Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Today is where your book begins!

Finally, finally, FINALLY back home!! Trip to NYC was mostly fabulous excepting all instances involving airports or planes.

I just had to share this one story from Saturday night out:

REALLY Hot (But Really Dumb) Guy: So what do you do?

R: I'm a grad student.

RHBRDG: What do you study?

R: Medicine.

RHBRDG: Oh, wow, what kind of doctor do you want to be? Although, okay, I actually give him props for figuring out that "medical school" --> doctor. I can't tell you how many times people ask me if that means I'm becoming a nurse, or a physical therapist, or a malpractice lawyer. EW.

R: I think an obstetrician.

RHBRDG: I think I need my eyes checked!

R: Confused. Wha...oh, no, I think that's an optician. An OBSTETRICIAN is the one that delivers babies usually. Involuntarily dissolves into peals of laughter intermixed with profuse apologies.

RHBRDG: Laughing along, That's ok, it's pretty funny.

R: To hell with tact, leans over and grabs her friend I told this guy I was going to be an obstetrician and he told me he needed his eyes check! Everyone in both groups is cracking up now, even RHBRDG.

And actually, I like it when people can laugh at themselves, even when they're really dumb.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

I can't move my arms!

Did anyone watch American Idol last night? When Ace said he was going to sing Father Figure by George Michael I almost fell off the couch with laughter. And then he sang it, and I was just embarassed watching it. He does this thing where he makes hot monkey love to the camera with his eyes, and I was actually blushing watching it, sitting in my family room in my sweat pants and glasses.
Isn't he just...like, the prettiest guy you've ever seen?

And, at abs and arms class a few days ago I did something to my arms and now it really, really hurts to extend. I called my brother to ask him what I should do and all he did was scare me with stories about people who only work out their biceps and not their triceps and their arms are stuck in a permanent state of flexion. Crab arms!! Gah! That wasn't helpful but now I'm freaked out, thanks.

Yesterday at the gym I overheard this woman talking to her friend after squat class:

Woman 1: Yeah, so I'm going to put in an hour of cardio then go downstairs and lift some weights. This all just sounds like insanity to R because she her ass is usually so sore after class she can barely walk home.

Woman 2: Do you want to meet here tomorrow at 7?

Woman 1: Well, I'm coming to "Boot Camp" (scary hardcore gym class at 6 am) tomorrow morning, and then I'll come back at 5 for TBC. (another class that's less scary but when I take it I have to give myself a 2 day berth away from the gym because it's so exhausting.)

Woman 2 (and R, in her head): You come to the gym twice a day? Wow.

Woman 1: Oh that's not all. I also spend my lunch hour walking...

R (in her head): OH MY GOD. You would rather EXERCISE than EAT FOOD? You are one big ol' cup of eating disorders.

Woman 1: ...and then I eat my lunch when I take a conference call. I usually have a cup of yogurt at my desk or a packet of tuna.

I think she needs an intervention. I kind of wish I had more discipline in my life, but let's face it, if I was deprived of my peanut M&Ms I'd be one raging bitch.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

New York, New York it's a hell of a town!

Leaving tomorrow for NYC!! Seeing Laura and Nikki, cause for joyous celebration!!! (Course, any occasion to leave Iowa is a cause to break out the Hypnotiq.) But I'll work on my papers and abstracts on the plane, I promise. Last time Gaya and I went to NYC to see Laura we were so confused leaving JFK because her email said something about "e village" and we were like What is this e village? and How do we find this e village? until we realized that it meant EAST village. I have never felt more like an Iowan in my whole entire life. (Except when we were getting ready to LEAVE and I realized that I had accidentally scheduled the departure flight out of NEWARK.) I just got an email from Laura saying that if I can't handle this whole "e village" thing just say "Sty town" and try not to confuse the cab driver this time.

Reflux can't handle the cold weather that well so upon the advice of my mother I've been letting him pee in the bathtub, and then just taking him out once a day for poopy time. (Oh STOP IT, urine is sterile and you're more likely to get chlamydia from a toilet seat than some weird infection from stepping in dog pee.)

It works like magic! I fill a Tupperware with some warm water, dunk his paw in there and .... Voila! Pee-pee time! If you run water while he's in there and it pools around his feet, then lift him up right away, he does this confused doggy paddle in mid-air. I think it's because he doesn't understand what's happening to him. Why am I floating? Oh I must be in water. Time to swim. Because of the blindness. And deafness. And general confusedness of dementia. The only thing is, it's the saddest little doggy paddle I've ever seen. Like, if he were ever actually in a body of water, he would just drown. Quickly.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Only YOU can prevent UTIs.

