disclosure

1. I love the smell of mod-podge glue, not because I like to sniff glue, but because it reminds me of grad school in the best possible way. Creativity, friends, and a zoned-out feeling of peace.

2. I bought some iTunes with the gift certificate ashley gave me (thanks, ash!) that I'm truly embarassed about. One is "Dust in the Wind," but the wrong version, because I didn't bother to look up the artist first, and more sadly, didn't know the artist to begin with (Kansas, hello??!!). Not that the Todd Rundgren version is bad, but I have little use for it, and just feel dumb about it. Obviously, it was the version Will Ferrell sang at Blue's funeral in Old School that I really wanted.

Another is the 2007 Grammy Nominees album. I'm only partially embarassed about the latter, because it does contain several good tunes, such as Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy," Corinne Bailey Rae's "Put Your Records On," and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You into the Dark." But this all turns sad when you realize that I already have all the good stuff. The reason I bought the whole album was that it had "Unwritten," which I like only because it's the theme song for "The Hills," and "Hide and Seek," by Imogen Heap, which I'm pretty sure (but not positive) is the song they played during Caleb's funeral procession a few seasons ago on The OC. I've been looking for this song forever, and it's kind of a random miracle that I even found it, because I didn't know either the artist or the track name, and listening to The OC soundtrack samples on amazon.com didn't help. I really kind of like the song, but how sad is it that I wanted it for its OC associations, and I'm not even really sure it's the correct song.

And also, the 2007 Grammy Nominees album features, among other ear-sores, "My Humps" and "Stickwitu." Yes, I have been watching "PCD: The Search for the Next Doll," but I also have my limits on what is unacceptably poor taste. Which, apparently, do not cross over into the iTunes shopping world.

But, 23 songs for $9.99??? Come on.

To my defense, I also purchased Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors," Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," and Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah." And for those 3 tracks alone, I am wholly satisfied.

3. J.Lo just brought home a new shower caddy(!!!), and my whole day has just been made.

swing series

the Bug observes




















offers assistance




















ready, set




















wahoo!

food refill!

Something you might not know about me (because I just remembered): in high school, I ate a lot. I must have had a really fast metabolism, at least freshman and sophomore years. You wouldn't want to be around me if I got hungry. You may not want to be around me now. I get antsy, and evil. I'm a little better now about controlling my temper when the blood sugar is low, but now that I'm pregnant again, not really. Actually now, I don't get angry, I just get desperate. If my stomach gets empty at all, I get Really Green. So I have to eat a lot, again. I do enjoy eating, so it's not really a problem, because you know, it's what I have to do, baby weight gain be damned. Although, I don't notice that I'm gaining so much weight. Maybe my metabolism has shot up again. Maybe I'm fooling myself. Regardless, I'm a hungry, hungry girl.

In high school, as my friend J. can attest, whenever I did get hungry, I'd call out, "Food refill!" Kind of a request, demand, and warning all in one. Meant it to be charming, but really, it's kind of rude, right? I mean, polite to warn others of impending irrational lash-out, I suppose, but I wonder why I didn't just get up and get myself a snack? Must be I only reserved that for visits to others' houses. Must be I found it less rude to warn and request rather than pretend I lived there.

Anyway, I'm thinking at this juncture, it's very lucky that we own our home and posess a well-stocked fridge and pantry. They don't always have everything a girl could want at her disposal, all the time (like where are those fucking cheese sticks already?!), but they contain a lot. For instance, at 10:52 this morning, I am feasting on Doritos. How lucky is that? So lucky. I like to think of it as my post-breakfast breakfast, or perhaps my pre-lunch lunch. I eat at least 5 meals a day now, have I mentioned? And it doesn't even make me blink. Because it's all about fending off the Green, people, it's my only goal.

Food refill!

status

hip: unlocked

brownies: baked, devoured

green: (sigh) yes

exercise: no

yau-man: rocks

rocky: sayonara

the office: still repeats

bug: walking, climbing on rocking chair

weekend: maybe some gardening, getting new front door

mini bagels: so tasty

emails: mostly unanswered

outside: kinda cold.

Devious

apparently there was a shake down at work today. some firings... and of a couple of my favorite people. who possibly smoke too much pot which explains their latent stupidity. also apropos, bcs i was just going to blog about this anyway... i'm a bit of a thief.

lately or because i'm paranoid, all the time, i hear little comments that belie a certain conception of me and i might like it just a little too much. 'you have a mischievious look on your face', 'stay out of trouble'... and the like. especially with our head detective who though cordial and generally he really likes me, there is an element of sizing me up and feeling me out... he makes comments now and again that let me know he's watching and a bit suspicious... and hoping he's wrong... but that he wouldn't be 'surprised'. he jokes that i make a run for the door, and that if i don't have my bag checked we'll have to 'sit down and have a talk' and yet... granted, and this is why i know i'm not NOT a thief, is that I don't take for granted i have freedom. i assume i'm being watched, tracked, identified and noted...

the fact that when these guys got caught for cheating the frequent buyer system- i thought wow, stupid. they shouldve at least taken on 6-8 rotating identities and come up with a purchasing system, like duh of course they're being watched! too bad. not clever enough! not, for shame, though steal'th from the corporate monster! i had, to my mind, already thought of a couple ways to steal from the store without getting caught (hopefully)... just on idle time... i tell you i'm reformed. i swear! but this is where my mind goes. i look for what they're looking for, what 'to catch a thief' scenarios are in place- where is the camera? how do i avoid the camera? where are the blindspots... sit in those. where to steal time and all the rest. i can't help myself. think of it as habitat enrichment, a mensa problem solver...nothing but killing the time, and saying, no, no, that's a bad mendacious- you live a reformed non-thefting life. just walk on by.

Weekend List

• papers
• wires
• dye
• taxes
• art room

---------------

• read hood, city of god, moviegoer
• watch blue velvet
• work on poem
• stare at painting
• do not paint
• eat salad
• do not eat fries
• lay out
• wear sunscreen
• pull weeds
• plant something
• make fresh orange juice
• order 4x6
• stare at blue sky

unhipster

My hip bones have always cracked, in a very specific, mostly satisfying way. Most of the time it's a must, rather than an option, like say, fingers or toes. I have to crack the hip to (literally) move on. And I've always kind of worried about this in the back of my mind for when I get old, like I'm going to have some sort of weird hip dysplasia, or have to get hip replacements or something. Painful.



