Thursday, April 30, 2009

Talk to Me

So new guy has a way with words. And I like it. But he should have a way with words since his undergrad is in creative writing. I would be highly disappointed if he didn't know 1000 different ways to make me melt/swoon/want to pounce (and so far so good).

I don't know if we're a "thing," if we're dating or just making out like high schoolers. If and how many people have seen us or know, if we say anything if asked or if anyone has asked in the first place. There's still a lot of flirty, me trying to be cute, teasing getting to know you stuff between us. But the interest is clearly established and the chemistry is there (you know what John Mayer? My body is a wonderland). I don't know what all his intentions are or even if he has intentions in the first place. There are still a lot of up ifs (which normally drives me crazy, (I like a plan dammit) but I'm doing ok with the vagueness of definition). For all I know it could be a summer thing, or it could be more. But whatever "it" is, I feel that it will fall into place how it should.

But the more we talk, the more I like him. Finger's crossed I do get to a 1000 different ways (and dude can speak spanish too, so even if he does run out of things to say, he can just reiterate something in another language. I'll never know the difference)

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Math Skillz

Math is one of those things that you either get or don't get in my opinion. I get it, I always have. But since I hadn't taken a math class in almost 9 years, my skills were a bit rusty to say the least. So I'm in pre-algebra as a refresher course.

Anyway, I almost always get the right answers but I don't always say them out loud because I don't want to be the only one who ever answers in class. Because I don't want to be that person who ends up annoying everyone. Well today I said the right answer (as I am wont to do) and as I was answering, I heard something murmured between the 2 guys that sit behind me (one of them's the mouth breather). I didn't hear what was said, but from the tone and timing, I could tell it was something along the lines of little-miss-know-it-all.

And it hurt my feelings at first, but then I slowly started seething. Why should I feel bad for something I'm good at? I earned my A, and I'm not going to diminish one of my strengths because you don't seem to get this stuff.

I did get mollified a little bit though. I stayed after class to ask my professor about taking a placement test (to get into a higher class this summer), and he said: "yes you do" all affirmative. It was obvious from his tone that he knew I was doing well and thinks I might be able to place. My algebra skills came back pretty quick in that class, so fingers crossed my trigonometry does too. But this was said in front of the mouth breather, who was trying to arrange an extra help for this class. So there, nanny nanny boo boo.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Why No One Will Ever Feel Sorry for Me

I have a certain pair of jeans that I refer to as my "skinny jeans." While they aren't my smallest pair, I look bloody fantastic in them. I feel like a super model when I put them on. My legs go on for miles, they hug all the right curves and hang in the right places, they have just the right amount of stretch, and the back pockets accentuate in the right way. Bloody. Fantastic. I f*cking love these jeans.

But when I started running I slimmed down a little bit. And I lost even more weight because of the break up. (I'm one of those bitches whose appetite goes when I'm sick or depressed, making me even thinner). So over the past year, I've probably dropped around 5-10 pounds (even my chest is smaller (cries!)), and I've kept it off.

So now my skinny jeans, that I look like a super model in? Are too big.
Right. Like anyone's ever going to feel sorry for me for that.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Bedroom Redo

What my room used to look like:

Blue with balloon wallpaper half ripped off. And the clown border ripped off years ago. (What can I say? We did the room when I was 4 and I like the circus)
(Bailey's just adding to the decor)

What my grown up 26 year old room looks like now:


With brown trim!

It's like sleeping/homeworking in a strawberry cream filled chocolate

Side note: Bailey however, has not changed spots on the bed. That's OK, she still adds to the decor, and she's color blind anyway

Sunday, April 26, 2009

I Did It (again)!

I finished!
Now normally I don't like putting pictures up of myself in general. Because then people can see what I look like. And I especially don't put pictures up where I am:
  • Am wearing absolutely no makeup
  • Am really sweaty
  • Am tired
But this was taken after the Derby half-marathon on Saturday and I'm clearly in a good mood in this picture.

