i r a dead woman

I told you it was an awesome picture.

such great heights

I've been kinda busy painting my toe nails and eating Cinnamon Buns ice cream which is why the posts have been infrequent. Trust me, if you go buy that ice cream your life will quickly come to a halt as you spend every moment you have savoring its tastiness.

So, in order to put something on my little corner of the interweb I give you this:


If flickr weren't down right now, you would also have a delightful picture of Whitney from her surprise birthday party. It's an awesome picture, be sure to check back for it tomorrow...

the pain, it won't go away

Last night, during aerial acrobatics, I managed to give myself the most painful, disgusting, stomach turning injury possible. I pulled my thumb nail off of its nail bed. Yeah, fucking hell, it was bad.

I was hanging from my knees when I tried to scoop up towards the bar with my hands. One hand hit the bar, bending the nail backwards. BACKWARDS. It took a second for the pain to sink in, but when it did it was enough to make me want to gnaw my thumb off because that pain could only be less than the pain I was currently in. I managed to jam my thumb into my mouth to start the gnawing process, but this flipped the nail back into its bed. (Are you still reading? Yes?!? Wow, good for you with the iron stomach) I managed to get myself to the ground when I noticed the blood. At this point I was pretty sure passing out was next on my list of things to do.

While we were taping the nail down jparks came over to ask what was wrong. Patrick told him I bent my nail backwards and I was going to lose it eventually. Again, that need to pass out came back. I swear, nothing creeps me out more than darkened nails that are on their way to falling off. The fact that this was going to happen to me, makes me all light headed and woozy. The rest of aerial class was spent sulking around and pouting about my nail. It's pretty hard to get motivated to try new tricks when your every thought is consumed with the idea of being thumbnail-less.

When we got home last night I took the tape off the nail and immediately freaked out. I had to retape it before the urge to start gnawing at my thumb came back. I've downgraded to a band-aid today, but I think I'll stay in band-aid mode for quite a while. I'm not sure I can handle looking at a black nail everyday, and when the nail hits the point where it's peeling off, I don't know what I'm going to do. I might die. Or go into hiding, and stay drunk enough that I won't have any clue what's going on. Anyone want to volunteer to rip their nail backwards so we can go into hiding together? pleeease?

proof that I'm not totally unreasonable

Last night the flip flops that I ordered for jparks to wear on vacation arrived and he happily put them on and pranced around the apartment. Are you thinking "It's just flip flops, why such excitement?" Well, I don't let jparks own flip flops. Mean of me? Yes. Weird of me? Yes. Hypocritical of me? Yes. (I own many pairs) Do I care? Nope.

In my mind men can't wear flip flops. In fact, men can't wear sandals at all. Once, before we were together, jparks took me shopping with him so I could tell him what color everything was. Towards the end of the shopping expedition he mentioned that he needed to pick up some new Tevas and I begged and pleaded with him to FORGO THE TEVAS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. No woman was ever going to date him if he wore Tevas! How would he ever find happiness?!? Didn't he want to get laid? Tevas were not going to help him with that quest. He didn't listen and bought a pair. He still has them and I would love to make them magically disappear one day, but I know he'll just go buy another pair. And the more pairs of shoes he buys the less money we have for me to buy shoes. Priorities, people, priorities.

So last night, the arrival of flip flops for him was enough to cause celebration to break out. He happily wore them to take out the trash and to walk Lily. He kept mentioning them in conversation. So, being the big meanie that I am, I squashed his fantasy future that was filled with flip flop visions and told him the truth.

And, of course, the truth was not pretty or nice. The truth was that I purposely bought cheap flip flops for him so that I wouldn't feel guilty leaving them in the hotel in Hawaii when we check out. Yeah, I hate flip flops on men so much I plan on leaving his there. Normally I'm sneaky and wouldn't have told him I was ditching his flip flops, but I couldn't handle a month of hearing how great they are. How simple! How easy! How his life is now complete and he has found god in the form of shoes and his soul is saved. I had to shut him up the only way I know how, by crushing his spirit.

His response to this to the truth? "How come you get to wear flip flops and I don't?"

"Because I get pedicures. I earn the right to wear flip flops."

"Can I get a pedicure?"

And as much as it pains me to admit it, yes, if jparks gets pedicures he can wear flip flops. I am a defeated woman.

emergency!

I am in the middle of a crisis, one that is not going to sound like a huge deal, but for me, well, it's life altering. Years ago, probably at least 11, my stepmom started working at Children's Hospital and stole scrubs for the whole family. Ugly, green, plain scrubs. And yet I fell hopelessly in lurve with them. I'm pretty sure I was the only person excited about them and I embraced them with open arms.

Now don't worry, I'm not one of those people that walked around in public wearing my scrubs. Other than a quick trip to the pharmacy or gas station, they were reserved for in house wearing only. Okay, except for that one time in college when I overslept and wore them to class. But isn't that something you are required to do at least once in college, wearing pajamas to class? These scrubs have become my favorite thing to sleep in. They are the perfect lounging around the house pants.

But now they are starting to wear thin. Obscenely thin. Thin enough that it's kinda scandalous to wear them around jparks, and he knows me in the biblical sense. But I can't bare to get rid of them. What will I wear if I toss these into the trash? These pants are the ideal relaxing garment and nothing will take their place, trust me, I've tried. I bought some other sleepwear pants in a very similar shade of green, but they just aren't the same. I think it's the difference in material and the fact that the scrub pants are totally adjustable in the waist. Size 2? They can fit you! Size 20? These pants have you covered!