Well, apparently, at the ripe old age of 29, I have become stuck. Rusted over like the Prego Tin Man, and there is no can of oil around. My left hip has had, for well over 24 hours now, that feeling of Needing Badly to Be Cracked. Popped. Anything Rice Krispie-like would be good. I feel like a good yoga pose or two might do the trick, and yet I'm a little terrified I might break.



It kind of reminds me of the time in high school when I went to crack my neck on the bus to school, and it totally got stuck to the side. The whole muscle cramped up, and there I was, frozen in an overly thoughtful head-cock, tears streaming down my face. Oh wait no, that was just funny. This, on the other hand, geez it kind of hurts. Too bad they don't make these things a little taller. Mommy could use one right now.

character building

My mom and I recently agreed that it is more than okay to tell your child that you are out of something, i.e. their favorite cereal or whatever, until the next time you get to the store. You do not actually have to rush out immediately for a new box, and/or preemptively stockpile said product in case of natural disaster or war. It builds character, to not have everything you want at your disposal, all the time. I feel strongly about this.

But what about a pregnant lady? Do you tell her you're out of something? Do you rush right out to Costco for a refill, despite your pledge not to give any more of your money to the price club this week? I'm out of Polly-O mozza sticks, is the thing. I've been pilfering them from K.Lo all week, and after frantically upturning the drawer this morning, discovered there is not a one left. K.Lo will be fine, I'm not worried about the Bug. But me? I kind of NEED Polly-O mozza sticks. I might die without my string cheese.

I'm just asking, isn't my character quite built enough?

Magical

alright so the magic castle is indeed a magical place. you have to say opensesame to that owl next to my head and the library door swings open. plus if you're not rich and the gown your wearing is the only one you own, you have to know someone who knows someone to get in and possibly leave your tab on someone elses bill to afford it. also you look longingly at the drunk guy who says, 'thank god we have the limo.'

i happen to know someone who knows someone who is working as a magicians assistant. and she had an open tab at the bar which was like christmas come early- as magic, occassionally bad magic, is a hell of a lot more amazing when running on long islands. everything, bah-lieve me, is amazing and really some of those tricks really are amazing. i mean how'd he do that?! i have no idea!! and then of course there's the drunk girl saying- where's the bunny! i want him to pull out a bunny... and the magician with a brit's accent raising his brows like she said something dirty. we all laugh regardless. the night and the tricks kept getting better and better. much like my weekend- each preformed at a cost with a level of difficulty equals huge applause.

so fueled and amazed i managed to stay up for a total of 21 hours. and onward to a sewing circle- where i made a magical apron and then the next day after that was a magical tea- where i razzled and dazzled with simple things like inherited silver and linen... and my mother's garden and money... and some donated china... of course, props, does not a feat make but an assemblage of all the perfect elements... and the willing participation of your guests. i'm going for something profound here but i can't muster the consentration-

except that each gathering made for unique company, exclusive and paid for a price agreed upon when entering. the one friend up for anything, the gaggle of moms talking about how cute davy is and some legitimate sewing in there somewhere from what i remember, and then a meeting of minds, like a cressendo... too alike minds possibly and something the universe only arranges once a millenia. makes me walk around on eggshells afraid to watch it dissipate. or if i blink i'll have missed the trick. so i stand back amazed and continue to agree until one day i might not. or the luck having run its course, after all neglected and taken for granted make it all seem too ordinary and course to continue with. which is why we can't do these luxurious things too often and must revisit them like an old and delicate friend once ever 7 or so years... lest they feel ill-used and I, no longer believe.

Hola!

In my on going effort to fight blog silence I patter these words now- i can't believe it has such a strong pull, everything but writing... when i'm surrounded by books and reading jacket covers at work- i think enough is enough- i need to fucking concentrate. Go home and work on my stories... and then i glaze over. I did happily go swimming today and every dive was luxurious. I think despite my teeny addiction with burgers and fries I've lost 5lbs. But I fear the slump... and in an odd, unrelated turn my left hand has been tingling and numb. which is as you know good times. and i actually told the manager- i need a handrest- what day would you like (i asked)- tomorrow, thurs or friday? woo. so tomorrow it is. even though she gave no sign of being worried about workers comp claims...

anyway, contributing to the malaise of feb/march was my visit to my great grandmothers house- which is in a poor and super-urbanized part of LA. there's something wonderful about it still standing though in most breaths i say, "abomination" and make a wide biblical sweeping motion with my right hand. they bought it for 1,000 or so in 1918... and it's still standing. my great-grandmother's house was my favorite place in the world to my memory- velvet drapes, closed drawing rooms i couldn't enter, rikety stairs, lace curtains, sprigs of flowers, and one exploration of hazy summer butterflies after another. and when i think about it, it's like taking a fresh breath in a stagnant and ordinary smog. so of course encountering the reality of time and neglect, there is very little to add but a sad nostalgia. luckily i only had my camera phone with me, as i hadn't seen the house since i was a kid it was a spontaneous visit, it gives the stark grit of concrete and sagging stucco a gentle blur which makes the pain and ruination of art almost bearable. the form still survived- i said, as i drove by and stopped, wow, there it is... and the house next to it too- wow. huh. huh. i thought. i want to somehow print out the old pictures and mail them to the current owners... explain to them what it could all look like again if they wanted... maybe break up the cement island and plant grass... maybe? that would be a start. and then the bars on the windows... possibly? like a nice letter encouraging them to care.

i don't know.


next up is a brief pondering on my tea and magic castle visit.

craving

As noted, in some ways this pregnancy is vastly different from the first one. There's the hair thing, and (should I say it? will it jinx it?) I'm not quite as Green. Last time I was sick for basically a whole summer, at least, and this time, at least I've had some breaks. (P.S. to God: thank you thank you thank you.) But craving-wise? Apparently when I'm pregnant, my brain thinks it's time to eat:

1) meals featuring ground beef, i.e. Sloppy Joes, meatballs, enchiladas, tacos, and hamburgers

2) sides featuring potato products, i.e. mashed potatoes, potato salad, and fries.

