Excuse Me? Could You Repeat That?!

What a week. Soooo much has happened in the past 7 days. Some good, some irritating, much of it stressful. But damn if there haven't been some CLASSIC lines uttered! So many, in fact, that I feel compelled to record them. Thus, in no particular order . . . .

• JAY: "Break out the phucking Taylor!"
• MS. J/FC: "Why are fat people always munching on funnel cake? How come you never see them snacking on some fruit?"
• ADRIAN/MH: "Who is Ron Jeremy?'
• JESSE: "Do not google 'Ron Jeremy' from work."
• MS. J/FC: "Oh, I'm taking it to DEFCOM 2."
• KIRSTEN/CHRISSIE/2.0: "Speak Engrish!"
• HOT MARY: "He brought the Pancakes? What a jerk."
• ERIN (wtf? We don't even know her!): "You need to come hit this every two weeks or so, Asshole!"
• DR. J: "If she wants you to hit it every two weeks then who is hitting it during the off week?"
• FC: "Gawd knows if she is this horny and will let you roll around in there sans latex, she got the WHOLE TOWN in there."
• CHRISSIE: "It probably smells like skank down there."
• FC: "Dude, you got laid 2x's in under 18 hours AND ate the tasty free samples at Sam's -- WTF more do you want? Man up, already!"
• MS. J: "So we moved the bag of tricks & nudie photos to his office, and she never even looked in a single drawer?!"
• GREG: "They're PAVING Carson Street?!?!"
• LORI: "He's fat."
• MS. J: "I hate or resent everybody, with the exception of Nate. And possibly Maya, but the jury's still out on her."
• SPC SHANNON: "Grapes REFUSED to sign the card."
• HAMSTER: "Tell Da Weeter about our many nights spent on surveillance, Jen!"
• YMCA SHANNON: "Eric, did you try one of Ms. J's fried Oreo's? I hear it's all soft and yummy in the middle."
• ERIC: "When I try one of her Oreo's it's Double Stuft."
• FATHER MIKE: "Elsie is the bane of my existence. She's a pain in my ass."
• DR. J: "Don't worry Padre, what you say to me is confidential, like doctor-patient."
• ADRIAN: "A pretty face doesn't make a pretty cunt."
• GREG: "Phucking PennDOT!"
• HOT MARY: "But Doug says it's a very nice trailer."
• LOU-BEE: "Michael McDonald ruined the Doobie Brothers."
• BIG BILL: "Your brother announced he's not taking the LSAT. He's decided to become a Navy fighter pilot instead."
• DR. J: "Yeah, my in-laws worked security for the Parish Festival on Thursday Night. What did they do? I have no idea. They could entertain themselves with phucking toothpicks."
• HAMSTER: "I love church festival food!"
• DEREK: "Choco Taco? Sounds dirty! I'll be there."
• MS. J: "Just what Lou needs, a funnel cake."

I Know Work is Stressing Me Out When . . .

• I text Lori repeatedly at lunchtime about how I am NOT gonna give in to the overwhelming urge to ingest all sorts of unhealthy food choices


• I spontaneously begin making my "grrr!" sound at the slightest provocation (and sometimes when there's none at all)


• I come back from lunch and sit in my car, A/C on full blast, close my eyes, and turn Hall & Oates up way loud on the radio (guilty pleasure -- yes, I am a fan)
• I begin to fret that I won't make it to the gym that night, because I have too much shit to do
• I am mentally whining about needing to see Brenda
• I start making lists of which Legislators need an ass whuppin'
• I wish in earnest that I could end every day by climbing into a hot tub
  

Part 2, Ugh

So I am about 12 hours away from this hideous procedure. You know it's bad when the RE tells you ahead of time. His phrase of "excruciating hell" keeps bouncing around in my already overtaxed brain.

I was emotionally spent from the home study this afternoon, and did not really feel like hauling ass to the Y afterwards. But watching Oprah interview formerly fat people motivated me. So did the knowledge that after tomorrow I will have to take a few days off from working out, since my whole va-jay-jay region (yes, taking this word straight from the vocabulary of the t.v. show "Grey's Anatomy") is going to be in "some pain." I hate that. I resent not being able to engage in something that helps me relieve stress, improves my mood, and lets me have some measure of control over my body.

Tonight, once again, sleeping in the Marines t-shirt. More channeling of tough guys: Dad, Noah, Col. Hunt, Mitch Rapp (don't care if he's fictional), and my hairstylist Shannen (who's been three, done that, and never flinches when I admit being scared or start to cry).

Dig deep, chickie poo.

So THIS is Feminism?

In the interest of full disclosure, back in college I was a self-proclaimed Feminist. But around the time I started grad school, I began to see the light. The light shown even brighter while living out in The Land of Fruits & Nuts & Flakes, and now I am a happily sassy, good-looking, red, white & true Conservative! My pendulum has even swung far in the other direction on matters of Pro-Life v. Pro-Abortion (sorry, "choice"? Use that word and you are stupidly letting the opposition frame the argument, suckers).

Anyhoo . . .

Came across this article this morning:

Infanticide, Abortion Responsible for 60 Million Girls Missing in Asia

Granted, I am inclined to take this DAMN personally right about now. Try being me and not being offended by this?! But actually, everyone should be outraged!

It has me so pissed off, so angry, so hurt. It's not news to me, as I have been well-aware of it for a good decade. Still, it astounds me that people still cling to the ridiculous notion that abortion is somehow good for women? Which women? The 60 million is Asia who have been MURDERED?

How about the 45 million babies who have been murdered since abortion was legalized in the United States? Let's see, if one-half of those were female . . . 22.5 million little girls (some of whom might have grown up to be liberal Feminists) have had their lives extinguished.

