So I've decided to prep for the GRE. It's time, I need to get it done and get a score, if at least to take it again to get a better one.
I spent a part of my break today, looking up some test prep options today, books and classes and such and as I am sorting through I find a "study" math section question.
It reads...(I know this cause I copied and pasted)
"4/9 = x/3 find x"
I read...
"π䣩≠™ü=€ß½ü–ð find x"
Yeah, this isn't good.
I even tried to figure it out. I came up with 12. Which, I guess, isn't right.
Obviously, it's no secret. I can barely add. I finished college level statistics, on a wing and prayer and when I got a "D" (which meant I'd passed) I cried. I literally cried tears of joy.
That was 9 years ago.
I haven't done math without Excel or a calculator handy since.
And we don't get a calculator to take the test.
I think the right word for my position right now is, "Royally Fucked."
Looks like a wing and prayer time again people, only this time, no smart Asian girl is sitting next to me.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Gracie's is Fabulous!
Our friend Josh held a fantasticly fun birthday celebration at the new bar Gracie's downtown. This is absolutely the best bar I've seen come to Salt Lake in a long time. Here are pictures from the rooftop bar. It has a fabulous view of downtown!! Gracie's is clean, the wine selection is great and there are multiple bars around the bar itself which made getting drinks much easier and faster. Also, the people were so nice, both the bartenders and the patrons were so nice. It was chill and not at a meat market. I completely recommend a night out here.
Matt and I Go Nitro Circus
Matt's sister Cindy and her family invited us down this weekend for four-wheeling in little Sahara. It was such a great time!!! The weather was perfect and it was fabulous. Now, I LOVE four-wheeling, but I am more of a mountain, rocks, dirt sort of girl, not really the sand sort. For whatever reason, I just feel less in control on the sand. So Matt was the driver. Usually, he's pretty safe with me, but whatever was in his drink, he decided to go a little Travis Pastrana for my taste, taking me off a jump. Our heads smashed and my boobs were not well enough restrained to be jumping! To make it up to me, he took me up to see the world's prettiest sunset that isn't over an ocean.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I Just Flashed the Office
Literally.
I need to learn that not all pretty fabrics can be worn. For instance, I made the most FABULOUS skirt out of a pretty pinky-orange weave. Which I then wear with a fabulous ruffle cardigan of a similar color.
However, at about 10:30 this morning, as I sat down, the pretty weave pencil skirt couldn't take the pressure and the sound of ripping cloth tore through my typing. Split, from hem to top, my beige panties (or kinda panties) were hangin' out. Sadly, I had about 10 things I had to finish in about 5 minutes, so I sat in my skirt/sarong and then held it closed as I finished up enough work so I could high-tail it home to fix my hot mess self.
It did not help that then when I arrived home my dog decided, after a nice long stretch, to puke all over the kitchen floor.
I seriously considered just getting back into bed and turning my phone off.
Now, back at work, everyone keeps saying "Did you change?"
Luckily, I've never taken myself very seriously, so showing my panties to half the office, probably won't ruin my day as much as the doggy barf did.
Happy Thursday!
I need to learn that not all pretty fabrics can be worn. For instance, I made the most FABULOUS skirt out of a pretty pinky-orange weave. Which I then wear with a fabulous ruffle cardigan of a similar color.
However, at about 10:30 this morning, as I sat down, the pretty weave pencil skirt couldn't take the pressure and the sound of ripping cloth tore through my typing. Split, from hem to top, my beige panties (or kinda panties) were hangin' out. Sadly, I had about 10 things I had to finish in about 5 minutes, so I sat in my skirt/sarong and then held it closed as I finished up enough work so I could high-tail it home to fix my hot mess self.
It did not help that then when I arrived home my dog decided, after a nice long stretch, to puke all over the kitchen floor.
I seriously considered just getting back into bed and turning my phone off.
Now, back at work, everyone keeps saying "Did you change?"
Luckily, I've never taken myself very seriously, so showing my panties to half the office, probably won't ruin my day as much as the doggy barf did.