Although last night I had an overwhelming urge for brownies (still there, btw, still unsatisfied), there really hasn't been much else that stands out, aside from the ground beef and potato randomness. Is it a nostalgia thing, or is this just what my body needs? I do believe in the importance of cravings, like it means your body needs something in that food, and unless you're craving dirt or paint chips, you should listen. Last week I feasted on Sloppy Joes every day for lunch, and I can't seem to stop myself from purchasing Potato Buds. I've never bought Potato Buds outside of pregnancy, and it's not that I have anything against Potato Buds and the people who use them, but I suppose outside of pregnancy, the desire for mashed potatoes is not so pressing. I can take the time to peel, dice, cook and mash real potatoes; whereas when pregnant, must have mashed potatoes yesterday. And it only takes a few minutes with the help of the microwave.

Which, speaking of, it is actually 3 minutes past 11 EST, and therefore technically LUNCH. I'm out.

after shots?

While pregnant, many weird, weird things happen to your body. One of these weird things can be hair-related. When I was pregnant with K.Lo, my hair didn't change a bit. I remember reading about that as one of the "symptoms," that your hair becomes thicker, more shampoo commercial-worthy, i.e. thick, luscious locks. Whatever. Right? I looked pretty much the same, just rounder.

But apparently, this time around, I am growing massive amounts of new hair. I first noticed new growth a few weeks ago around my hairline, annoyingly untamable little curly-cues about two inches long. This morning, however, I saw them everywhere. They're sticking up all over my head, these new little strands. How much hair does a girl need on her head, exactly? And then after you have the baby, apparently, you lose it all in handfuls, so much so that it may induce a mild panic over balding. Yowza! I just can't wait. In the meantime, I'm fascinated to see how this additional set of strands is going to arrange itself atop my noggin.

big sis in training

Sedated

I know that I keep complaining about the job and more over my utter apathy over how i normally am toward these sorts of things and how i'm not that and how that's weird. talking it over with pen i think i'm sedated. something is being slipped into my tea or the medication i'm not on is all wrong. case in point: the GM is crazybut somehow it never occurs to me to know her as that- it's like i see her and i try to forget her, like she doesn't exist outside of the minutes i see her. but unintentionally. i try to fly under her radar and most of the managers radar but one day I found out that she was the one who was putting the dirty dishes found in the sink into the cabinets... yes. as in, the dishes are sitting there waiting to be cleaned with particles of food and who knows what... and she picks them up dripping, filmed and gross and sets them in the cabinets... because i guess she doesn't want to see them in the sink? and to top that i brought a couple bowls in- that EVERYONE used. so they were always in the sink and she threw them both out. when i think about it- like just now, a little ball of rage formed and started hovering in the middle of my chest... but then unlike now i just zone out, job search, look at the clock and keep on walking... and in another noted debasement of the working class- the morning crew is addicted to coffee. thankfully i'm not, so i don't feel it as keenly but i observed that some malicious... okay well lets just say spiteful-actioned person- and i know spite- was pouring coffee grounds into the sink. he's been here 3 years, he needs to be medicated, really, a frustrated actor and in desperate need of a different job- but he cares, really cares about his job or the work of it, so the only thing he can do are these futile little manuevers, which if i were in his place i would totally do- so the plummer has had to come out umpteenth times and finally the sink was clogged feet deep in grounds and it stopped working- and the company said we'll refuse to pay for it- so then finally they got filters for the coffee maker, which hello! about time- and then after that they put up bolded stronglyworded texts with exclamations that no food stuff goes in the sink and to not ever ever EVER put coffee grounds there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! etc... sort of also futile and ridiculous. and then suddenly there was a nice but strongly worded labelmaker label that the coffee would be "made by the opening manager"... and then the actual coffee disappeared and is now locked in the cash office so that only the "opening manager" can get to it... nice.

but bye bye, tra la la... off into the field of poppies i go. tra la la.

what the hell, ravu

So, last night the Moto and Ravu tribes split up, regrouped, and blindly chose new buffs to decide which beach each would live on. The new Ravu is all guys, which, if you think about, makes for a better game. Moto still has their insane level of luxury, while the guys, though roughing it, have a lot more initial brawn to balance them out. Also, they received hooks and line yesterday, they know how to fish, and therefore should have a pretty good chance of winning a challenge. Just one challenge. Any challenge?

It's like, what the hell, Ravu?! I know you were close in the immunity challenge this time, like really close, but close obviously yields no cigar. No skull on a pole to save your butts from going home. Did anyone else feel sorry for Anthony? J.Lo was on the fence about him, but I kind of did feel sorry for him. I would maybe hang out with Anthony in real life, in spite of, or probably because of, his self-proclaimed geekiness. I feel like Rocky, while interesting television, is a loose cannon, and tribally they would be wise to get rid of him sooner rather than later. And Lisi will be back from Exile Island next week, and clearly, for reasons of karma, will deserve to go home (when Ravu inevitably LOSES, AGAIN), so Rocky will be around longer, maybe even till merger. And that's just trouble. His speech to Anthony on speaking your mind, guy, granted contained several valid points, but it did also cross over many lines of rudeness and bad form, so sorry, I simply cannot abide.

And I'm totally on board Team Ravu, now that Alex is there. So guys, for the love of pete, get it together. Yeesh!

M's Unseemly

Though really it's just um like any other day- except that I've been working at the national bookstore chain for like 5 months. I really really can't tell you how my mind is sort of hazing out like it's a prison sentence.

1. Projects Not Getting Done:): Decorate Jacket with screenprinting like designs. 4 Paintings. 2 necklaces. 1 Quilt. 1 photo project. 5 clothing repairs. Countless clothing creations. Artroom organization... i try not to think too much about how this working thing is interfering with my life...My creativity lies in the wake of this all consuming master. (I am getting better at cheating it by degrees, I guess.) Pshaw, I GUESS. Gah!

2. Lately I've been struck with the idea that I want to wake up and not want to kill myself, go back to sleep, or loathe the idea of waking up for work. It's like an instant bitter pill- and i try to shake it off but i can't seem to wake up early enough in order to feel i have some semblance of a morning. It's like I'm back in junior high and the word TORTURE regularly surfaces. Who wants to think that way about their morning. And I can't weirdly figure out when to go to sleep- 7, 8, 9...

3. I'm dry. I don't know what the hell it is but my bra feels itchy, my underwear... my lips. I feel like i'm withering. At work it's a sweltering 77degrees in my section. Everything is coated in dust. The bottle of lotion is running low. My clothes are residing on me with reluctance.