I'm more into Paul Wall than Eminem, but I'm actually digging his latest song with Nate Dogg, EXCEPT there's a line in the hook where he sings, "I get more ass than a toilet seat." Which..ew. I understand that he's using the amount of ass a toilet seat sees (probably a great deal of ass) to quantify how much ass he he himself claims to acquire, but all it does is make me extra paranoid about catching gonorrhea from the toilet seat and be militant about using double toilet seat covers or just hovering awkwardly over the toilet. I think just hearing the word "toilet" come out of Nate Dogg's mouth automatically makes me assume it's crawling with STDs, for some reason.

In somewhat related news, I went to see the department's Data Analyst today and she was telling me about how she's re-reading East of Eden and then asked me if I was reading anything good right now, followed by silence because I was too embarassed to admit that I'm currently reading Confessions of a Video Vixen. (It's a book about being a video ho. Hey, it's not the most challenging read, but it's sort of interesting. And sort of depressing. And if you wish to know kinky sex secrets of famous rappers, this book is for you!)

In other news, February is almost over!! We are well into 2006 -- when the hell did this happen?! (Captain Obvious at your service!)

I have an abstract deadline March 3rd and I told myself I'd be done writing my first article by the end of February. Uh...I might need to give myself an extension. (March 3rd is next Friday!!) I'm supposed to meet my PI today to go over my progress, so I was up until 3 AM last night panickedly doing data analysis. I also ate a whole bag of chocolate pretzels somehow. Then I couldn't sleep because I had the worst heartburn. Also I've had to sleep in the family room because my downstairs neighbor sounds like a wounded moose when he snores. Hey, guess what's on TV at 3:30 AM? NOTHING. Except they replayed Olympic ice dancing. No spectacularly awesome falls to report yesterday as compared to Sunday, but hooray for America winning silver!

Monday, February 20, 2006

Did you know you can flex fat?

I took step aerobics class yesterday. I had never done a step class until I moved to Iowa, and they take their step classes seriously here. Those motherfuckers are actually HARD! Have you ever taken a step class? After my first one I went home and passed out on the sofa. I was too tired to FEED MYSELF. (On an unrelated note, I've often thought a self-feeding device would be very useful. Like a "feed bag.")

(Actually, I also accidentally took "G.I. Joyce" which is a step class named after Joyce, the instructor. The woman is a MACHINE. She teaches like 3 consecutive cardio kickboxing classes twice a day or something. I innocently wandered into the studio looking for yoga class and when I finally realized to my horror that I was in "G.I. Joyce" and not "Yoga for Relaxation" it was too late to leave without looking like a total pansy. The class basically consists of really fast and tough and NEVER ENDING step routines set to commando music. It is NO JOKE. And Joyce runs around bellowing in your ear, "PUMP THOSE LEGS HIGHER LADIES!! YOU'RE NOT WORKING HARD ENOUGH!! EARN THAT WATER BREAK! COME ON!!!! YOU ARE WEAK!!!!" which kind of pumps you up but also sort of makes you want to cry for your mommy.)

So if you've ever taken step before, you know it's full of crazy things like "Rocking Horse" and "L Step" and "Z Step" and "V Step" and "Repeater Knees" and "over the top" and if you accidentally wander into an advanced class you're already expected to know all this shit. I was hopping around and trying to keep up as best I could but it was taking all the concentration I'm capable of, not to mention the cardiac ischemia I was giving myself. Evidently I looked so stupid that the instructor asked me at the water break if I KNEW ENGLISH. And I almost wanted to say SI because the alternative was actually worse: I'm completely fluent in English, I'm just retarded. And incapable of deciphering the gym schedule that's posted ALL OVER THE GYM.

Also, I have huge balance problems with the step. I'm always slipping off the edges of it. Is this a common problem, or do I just have ungodly enormous feet and/or am generally unstable? I think I still prefer spinning. You still experience cardiac ischemia and odd nausea/blood pulsating through head feelings esp if you have sadistic spinning instructor who likes to come round and turn the resistance up on your bike even though you're obviously suffering enough already, but at least you're sitting the whole time. And it'd be sort of tough to fall off the bike itself.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Rupes in hiding.

