wake up and look at the clock. It is 3 in the morning. I have to get up in 3 hours. Great. I manage to get maybe another hour of sleep.
The next night, I am sleeping. No odd dream this time. The odd dream would almost be welcomed because I would have been actually sleeping. But instead, the phone starts ringing. I stagger out to the living room, grab the phone and prepare for the worst. At 3 in the morning, phone calls do not usually bring good news.
Well, it’s not bad news, exactly. What I am greeted with is the extremely drunk voice of my ex-boyfriend, Mark, who has called me to share some exciting information with me. Here is our call:
DM: Hello (groggy, sounding somewhat frog like)?
Mark: DANA! Hi!
DM: Hi (puzzled).
Mark: It’s Mark! How are you doing?
DM: Uh, tired. Sick. Tired.
Mark: Guess what I did tonight?
DM: Uh…not sure I care.
Mark: I stole a stop sign!
DM: Really. How exciting (no inflection whatsoever here).
Mark: Yeah! It was great!
DM: Mark. Why are you calling me?
Mark: I thought you’d want to know.
DM: No. I want to go back to bed.
Mark: You don’t want to hear about how I stole a stop sign and eluded capture from the police?
DM: Not really.
Mark: You’ve changed.
DM: If, by changed, you mean that, since I’m no longer dating you, I’m not pretending to be interested in everything you say, then yes, you’re correct. I have changed. Good night.
Okay. I may not have said the last thing. I really don’t remember anymore.
The third night, I woke up again at 3 in the morning. This time from the coughing. Oh, the coughing was so great. And my nose was stuffed up so I decided to blow it. This might have been a mistake. The next thing I know, I’m watching a ton of blood explode out of my nose. Not fun!
I run to the bathroom, trying to get it to stop. I try tipping my head back. I try the ice cube across the bridge of the nose. I try stuffing a roll of toilet paper up my nose (slight exaggeration but not by much). Nothing works. And then I’m suddenly coughing up blood. I freaked out. I run into my roommate Anya’s bedroom and tell her I need help. She takes one look at my blood streaked face and decides to take me to the Emergency Room. She calls our friend Becky as well, completely freaking Becky out because her mother is dying of cancer and she thought that was the call to say “Hey, sorry, your Mom’s dead.”
Becky and Anya bundle me off to the ER where I don’t have to wait too long. A nice nurse helps me get the nose bleed under control but decides I still need to speak to a doctor. I am okay with this. Until, of course, I actually meet said doctor.
Bitch Doctor (BD): What seems to be the problem here?
DM: My nose started bleeding and then I was coughing up blood and I can’t sleep and oh my God, I’m so tired and please help me, oh kind lady.
BD: Well, when you have a bloody nose, the blood runs down the back of your throat and into your stomach. So you’re just coughing up that blood. It’s nothing serious. Didn’t you know that?
I do not respond for a moment since I am shocked at her tone. This woman needs to work on her bedside manner.
DM: Um, no.
BD: Well, it’s not serious. You just have bronchitis. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.
DM: I knew I had bronchitis…
BD: No. I mean about the blood. You need to take these pills and get some rest. Don’t go to work for 3 days.
BD: Now get out of my emergency room and let me help people who have serious problems.*
*Okay, no, she really didn’t say that but that is sure how she made me feel.
I meet Becky and Anya in the waiting room. It is now about 4:30. Both of them have to get up in less than two hours. I am feeling somewhat guilty about this. It’s decided that we should go get some breakfast. I’m supposed to take the pills on a full stomach but the doctor didn’t mention that. The nurse was the one that told me this and suggested I get something to eat right away.
Becky, Anya and I end up at Arby’s. They’re open 24 hours. Right now they are having a promotion – spend so much money and you can receive either a Pound Puppy or a Pound Purry. I think you can predict what happened next.
DM: I want a Pound Purry! I want a Pound Purry!
Anya: Okay, okay. Just calm down.
The Pound Purry is placed into my hands. He is orangeish and quite adorable.
DM: He needs to have a name. What should I name him? Hmm? Name, name, name. Oh! I know! I’ll name him Captain Kitty!
Becky: Captain Kitty? Why?
DM: Like Captain Caveman! I love Captain Caveman!
Captain Kitty is then propelled by me to swoop around the back seat.
DM: Swoop! Swoop! Captain Kitty to the rescue!
Becky: If Captain Kitty doesn’t sit down and shut up, he’s being tossed out the window.
I’m not sure if it was the blood loss or the pills or maybe the combination of both but I started to get a little goofy. I think the expression “bouncing off the walls” would work well here.
DM: And then I did this and I did that and I have been so tired and I really feel quite well now and I like these pills a lot and isn’t my Pound Purry so cute and I can’t believe I have to take 3 days off and…
Anya: You. Shut up. Now. My God, do you ever quit talking?
Apparently my newfound energy was not welcome, especially since, when I was brought home, Anya’s alarm clock was ringing. I was told to stay in bed and there was to be no smoking! If I was very good, perhaps I could get up later and watch television.
It took forever for me to calm down enough to sleep but finally it happened. And then, there is a knock at the door. It’s about noon, I’ve managed to get maybe two hours sleep, I’ve lost blood and I’m very sick and my brain is not working at all. What’s the best thing that could possibly be waiting on my door step? Yes! A kid trying to sell magazine subscriptions. Great. I have a hard enough time resisting them when I’m on top of my game.
I try very hard to say no, the kid keeps pushing me. I even tell him that I really can’t make a decision right now because I just came back from the hospital and need to recuperate. His response? I can read magazines while I get better. I came very close to giving in but then my hero showed up. Darrel, Becky’s fiance, had been sent to check up on me. He quickly sent the kid on his way and ushered me inside where he broke Becky’s no smoking rule and gave me a cigarette or two. Bless him.
Anyway, long story short (too late), I finally got better, the bronchitis returned every year until about 3 or 4 years ago, when my doctor Deb (not a Bitch Doctor at all) told me I needed to quit smoking or I was going to die very soon (asthma, cigarettes and bronchitis do not go together well). I managed to quit (what a horrible experience that was!) for about six months to a year and then started sneaking cigarettes again. Now I only smoke when I go to karaoke. Deb is okay with this as long as it doesn’t start screwing with my lungs again (plus I was smoking over a pack a day and have gone to maybe a pack a week).
This story has been on my mind since Friday (what with the nose bleed and everything) but also because I can feel the dreaded bronchitis return. I wasn’t able to go to karaoke on Sunday because of the coughing fit that turned into vomiting up lunch. I had to ask for projects today because I can’t concentrate on the phone since I’m not sleeping (coughing through the night, of course) or I start coughing during the call and have to put people on mute. I’m alternating between too hot or too cold. Oh, and my ribs hurt. From the coughing. And I hate this. I hate being sick. I hate knowing that I have to get through this somehow because I definitely don’t have any PTO left over and can’t afford to take a few days off to recuperate. And do you know how sick I am of Orange Pineapple juice (64 ounces is a lot to drink in one morning)?
I think I am done whining now. I hope you’re all having a better day than I am. Love to all.