4. I've hit a wall in my organizational ferver. Like I've done enough- the idea that an element of chaos has to remain in any ordered system. To achieve a balance of both to be aesthetically pleasing. I wish i could see my day this way.

5. Tea. My friends have been into a very victorian thing like high tea. i'm breaking out the china and the linen and the crystal this sunday- and it feels good. sometimes formality feels good and luxurious. like sometimes eating off plates that aren't paper is a good idea. and going an extra step to make what you eat or how you eat and socialize a beautiful thing. it's inspiring me in other aspects of my life- how deeply yet, i don't know- but just enhances my belief that i deserve to be and dwell in beautiful things- not to be fancy or have airs but to simply admit that i find it fun, decadent and completely necessary.

the Bug outdoors

unseemly

I've noticed over the past few days certain unseemly habits and patterns developing as a result of this pregnancy. Some are old and have simply returned; others are freshly disturbing. It's a result of tiredness and over-hormonalness and I-don't-care-ness, and sometimes it's just an attempt to uncurl myself from the vile little ball of inertia that I so often become. Here, at the moment, are some:

1. I don't recycle as much. Cardboard boxes, yogurt containers, any other plastics or cans that require too much washing out, or whatever, go in the trash. Sometimes I'll have just taken down an armload of stuff from the kitchen to the laundry room where our bins are, and I really don't want to see the pile by the sink accumulate again. It's all so tedious, this cycle. And won't cardboard just disintegrate back to the earth, anyway? What's the difference if it's crammed in with all the other non-recyclables.

2. I am consuming hot dogs at an alarming rate. In the past 24 hours, beginning at 9PM yesterday evening, I have eaten 4. All have been sliced lengthwise, microwaved for 39 seconds, and then absolutely smothered in mustard and (essential) ketchup. It's like, if the ketchup wasn't there, I might cry. In fact, my last hot dog today tipped upside-down onto the plate after being condimented, and the mustard and the ketchup smeared all over, and I almost did cry.

3. I don't exercise. Okay, but this time, I really, really, really want to try. I have prenatal exercise DVDs divvied by trimester and everything. It's just the Being Green thing, and... I don't know. The more resistant part of me feels that pregnant ladies should be allowed and in fact encouraged to lay around and be lump-like for the whole of their pregnancy.

4. I'm not good at reading anymore. (Except, as always, Harry Potter.) I can't focus. I really like the book I'm reading, The Jane Austen Book Club, but it's extremely slow-going, and it's mainly because I keep getting caught up in daydreams about all the other books I want to read, or should have already read. Oh, and if I feel Too Green, I won't even try to read. I just stare.

5. I get really mad when the news preempts regularly scheduled programming. Oh wait, that has nothing to do with pregnancy. All I can say is, I was really caught up in Suzanne Somers' story about her Malibu home burning to the ground today during Ellen, and I did not need to see W's little speech about the 4-year anniversary of the Iraq War. Something that, over the next few days, will be replayed a million times and analyzed to death on news programs, anyway. I feel very strongly that there should be corresponding stations you can flip to in such an event, where the show you were watching continues to play. These channels would also be available during major weather events. Anyone wish to join my letter-writing campaign?

Quite sure there will be more to come.

Water, Water Everywhere

yes, i went whalewatching! i'm so psyched. and more than that, so glad i have friends who were willing to brave the cold and the possible seasickness to do it with me... for a 4 hour tour!! (since it was suppose to only be 2 1/2) sure we got our monies worth but i will next time take a more luxurious boat that has an inside area and can go really fast, bargains be damned... i'm not sure. first off i forgot my camera, stopped to get lunch later than i should've, but thought i had all the time in the world- got a disposable camera, then got side-tracked twice and we almost missed the boat! with less than a minute to spare, we ran, shaking and fumbling our money- and once on the boat realized i had 1) forgotten the disposable camera 2) that i hadn't taken the dramamine yet. . . and i'd lost my glasses and was like seriously confused when my friend handed them to me. it was like a wacky parlor trick. my friends bore up under this happenstance with good cheer- whenever i pull people into my insane fancies- i am mortified with the thought that things will go wrong or that it won't have been worth it- so i hope for them it really was. but alas i did get seasick- sort of green- and when concentrating really hard on not puking i become quiet and less inclined to chat so it was at most points on the voyage, every man for himself. though i did point out that the national bookstore chain (of which i am under- employ) has enabled me to stand for vast hours- so since sitting made me really ill i was able to bear up and lean over the boats edge onto the horizon. but that's about all i was able to say, except for bearhugging them to keep us warm, and commenting idly about things like the weather...and yes how i couldn't believe the sun didn't come out and yes, my toes had lost all feeling.

the good thing was we actually saw 2 whales. but too bad it was early on in the voyage. we had 3 sightings i think of the same 2 whales- and 2 of the times one of them flipped his tail at us and dived. awesome. it's hard to realize i wasn't hallucinating. the first time was closer, about 20ft or less from the boat- and again i wasn't quite sure i wasn't imagining things. then it became a long long long wait- and more waiting, and more looking on to the vast stretch of water and being really really bored and trying not to get seasick and wondering when the hell we'd be turning around. or bemoaning the fact i didn't bring liquer with me. alas!

so then the captain got on his horn and told us there was a pod of 1,000 dolphins going at break neck speed somewhere and by god, he was going to try to catch them even though we were already running late- and off we took, water breaking over the bough and leaping up and down the swells- the dolphins which stretched for a mile before us- meer specks... got closer and we could see them breaching over the water, so many we couldn't count and almost breathless as we saw them appear closer to us, breaking
over the waves, and running under the bow of the ship... we cheered and leaned close into the water to see these amazing animals zooming in front of the bow and by our side, catching our wake as so many of them chopped up over the water. i almost cried. and wished we were in a boat that could catch them- and as they continued to cut fast to the left of us the captain said we were so late out we couldn't follow them any longer but that he was glad we got to see them. i think the chase was the best part and the dolphins, so many of them- glorious. the whales sure... if i actually did see them... and then i was pretty sure we had an hour to go and it was a long and sulky ride back- more dolphins! more whales!, we cried. but no. and so cold and hungry we were set to shore and feasted on some fresh halibut (they chinced us on the fries) and wended our weary way home, but not without a as i say, tai chi latte (i'm dyslexic) and a rice krispee square that smelled like coffee.

thanks guys. it was AMAZING.

birthday review

Overall this year, I give the day Two Thumbs Up. It certainly trumped last year. Yes, I was unfortunately a little Green and passed on the Coldstone Creamery cake that I so coveted in my mind for the past few weeks. I feel that I will be able to better enjoy it next year, and it will be my 30th, so. And anyway, my Mom, earlier in the week, brought me my very favorite birthday cake in the whole world, a banana cake with this icing that I don't even know how to describe... I requested it most every year while growing up, and in college, I would take back most of the leftovers to the dorm and eat it for like, every meal. So tasty. And I didn't even ask for it this year! I wanted to, but then didn't, and then there it was. Yay.

