ca-COUGH-ony

Photo by Rachel Ford James / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Oh hai. *cough* What’s that? *hack* You can’t hear me over all the coughing? *lung expulsion* Well it’s no picnic on this end either. (TWSS) I don’t know if it’s all the cottonwood fluff floating around or what but I’ve been coughing since last Friday and my exhalations sounds like a coffeemaker’s wheezy sputtering. I haven’t used my inhaler this much since I had pneumonia in college. I’ve tried over-the-counter everything so I just made an appointment with my doctor. In the meantime, being near me is like hanging out in a tuberculosis ward.

The gym continues to be a constant source of entertainment. Last night, a nasty storm forced us to evacuate the outdoor pool so we went to the indoor pool instead. After about a half-an-hour, the power went off with a frightening THUNK. It was a little freaky but also sparked my inner trouble-maker. I had an overwhelming compulsion to do something naughty so I started checking random closet doors to see if they were unlocked. I didn’t have a plan for what I’d do if one was and it’s not like I would’ve discovered something crazy like an army of life-size Gummi Bears (sorry, I just watched the California Gurls video) but I couldn’t resist the urge to try. In the end, I couldn’t think of anything clandestine or exciting but am open to ideas for the next outage.

The upside of a gym black-out is the merciful cessation of my overdrive OCD tendencies. You see, being in a locker room is very stressful for me. There’s something about the combination of rogue hair and wet floors that makes my skin crawl. In fact, I sometimes have nightmares about having to walk barefoot across a wet, hairy shower floor with gnarly, fetid, standing water and OHMYGOD, just typing this is killing me! And don’t forget the random dirty underwear left on top of the lockers, stray trails of used toilet paper, and the weird crustacean-like booger on the soap dispenser in shower stall 2. But when the lights were out, I couldn’t see a thing and therefore didn’t spend the entire time tense and agonizing, afraid of catching 10 different strains of cooties. It was so wonderful to shower and dress in the damp darkness, completely unaware of the cesspool below. Sadly I’m sure the power has been restored but I’ll always remember the fleeting day my neurosis was kept at bay.

P.S. Really the locker room at the gym I’ve been going to is relatively clean. I’m making it sound terrible because I have a thing but overall, it’s not a horrible place to change.

P.P.S. What is with boys wearing underwear under their swim trunks? Also, Guy in the Purple Speedo? COME ON!!

Finally, an Occasion to Use “Mustachioed” in a Sentence!

Last summer, I had lunch with some friends I used to work with. We all happen to be sillyheads, which is why we get on so well. We always have rip-roaring fun when we get together (except for that one time with the snails.) I often bring along a goofy toy for us to fiddle with, as we’re simpletons who are easily entertained by trinkets and do-dads. Last time, I brought these self-adhesive mustaches. Please don’t try to understand why an adult would even think of such a thing, just know that hilarity ensued. Here are my favorite snaps from our lunch:

Eventually the adhesive wore off and we went our separate ways to wreak havoc at our respective workplaces. I was left with one lone mustache, which I soon lost.

Fast forward to last week when while working one afternoon, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. To my horror, it was a big ol’ spider crawling along the wall with a haughty air. I immediately e-mailed someone I work with, insisting she come remove the foul beast from my working quarters. She rushed to my office and thoughtfully eyed the innocent spider before doing a double-take, pointing at something in the corner, and saying, “WHAT IS THAT???” I was sitting on the other side of my desk and afraid to look, thought she’d found a teeming nest or the headquarters of Al Qaeda. She explained that there was something brown and furry in the corner and after poking it with her foot, bent over to examine it more closely. I couldn’t imagine what on earth it was and feared the worst when she carefully picked up the object and dangled it in front of my face. I’m sure by now you’ve correctly guessed that it was that blasted left-over mustache. And imagine, if you will, me trying to explain why I have a cheesy, porn star self-adhesive mustache in my office. “Oh you know, sometimes I wear one to channel Magnum P.I. It helps me think!” I mentally added the event to my growing list of mortifications and realized the best recourse was to giggle and try to redirect our attention to the spider. Needless to say, my friend hasn’t come to visit me in my office since.

“Helloooooo! I’m mustachioed! La la la!”

P.S. A friend is coming into town this weekend and I am totally making mustaches on a stick for us to play with. I’ll be sure to take pictures.

