ammogirl

So, I went to physical therapy again yesterday, and guess what!  While the PT-ist didn’t have the x-rays of my back in front of her, the write-up of them in my records said I have the beginnings of a herniated disc!  I know!  Isn’t that fabulous?  I put a call-back request in to get the actual read, I should hear something today.  In the meantime, I have a brand new round of exercises to do, including one called “hip clocks” which should be fun.  Oh!  AND, she (the PT-ist) recommended…you know those giant exercise balls?  Well, I have to sit on one at WORK.  I was secretly delighted when I heard this for two…no, three reasons: 1) fun! 2) daily ab/back workout and 3) I got to title this post with a thinly veiled reference to The Office, which I’m sure only FlatGreg will get.  Yes, I’m ridiculous.

Anyhow, I started my day at the PT-ist’s office, and I ended it at a spa, where I was thoroughly enjoying my Mother’s Day present: massage, facial, pedicure.  Awesome.

Okay, I just have to interrupt myself for a second to say something.  You guys, my first husband…we might not have gotten along in…anything, actually, but one year for Mother’s Day he got me a full day package at a local Fairbanks spa, and seriously.  I was in heaven.  Since then, whenever my male coworkers come to me, panicked because they have NO idea what to get their wives for whatever upcoming occasion, I always tell them: day spa.  Strangely, they think I’m crazy at first!  Which is so silly!  I’m not kidding here:  boys?  Day Spa.  Best gift ever.  At the very least, do like…a month ’s worth of weekly massages or something.  Thank my ex-husband for this public service announcement.

Alright, back to my story…I started out on the massage table, where, when I was left alone a bit while the hot stones were working their heat into my spine, I totally fell asleep.  Out.  When I woke up, I had drooled everywhere, a big puddle of drool just…pooling below me.  I could see it, but I couldn’t do anything about it, because hi, stones on my back.  It was really great, really.  I don’t know if the massage girl noticed or not because when I saw her foot heading that way, I closed my eyes.

Oh!  It’s totally time for me to go get ready for work!

Tschuss!!

If you could please direct your attention to the portion of your screen directly under the “search” box, you will notice an!email!link!

Thanks to everyone who helped me with this, you all know who you are.

Tschuss!!!

…and that’s all I’m going to say about the season finale of the Best!Show!Ever!!!!

On Friday I went to a going away lunch for my coworker.  Now, I’m normally not a squeamish person when it comes to food…I mean, there are things I definitely refuse to eat myself, but generally speaking, what OTHERS eat is of no importance to me.  This is null and void, however, when the person across the table from me orders Escargot.  You guys.  There are no words to describe how disgusting it is to watch someone pull a snail out of it’s shell, stuff it into their mouth, and chew rubber-erly.  I don’t care what it tastes like, or that it’s a delicacy.  I…oh god, I can’t even talk about it anymore.  Snails crawl on the ground, leaving behind them a trail of snot.  Eating them is completely unnecessary, in the world of ammogirl.

I made it through, though, with lots of mouth covering and much facing of the wall at crucial moments, and was rewarded on the ride back to work with a sublime verbal misunderstanding: the guy in the back seat kept talking about his love of Hummus Mint Ketchup, and no amount of disbelief on my part would dissuade him from proclaiming how good it was.  He kept proclaiming, with an strange look on his face, and I kept asking, with my own strange look.  Finally, I turned around and said slowly and precisely, “Hummus MINT ketchup?  HOW IS THAT GOOD?”  and he said, “No, dumb, Pommes mit Ketchup. You know, like french fries and ketchup?”

Oh.

Pommes mit Ketchup.  Of course.  I knew this, because hummus mint ketchup?  Not even imaginary okay.

There is a new development in our household.  It is not a fun one.  This development is adolescent boys hell-bent on impressing my daughters with random gifts: dirty boots, a paper towel, an old sawhorse.  They have set up residence in the lot across the street and do things that boys do when trying to impress girls like, I don’t know, jump on things and push each other.  I don’t know.  I was not impressed.  I asked Taylor if SHE was impressed (Lindsey was at a friend’s house) and she…had no comment.  Which means, horrifyingly enough, that she WAS impressed.  Which also means that as of yesterday, I officially hate all boys.

Today when they came around and started buzzing the doorbell, I opened the door to discover the sawhorse at the end of my front walk.  I stared pointedly at it for a moment, and then I made John walk around front and stand there menacingly.

The sawhorse is gone now.

Tschuss!!