They're showing my apartment today so I had to get up early to clean and hide all dog paraphernalia. In my hurry to clean up my apartment I accidentally dropped a notebook on my dog's head while he was sleeping. We had to come over to Yolanda's to hide while they showed our apartment and he thanked me by promptly pooping on Yolanda's carpet the moment we got here. I think I was sucessfully able to hide most of the dog stuff, except there's still this odd blood stain on the carpet that I couldn't get out from when he hurt himself last week. I took care of it by "artfully" arranging some pillows over the area.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

My ass hurts.

Sometimes people say they're in such a hurry that they wear 2 different socks. I was in such a hurry this morning that I left the house wearing two different pairs of SHOES.

I attempted to recreate the event here for the photo. Then Reflux wandered over and stuck his big fat toothless head into the frame. (And I don't usually wear trainers to work, but my feet hurt from step class yesterday. And besides, it's Iowa. There's a clause in the hospital dress code about how jeans in any color but blue are considered "dress pants.")

Also, had v. super fantastic time in Chicago this weekend. Went to the Red Eye pre-Valentine's Day party at Funky Buddha (totally by accident).

Gaya was in the bathroom flattening her hair when Reflux wandered in and fell asleep by the toilet.

I went in to make sure he was still alive. Yep! That dog sure does look dead when he sleeps though.

And on Sunday we went to the Pompeii exhibit at the Field Museum. I love you Field! And hooray for completely irresponsible ticket sellers -- he gave us the student price on tickets after he verified that we were students. Which he did by asking "Where you in school at?" Which was good because I've let my student ID go through the wash a couple times and my face is all scratched off anyway.

I would just like to point out that the Pompeiian bowls they're hawking at the gift shop for $39.99 are MADE IN INDIA. At a sweat shop, where some dude got paid 5 cents to burn his fingers welding these stupid little bowls together. Oh sweat shops. Without you, how would we Americans have affordable clothing or useless novelties?

Today I took "Butts and Guts" class at the gym. I think I worked my right cheek out harder than the left. It seems to be a bit achier. Or is it possible my left cheek was just more muscular already? Something to ponder.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

One more thing, then I'll shut up.

There's something else I miss about Chicago: CHIPOTLE. The finest food known to man.

The one across the street from my apartment building -- it's on the corner of Fairbanks and Ontario -- offered buy one get one free burritos on V Day if you kissed the person you were with. So you were guaranteed to get lucky on Valentine's Day! Well, sort of lucky. Basically, you just scrounged up someone who hadn't eaten lunch yet to drag to Chipotle and kiss so you guys could enjoy 1/2 price burritos. I remember first year we had an odd number of people in our group, so someone literally ran to the library to find someone to drag to Chipotle.

I am missing out on my 1/2 price burrito!

Also, I just received this v. scary email from the hospital administration:

Local weather stations are tracking a winter storm system that will impact the region on Wednesday night and throughout the day on Thursday. A Winter Storm Watch goes into effect on Wednesday night with below freezing temperatures. Sub-zero temperatures are expected over the weekend.


Gah!!! Find a happy place!!! Find a HAPPY PLACE!!!

Suck on this.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I woke up today and gave myself a big hug. Self love -- it's important. I might buy myself some chocolate later too. (Although I was talking on the phone with my little brother and he said to stay away from the chocolates otherwise "you'll get fat and be even sadder." Why, I love you too!)

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Love Letter

Dear Truboy, Driver of Semi Called

Do you remember driving west through Iowa tonight? There's a 60-mi stretch of I80 where the speed limit is 70mph. You attempted to pass another 18-wheeler, but unfortunately you forgot that in order to pass an object, you must be going faster than aforementioned object. (Newton's Laws of Motion: they are tough. I know. Especially if you're an incompetent asshole.)

Did you see me? I was one of the 37,000 cars piled behind you flashing our brights asking you to please speed up or slow down but just get the fuck out of the left lane, because you were going the same speed as the semi in the right lane. Which you were attempting to pass. By going the same speed as.

Thank you for taking the glorious 70mph stretch of highway that is one of my favorite things in Iowa and totally ruining it by making us all go 45 mph. For THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF IT. And just when you finally eeked your speed up to 55mph and passed that semi on the right, the speed limit switched over to 65 mph. Damn you!! You wasted the entire fast highway on everyone!