Notes from the Planet Immaturia

Mother nature is once again punishing me for my impudent hedonism. Oh yes readers, she’s a mischievous minx with a twisted sense of humor. As you well know, I’ve intrepidly dipped my toe in the murky waters of Internet dating. Despite the glut of duds, I had my first date on Saturday. We e-mailed and talked for a few weeks and though tempered, my hopes were high. Against all odds, it went very well and after dinner and an hour of shameless flirting at a bookstore, we ended up at a lovely park. It was there that things took a passionate turn and, well, we ended up making out. I know, I know – that’s not something you do in public beyond the age of say, 12 or 13, but we just couldn’t help ourselves. Bear in mind that we were in a relatively-private gazebo and whenever anyone was in the vicinity, we broke apart to casually discuss the Pythagorean Theorem. It was all innocent and fun until the next morning when I found that my feet, ankles, and legs were COVERED in mosquito bites. I was wearing a skirt, you see, and got so caught up in the smooching, I didn’t notice the army of insects feasting on my limbs. I stopped counting at 13 bites and instead spent the week scratching furiously and cursing my childish romp.

In other I Can’t Handle Adult Responsibility news, my driver’s license expired on my birthday so (a month later), I called the BMV to find out if I needed to bring any obscure paperwork to renew it. The kind lady I spoke with summarily informed me I had accrued enough points on my license that I had to take the written test to once again be considered road-worthy. “FANTASTIC,” I chirped. The points were courtesy of my first speeding ticket, The Incident, and my most-recent foray with Barney Fife. WOW. Who wants to hire me to balance your checkbook or care for your children? Thankfully everything turned out well. I took a few hours off work to study and passed with only one wrong. Yay me!

To clean my cluttered slate, I’m heading to Chicago for a night o’ fun with the Bumble B, during which I will NOT make out outside or receive any moving violations. What are you up to this weekend?

Recent Mortifications

1. After making a fuss, finding out my dryer wasn’t broken and instead only need its fuse box switch flipped. (To my credit, I figured out that’s why I didn’t have any hot water when I first moved in but it didn’t even occur to me with the dryer. I did check to make sure it was plugged in. WIN.)
2. Confronting the painful reality that my tendency to burst into song spills over into the classroom. After I taught recently the assistant gibed, “You made it through without singing this time!”
3. Casually leading the cable guy into my boudoir only to be confronted with the remnants of last night’s tryst IN PLAIN VIEW. “Yes, that’s the cable outlet…right beside that prophylactic wrapper.”
4. Infecting my work computer with some heinous, unstoppable malware at 5 p.m. on Friday. I felt obliged to call the emergency IT number to give them a heads-up on the off chance the problems might be virus-related.  I hated to do it but figured that embarrassment was preferable to the shame of coming to work on Monday and finding out my doltery disabled all the company’s workstations. When you’re in the IT field, hanging your head before a smug IT support guy is on par with slamming your hand in a drawer.
5. Going to the Mc D’s drive-thru for breakfast often enough to be recognized and quoted my order without uttering a word. “Plain bagel with sausage and a large unsweetened iced tea, right?” (Don’t worry. I occasionally mix it up with whole grain bread and peanut butter.)
6. The inevitable lascivious heckling that results when your boss’s boss grins and greets you with “Hey [my real name here]” but everyone thinks he said “Hey baby!”
7. Begrudgingly laughing out loud more than once while watching Superbad.

P.S. Faithful reader Don Kramer sent me an IM this morning:

Mymsella, anything new to post? I’ve read this one too many times. Let me throw out a topic and maybe you can discuss. Maybe this goose birth control story as a follow-up to your last post? Dipping goose eggs in corn oil – interesting concept!

DISCUSS!

Have You Ever Seen Geese Fight?

It doesn’t have quite the same punch as “Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight” but it’s a worthy quandary nonetheless, one I unfortunately had occasion to answer last Sunday. After a leisurely drive, Moxy and I happened upon some geese by a pond in Lean’s apartment complex. Two boys were loitering nearby and appeared to be throwing pebbles at the geese. We told them to knock it off and a few moments later, looked over to find two geese in a full-on throw-down. Feathers were literally flying while all the neighboring geese came barreling toward the dueling pair, honking like lunatics. I’ve never seen such a spectacle! The fighting geese had locked beaks but couldn’t seem to make any progress one way or the other. The crazed mob mentality of the other geese only made things worse. I started blowing the horn (my default response in any crisis) and we tried to shoo the pair apart with dark threats like, “Don’t make me pull this car over” and “This is why your father drinks” but they kept at it while the rest of the flock flapped and paced and egged ’em on. Moxy finally got out of the car and managed to split up the little hellions, one of whom was so riled up, he/she followed the other when he/she tried to escape. I blew the horn and yelled some more, to clearly demonstrate my level-headed coping skills and finally things calmed down.