That's a finisher's medal around my neck, and yes, that is a beer in my hand.

As we know, my goal was to simply finish and not die. Which I did (obviously or I wouldn't be blogging and you would be very sad if I died too).

My chip time was 2:27:19, which makes my average pace an 11:15 minute mile. I feel really good about that. I didn't shave off any time, in fact, I added almost 2.5 minutes to my previous one (my Pig time was 2:25:06), but I don't mind. The big difference with this one is that I actually ran most of it (instead of walking the hills, and the first 8 miles of the Pig? All hill) and I finished a lot stronger too. I want to say that I ran 11.5-12 of the 13.1 miles.

The Derby Mini I was a lot more regulated and controlled, sticking close to a pace group helped a lot with that. And I was in better shaped going into it too. This time around I built more core/back/arm strength in my training routine so I was more evenly balanced. I took it easy in the beginning and I ran it fairly conservatively because the heat was climbing rapidly (a lot of runners collapsed because of it).

Today I'm not too sore, my legs are tired and my feet even more so, but I expected that. It's mostly my between my shoulder blades and middle back that hurts the most, nothing that a little ibuprofen can't fix. I'm able to move around like a normal person, just a little slower.

I did it! I did it! Go me!

Friday, April 24, 2009

And We're Off!

It's here, the half marathon I've been training for! EEP! We're off to Louisville tonight to pick up my packet and then at 7:30 am the starting pistol goes off. For those of you that blog stalk me (and I'm oddly touched if you do), you can find me here. There might be a way for you to track me, so you'll get a email or a text message letting you know when I've crossed the half-way point and finish line. (My bib number is 8963 apparently) Or you can wait for a post race blog, because you know I will.

Anyway, I am nervous. Not as nervous as I was for the Pig last year, but there were outside factors that contributed to that. My ex informed me we were dog sitting that weekend 2 hours before the extra dog was dropped off (like how he didn't check with me 3 months before when he agreed to dog sit in the first place? (Hi, bitter, party of one)). And we were having company too so I was in full fledged Donna Reed on speed mode. (I am a rocking hostess. But you don't want to see the crazy that gets me there)

The point there, is that I am nervous, but it's a different nervous. This is just a holy crap I'm really going to do this nervous. But I have a somewhat calmer approach to this race. I'm going to stick with my MO: finish and not die. I'm not trying to win, I'm not going to harp (too much) on my time, I just want to complete it and say "I did it (again)!" I'll run as much as I can when I can, but I'll walk when I need too. Plus it helps knowing that I have completed another half so I know I can do it.

I'm excited I get to run through Churchill Downs where the Derby is run (I love horse racing). I may not have trained exactly as I should have (I did get my miles in Amy, I really did! Don't worry, I won't ask for another training plan), but I'm ready. So we're off!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Gossipy gossipy

I've been wanting to take down my relationship status on facebook for a while now. I just want to leave the field blank, this has nothing to do with my crush for the record (how uber-creepy would it be if it did?). But facebook, being the gossipy 14 year old girl that it is, lets everyone you know anything you change.

Get a new friend: Sarah is now friends with so and so
Sarah updated her music preferences/contact information/schools, bla bla bla
Sarah has taken the what personality quiz are you

You get the point. Annoying. So if you change anything, even changing it to nothing, everyone will know. And just to add insult to injury, you know what facebook does when you change your relationship status? It puts a mthr fcking heart next to it (broken or intact depending which way you change).

Example: take down your engaged status and "Sarah is no longer listed as "engaged"" pops up with a broken heart next to it. Which helped my emotional turmoil, so, so, so much. Then when I listed myself as single: Sarah is listed as "single" with an intact heart. (because I was so hopeful about that?) If I change it to a non-existent status (which is what I want to do now), it will say: Sarah is no longer listed as single with a full heart next to it (just assume there facebook, just assume)

You know what it doesn't announce to the world though? If the person you're in a relationship with changed their status to single, or if someone un-friends you (which I have done to people-they had 300+ friends I don't think they noticed they were less 1. And also I didn't care about their stupid updates). It will "tell" everyone who person A is friends with that person A is no longer listed as in a relationship with person B. Except person B that is (they might get the status update if person A still has you as a "friend." So not only does facebook rub your face in your status, it also makes you look like a chump.