Happy Thursday!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Happy Halloween from the Halloween-i-est law firm in town.
Every year, work hosts a HUGE Halloween party for all the employees and their families. There are games, trick-or-treating and family pictures. It's a great day here!
Me, as a Boston Red Sox Ted Williams
Emily as the grim reaper and Casey as Farrah
Runners costume it up!
Darcie in our handmade Cleopatra
Meloo and Dustin battle it out.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Dog the Big Bad Dog
HAPPY HALLOWEEN
from Dog and Beth Chapman
Happy Halloween
from Lady Gaga and Kanye West
Happy Halloween
from Sexy Doctor Norwood and Little Bo Peep
Happy Halloween
from the 90's.
Happy Halloween
from Rainbow Bright
Happy Halloween
from the Worker and Killer Bee
Happy Halloween
from Little Bo Peep and Chuck Norris
Happy Halloween
from Mustard and the Devil's Angel!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Asking for Prayers
My Aunt Pat and Uncle George were in a horrible car accident last night. They were hit by another car causing them to slide off into a fire hydrant. Pat is fine, but covered in bumps and bruises. George is afflicted with brital bone disease, so it is safe to say most of him is broken. He will require a multitude of surgeries and good thoughts. So please send your prayers his way. He is in good spirits considering, but every bit of good karma helps!
Guess that tummy flutter yesterday wasn't something great afterall.***UPDATE***
The person that hit them was a drunk driver. With a suspended license and no car insurance.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Heart Flutter
Ever get the sensation that something is about to happen?
Like your soul knows something is on its way you didn't expect but must have secretly wanted? I've got that flutter today. Like a cramp in my tummy.
Don't know if its for real but I can't wait to see the result of what I've been putting out into the universe.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Ten Thousand?
It's official. My "visits" clicker at the bottom on my blog just hit 10,050 hits.
HOORAY!!!
You like me. You really like me.
Thanks for reading.
I promise to always at least TRY to be entertaining.
Friday, October 23, 2009
One Woman Tacoma Demolition Team
As of late, and due to Matt’s new job, I’ve been driving the Toyota Tacoma. The brand new Toyota Tacoma. Which is essentially the same size as a tank used in the Iraqi desert to shoot up small towns. Parking the thing is a small feat, which usually requires a 50 point turn. I also have to wrangle my way out of it in a dress, so I park only in stalls next to walls so I don’t shoot any co-workers the beaver.
I miss my little Corolla, but we simply can’t afford to put gas into the Tacoma two times a week for Matt to take it to the Riverton Hospital (more on that later).
So, to my story, this morning as I went to turn right at a light on the way to work, I looked both ways in my tank. Clear, clear again, so I pull into the cross walk, blinker on to make my turn. I look again, and again, I change the radio station, and let off the brake. And there, right in front of me, dead center, are two homeless people. One, a woman in a floor length fur coat, wearing a Little Edie headscarf is closest to my truck brush guard.
I scream.
She drops her Big Gulp.
I put the car in park. I am unsure if I’ve bumped her, or scared her, but for sure she is in front of the tank I’m driving and my foot had released the brake. As I’m scrambling out of the monstrous vehicle she picks up her drink and points at me.
“Jerk!” she said though not really loud or aggressive and she and her male companion start walking away! I’m still working my pencil-skirted way out of the truck when I yell at them, “Oh my God, let me call the police, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance? Can I buy you another drink?” Out of the two of us, though she is in a fur, with a big gulp and is obviously drunk as a skunk or high as a kite, I am acting more crazy. “Let me call the police!” She keeps walking, doesn’t even look back and takes a sip out of her Big Gulp. I’m nearly in tears, “ARE YOU OKAY?”
They are now nearly halfway down the block.
Back in the truck I watch them walk, and I’m stunned and shaking and pretty sure this isn’t happening. I’m now worried I should call the police, but I’m unsure if I even hit her. She is obviously far less worried about her health or legal ramifications than I am. So I start the truck up and leave.
Moral of the story?
Homeless people move REALLY fast, so if you drive a tank, just wait for the light to turn green. And/or have enough points in your karma bank so that if you do bump someone with your tank, they just walk away sipping their Big Gulp.