We had no idea what the fight had been over. A bastard gosling? A flirty hen? We hoped it wasn’t because they didn’t have enough food but weren’t sure what to do even if that was the case. Hopefully they managed to keep their beaks clean for the rest of the day but I can say with certainty that I’ll never be the same, having witnessed Mother Nature’s answer to the Jerry Springer Show.

P.S. I always feel sad for geese living near concrete and traffic in loud, urban environments. Poor honkers. It’s times like that when I’m ashamed at humankind’s audacity. Who are we to barge into pristine environments and re-purpose them to meet our needs, leaving the original inhabitants to pick up the pieces and fend for themselves?

P.P.S. Am I the only one who’s got a hankering for KFC? 😉

Is It So Wrong That…

• I often use the scissors in my office to scratch the winter-parched skin of my back?
• I teared up at the end of Daddy’s Girls last night? (SHUT IT.)
• I put my oniony-smelling kitchen trash bag in the hall last night because I couldn’t stand the stink in my apartment?
• Moxy and I paid to see Bride Wars on Sunday, so desperate for levity were we from the deluge of tear-jerkers (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Doubt, The Reader) we’ve seen lately?
• I suggested a friend who’s going to Obama’s inauguration wear a giant foam finger so I can easily identify him on TV broadcasts of the event?
• I spent an afternoon drooling over some of my Etsy faves?
• I developed a little crush on Bear Grylls after watching too many episodes of Man vs. Wild last weekend? (Yes, I’ve seen the elephant poo clip.)
• I sometimes have to drop stuff off after hours at Goodwill, even though the sign says not to?

Shameless

Oh hai. ‘member me? I blog here sometimes, usually about how tired I am, which makes for some really riveting content. Remember last week when I nodded off at work? Yesterday the lady in the office across from mine fell asleep at her desk and STARTED SNORING! In a gesture of sympathetic mortification, my face turned bright red as she continued to saw logs, drawing the attention and giggles of several passers by. You’re probably thinking there’s something in the water here but, no. I recently found out I’m always so tired because:

1. My blood sugar has been getting dangerously low during the day.
2. My thyroid has, for all intents and purposes, completely shut down.

Don’t be jealous of the metabolic nightmare raging inside me! That’s why I completely cut out sugar, because my bod simply doesn’t handle it well. (Nor am I able to manage eating only “reasonable” portions of it.) And for the record, it’s been nearly 2 months since I’ve had any! Overall I’m doing well but some times are hard, like when my Dad (who just came into town for Thanksgiving) felt it necessary to describe IN THOROUGH DETAIL this incredibly decadent coconut pound cake my grandmother used to make. And then I simply growled and shot him a dirty look until he ceased talk of the ooey gooey layers. Trust me when I say, for the time being it’s in your best interest to avoid all talk of sweet delights around me, lest I beat you about the head with a box of Sweet’N Low.

And now on to the title of this post. In honor of the embarrassing things we all experience, I’d like to forgo my usual modesty and share a candid moment with you. Last Sunday at bed time, I found myself tired (SURPRISE!) but unable to sleep and so like an irritable tot, I fought sleep in every way possible, first acting as though I’d just discovered my toes and then monkeying around with my mobile phone. It wasn’t long before I found I could record videos with it and so I made this gem of a flick and sent it to several pals:

(If you haven’t seen the commercial I’m making fun of, check it out here.)

Don’t you especially love my honkey scat at the end?? I think Lean’s response says it all: “Forget Sundance. CANNES baby. We can totes room with the Spielbergs.”

I “Yearbooked” Myself

And you thought “yearbook” was a noun!

Made at YearbookYourself.com via Nothing But Bonfires.

Cinematic History

The lovely KNH asked me how she could put together some pictures and footage to make a video. I did a little research and ended up creating one of my own using Windows Movie Maker. Prepare to be blown away! Gotta run – Woody Allen is calling about a collaboration with the Coen brothers.

Guess What I Did Last Friday?

Sorry about the bad flash.