J.Lo, K.Lo, and I went to breakfast in the morning to Middle McDaniel, and though the hostess was disinterested and slack at best, the rest of the service was fine, and the food was pretty tasty. K.Lo, who has been improving her own way beyond the Squish Test, chowed down on ham and hash browns with no reservations. The day was rainy, but a kind of a peaceful rain, and a long overdue rain, so we kind of lazed about the rest of the day and did a whole lotta nothing. J.Lo vacuumed for me, eeeee! That right there? Present. I opened other presents, and among many fantastic treats received an iHome, which is currently rocking my entire kitchen experience. In addition to the ipod hookup, there's radio, weather, AND tv in there. So I can like, listen to Ellen while washing the dishes, it's just fabulous.

Received: 2 birthday phone calls from friends, one admirably from mendacious at 5:50 am PST. Love you, mendacious! And also, lovely birthday mail in the form of cards and presents.

Chinese take-out for dinner, mmmm. Caught up on Ugly Betty, Grey's, lamented the lack of Survivor. Watched half of 50 First Dates, and then, you know. Fell asleep circa 9:00 PM, but ah, what can you do. Hurrah for b-days!

Happy Birthday Penolin!!!

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday Day dear Penelope.... Happy Birthday to YOU!!!!! and many morrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! wakka wakka wakka.

i will have this cake, thanks

Purchased for b-day (tomorrow), thanks to Mom, Dad, and amazon.com:

The Brat Pack collection, featuring
1. The Breakfast Club
2. Sixteen Candles
3. Weird Science

The Too Cool for School collection, featuring,
4. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
5. Pretty in Pink
6. Some Kind of Wonderful

As well as
7. Better Off Dead
8. Real Genius
9. French Kiss
10. While You Were Sleeping
11. Clueless
12. You've Got Mail
13. Runaway Bride

Oh, and!
14. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
15. KT Tunstall, Eye to the Telescope

Woohoo!

not naming any names

There's this episode of Sex & the City, one of my favorites actually, where the girls go to a baby shower in Connecticut for an old friend who used to be quite the party girl. Now the woman is all domesticated "perfection," in a completely unnerving and annoying way, considering her former city self. Anyway, all is going mostly fine for Charlotte at the party until the woman reveals that she's going to name her baby girl Shayla. Charlotte is completely horrified, because for years, Shayla was her name, her baby name. She supposedly made it up years ago, and told friends about it. And this is just not something you do, steal a friend's baby name.

I've been pretty free so far in the baby name discussion. I was open the first time around as well, to an extent. We didn't know whether it would be a boy or a girl, but K.Lo's name, first and middle, was pretty well established. Our boy name was less so, because at first we thought of Riley, and then somewhere along the line that fell apart (you do subject yourself, in revealing early, to Strong Opinions and Ridicule), and so we picked another and kept it under wraps until K.Lo was born. Then everyone knew who asked. If you ask now, I'll tell you.

This time around, the if-K.Lo-were-a-boy name was still in the running, quite near the top of the list, and one or two girl names were thrown around. One, in particular. Like all good writing ideas, though, it seems once you speak it out loud, it floats away from you in this little bubble and is claimed by the universe. Then one day the universe pops that bubble. If you say it, they will take it? Maybe the universe is laughing at you, who knows. Probably you won't figure that out in this lifetime.

Anyway, I feel all of sudden like I need to be a closed (i.e. bolted, combo-locked, drilled-shut, magically sealed) vault. And I don't mean to be overly dramatic or secretive or whatever about the name thing, because there's only so many names out there. And you can't own a name. And, really, first come, first serve. Whatevah. I'll come up with something better, and I do still believe in signs, i.e. reasons behind occurrences. I was meant to come up with something different than what I originally had in mind. For both the boy and the girl. Ironically enough.

Names are fun, and I love discussing them. I like going through the books and tossing ideas around. If I weren't so hormonal and maybe jaded at the moment, I might not be so irrational about keeping mum, from now on. It's just, despite the limits of originality, there's still something to coming up with a name for your baby. It's your own little stamp, a lifelong stamp that you get to put on another human being. And think about how much your name, no matter how relatively popular, shapes you. It's just so, I don't know, vexing, when after speaking it out loud, there it is, all of a sudden gone. Uncannily chosen by another, who may or may not have known. Anyway, keeping the cards a little closer to my chest from now on, I am. Maybe now instead of discussing it, revealing it early, there will be more fun in keeping it a surprise.

interlude

things i liked about today:

-running joke about sharks
-employee actually used the "what i can't hear you?!, what?!" click.
-books, perfectly straight, in a row upon row
-exercising during lunch
-reading during lunch while exercising
-leaving work an hour early
-iced-tea
-blooming
-blue skies

ALONG CAME LAMENT

sooo apparently i'm not immune to the 'i could give a fuck' about the blogging thing.' good to know. (usually it manifests in surly and malaise driven posts but this time it was purely focused on tv and manual labor. thus silence.)

in my conversations with jesus 2 (you know me in the boat on the river 1) during this stilted 3+wk period i find my words to be bordering the sacreligious. i hit lake placid- i'm pretty well convinced- and it's driving me fucking nuts. my sentences to god are laced with a bitter breath, i know god's got this. i know god is faithful... and all sorts of encouraging things but every word might as well be this FUCKING SUCKS. I'M GOING TO BE FUCKING STUCK HERE FOR EVER. GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW. FUCK.

so i stopped praying to god bcs really laced with that sort of malice i was pretty sure the words were choking the air, and started to confess about what an ungrateful asshole i am (possibly human). mainly bcs after Epiphany celebrating the HolyDays is pretty cool... and the idea of Lent that intrigued me most was that some early christians did lent bcs they were preparing for baptism by sort of purging themselves of the 'bad'. and i'm so tired of myself right now that really a better newer me better be fucking coming along SOON.