Thanks to you, I got home 45 minutes later than I should have. Which would have been annoying but not a big deal except that my favorite TV show was on tonight and you made me miss the first half of it. Boo-urns! That in itself isn't so bad except you made me MISS IZZY AND ALEX FINISH HAVING SEX IN THE SUPPLY CLOSET. Iowa style. Therefore, I sort of hate you. And I hate your ass face! (But I was able to catch George help Bailey have her baby. And McDreamy save Bailey's husband. And Meredith almost get blown up. And I totally knew I was being manipulated, but I didn't care because IT WAS SO GOOD.)

In conclusion, you gave all truck drivers a bad name tonight, when in reality most of them are v. nice and good drivers and will always toot the horn if you make the arm motion. And also, skill is inherited, but I just read somewhere that lack of skill is also inherited. If that is the case then I think you might be related to my neighbor who lives below me. I have seen him back up into the rosebushes under my balcony twice now. If you get a chance to talk to him please ask him to see an ENT or get a sleep study because I'm afraid he might have sleep apnea, or at least get those Breathe Right nasal strips, because his snoring is so motherfucking loud I've started sleeping in the family room. Thanks a lot.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Post-op Day #2

Reflux survived surgery! Hooray! He is now rockin' the toothless gummy old man look. He's sort of swollen and miserable but he's still on pain meds and conked out most of the time so I couldn't prop him up for a picture. And he's sneezing blood. Which is kind of gross but the vet said it was nothing to worry about. But I am worried. ABOUT MY APARTMENT. And that deposit I'm not getting back. It's bad enough that Reflux went through some weird phase where he always wanted to pee right inside the door of the apartment building, when we would be about 3 seconds away from being outside. I'm not even supposed to have dogs here!

And I feel so desolate and alone without my cell phone! CEEEELLLL PHOOOONE. What did we ever do without those things? I'm driving to Chicago tomorrow and I'm so nervous! I've had a cell phone for the last SIX YEARS. I don't know how to plan things in advance! What if something happens to me on the road? And I always used those long drives as a chance to make those phone calls to old friends you know you can talk to forever. WHAT WILL I DO NOW?? Left alone in the company of my own thoughts. Shudder.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I'm my own bitch.

There's something wrong with my cellphone. I think the little doohickey that the charger plugs into is all loose and broken. The reason I think that is because the other day I accidentally pulled the charger out of my phone without squeezing the release buttons on either side and both my charger and the little metal outlet thing popped out of the phone. I panicked and tried to stuff it back in but I think the damage has been done. My phone's been dead for the past 2 days. I have to go by Verizon later and see if they can fix it for me but until then I've been abusing my long-distance code at work.

I've been checking my voicemail remotely, and I got one earlier today from my mom that said we might have to go to Texas this weekend to see aforementioned dying relative. I called her back to gauge how serious they were about this because I was actually planning to go to Chicago this weekend.

Unfortunately there's this problem at my house where we have 3 separate phone lines and no one knows how to use any of them. So if you call my house you're most likely to go straight to the fax. Also, at some point in the last 5 years my parents bought 8 cordless phones and got rid of all the non-cordless phones, but instead of making life easier, all this means is that over the course of an evening or two, my dad will have taken every phone to remote corners of the house and then forget where he left them, and then no one can find a phone fast enough to answer it, or all the phones are dead, or (most likely) nobody sees a phone within arms reach and just gives up, in which case you will also get shunted to the fax machine. Everything was fine until about 2 years ago, when the power went out and all the lines got all jumbled up somehow. We also have an answering machine that just turned itself off when the power went out, and no one ever bothered to turn it back on again. Which brings me to the next part of my story.

So I called my mom at home from work to find out what was happening with this whole Texas situation, and it rang a few times then went straight to the fax machine. (BLEEEEEEEEEEEP BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRR URRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BEEEP BEEEEP BEEEP in case you're wondering what that sounds like.) I never call my mom from work, or in the middle of the day, so when she saw an unfamiliar Iowa number pop up on the caller ID I think she got freaked out and called it right back. It went to the department receptionist, who patched it through to my office, which I had just left. I don't know what sort of motherly fear and anxiety my mom struck into the heart of the receptionist, but when I came strolling back she almost yelled at me, "You need to call your mom RIGHT NOW."

Of course I envisioned a terrible emergency like the time last year when my parents car got smashed by a train on the railroad tracks (Don't worry, they weren't in it. That's another extremely long and extremely stupid story for another day.) and immediately phoned home again. And after that there was a long and stupid conversation where we both tried to figure out what horrible tragedy had befallen the other person, and then a happy ending when we realized it was just a misunderstanding. And then when I hung up I realized that I totally forgot to ask about Texas. Dammit!