I learned my lesson, so I'm never changing anything ever again on it. My real friends know what's going on with me and that's what matters.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Moving On

I found my favorite picture from the night I got engaged. It's actually one of my favorite pictures of us in general. Our heads are tucked together, neither of us looking at the camera because we're both looking at my newly ringed finger. It was a random shot, but it was a moment between us to just be ours.

Two months ago I couldn't bring myself to open that picture box. Finding any picture, especially that one, I would have burst into tears and fallen down the disappointment spiral. But I still would have been unable to let the picture go regardless.

Sunday I opened the box and found it. I held it in my hands and stared at it for a while, remembering the happier times. And I sighed and thought, "you know, this could have been. ::pause:: But now it's going to be so much better." Without a tear, regret, bitter or sadness. Just an acknowledgment of my past.

I'm keeping the picture for now, it was and always will be a big moment in my life. But before I put it back in the box I wrote that thought, verbatim, on the back of it. Because it is going to be so much better. In fact, it already is.

Monday, April 20, 2009

I win! I win!

So the kid behind me in math class is a mouth breather, and it annoys me. I've mentioned this before. And it is gross when you feel a complete stranger breath on your neck (the only time I ever want to feel anyone breathing on my neck is if we're snuggling FYI - And I don't snuggle with strangers either).

I get to class 20-15 minutes before start time, so I take my regular seat because, well, that's what I do. But on the days I catch the later bus and get to class a few minutes late, I move up a seat because mouth breather is sitting in his regular seat. Its my passive aggressive way of saying - respect my personal area you ass clown. I didn't want to change seats because I get there first, and since he annoys me, he should be the one to move.

But I couldn't take it anymore. The weather is warming up and at some point I probably will wear a tank top to class, and I am not going to feel mouth breathing on my shoulders/back. There would be throat punching involved if I did. And we're legal adults so that constitutes as "assault." So I changed seats. I moved up to the front row, and he took his regular seat, the one right behind where I use to sit.

So I win! I win! (sorta) Now if I could only get him to stop breathing so freaking loud too...

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Family Planning

I know I am going to ruffle a lot of feathers here, but I don't care

I don't "get" accidental pregnancies. As easy as it is to get pregnant, it's just as easy to not get pregnant. We're not in '60's when you had to be married to get a prescription for birth control. And even if you don't have a doctor to write you one, there's always the drugstore/pharmacy to get other prevention methods. And if that doesn't happen (sheesh, precaution people) there's Plan B.

I know accident's happen. And I know that nothing is 100% effective (except abstinence and we all know those programs are worthless). But if you use things correctly, and that includes paying attention to the possible weakeners (like smoking while on the pill, or listening to your Dr when they say use a back up method while on an antibiotic), there's a 98%-99% chance of effectiveness. Those are really good odds don't you think? And it's not exactly rocket science to use things properly.

So when I hear of someone accidentally getting pregnant (usually out of wedlock), my first thought is not: oh congratulations! No, my reaction is: oops for you. Sometimes it does work out and kids get un-bastardized when mommy and daddy make the legal commitment because, apparently, having a child isn't a big enough commitment for some people. But most times, it's single parenthood during the kids most developmental years. And I also don't feel that sorry for them when I hear how hard single parenthood is. Because you know what? It's a choice you willing made. You could have prevented this to begin with, and even after those 2 pink lines appeared, you still had a choice. Yes I'm pro-choice. And pro-choice does not mean pro-abortion, it means choice.