I confess:

• I do not think my hearts desires will be fulfilled (a husband, a sustaining career)
• I am inconstant (natural but true)
• I am ill-disciplined
• I am ill-tempered
• I am impatient
• I do not believe when I pray 4 things like Nicaragua, god cares, bcs I do not feel worthy of it. I feel guilty and demanding of it, of buying clothes, of eating out.
• I am complacent and lazy
• I am 'biting'
• I am resentful of not being in god's peace and power more (as i used to be)
• I am mired in procrastination
• I am not joyful
• I am a petulent 3 yr old
• I am lonely
• I am in distress
• I am a petty complainer
• I feel the seperation distinctly from me to the divine
• I think to not care much about life but I am most times divided and expectant
• I am full of grumbling
• I confess my heart is hard from waiting
• I confess it spills from my lips in sharp words uttered under the breath against people, against my community, it is hard to still the quick tempered surge within. it is hard to set my heart in labor for you, for abundance.
• I confess I am dissatisfied.

Then at church, of all places, I absentmindedly decided to read Lamentations, ignoring the loud singing around me, wryly amused at the timing...

... "I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.... The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,... it is good to wait quietly... it is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young. Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust- there may yet be hope.... For men are not cast off by the Lord forever."

And my conclusion despite my totally irked inner life: Though I lament, I do not despair.

note to self

Dear Future Penelope,*

The next time you want to have another baby, I want you to come back and read this very post. Maybe you'll get the 10-month itch like the last time around, where you were like, ooo, aren't babies cute! and think it's time to start trying again. Or maybe you'll be smarter and wait a few years. Either way, listen up:

Being pregnant=NOT FUN. Particularly Being Green? REALLY NOT FUN. What you are apparently remembering is the END RESULT, i.e. THE BABY, who yes, is in fact very cute and fantastic on so many levels. The fact that your labor wasn't the total stuff of nightmares does not in any way reflect the nine months leading up to it. Yes, it's super-cool when the baby begins to move. Yes, the idea of a new little person being created is "really neat." But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not fail to remember the following:

First Trimester=Land of Suckitude. Yes, you get to spread the news and say, woohoo! Yes, names are already floating around in your unsuspecting, selectively amnesiatic brain, as well as ways to reinvent the nursery. You're already, as a seasoned pro, making lists of what you really need this time, rather than what you think you really need. Great. Super. In the meantime, here comes Week 6. Then Week 7. Up to Week Yet to Be Determined. We're talking increasing nausea at all hours of the day. Nine o'clock bedtimes, giving you approximately 1/2-hour out of the whole day to yourself, most of which is spent fighting heavy eyelids.

Then you start to vomit, usually in the morning. The time when it is most painful, because there's nothing in your stomach to purge. It's like a hangover without the fun times preceding. And you know you need to eat and fill your stomach, but everything will sound absolutely disgusting. And then when you force yourself to pick something, it will be absolute torture to ingest. It may or may not take the edge off. In the meantime, you know you should drink water, but from the second you found out you were pregnant, water became instantly abhorrent! So in no time at all, you're going to feel dehydrated. Cracked lips and everything. Which is not only not good for you or the baby, but it also makes you feel more nauseated. It's a vicious freaking cycle, Future Penelope. DO NOT FORGET.

Along with Being Green, you absolutely also cannot forget your increased sensitivity to, oh, I don't know, everything? You're already a sensitive girl, and Future Penelope, you may think I'm exaggerating, that it's really not possible for you to become any more sensitive than you already are, but YOU WILL. Being Green coupled with any sort of perceived environmental shift like heat, cold, hungry, itchy, etc, makes those shifts seem insurmountable. You won't want to do whatever it takes to correct the situation for yourself, however small. You'll just want to curl up in an irritable little ball and wish the world away. EXCEPT THAT YOU'LL HAVE TWO, COUNT THEM TWO, CHILDREN DEMANDING YOUR ATTENTION. ONE WAS DIFFICULT ENOUGH.

One last thing, and remember, we're addressing just the First Trimester here. We won't even get into the heartburn, various organ pressures, sleeping issues, increasingly uncomfortable OB appointments (remember the gestational diabetes test??? drinking the sugared-out juice when you already felt like vomiting? FUN!!!!!!), wanting the baby out in the last few weeks, and then actually GETTING THE BABY OUT. We won't even go there right now. You need to know, at this crossroads moment, that you also become, as a person, seriously un-fun. Downer Penelope. A bane to yourself most of all, much less poor J.Lo. Because you're sick all the time, and not yourself anyway, and the whole physical world feels like an assault, and you kind of hate all your clothes, and you just don't know what you were thinking anyway--pretty much, you're a bitch. Which makes you annoyed with yourself and the situation (all self-created, mind) even more, which is yet another vicious cycle.

In conclusion, I'm warning you, Future Penelope. Don't do it to yourself. At least not with extraordinarily careful consideration and committment to the cause. YOUR BODY DOESN'T HANDLE IT WELL. Much less your mind.

Waving My Arms in Warning,
Penelope in many shades of green

*A note to the little baby inside: Mommy's current discomfort with life has nothing to do with you, sweetie. She doesn't regret one iota that you're on the way. She just desires desperately to take a little vacation from her body at the moment, and is a wee bit frustrated that it's all going so similarly the second time around. (Hey, does that mean you're a girl, too? Just wondering.) Love you!

pen's pick

As of past Thursday's ep, a Survivor favorite has emerged: Alex. Though I still have my fingers crossed for fellow ILM-er Dreamz, Alex caught my attention with his flabbergasted annoyance at Lisi and Stacy's behavior toward Dreamz and Cassandra. Have you never watched this game before? he said. It's all about karma. EXACTLY, Alex. Lisi and Stacy, being in the so-called Top 5 of the Moto tribe, are already, at this too-too early point in the game, becoming too big for their britches and basically treating Dreamz and Cassandra, the outcast 2 on Moto, like dirt. It annoyed me that any person would treat another in such a blatantly derisive manner, much less people who have done nothing wrong. They're simply not part of the presently strong alliance. Alex, too, was rather ill at the treatment, as well as Edgardo (whom I also like, though I don't believe he's quite as savvy a player). Alex, doing simple math, knew that should a merge come soon, Dreamz and Cassandra--having no reason for loyalty to Moto--would immediately join forces with the dwindling Ravu tribe and at that point become either just as strong or stronger than the Motos. And you can never account for game twists that will shake up the tribal numbers. Seriously, are they that naive? Best be nice as you can to everyone, because you'll end up kissing some serious ass later on, should you suddenly find yourself down at the bottom of the totem pole.