I miss my little Corolla, but we simply can’t afford to put gas into the Tacoma two times a week for Matt to take it to the Riverton Hospital (more on that later).
So, to my story, this morning as I went to turn right at a light on the way to work, I looked both ways in my tank. Clear, clear again, so I pull into the cross walk, blinker on to make my turn. I look again, and again, I change the radio station, and let off the brake. And there, right in front of me, dead center, are two homeless people. One, a woman in a floor length fur coat, wearing a Little Edie headscarf is closest to my truck brush guard.
I scream.
She drops her Big Gulp.
I put the car in park. I am unsure if I’ve bumped her, or scared her, but for sure she is in front of the tank I’m driving and my foot had released the brake. As I’m scrambling out of the monstrous vehicle she picks up her drink and points at me.
“Jerk!” she said though not really loud or aggressive and she and her male companion start walking away! I’m still working my pencil-skirted way out of the truck when I yell at them, “Oh my God, let me call the police, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance? Can I buy you another drink?” Out of the two of us, though she is in a fur, with a big gulp and is obviously drunk as a skunk or high as a kite, I am acting more crazy. “Let me call the police!” She keeps walking, doesn’t even look back and takes a sip out of her Big Gulp. I’m nearly in tears, “ARE YOU OKAY?”
They are now nearly halfway down the block.
Back in the truck I watch them walk, and I’m stunned and shaking and pretty sure this isn’t happening. I’m now worried I should call the police, but I’m unsure if I even hit her. She is obviously far less worried about her health or legal ramifications than I am. So I start the truck up and leave.
Moral of the story?
Homeless people move REALLY fast, so if you drive a tank, just wait for the light to turn green. And/or have enough points in your karma bank so that if you do bump someone with your tank, they just walk away sipping their Big Gulp.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
A Story I Had To Tell
My God-sister Erin told me the sweetest story the other day, and I simply had to share (cause it made me cry). As I've recently written, her husband, Dana's father John (Mr. Sauder to me) passed away recently. I don't know my details aren't completely straight, Erin let me know, but I had to share the sentiment.
Dana, was looking through some of his father's things in order to grab find one of his new hunting bags. (Dana and his family are big hunters). As he'd been quite a while looking for these things, Erin went after him to see his progress, she finds Dana covered in melted chocolate trying to clean out the new hunting bag, seems Mr. Sauder had left a snack that had melted in the summer heat. Erin laughed out loud, telling Dana "Your Dad is laughing so hard right now!"
To further cap off the afternoon, as Dana continued through the hunting gear he found a great hunting coat they decided to pass on to a cousin who could fit in it best. As he looked through the pockets Dana pulled out a "God's Eye" or what in Kindergarten is a fun weaving project through a cross of popsicle sticks to create a Christmas ornament. Dana had made this particular craft and bestowed it upon his father for "good luck hunting" when he was 5. His father has switched it from hunting coat to hunting coat ever since.
See, I had to share it, didn't I?
Dana, was looking through some of his father's things in order to grab find one of his new hunting bags. (Dana and his family are big hunters). As he'd been quite a while looking for these things, Erin went after him to see his progress, she finds Dana covered in melted chocolate trying to clean out the new hunting bag, seems Mr. Sauder had left a snack that had melted in the summer heat. Erin laughed out loud, telling Dana "Your Dad is laughing so hard right now!"
To further cap off the afternoon, as Dana continued through the hunting gear he found a great hunting coat they decided to pass on to a cousin who could fit in it best. As he looked through the pockets Dana pulled out a "God's Eye" or what in Kindergarten is a fun weaving project through a cross of popsicle sticks to create a Christmas ornament. Dana had made this particular craft and bestowed it upon his father for "good luck hunting" when he was 5. His father has switched it from hunting coat to hunting coat ever since.
See, I had to share it, didn't I?
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Welcome to Hancock - Where the Crazies Shop.