Now I know I'm not invincible, and this could very well happen to me. It has happened to a few people I know too. I will always advocate the choice option, no matter what. But in 10 years (when I'm in my upper 30's) who knows where I'll be with my own family planning. And if I don't have the husband, 2.5 kids, dog and white picket fence, I might start looking into single parenthood somehow. And an oops could happen, because well, there is always that chance. But I'm not going to feel that sorry for myself or anyone else for that matter.

Saturday, April 18, 2009


What I meant to buy at Target:
  1. rubbing alcohol
  2. contact solution
  3. conditioner
estimated total: $15

What I actually bought at Target
  1. rubbing alcohol
  2. contact solution
  3. new purse (that I will carry for one season and so will every body else)
  4. eye makeup remover
  5. sunglasses (I loose/break a pair every year, so it was replacement time)
  6. shorts (but long ones so I can wear heels with them and not be trashy looking)
actual total: $56

I've done worse though. Once I went in for shampoo and conditioner and came out with 3 full bags of I don't know what. So I've gotten a little better. For example, I did stop myself from getting shoes and new sports bra too. I have some self control (that's a lie and we all know that)

Friday, April 17, 2009

I Have a Crush!

I had a date the other night, and I'm thinking I could really like this guy. I mean, I liked him already, (or I wouldn't have let him kiss me-more on that later) but I wasn't sure at first when he asked me out if it was a date-date or a friend-date.

I started off calling it a friend-date to ease my nerves (and save face just in case), and it went really well. We got to know each other a little better over dinner and I had a good time, but I was still a little unsure of the date-status. But being the astute woman that I am, I figured it was more along the lines of a date-date when he kissed me good night.

I don't want to go babble too much because:
A: It's still really too soon to tell anything
B: It's absolutely possible for him to reading this and then all the coy crap I'm trying to pull off has just been null and voided.

But I like him, and I want to see him again. And I'm excited at the possibility of possibility. As far as the more kissing details I promised, I'll just say this: it was wonderful.

Plus we both think that squirrels could take over the world. Tell me that's not something.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

On a serious note

My great aunt passed away Monday morning. While I am sad to see her go, I'm glad she's no longer in pain. She was diagnosed with dementia several years ago and has been deteriorating ever since really. I haven't seen her in at least 3 years and I'm not able to make it to the funeral. It's too bad I've only got a few memories of her before the dementia started taking it's toll.

Rest in peace Aunt Mollie. I didn't know you when you were well, but I'm glad you're in a better place now.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Heads up

Whenever I get a new serious boyfriend/husband (whoever he may be), I think it's fair I establish these rules just so everyone's (mainly mine) life is more pleasant.
  • All my ideas are good ideas.
  • I am right 90% of the time. The other 10% can be broken down as such: 8% I am very close to right, and on the 2% chance I am wrong, it is quite possibly an epic fail
  • It saves time if you just agree with me.
  • If I say "guess" I actually do want you to guess.
  • I tend to pout when I don't get my way. I also result to sulking and whining if not-my-way is egregious enough.
  • I'm not "cool." I am a dork and a spazz. And when combined, I am a spork.
  • I'm high strung, hence the spaz quality.
  • If I am not talking to you, yes, I am mad. And no I will not tell you why.
  • I will not workout/run/exercise with you. I don't like people in general to see me sweat
  • I flip through my radio stations every 15 seconds. It's annoying. But you are not allowed to play with my radio regardless (I won't play with yours though to be fair).
  • I flip through commercials the same way too.
  • I will randomly continue a conversation you think ended 3 hours ago.
  • When I drink, I will at some point want to take off my heals and expect you to carry me.
  • Half my communication skills are random noises and facial expressions. You will need to learn what they are, interpret, and act quickly.
  • I get cranky if I don't eat, when I'm tired or I'm too hot or cold. I am difficult if I am 2 combined. Heaven help you if I am all 3.
I admit to being high maintenance and (sometimes) a lot of trouble. But I also am thoughtful, fun, nice and I make pretty arm candy. So I'm worth it.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Between the Sheets

Over share time:
As much as my friends and I talk about everything and anything, there's one area that we rarely, if ever talk about: the intimate part. As much as I love the rush of a new relationship, I'm always nervous about taking that step with someone new. I'm not blow your mind fantastic behind closed doors (I'm sorry if I just ruined your fantasy and/or scarred you for life). I don't think I'm horrible, but I'm better when confident, and that takes time for me, once I get a comfort level with the person. Because the one (practically only) thing my ex and I did have with each other was chemistry. But it's not that either of us were absolute rock stars in the bedroom, to quote Jennifer Weiner's Good In Bed, "It was that we'd loved each other, once. We'd been good in bed together."