So my question is, other than checking into the hospital and guilting the staff into giving me a pair, where can I find new scrub pants? I know uniform stores carry them, but the ones I've seen have elastic waistbands, and that's not right. Scrub pants need to tie. Come on folks, help me out, I don't really want to check into a hospital, but I will do it out of love for the pants.

better meowing through chemistry

Molly has always been my special cat. When I was 20, I dated a guy that she was scared of. So scared she pooped anytime he walked in the room. Didn't matter which room she was in or if she was anywhere near a litter box, she still pooped. He swears he never did anything to her that would warrant such random poopage, and I believed him because Molly is just weird like that.

Not long after that she started pulling her fur out. And not long after that she decided she didn't like anyone but me. Ah, Molly and her many quirks. She was my first cat on my own, so I just accepted all of this and moved on.

And Molly was quite happy being the weird cat out of the bunch until recently when she decided to push her weird quirks to the limits of what I can handle. Not knowing what else to do, I dragged her to the vet. After running some tests to see if anything was physically wrong with her the vet decided that, surprise, Molly's problems are all mental. And Prozac was prescribed.

Yes folks, my cat is on Prozac. The best part about this is that the vet does not give you the Prozac, they have to call it in to a real pharmacy. Like one for humans, not cats. The day the vet called in the prescription I got my most favorite phone call of all time:

"hello?"

"Hi, um this is going to sound weird but I'm the pharmacist at Long's Drugs. Do you have a prescription for cat Prozac?"

"giggle giggle giggle Yes, I do."

"Okay, that's not something we keep in stock, I'm going to have to order it."

"Gee, I can't imagine why you don't keep cat Prozac in stock. Thanks!"

Awesome. Nothing is as much fun as sounding like a nut job that gives their animals Prozac. Well, except maybe being a nut job that gives their animals Prozac.

on needing to pee (I'm so tired)

The last time I peed outside, in public, when I wasn't camping, was during Mardi Gras, 2003. Before that, Mardi Gras, 1997. But last night I was seconds, MERE SECONDS, away from squatting next to my car and using Kleenex as toilet paper in the parking lot of AT&T Park. In my defense, the parking lot was really empty and if I squatted on the passenger side of my car no one would have seen me. Also, I REALLY NEEDED TO PEE. really.

The fatal error occurred when, after drinking a can of diet coke, I left* the office with a bottle of water in my hand and did not stop at the bathroom on my way out. I am well aware of the fact that I can't get into the ballpark until 5:15. I should have known I would arrive at 5:00 and would be left standing outside for 15 minutes. I should have known diet coke+water=explosive bladder. But I am stupid.

One time, while driving from NOLA to Austin, jparks asked me to pull over so he could pee. There wasn't anywhere to stop so I kept going. After a minute he started yelling "IF YOU DON'T PULL OVER NOW I'M GOING TO PISS BLOOD" That's when I knew he was serious. I never understood that feeling and then yesterday I totally got it. When I got out of the car, I still had this walk to make and I wasn't sure if I could do it. The spot next to my car was looking mighty appealing at that point. I decided to push my luck and wait until I got into the ball park.

Each step sucked. I cursed the whole way. When I finally got to the doors, I had to stand and wait another few minutes before entering. If jparks had been there, I probably would have apologized for not pulling over that day on our road trip. When I finally made it inside and to a bathroom it was glorious. G.L.O.R.I.O.U.S. I never knew peeing could be such a relief.

Sorry folks, I've been too busy with work to have anything interesting happen to me lately. Nearly peeing outside is all I've got.



*I'm so tired that I actually typed leaved instead of left and had to go back and correct it

24 hours of flickr

Saturday was 24 hours of flickr, a group project where everyone takes pictures throughout the day and submits one image to represent them and their day. I signed up because all the cool kids were doing it it seemed interesting and fun.

Normally, I tote my camera around with me religiously but, a lot of times, I don't use it out of fear that people don't want their picture taken or because I don't want people to think I know what I'm doing with the camera. Nothing worse than having people expect greatness only to have a blurry picture be the outcome. I figured, with 24 hours of flickr, I had an excuse for taking pictures and nothing could prevent me from participating.

I held onto this train of thought until jparks and I left the house for aerial acrobatics and trampoline without my camera. I didn't even have my little point and shoot in my purse, which is always there as my backup camera. On the one day when I have carte blanc to take as many pictures as I want, or anything I want, I was left camera-less.

After class I dropped jparks off at the BART station and headed home. I still had a few errands to run and decided that, while they were not as interesting as circus training, I would have to make the most of them photograph-wise.

So here is my 24 hours on flickr:

I had to take Molly to the vet. She was not pleased about this and hid under a chair most of the time.

Tangi has been spending lots of time upside down lately.


I am hopelessly addicted to Martha Stewart's Everyday Food. I can't throw them away because someday I will have time to cook.


Again with the name.


And finally, this is the picture I added to the group pool as the picture that best represents my Saturday.


I just figured, you can't go wrong with a picture of Lily.

seriously?

I was driving past a Sharper Image store recently when I saw a sign that I thought was for Trump Steaks. I didn't have time to stop or drive past the store again, but I knew, KNEW, that this could not be true. My eyes were playing tricks on me and The Donald had to be advertising something else, anything else, besides steaks.

Then yesterday I got this in my email:


And I knew that this had to be the most elaborate skit Saturday Night Live has ever produced. I mean, come on, it's just too much like one of their fake commercials. I fully expect that next week Sharper Image will be featuring Crystal Gravy.