I love the smell of a fabric store sale. It’s a mix of optimism, fabric softener and sweat. So when I arrived at Hancock’s Columbus Day sale I am ecstatic to see the prices on patterns (5 for $5) and 30% of fabrics (for those who don’t sew, these are kick arse deals).
Long story short, I wait in line to have my fabric cut for a good 15+ minutes. This is a considerable amount of time, but everyone else is just like me, they are stocking up.
As I get to the front and hand over my first bolt a business casual dressed, average looking Asian man steps up next to me and shoves two large bolts of fabric at the woman working the cutting table.
“Three yard, one yard,” says the man. His accent is very thick. He head is overly large.
“I’m sorry, sir,” says the worker, “But there is a very long line, you’ll have to wait at the end of the line.”
“Three yard, one yard,” he says again, pointing to each bolt.
We both assume he speaks no English, we’re busy, he’s annoying and thus, ignore him.
As the worker cuts my fabric the man points to one of his bolts, “Is yelto?”
The worker is over it, “What?”
“Is yelto?” he holds up the bolt.
“Is it yellow?” I ask.
He nods.
“No,” says the worker, “It’s brown.”
The man then proceeds to pull a bolt of fabric out of my cart. A yellow bolt.
“Is yelto?”
“Yes.” Says the worker.
He lays my bolt down on top of his other two, “1 yard.”
I lean over and take back my bolt, as I do so the worker explains, “Sir, you can have her fabric after I cut her piece.”
He reaches for my fabric again, while it’s still in my hands! I hand off to be cut immediately.
He points at his bolts, “Three yard, one yard.”
Then walks off!
The ladies in line, the worker and I can’t help but burst into tiny giggles. He is either sly like a fox or a complete moron. Not thirty seconds later he returns, “Oh yes, thank you!” he says and leans over as if to grab his cut fabric.
“Sir, you will have to wait in the line!” says the worker more vehemently.
“I am after her.” He points to me.
“No actually,” I butt in, “You’re after her, in the red,” I point to three women away, “at the end of the line.”
He looks back behind me, “No. Three yard, one yard.”
Now, I’m damn near laughing my head off. The worker is also having a hard time keeping it together as well. I offer to put my bolts back on the shelves, she thanks me and hands them back, at this point Mr. 3yard1yard grabs a bright pink bolt of fabric off my stack, “Is very very pretty.” And puts it on his stack. “1 yard.” He says. He now has a yellow bolt, a hot pink bolt, a royal blue bolt and a brown see through bolt. I’d kill to know what he was making.
Oh how I love the fabric store.
Long story short, I wait in line to have my fabric cut for a good 15+ minutes. This is a considerable amount of time, but everyone else is just like me, they are stocking up.
As I get to the front and hand over my first bolt a business casual dressed, average looking Asian man steps up next to me and shoves two large bolts of fabric at the woman working the cutting table.
“Three yard, one yard,” says the man. His accent is very thick. He head is overly large.
“I’m sorry, sir,” says the worker, “But there is a very long line, you’ll have to wait at the end of the line.”
“Three yard, one yard,” he says again, pointing to each bolt.
We both assume he speaks no English, we’re busy, he’s annoying and thus, ignore him.
As the worker cuts my fabric the man points to one of his bolts, “Is yelto?”
The worker is over it, “What?”
“Is yelto?” he holds up the bolt.
“Is it yellow?” I ask.
He nods.
“No,” says the worker, “It’s brown.”
The man then proceeds to pull a bolt of fabric out of my cart. A yellow bolt.
“Is yelto?”
“Yes.” Says the worker.
He lays my bolt down on top of his other two, “1 yard.”
I lean over and take back my bolt, as I do so the worker explains, “Sir, you can have her fabric after I cut her piece.”
He reaches for my fabric again, while it’s still in my hands! I hand off to be cut immediately.
He points at his bolts, “Three yard, one yard.”
Then walks off!
The ladies in line, the worker and I can’t help but burst into tiny giggles. He is either sly like a fox or a complete moron. Not thirty seconds later he returns, “Oh yes, thank you!” he says and leans over as if to grab his cut fabric.
