ammogirl

Oh yes, that caught your eye, didn’t it?

Before anything else, I want to say congratulations to Chris from Inane Thoughts and Insane Ramblings.  He won the first ever Typepad, Your Spellchecker Sucks contest with the word "booger".  I was going to give Chris a prize, but he said all my prizes suck.  Or maybe he didn’t, but he still felt actually winning my contest was prize enough.  This was fine by me, since I hadn’t actually put much thought into the prize situation…I have a few ideas though.  I’ll let you know when the next contest is.

Now, on to my loose pelvis.  It’s actually more like "hip", but…pelvis sounds better.  I went to the Physical Therapist today, and after talking and looking and looking and talking he determined that A) my right hip is situated higher than my left and B) my right hip joint is "fundamentally weakened" which basically means it’s all stretched out and the bone is just sort of rolling around in the socket when I move my leg, bumping into the sides willy-nilly, and that’s what’s causing the pain in my hip, leg, and back.  Or so he thinks.  I dunno, sounds good to me.  To fix me, he first had me lay (lie, whatever) on the table and yanked my right leg as hard as he could, twice.  This is called the "sheer force" technique (tm me).  After that he did some sort of thing where he positioned my legs diagonally to my torso, turned my upper body to the left as far as it would go, then cracked it really fast.  This is called the "what the hell, you’re supposed to be FIXING me" technique (tm, again, me).  I thought they both seemed a bit like torture, but what do I know: when he was done, he deemed my hips even (although, still loose).  And, I had less pain.  So.

Anyway, I got the rack treatment, then I got some strengthening exercises, and with a bit of advice (take the Motrin, take the Mobic, don’t expect it to get better soon) I took my faulty socket and left. 

I have to ask, does anyone else turn into Babbley McNotshutuperton when in the doctor’s office?  Because good lord, do I ever.  I must have told him every ailment I’ve had over the past…425 months and then for good measure, I started in on my dad and HIS hip.  And I totally knew he wasn’t listening to me but my mouth just would not stop.  Then I started panicking because I knew I sounded like a hypochondriac (which I totally am, but the doctor is the LAST person I want to know that) and my temperature rose about 37 degrees and before I knew it my heart was racing and I was drenched in sweat, but STILL TALKING.

After work the girls and I went shopping, because in the true tradition of the Obsessive Compulsive Procrastinator, I put off buying outfits for my Grandma’s 90th birthday dinner this Saturday until almost the last possible moment.  You guys.  Remind me the next time a function is coming up and I need a nice outfit that it is a reallllllly bad idea to depend on the BX.  In the men’s section, they have an on-staff tailor for custom made suits.  In the women’s section, there is approximately two outfits, and one is olive green and sequined, while the other is a butt-skimming miniskirt.  Oh.  They DO have a fabulous selection of full coverage flannel nightgowns, complete with a ribbon to tie yourself off at the neck.  Sexy.  Between the three of us, we finally got creative with what we already have plus a necktie.  I’m just kidding.  What we actually did was somehow piece together really cute outfits for ourselves.  Of course, finding something for John, i.e. a tie in the exact shade of the shirt I bought because they have every single men’s clothing item ever, took three minutes. I am telling you: ties in every color.  Pick one: orange?  Yes.  Chartreuse?  Got it!  Red and silver flowers with yellow clouds on a stone colored background?  …Well, okay.  Maybe not that.  But still…the tie department?  They’ve got Roy G. Biv covered in every possible way.

Tschuss!!!

Okay you guys, Typepad has forced me to pick a new Fun Game for my blog.  Each post will feature one completely ordinary, properly spelled word that the Typepad dictionary says is wrong.  The first person to guess it in the comments wins.  I know, I can hardly contain myself either.