I've had very little physical contact for a while (the ex and I started drifting apart in all areas of our lives almost a year ago), and it's frustrating. Not in that sense (well somewhat in that sense), but it's the feeling of not being loved and cared about. From someone you would have stopped the world for. And even though he claimed he still found me attractive, I couldn't believe him. When you go from getting dressed in a different room because you know that if you ask him to zip up your dress that the only place his hands will not go is the zipper, to walking right in front of of him in a notice-me-bikini while in the best shape of your life and he doesn't bat an eye, I don't think you would believe you were attractive either.

It took years and several boyfriends for me to believe I was even halfway pretty. And it only takes one person to shatter your self confidence. So how do I get it back for my own sake?

Monday, April 13, 2009


Turns out, the term cougar and a panther are interchangeable. And if a woman dating a younger man is a cougar, then a man dating a younger woman needs a term besides "happens every day." So my friend coined the term: manther, and I love it.

For my own knowing, I figured I should probably figure out what my personal minimum cougar and max manther age are.

If I am to be a cougar: the minimum is 1/2 your age + 7. So 26 /2 = 13, + 7 is 20. However I am bumping that up to 21, simply because I don't want a boyfriend to like me simply because I can buy him beer.

If I am to date a manther: I'm applying the same math only in reverse. So 26 - 7 =19, X2 = 38.

So there you go, it's acceptable for me to date someone 20-38. That's a whole legal person difference.

Sunday, April 12, 2009


I have people. And my people have people (though it's a pretty circular group). And you don't realize how much you love your people until you're forced to socialize with not your people.
For example, my ex's friends are so not my people. I never did and I never was going to fit in with them. His friends were nice enough, but I had no desire to hang out with them on my own.
Last summer I went to a baby shower for one of the ex's friends. I had offered to throw her a shower myself because I didn't know if any one else in that group was going to or frankly knew how. Fortunately, someone already took the shower duties and all I had to be was a guest.

I felt so out of place at that baby shower. I was the only person there who didn't have at least 2 visible tattoos and a piercings (not that any tattoos or piercings), the only one (except the mom-to-be for the moment) who didn't smoke, and also the only one wearing a pink. And I had the audacity to wear navy (gasp!) is a sea of black skull and cross bones.

By the 3rd smoke break where everyone left the room except me, I remember thinking, "what the hell am I doing here with you people?" I didn't even have much to say in the way of small talk, I exhausted that with them 2 years prior. My shower gift, was something useful off the registry, it wasn't a screen printed onsiee that you can't wash (real smart there skank guest). And for the record, I never got a thank you note for it.

Not my people. Nice enough, but sooooo not my people.

Dog Days

Today I decided was going to be Bailey Day. The original plan was to just go to the pet store and let her pick out some new toys. Apparently, my dog has an opinion, and I'm going to indulge it. (Cesar Milan, I'm sorry, I do not apply your whisperer ways all the time-I'm a softy for her)

But since it was such a pretty day, though a bit chilly, (yesterday, it hailed) I thought a trip to the dog park would be nice too. I didn't let her stay too long there, because I didn't want her to overwork her knee. She completely spazzes around other dogs, I knew I had to keep an eye on her. She ran and played and sniffed like the kid she is. And while I felt a little bad for not letting her play longer, I knew she would go crazy at the pet store too.