“Sir, you will have to wait in the line!” says the worker more vehemently.
“I am after her.” He points to me.
“No actually,” I butt in, “You’re after her, in the red,” I point to three women away, “at the end of the line.”
He looks back behind me, “No. Three yard, one yard.”
Now, I’m damn near laughing my head off. The worker is also having a hard time keeping it together as well. I offer to put my bolts back on the shelves, she thanks me and hands them back, at this point Mr. 3yard1yard grabs a bright pink bolt of fabric off my stack, “Is very very pretty.” And puts it on his stack. “1 yard.” He says. He now has a yellow bolt, a hot pink bolt, a royal blue bolt and a brown see through bolt. I’d kill to know what he was making.
Oh how I love the fabric store.
*****UPDATE****
Darcie and I went back the fabric store three days later. The worker who had helped me filled us in on the rest of the story. The man did finally get all his fabric cut. Then went to the register. When he found out the faberics he had cut weren't on sale he stormed out, purchasing nothing, leaving behind the cuts!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Oh. No. She. DIDN'T!
I don't care who you are, the only person who gets to call me a bitch to my face and mean it is my Mom.
So if one does, on some off chance, take your life into your own hands and call me such a word there is a pretty good chance that my brain won't work faster than my body does and stop me from scratching all your features off.
For a woman this weekend, she got lucky, and as my body swung ready to pound her little face in, my brain caught me and went "WHOA STUPID!" and instead I simply told she should probably stop drinking as she'd obviously had enough for the entire party.
Amazing isn't it? I am one of the biggest door mats I know. I take crap from any and everybody and just smile. But for some reason, that word, from this particular woman, lit me up like a Christmas tree with a need to violently rip her hair out by the folicle.
Perhaps I'm only a doormat to people I feel I love, or respect, or trust enough to be a doormat with. Maybe I need to start wearing a sign at parties with strangers that reads, " WARNING! Call me a dirty word and get your face turned inside out for free!"
So if one does, on some off chance, take your life into your own hands and call me such a word there is a pretty good chance that my brain won't work faster than my body does and stop me from scratching all your features off.
For a woman this weekend, she got lucky, and as my body swung ready to pound her little face in, my brain caught me and went "WHOA STUPID!" and instead I simply told she should probably stop drinking as she'd obviously had enough for the entire party.
Amazing isn't it? I am one of the biggest door mats I know. I take crap from any and everybody and just smile. But for some reason, that word, from this particular woman, lit me up like a Christmas tree with a need to violently rip her hair out by the folicle.
Perhaps I'm only a doormat to people I feel I love, or respect, or trust enough to be a doormat with. Maybe I need to start wearing a sign at parties with strangers that reads, " WARNING! Call me a dirty word and get your face turned inside out for free!"
Summer's Funeral
Dawn-Marie and Jim hosted an open house/housewarming/funeral for summer this past Saturday that was super fabulous! We all came decked in our best funeral attire. Michelle and I decided (it was all Michelle's idea really I just came along for the ride) to make cute 1940's era funeral hats. Using paper mache and fabric we concocted these three hats! I know you can't see them too well but trust me, they were faboooo!!!
Thanks to Dawn-Marie and Jim for hosting. I've never had so much fun (or wine) at a funeral before.
UPDATE**
I just realized this is an absolutely AWFUL picture of me. I need to stop allowing pictures to be taken if I'm turned sideways! SHEEZ! Anyway, feel free to laugh at my red cheeks.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Qwest, Qwest, Qwest What are we going to do with you?
This blog has covered my love hate relationship with Qwest for years now. I love that my dad works there, and has for 30 years. I love the internet, I hate Qwest.
Hate.
Actually, I've now just ended a battle that began in early July over whether or not I paid my Qwest bill. Hilarious really since I've ALWAYS paid my Qwest bill completely and fully. And they LOST, yes, LOST the July payment crazy really since it was an ONLINE payment. Then sent me to the collections department.
Now, I did it the normal way, at first. I dealt with it like every other Qwest customer. I realized from the beginning I could have turned things over to Dad, but I wanted to see if I could make this company, which I pay every month enough money I could have bought a car by now, work for me.