Monday, February 06, 2006

Feel free to point and laugh.

I came home from work today and discovered a huge clotted pool of blood on the carpet. My first thought was Oh my god Reflux is hemorrhaging!! (Actually my first concern was the v. irrational thought that I myself was hemorrhaging like that time I was 12 and had first started shaving my legs and didn't realize I had accidentally shaved off a few layers of skin until I felt something wet and looked down and saw a huge pool of blood on the bathroom floor. When I realized it was my blood coming from that huge chunk of bleedy flesh on my leg I almost passed out. But that's neither here nor there.)

I went and found Reflux happily trotting around as usual except that his ENTIRE FACE WAS CAKED IN DRIED BLOOD. He didn't seem to be actively hemorrhaging at the moment but I decided to take him to the vet anyway. I figured he had knocked out a tooth or something, but according to the vet his mouth was just one big cesspool of evil (all ABSCESSES and oro-nasal FISTULAS filled with DISEASE), because of his bad teeth. So...tomorrow morning at 7:30 AM: emergency surgery for my little Reflux! (Ok, it's not that emergent if you can put it off for 12 hours, but I think this is as emergent as veterinary medicine gets on a 14yo dog.)

I was a little worried, because at 14 he's like 208 in people years, and those old people just can't handle their anesthesia (or "happy drugs") that well. So naturally I was experiencing a little anxiety as I drove home from the vets. So much anxiety, in fact, that I drove by RNG's. (Not because I'm crazy, but because I'm FEMALE. Oh admit it. You all do it. Just for fun. And come on, I'm allowed a drive-by when my best buddy needs emergency dental surgery that might kill him.) We went out for his birthday a few weeks ago and had a great time, and I think there's a good friendship blossoming there. And he's kind of got that nerdy cuteness working for him.

So I drove by RNG's and....there he was. Getting out of his car just as I was making my drive-by past his house. Ohhhhhh noooooo. There was absolutely no way to play this off in a non-"No, Rupes is not a stalker, huh unh." way, so...I just kept driving and hoped he didn't notice the black SUV with IL plates and stupid GPS screen that you can see glowing from 8 miles away that he's rode in before. (Actually, god bless the DMV for rejecting all 7 of the vanity licenses I came up with. At least this way there's a tiny sliver of a chance that it could have been someone else. Even though it wasn't.) And then I played that game where you try to convince yourself that Nooooooo, it was SOMEBODY ELSE'S maroon Avalon with Utah plates. (I think it was those plates that got me. Have you ever seen Utah plates? They're the most artistic license plates I've ever seen. All seafoam blue and tangerine, with that little arch-y rock thing. So pretty.)


If RNG didn't think I was crazy before, he surely does now.

(And my friend in D.C. once asked if all this stuff really happened to me. Girlfriend, I WISH I was making this up. Unfortunately, this crazy is ALL REAL.)

Sunday, February 05, 2006

I am the only person in the state of Iowa not watching the Superbowl.

That's true.

To be totally truthful I'm far more excited about the Grey's Anatomy they're showing right after the Superbowl: the previews last week made it look v. exciting and promised a Code Black in the OR -- that means BOMB THREAT. Woo hoo!!

There's 11 different codes in hospital, and I know 3 of them. The other 2 are Code Blue, which is the obvious dramatic one where a patient is crashing and a million people run into the room at once, and Code Gray, which means a patient is going apeshit and we need the security people -- old dudes with nightsticks. You hear Code Grays mostly for the psych ward.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

You made me bleed my own blood.

My dad decided that our distant relative in Houston wasn't sick enough to go visit yet, so I am still at home this weekend. Goody! Now have a chance to write up research article and perhaps study for Step 2.

Seeing as I have a full 2 days off here in town, I took the opportunity this morning to go downtown to my favorite IC bookstore and pick up some new reads but more importantly, to break in my new heels. At the end of the day, look what I found:




BLOOD. Blood in my SHOE. My heel is pretty banged up too.

The last time I found blood in my shoe was over the summer when we went out and I didn't even realize anything was wrong until we came home and I took my shoes off to find a big pool of blood at the tip. They were those damn pointy-toed shoes so I didn't even feel the extra pain of splitting my pinky toenail in half, on top of all the baseline pain from the shoe.