Sheesh, that was exhausting. She wanted to go everywhere and she's a strong thing. I was hoping she would select a toy (by using her non-opposable thumb to point something out), but she was too busy sniffing to pay attention to the whole aisle of toys. So I held up a stuffed skunk (she adored/killed her stuffed platypus) and when she tried to grab it from me, I took that as a yes. And I indulged myself a little and got her a pink collar (Mark wouldn't let me get her a pink one, something about it not being manly? But she's a girl dog! I argued. We both sulked and then agreed on red)

All was well I thought. Silly me, guess who gets car sick? Even though she sticks her nose out the window, I guess it was just too much. Because 1/4 mile from home, her lunch came up. And that stuff went everywhere. So as I'm cleaning it up (and trying not to gag myself), I decided nooks and crannies are only good for an English muffin. I'm not mad at her for getting sick though, she can't help it. But she's so getting a bath tomorrow.

Friday, April 10, 2009


(Girls Raised In The South)

I consider Kentucky's a southern state, but even though I grew up here I never really considered myself a southerner. That is until I went to college, literally, across the river. People were shocked I didn't have an accent, that my high school class was bigger then their Ohio one, and that I wasn't barefoot and pregnant. Once a friend asked me why I wasn't (barefoot and pregnant) and my reply: I don't have any brothers. Point, Sarah.

Lexington is caught in the middle of south and north really. It's a liberal town in a conservative state. Kentucky in general isn't deep south like Georgia peaches, but it ain't exactly New England north either. But now that I've plunked myself willingly in Lexington, I'm starting to realize I have a few southern tendencies. For example, I like big hair. And I know that there are 200+ uses for WD-40. And people do say y'all in Ohio, but all y'all, that belongs south of the river.

There is one thing I wish southern gals didn't do on a constant basis. And that's wear makeup everywhere. Because when I go out in public, even to class, with out it on, people look at me like I'm a freak of nature.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Where my refund check is going:

Strait to my dentist. My mouth isn't in the greatest of shape. My dentist finished the root canal today, so I have a a permanent filling in there, but still need a crown on it sometime soon. But she wants to fill some different cavities on the other side and half of my mouth before the crown goes on. And until that happens, I should avoid really hard foods (so no peanut brittle for a while, not that I'm extremely disappointed in that). This is what I get for not going to the dentist for 3 years. Payback apparently, is a bitch.

But I'm getting this all fixed and over with so that I don't have to do this again. Because the scary tools make scary noises too. Grinding/whirring noises with burning smell from inside your mouth is nerve wracking.

Currently, I feel as if I have gotten punched in the mouth. To the medicine drawer!

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


This was from a while back, but I found this email where we were discussing mamapop's take on the 15 top People Sexiest Men. While I don't agree with the entire list, I certainly didn't mind the yummy factor. But what was more entertaining was our commentary afterwords.

Jeanne: I'm not down with all of the teenagers/guys who play teenagers. Older men - like Jon Hamm - are much hotter. To a point. Now I'm super curious as to who is older Brad Pitt or Jon Hamm. B/c Jon is so much hotter than Brad.

(15 seconds later)
Jeanne: Brad is 45. Jon is 37. That explains it. 37 = our age. 45 = older man.
LB: Is anyone else depressed that we have entered into the realm that "37 is our age"
Me: Nope, as long as Daniel Craig is there to welcome me to it.
Jon Hamm is sexy too. Like suave, mm mmm good (wait that's soup)
Jeanne: Agreed. I'd be fine with any age group if John Hamm was the graduation present.


So, obviously, I have a thing for: Daniel Craig as James Bond
Super spy bad ass in a tux in front of a bar- I don't stand a chance. Want!

And also Daniel Radcliffe (who wasn't on the list) as Harry Potter:
MMM, something about the brooding. It's ok, he's legal.