It's Season 14 of Survivor, people. Have these players learned nothing from the past? Remember Marquesas, when the alliance of 4 led by Jon the nurse thought they had it all in the bag? They lazed around camp and laughed it up, thinking there was nothing that could stop them. Except, um, a revolt? People will defect out of your alliance, other tribe members will become wise, the producers, seeing that it's all too easy for one group, will throw a wrench in your grand plans. Inevitably. And for that reason--just because it's arrogantly stupid, the way they're acting--I feel Lisi and Stacy will get what they deserve. And seriously? Where do these ladies think they fall in the pecking order, even amongst their alliance of five. Tsk, tsk, can't even blame a lack of protein over at drenched-in-luxuries Moto for that lapse in judgment.

And yeah, I'm kinda glad to see Rita gone. Poor girl. She just talked about her dumb lip gloss too much.

a more perfect thing to say

Sometimes it takes me a little time for that perfect phraseology, and fittingly, this one is re: version 1.0. In reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone again, I realized that the ol' intelligence situation, in a nutshell, is this:


I used to be a Ravenclaw, but now, I am a Hufflepuff.


Not that there's anything wrong with that.

the latest adventure in the life of Bug

a weird but true thing to say

I love my optometrist. I do. Here's all the things I love about her:

1. She doesn't make me do the eye-puff test. You know, the test where they check for glaucoma? It just doesn't work with me. I've wholly convinced my mind that tiny darts will launch directly into my eyeballs in place of air, I've psyched myself out for the next 50 visits at least, and it will just never happen. They don't even try with me anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't let 'em. Today, actually, I just looked at the machine and said, "Yeah, I don't do that." And I received no argument whatsoever.

2. She's very conversational and friendly, and in a down-to-earth way. She made just the right amount of fuss over the fact that I was pregnant and feeling ill for it. She took it in stride, but wasn't dismissive. She wasn't over-the-top excited, either. (I kinda hate that.)

3. Because I was feeling ill, she got me right the hell out of there. No dilation of the eyes, very few flippy-flippies of the lenses to check, double-check, and re-re-check which Rx I needed. She knew the prescrip, and didn't mess with it.

4. She thinks marijuana should be legalized, particularly for things like nausea. But then was quick to say, "Not that I would smoke if I were pregnant, my baby would come out high."

5. She is my number one cheerleader for someday getting Lasik surgery. I realize that she probably is for all her patients, but I still like hearing it anyway. I'm literally half-blind, so Lasik would be a really big deal for me. I'm thinking part of a tax return a few years from now? I can dream.

6. She told the guy over in the eyeglasses department to give me half off the price whatever I picked. This literally saved me almost $200.

7. She also told the same guy that I had full permission to run out of the building at any time I desired, due to Being Green.

I guess overall, my optometrist's bedside manner is on point. Is that the right context for that phrase? I think I just like to say on point. What I mean is, it's pretty perfect. Oh, and also, I can't wait to get my snazzy new eyeglasses, woohoo.

cure?!

Okay, so I totally vomited this morning, for the first time this pregnancy, a detail I'm quite sure is TMI, but there's little else happening in life at the moment, so there it is. I suppose I could have chosen to talk about Australia's Next Top Model instead... which, I might actually do in another post. But for now, vomit.

No, not vomit. Because even though I vomited today, yesterday I did not vomit. I feel this may possibly be in part due to something that truly (even if temporarily) made me feel better: yogurt! Yogurt?! Indeed. Stonyfield Farm fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, in strawberry and blueberry flavors, which is ever so much healthier for a prego than, say, Oreo Choco-Stix. Pretty much when you're feeling Green, you have to eat something, even if you don't want to. And since you're Green, and feeling sorry for yourself anyway, it follows that you absolutely should have what you're most craving. Pickles, chips and (mild) salsa, meatballs, macaroni and cheese. Yesterday I ate all of these, and then in the afternoon, to combat the 3 PM Being Green Wave, I chose yogurt. And it really seemed to do the trick, as it almost completely abolished the Being Green feeling for an hour or two--as opposed to partial abolishment, which is typically what happens with Being Green snackage. And then, later in the evening, I ate more yogurt, and almost felt... good. Like if I woke up the next day feeling that good, I might consider... working out.

Unfortunately, such was not the case. However, maybe with a little more help from Stonyfield Farm and COSTCO, I'll only Be a Pale Shade of Lime.

M's List of the Malcontent

Random Comments:

1. Yogurt is very soothing to an upset stomach.
2. I woke up cranky bcs i was in the middle of a dream. My thought: figures, i never, get to talk to her!!
3. I'm really bored with being me right now.
4. Though the shopping spree made me feel slightly better. Okay it was a guilty pleasure. Bcs um, I have debt to pay... shouldn't I look good doing it?? But then how am I getting to Oxford... but then aren't I not going to make it anyway?
5. My lips are chapped.
6. My shoulders are that thing of gibralter.
7. I am underjobbed. Bored of saying that. Bored with all the feelings having to do with that.
8. Tired.
9. Need to shave.
10. Paint.
11. Make 2 Necklaces
12. Read 10 books
13. Write
14. Taxes.
15. Stop being bored...
16. Be less irritating.
17. Do not watch sex-scenes with parents
18. Keep up the course language
19. Sew
20. Sleep the sleep of the dead.

4 Months

4 months.
Feeling Abject.
Self-Imposed to Slave Wages.
Campo de Books.
But wasn't that all I could get.
3 Interviews down.
Small Bites.
The Feel Fades.
Comes Crashing.
For a Ray.
A warm light at dawn.
Come Camping.
'cide no.
Spend the days reordering the world.
Topless.
Taxes.
To myself.
Heaps of trash,
Items off the list everyday.
And more tomorrow.
My world none too short of projects.
Keep them coming,
Though progresses slow.
Time follows tardy,
find cats,
find a room of art no one sees,
find debt...
And hope for a change.