In other news, my application to give a poster presentation at AMsA conference was approved (hooray -- it's at Palmer House in Chicago!!). The bad news about this is that only AMsA members can present their research and I apparently let my membership lapse after M2 year so now I have to rejoin, which probably costs like $8 million dollars or some shit. Everything about medical training is such a gd scam. (It especially hurts to pay thousands of dollars to take excruciating 8-hour licensing exams you really don't want to take.)

Anyway, when I passed this good news along to my PI, she sent back an email saying, "We should get going on that paper, what do you think?" which I sort of appreciated as a v. diplomatic way of saying, "I know you're sitting at home in your sweatpants watching Dancing with the Stars reruns so get off your lazy ass and finish the damn paper already. You lazy slob." (Which I would almost like better, because I have this unfortunately quality of not getting anything done unless there's some fire under my ass.)

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Happy Groundhog's Day!

Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow today and dove back into his hole, which means we're due for another 6 weeks of winter. Yay.
(But look at this dude -- Phil's "handler," which probably has another meaning on the East Coast than it does over here. He wears a top hat! If he'd only get a monacle too, then he'd be like Mr. Peanut!)

Today I am mighty appreciative that life is not truly like Groundhog Day, where we're cursed to repeat a crappy day over and over again forever. Like today. If somehow I wake up and tomorrow is the same as today, someone might have to die. (Disclaimer: EARMUFFS.)

7:17 AM Wake up in a panic to realize that must get self ready and transported to bus stop in 13 minutes.

7:19 AM Run around closet with hairbrush and toothbrush trying to decide what to wear. Accomplish brushing of neither. In fact get toothpaste on sweater and have to change to 3/4 sleeve buttondown completely inappropriate for the weather.

7:23 AM Forego AM walk with Reflux and affix diaper instead. In rush to dump out can of Kibbles & Bits into Reflux's food dish, some Kibbles splatter onto pants. Curse effluently.

7:25 AM Run back to closet and pull trusty black pants out of laundry hamper. Forgot that unfortunately dropped spaghetti sauce-covered spoon on pants last night while making dinner. Make mental note to self to STOP ALWAYS FUCKING SPILLING NASTY SHIT ON SELF for the love of god. Waste precious moments debating whether or not to just Febreze self and try to wash out crusty sauce blob at work later, then decide to forego pants all together in favor of long wool skirt.

7:27 AM Throw papers and books into bag, throw on coat, run awkwardly out of apartment building, bag and coat flapping madly. Awkwardly because skirt doesn't have slit in the back and R now resembles rapidly waddling penguin. Curse Urban Outfitters for selling such stupid yet irresistible clothing.

7:29 AM AHAHAHAHAAH!! I am the MASTER!!!! Here comes the bus just as I am running to the bus stop!! I motherfucking RULE.

7:30 AM Smile fades as rummage through bag for wallet. Oh for fucks sakes.

7:31 AM Bus speeds away. Waddle back up to apartment to look for wallet and bus pass.

7:44 AM No sign of wallet anywhere in apartment. Could possibly have left it at guitar lesson last night?

7:45 AM Pulls phone out of bag to leave message at studio. In doing so, out tumbles wallet. MOTHERFUCKER.

But yay yay yay, Happy Hour at Takenami tonight, my new favorite IC restaurant!!

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Superbowl 2006

I stopped caring about the Superbowl once the Bears were eliminated a few weeks ago. Actually I didn't even really care about it before then. And the only reason I even knew the Bears almost made it was because my friend's boyfriend's parents were going to watch Reflux for me for a while and his dad was really excited about the game. And then really sad when we lost. And then Noah called and asked if I was watching the game and I was v. excited that I knew what he was talking about but too embarassed to tell him that we were actually just re-watching the raunchy parts of Cold Mountain again.

But anyway, it feels good to at least have plans on Superbowl Sunday because all week everyone is all "What are you doing for Superbowl" "I can't wait for Superbowl" etc.

Yesterday I got a phone call from my mom saying that some relative I've never heard of has endstage renal disease, and be ready to fly out to Houston this weekend for visit. Then my dad took the phone away from her and told me not to worry about it too much because they went through this a few months ago when they thought he was dying and my parents flew out for the weekend to say their goodbyes but then he got better. "Waste of a plane ticket," grumbled my dad, which made me fear for my dad's soul but also sort of cracked me up.

I sensed that my mom was not v. amused though. She told me she was looking into flights out of Cedar Rapids and Moline for me so I better have my bags packed. Weekend holiday to Houston!