So a super spy and a boy wizard. And British Daniels too apparently.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


I'm trying to register for classes for summer and fall. And I understand that I can't take some classes because I don't have the pre-requisites yet. But some classes should go together, like chemistry lecture and chemistry lab. Same with biology (I am not looking forward to biology and all it's ickyness)

But they offer the corresponding labs during the lecture time...and you can't sign up for both due to to "time conflict." And it's making me stabby because I can't sign up for classes I have to have but I can't take. Class schedules should not be this hard!

Grr, I'm just going to play around with the buttons and hopefully hit the right combo to get the classes I need. Plus I'm going to meet with my adviser the end of this month to figure out where I stand schedule wise (transferring/petitioning for credits really complicates things - thanks uc for counting for practically nothing (bitter much?)!). Maybe he can show me what buttons to push.

(also, I've been really stressed that I'm trying to plan my days by hour/half hour increments. I even schedule my sleeping/eating times. How micro-manged am I? I blame daap for this level of crazy)

Monday, April 6, 2009

Veterinary Gold Mine

This is the amount of work my dog has had done:
  • She had Parvo and almost died less than a week of adopting her (October)
  • Worms from the pound (October)
  • Pneumonia right after the parvo (November)
  • Spayed and her dew claws removed (December)
  • 4 months later (April), she eats a big bunch of grapes (the amount she had would have caused kidney failure) and gets her stomach pumped (seriously).
  • A month after that (May), she tears her right hind ACL being the spaz that she is .
  • And a month after that (June)she tears the other hind ACL due to the overcompensation of the first one.
She's not even 2 yet. We decided to go ahead and have her get the surgeries to fix her knees, the first one was done right around her 1st birthday, the 2nd one 3 months later (right in the middle of the break up-tell me that didn't add to my stress levels). Thousands of dollars in vet bills later, she was finally fixed (this was one of there reason I had such a difficult time coping without her for 5 months. All that work in the dog and I didn't even get to have her)

And then a month ago she started limping again. Because I was not dealing with knee-gate 3.0, I promptly found a new vet, got her records faxed (3 pages of them!) took her in and kept my fingers crossed she hadn't damaged her bionic knees. Fortunately, the surgery is fine, but the vet thinks she strained a different muscle in her knee this time. But this can be fixed with a series of 8 shots (of what I think are steroids in my non-medical professional opinion), which we're in the middle of the series right now. But she'll still need booster shots for in one knee for the rest of her life. If she is she damages the other again I will scream bloody 'effing murder.

God she's high maintenance. And sometimes I think, what the hell did I get myself into with her? This dog better out live me with all the crap we/I've done to keep her alive (for a while I nicknamed her suicide doggie, when I caught her trying to lick the microwave plug while it was plugged in). She's also the original Spazzella. But she looks at me with those brown eyes and her tail wags a mile a minute whenever she sees me, and I forget that thought. I'm just happy that I get to keep her, trouble that she is.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Family Ties

A coworker was looking at my sister's wedding pictures on facebook, and said: "she is so pretty!"
I agreed, my sister is beautiful. "And she's really really smart too" I threw in. "In fact, she's the pretty and the smart sister."
"Well then what are you?" my coworker asked me.
I thought for a second, "taller and older."

Everyone loves my sister. I love my sister. And I am happy for my sister and all the wonderful things in her life. She deserves every bit of it because she's a good person and she also earns it. She has a wonderful husband and going to grad school just adds to her awesome factor. I'm not bitter at/towards her like I was for a long time.

::small voice:: But I'm pretty and smart too, right? What do I get to be?

15 on a good day

Yesterday my parent's and I went to the home and garden show (so boring, remind me to never to go to one of those things again) and one of the thanks-for-coming-things was a free wine tasting at one of the new stores in the area. Now I do not care about landscaping, windows, blinds, sun rooms or cabinets, because I do not have a home of my own to do any of those things too. Frankly, I found the whole thing depressing. So I needed the wine tasting. Why did I go in the first place you ask? Dinner was promised at the end of it- and I respond well to food bribes.