You know, I must have ADHD or something, for reals.  I seriously find it impossible to sit still during meetings.  We had a big one today to go over…stuff…and while I was wide awake and caffeineted, (two cups worth!  bonus!) within 17 minutes of sitting down and listening to these people drone on and onnnnnnn I was battling some serious heavy eye.  And I get very squirmy, apparently.  I kept moving around and repositioning and I KNOW I looked like a small child with a dire need for a toilet but I just could not help it.  Everyone else kept looking at me as if to say…WAIT!  Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you this.  So!  There I am, squirming away, wishing speed was legal so I could just pay attention to this Very Important Meeting when out of the corner of my eye, the guy next to me quickly stuck something in his mouth and started chewing.  "huh"  I thought, and promptly forgot about it.  Until I saw him do it again.  THIS time, however, I thought "fucker.  what’s HE eating?  I want some too!"  and started looking around for the snacks, because hello?  Food.  Except I found zero food.  Now I thought, "ewww" because obviously he was eating one of two things:  fingernails, or boogers.  I know.  Gross.  But then.  THEN.  I caught him not eating food, nor fingernails, nor boogers, but something five thousand times better:  he was tearing bits of paper from his notebook…and EATING THEM!

You guys, he was eating PAPER!  And I caught him!  He acted like he didn’t see me, although I don’t know HOW, since I did a double-take, complete with surprised eyes and everything.  I was so excited that I had seen him do that, that it woke me right up.  Yes.  It doesn’t take much, for I am easy to please.   When we got back from break, he had moved to a different spot.  Maybe he thought I would steal his notebook or something.   Anyway, I thought it was funny how he went from gross booger guy that I wanted to avoid to surreptitious paper eater man whose every move I watched just in case he did it again.

Back to my original story…hmm.  I thought I had more, at one point.  I guess I wish I could just stay still, is all. 

Okay.  I have to help put up coat racks (bleh).  Have a great day.

Tschuss!!!

The constant gray dampness outside is pretty much sucking all vestiges of life out of me.  So, fuck it.  Here’s an old story.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was sort of a dork.  I had coke bottle glasses and ill-fitting clothes and attended weekly "talented and gifted" meetings in the library. I was one of the kids that could never climb that damn rope in gym.  What else…oh. One time I told my teacher that instead of reading during silent sustained reading time I preferred to meditate.  True story. 

Anyway, one day I was standing on a chair, for whatever reason, and I was telling people to do stuff.  So like, the whole class was gathered around me.  Just watching me.  And at one point, I got carried away with all the attention, or power, or pretty much I just went outside my right mind because I, ME, girl so klutzy and uncoordinated I still at the age of 35 cannot do a cartwheel, decided that the best way to vacate this chair would be to LEAP over it to the floor like the cool kids did.  However, I was not a cool kid.  I was a dork.  An uncoordinated dork.  And the back of the chair was HIGH and my ten year old body was chubby and there was that damn hole in the back of the chair that my foot got stuck in and the next thing I knew: SLAM! 

Okay, so ten year olds, remember?  A whole group of them?  And theres me, laying on the floor after totally biting it in front of them, and I start yelling "My eyes!  My eyeeeessssss!"  while rolling around grasping my left knee.  You can IMAGINE how this went over with my classmates…they were silent for approximately .7 seconds before they started laughing at me.  But I didn’t care that they were laughing, because somehow the fall had knocked me blind and shattered my kneecap.  In the darkness I wept bitter tears at the thought of never seeing another ocean or Christmas tree.  And then my teacher told me to open my eyes. 

Still true, you guys.  My glasses had gotten knocked off and I had screwed my eyes shut so tight I didn’t even know it.  The other kids, those horrible little beastly children who I had known almost my whole life SCREAMED with laughter and started shrieking "my eyyyyyessss! I can’t SEEEEEE" and slowly I started realizing that not only could I see, but that I would never, EVER be popular now.  That’s about when my teacher actually cursed and said "dammit, be QUIET" to everyone else and SCOOPED me up in his arms and went running out the door.  The principal was there to meet him because he had been summoned by my yelling.  He carried me the rest of the way down the hall to the nurse’s office where I sat while waiting for my parents to arrive.  By this point, my knee didn’t even hurt but there was no way in hell I was going to admit that and have to go back to class because hello, FREE DAY OFF.

Now, do you think I ever lived that down?  Of the kids in that classroom that day, 97% of them were by my side when I graduated seven years later.   I can’t tell you the number of times I heard "my EYEEEEESS!!  MY EYEEEEEEEESSSS!!" during those seven years.  Jerks.

Now, I’m still sort of a dork, minus the talented and gifted part, but I know better than to stand on chairs.

Tschuss!!