Tomorrow.

it ain't easy

Last night, around midnight, marked the fateful return of morning sickness. Clearly "morning sickness," being an all-hours affair, is not remotely an accurate term, so I shall heretofore (henceforth?) refer to morning sickness as Being Green. I am not a fan of Being Green. Who is, I know. Being Green prevents one from falling asleep again after sleeping so peacefully for three hours already at least. Being Green is clearly going to make me even more boring of a person than I already have been, these past few weeks. Because before Being Green, at least I could eat.

I should have known I would turn Green yesterday, as I was ravenous the whole day through. It was like Pen's Last Supper, or Last Lunch. And Second to Last Lunch, and Third to Last Lunch. Seriously, I had three lunches, as well as dinner, and quite a few cookies. Which, one might argue, may (should) have contributed to Being Green. But Being Green is

***Breaking K.Lo update: the Bug has learned to turn on the TV with the remote, and has chosen to watch Full House. Eeegad. She is currently bopping to the intro music. This can't be good.***

also marked by emptiness. Like your stomach is eating itself, and you should feed it so that it can eat the food instead, but absolutely nothing appeals. And then you feel like you should probably drink some water too, because water is good for you, but water is like, super-gross. So you do nothing, and try to just sleep, try to imagine that it's all fake and part of your overactive imagination. I wish it was. Maybe it is? More on this soon.

survivor q of the week

About Survivor, I don't have too much to say just yet. You know--you always get attached to characters later in the game, and by that point, the people who were voted out early on seem like a distant memory. I will miss Papa Smurf. I feel I would be the same way on Survivor, absolutely drained, a little Penelope Puddle absorbed in the sand within hours, much less days. All the bug bites, the sunburn, the hunger? It would not be good. I swear the bug bites alone on Papa Smurf could have been his downfall--can't all that bugginess in your bloodstream send your system into shock? What was with Jeffy's update on Papa Smurf's health, however. He won't be coming back. Thanks, Jeff, for that simultaneous display of the vague, ominous, and absolutely uninformative.

What happened to Papa Smurf is not my big question. My big question has to do with that brief nature clip toward the end of the show. As is tradition on Survivor, various nature shots, many of which are to intended to add a level of foreshadowing to the plot, are spliced in every week. We see spiders lurking, crabs creeping, slithering snakes, and fish, lots of fish. Some are pretty astounding and/or gross, but none have ever caught my attention like the one this week:

A snake, I believe a sea snake, literally vomited up another snake. The snake was white, and seemingly just as big as the first. Now, I know snakes typically lay eggs, so... I also know, courtesy of google, that some snakes do give live births. But, through their mouths? The tribe is out on this one. Maybe the first snake ate the second, and decided he didn't like it? Maybe he got what he needed, perhaps vital nutrients from the second snake's color, and then let the not-so-little guy go? I'm at a loss here--please advise. Never have I found a Survivor nature image so arresting, disturbing and confounding. If only I had a picture to illustrate.

In other news, Rocky needs to watch his tantrums, as well as his cross-dressing. I'm dying to see, should Moto ever lose a challenge, if they will have to give up their luxiorious camp a la The Apprentice: LA. And more on Anthony, and what lurks beneath that introverted, wounded-as-a-kid surface? That would be great.

between complacency and panic

(With a little bit of rage.) So, about being pregnant for the second time. Sometime last fall, shortly before K.Lo became mobile (and Intelligence returned from vacation), I decided yes, I am SO ready for a second baby. It was like, let's GO, let's get on with it, woohoo. And in many ways, I feel the same. It's not something I can really verbalize, it's just, that's what I wish for, another baby. And here I am, on my way.

It was such a short time ago that I had K.Lo, the physicality of pregnancy feels very familiar. And yet... and yet. One very positive thing is that this go-around, I feel I know what to expect. I know that every pregnancy is different, just like every baby, but the basic facts of what will happen, what it will all feel like, are all stored in my Points of Reference. So in a lot of ways, I'm taking it all in stride, la-dee-da, hum-dee-ho, falling asleep on the couch at 9 every night and trying to eat a little healthier this time. I know what's going on.

But then, there are these moments. The wow, really? moments. Like, I did that once? I carried a baby to term and then got the thing out? I feel like I must have been so tough--how was it such a short time ago? I made it through all the blood tests and the unspeakable poking and prodding and the general day-to-day discomfort? Really? Beyond morning sickness, which was absolutely wretched and way too long the first time, I went through the achy waddling phase and the killer heartburn and the contractions and whatever else, too? And lived? I just... it seems slightly impossible to me, in these moments. The moments that are laced with uncertainty and panic.

But I guess... I'm doing it. There's not much turning back now, so.

I went to the doctor this morning, met with everyone's favorite nurse, Vapid J, who has such a pre-programmed list of things to say that I don't think she even really listens or can process her way through a question to give a unique and proper answer, should the situation call for it. Exercise helps you through the nausea, she says. That's my personal favorite. Oh, and the seabands, the fucking seabands for morning sickness. She says she likes them so much, but I'm like, what do you mean, you like them. Have you ever used them, and for morning sickness? I don't think so. I think she likes them because they sound quaint. My wrists had indents in them so deep two years ago from seabands, it made me want to vomit even more. I mean, if they work for you, great, fantastic. But I just want to sit down one day and tell Vapid J where she can stick her seabands--and I would too, if I thought it would make her blink.

Anyway, the second part of the visit involved a blood draw across the street in the new lab building, which I can already tell is going to be a joy to visit on a regular basis. I shouldn't complain, since it's still pretty close, I don't have to drive anywhere for results. And I probably won't have K.Lo with me most of the time, like I did today. The stairs are the first thing that frosted me, but maybe I was just in a bad mood from Vapid J. Then they must keep the place about 62 degrees cold. And then, okay--I know she didn't mean to do it, this lady from the lab. I know she probably draws blood at least 15 times a day perfectly, and I've had my blood drawn several times in life, but--WTF. WTF WTF WTF. When drawing the third vial out, that needle somehow shifted in my vein, and literally took my breath away. My bicep still, STILL, aches an hour and a half later. My arm is blotchy with these weird pale spots and my muscle feels like it's being squeezed and/or bruised. WTF!!!

See, I'm becoming a wuss. With a slight bit of rage. I think I need to get in touch with my complacent side again. I miss Complacent Pen. Maybe a nap would find her again.