Anyway we go to the store, but before the guy ask me what I would like to try, he asks for my ID. And it royally pissed me off. Well, no, it wasn't him and the actual id-ing that pissed me off. It was the supervisor coming back from the store room 2 seconds after putting my ID away who freaked out when she saw me with a wine sample in my hand and furiously (and loudly) asked if he id-ed me. Sheesh lady, you didn't have to make a scene and embarrass the clerk and myself.

I know I look young, so I'm a good sport about being Id-ed. It's just someone doing their job, and I've been in their shoes before. And once they check my Id, all I need to hear is "ok, thanks," I don't need to hear "oh wow, you're insert-current-age-here?! Because that just makes me bristle with indignation. And while I'm glad that I don't look well past my years, I wouldn't mind looking my actual age. Because hearing you look six-f*cking-teen when you are 26, is insulting, and it hurts my feelings to be honest. I am highly annoyed by teen agers, the last thing I want to hear is that I still look like one. And you know what doesn't make anything any better? Saying "you'll appreciate when you're older." No sh*t Sherlock, like I've never heard that before. Because you know what that does for me right now? Not a damn thing. Perhaps I have a warped sense of reality and should not be pissed off about this, but it's just something I can't stand.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Never again

I'm in the locker room at the gym, and my mind's 1000 other places, because I'm breaking down my day into half hour increments. I start absentmindedly pulling stuff out of my bag and first think: pew, I'm fabreezing this thing tonight. And then I notice I'm missing something. Oh sh*t, did I not pack a sports bra? I dig through my (stinky) bag just to make sure (fully focused now-I am a camera), and sure enough, no sports bra. So I stand there half dressed for a few minutes debating what to do. Run anyway in my regular one? But...owie. And not to mention I'll get stinky/sweaty in it and have to wear it to my next class too. Do I say screw running today and go to the library to do homework? But then I'll have to run extra long tomorrow...and I just got here. To run or not to run, that is the question. I decide I'll run anyway, but I won't run the full 5 miles I have planed and take it easy so I don't sweat as much.


Pain, stupid unnecessary pain. And I was sweating extra in some areas, so not cool. (maybe my body was trying to spite myself?) But I figured since I was gross, I may as well I run 4 miles (instead of the 3 to take it easy), and I threw in an abs/arm/back/extra leg stuff (2 words: scissor kicks. 2 more: f*cking A!)) for good measure. Yep, I was nice and sweaty. (so not nice)

I had time to take a shower at the gym, but the sweaty undergarment really did have to go back on. Quite possibly making the shower null and void. I made an attempt to thwart/combat it by using deodorant in a few key areas. Maybe the coconut shampoo and baby powder sent was enough to cover it temporarily? I don't wear deodorant every day (it keeps your skin healthy if you don't, and I shower every morning so it's not like I'm not clean.) But I figured this particular situation warranted it.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Root Canal

I broke a tooth a while back, but since it didn't hurt I didn't bother to make a dentist appointment. And I didn't have insurance either. But once I got dental (and then quit the job that gave it to me a month later) I saw a dentist in cinci who gave me these 2 options: a root canal that might work, or just pull the tooth. But before I could make that choice, I decided to leave Mark, move home and start my life over. The tooth wasn't high on my priority list.

Fast forward to nowish. I still don't have insurance, but the tooth was starting to annoy me, so I knew I had to do something. I called up my old dentist and scheduled a cleaning/consultation. Well, she's not really my "old" dentist, her dad, Oakie, was my dentist since I was a kid, and she started practicing with him when she got out of dental school (and had a hyphenated name). But when Oakie passed away a few years ago, she took over the practice as her own (and dropped the hyphen too). Little family history for you there. Anyway, my appointment yesterday was to see if the tooth could be saved, and Dr Corbet thinks we (well, really, she) can. So she started the root canal right then and there. I go back in a week to finish it up.

Dentist have some really scary looking tools.

On a fun note though, I couldn't feel my face. Seriously, the left side from eyelid to jaw was numb. So then I spent the next few hours poking my face and giggling. God bless Novocain