It didn't. Oh, how it didn't. And these people spoke English as a first language. By the end I was begging them for someone in India since at least those people have basic manners!
So three months later, I sent an email detailing my ordeal to Dad. The epic egregiousness of this customer service snafu was so insane that I didn't even have to include the customer service workers who refused to get me their manager, saying "I am the manager." Or the customer service person who said, "Ma'am this isn't our problem." Or the customer service person who simply said, "We can't do that."
In fact, once I wrote it down and really read it, I told Dad what I would really love to see to happen is to get about 3 or 4 customer service jerk's heads for my Halloween lawn art. And, since I'm a daddy's girl, and Qwest really fucked me, I got those heads. They look lovely on the ten foot tall sticks I whittled for them while I was on hold with Qwest customer service.*
Thanks Daddy!
(*Anyone without a sense of humor, I do not have heads in my lawn. Get real. I have their whole bodies. No, I'm kidding, geez.)
Oh Television! I love you so!
With all the good television on these days, who has time for homework?
This is the only decent part about winter. I actually have time and want to stay inside and watch television.
First off, Glee, if you aren't watching this you are missing out. It is absolutely hilarious.
Next up, Mad Men, this is the sexiest thing I've seen in so long. The story has finally gotten amazing this year.
And Bones, which we still are loving 5 seasons in!
True Blood just finished up, New Moon just won't replace Sookie and Bill.
And now we're just getting caught up on the Tudors. I miss Anne Boleyn already.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
In Your Prayers
Last night Dana's (my godsister Erin's sweet husband) father suddenly passed away. Please keep Dana and his family and father in your prayers.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Simon and Kacie Get Married Part Deux
In no particular order, here are some of my favorite pictures from Simon and Kacie's special day.
I loved the flying ribbons in the tree behind them. The were so amazing in the wind.
When she told the boys to "be sassy" this is what they came up with.
I did not have to pull as hard as my face would have you believe.
My uncle George says my aunt Pat never let him live down the crappy wedding half-kiss he gave her. He warned Simon before the ceremony not to fall prey to the same fate. He didn't.
The photographer said "Be sassy." We were confused, but came up with this.
When I am SUPER happy, I have the world's geekiest smile. I tried really hard not to geek out, but I just get downright gleeful.
Simon changed into his kicks for the reception.
Augustus, Kacie's little brother, and her cousin's son danced up a storm!
This is the pic I want framed for me. They both look beautiful and blissful.
I think this picture of Kacie is beautiful. It's her real smile. The happy, I love my life smile, I see on her all the time.
I loved the flying ribbons in the tree behind them. The were so amazing in the wind.
When she told the boys to "be sassy" this is what they came up with.
I did not have to pull as hard as my face would have you believe.
My uncle George says my aunt Pat never let him live down the crappy wedding half-kiss he gave her. He warned Simon before the ceremony not to fall prey to the same fate. He didn't.
The photographer said "Be sassy." We were confused, but came up with this.
When I am SUPER happy, I have the world's geekiest smile. I tried really hard not to geek out, but I just get downright gleeful.
Simon changed into his kicks for the reception.
Augustus, Kacie's little brother, and her cousin's son danced up a storm!
This is the pic I want framed for me. They both look beautiful and blissful.
I think this picture of Kacie is beautiful. It's her real smile. The happy, I love my life smile, I see on her all the time.Monday, September 28, 2009
Girl Crush
I have the world's biggest girl crush on Christina Hendricks aka Joan Holloway from Mad Men. Matt even bought me a neck watch just like the one she sometimes wears. This woman's body is real and completely bangin'. I wish I had half these curves (and I've got some curves).
Enjoy some Joan...
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
I'm laying in bed the last two nights staring at my ceiling watching my fan in the light from my crazy neighbors windows twist and twist and twist and my brain just will not shut up.
I always think about the same thing over and over and over and over and over. Do you ever wonder if you can acutally think something to DEATH without ever really making a decision? I'm now sure of it.
I also think about things I have no control over. Alot. I live my life in a very straight, planned way, with plans and times and lists and needs to be met and filled. I've always been this way, even in my most impulsive moments I've had a plan or a schedule. So it bothers me to have something impacting me I have NO CONTROL OVER. It's hard for me to throw up my hands and just say "Cest La Vie." To relinquish control over my own life. Though obviously, due to my dingy lack of sleep, I have no control over my own brain so it follows my life could at time be out of my control. But that doesn't make it any less annoying!
I always think about the same thing over and over and over and over and over. Do you ever wonder if you can acutally think something to DEATH without ever really making a decision? I'm now sure of it.
I also think about things I have no control over. Alot. I live my life in a very straight, planned way, with plans and times and lists and needs to be met and filled. I've always been this way, even in my most impulsive moments I've had a plan or a schedule. So it bothers me to have something impacting me I have NO CONTROL OVER. It's hard for me to throw up my hands and just say "Cest La Vie." To relinquish control over my own life. Though obviously, due to my dingy lack of sleep, I have no control over my own brain so it follows my life could at time be out of my control. But that doesn't make it any less annoying!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Pain Pain Go Away
For a little more than a year now I've had serious, chronic pain. Which, is not funny. Where my pain is though, is though - is funny.
It's a pinched nerve, where, I don't yet know, but it sends a shooting pain that sometimes lasts for DAYS down into, well, my butt. Right into the top of my left butt cheek. I go to the gym and do alot of stretching and weight lifting to get it to stop, but it's just always around. Some days I'm fine and some days, I have a pain in the butt.
The other crazy part of this is, that if the pain "shoots" it feels like someone has just stabbed me in the butt and my left leg goes somewhat numb and in reaction to the pain, stops working. So, if I am, oh I dunno, crossing a street, this can get a little sticky. Or if I stop mid-walk in the hallway at work and an attorney crashes into me while I go to reach for my butt in pain, it gets a little sticky.
You see my problem.
I can't pin-point anything that helps. A massage sometimes abates the pain, but asking your husband to massage your butt is useless, never ask men to rub ANYTHING a bikini covers. They can't help themselves, no matter how much pain your in, it's a naked butt.
I know, I know, "Go see a doctor." But I have doctor issues like other people have committment issues, I'm a runner. If my gyno can't solve the problem in my once a year visit, then it's Dr. Chardonnay all the way. That confessed, things are getting worse, and no matter how cute I dress, if I'm limping down Main Street on my lunch hour, that is not adorable.
I might acutally be forced to go to a doctor and when he asks where it hurts while I'm sitting naked on the exam table in what is essentially a smaller version of a paper table cloth I'll have to say, "my butt."
It's a pinched nerve, where, I don't yet know, but it sends a shooting pain that sometimes lasts for DAYS down into, well, my butt. Right into the top of my left butt cheek. I go to the gym and do alot of stretching and weight lifting to get it to stop, but it's just always around. Some days I'm fine and some days, I have a pain in the butt.
The other crazy part of this is, that if the pain "shoots" it feels like someone has just stabbed me in the butt and my left leg goes somewhat numb and in reaction to the pain, stops working. So, if I am, oh I dunno, crossing a street, this can get a little sticky. Or if I stop mid-walk in the hallway at work and an attorney crashes into me while I go to reach for my butt in pain, it gets a little sticky.
You see my problem.
I can't pin-point anything that helps. A massage sometimes abates the pain, but asking your husband to massage your butt is useless, never ask men to rub ANYTHING a bikini covers. They can't help themselves, no matter how much pain your in, it's a naked butt.
I know, I know, "Go see a doctor." But I have doctor issues like other people have committment issues, I'm a runner. If my gyno can't solve the problem in my once a year visit, then it's Dr. Chardonnay all the way. That confessed, things are getting worse, and no matter how cute I dress, if I'm limping down Main Street on my lunch hour, that is not adorable.
I might acutally be forced to go to a doctor and when he asks where it hurts while I'm sitting naked on the exam table in what is essentially a smaller version of a paper table cloth I'll have to say, "my butt."
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