And please, spare me the whole "what about rape and incest" argument. Yes, those are terrible, and RARE occurrences. While I have been sexually assaulted, I can not imagine that overwhelming horror. I know that it is STILL an abortion, still a Human Life that is being taken. I am willing to allow for these rare circumstances, so long as these women receive extreme counseling, and are introduced to a loving American couple or social service agency who stand ready and willing to bend over backwards to support them through their recovery, and ADOPT their baby when born (and make sure they are taken care of financially).

Yes, "saving the life of the mother" is a valid and legitimate argument. But again, rare. And even the most restrictive laws on the books allow for all three of these exceptions.

The flaws in the Abortion argument are so huge and gaping. And yet people get sucked into them every day. Lucky for them they didn't get sucked into a sink before they had a chance to voice that opinion.

When Part 1 of 2 Turns Out to Have a 3

I thought I'd only have to be brave for 2 more tests, then get to wave "buh-bye" to all of the medical and emotional bullshit Dr. J and I have been coping with. Turns out Part 1 is necessitating there to be a Part 3 (i.e. surgery). I'd shake my head and say "unbelievable," but then again this is my completely phucked up reality, so it's just par for the course (and I don't mean Oakmont).

So I had the SonoHSG test yesterday morning. They first take measurements of your uterus (with the transvaginal ultrasound wand -- like inserting a big curling iron in your tutu, hee hee), then doctor inserts speculum, then threads catheter through cervix and into uterus. Then saline is injected through catheter into uterus. Speculum pulled out, transvaginal wand reinserted, and ultrasound photos taken and displayed on monitor. Mmmm, yummy, eh?! LOL!

Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (yes, I am still worked up over last year's full-fledged HSG test) . Granted, I popped a percocet about 90 minutes prior. Thank you, Dr. J.

However . . . they did find a 6 mm polyp in my uterus. RE does not think it's cancer -- his exact words, but it needs to come out. He is much more concerned about it causing or contributing to m/c's. RE says I can wait until August to have out, if I want to (I do -- I need a break in July, and some peace). And that my regular OB/Gyn will do surgery, under anethesia, at a hospital.

I think that I have gotten so freakin' used to bad news that my reactions to things are so flat and inappropriate it borders on insane. For example, when the doctor showed my the polyp on the screen and said I needed surgery, the following 3 things were the FIRST that I thought of:

1. Huh . . . I wonder how much a polyp weighs? Will I be lighter after it's out?
2. Phuck, I am gonna have to skip a few gym workouts due to phucking surgical recovery time. Dammit.
3. Hmmm, if it's cancer, I need to hide it from our adoption caseworker.

I still am having to have the endometrial biopsy next Tuesday. THAT is the hellish painful one (in RE's words). Two percocet that morning, for sure.

I am SO not looking forward to sharing all of this with Big Bill when he comes over for brunch on Sunday. He will not hear a thing after "cancer" (though it's unlikely, and I truly don't think it is). He'll turn green, then start rocking back and forth in his chair -- his drill, when he gets nervous about medical stuff with one of his kids, his sister, or niece. I like that he worries, though?! Makes me feel better, somehow, like someone is caring for me.

Good gawd, I am sooooo sick of all of this. I'd throw in the towel and flip off all of these people who insist on being up my wazoo if I could erase all doubts about cancer (and that's for Big Bill's sake, not my own).

I NEED A CALGON MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Being Brave

Okay, so I can admit I am getting more and more nervous . . . but I know that I have to keep going, in order to hopefully get some answers.

Maybe nervous is not the word . . . yep, I think fear has fully crept into my mental house, and is plunking her suitcase down. She is expecting to move in. I may have to let her.

Tired of being Ms. Tough Cookie all the time, and with the vivid memory of the last time I had something even close to this done to my body . . . I am trying my best to cope with the fact that, um, tomorrow is going to probably hurt. And what I have to undergo the following week will be, in the doctor's words, feel like "excruciating hell." Well, I appreciate that he isn't bullshitting me! There's nothing I hate more than being surprised, so I value that he played it straight with me.

So tonight I am taking my frequent advice to others, and doing some "channeling" of others, in the hopes that I can steal a bit of their strength to get me through Part I, tomorrow. With this in mind, I am sleeping in my favorite old Marines t-shirt that my Dad brought me home from one of his reunions. I am going to think about people who are REALLY tough, like Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Cops, and try to put myself into some "zone" if you will -- with the hopes of pulling myself through to the other side of Part I tomorrow.

But who knows, it may just boil down to remembering the time, only a few months ago, when my Dad said that the thing that marked his children, three very, very different children . . . was that each was strong. Maybe that's enough.

I Am Running Away

This thought has been very tempting lately. Like when you hear a little kid whine that life is unfair, and they are going to run away? And so you indulge them, being sympathetic but amused, and inquire "What would you take with you? And where would you go?"


If only it were that easy.


Oh hell, I wouldn't enjoy myself anyway if I did. Gawd, do I ever relax? Hell no. It's only the stress and tension holding my decrepit body together, anyway.


So maybe a compromise is to run away . . . virtually. Yeah, that's right, online. I can map out my big escape plan -- dream as big as I want, no limits (especially self-imposed), with complete freedom to be as wild as I choose. Now that tempting, isn't it?!


Okay, so where to go . . . well this is MY daydream, so it can be for an extended period of time and to multiple places, right? So here's where I am going (flying first class, obviously):

• Australia -- I want to visit ALL of it, like Bill Bryson did in his terrific book. All the cities, even the strange, quirky ones. And of course, the terrific vineyards.
• Hyatt at Gainey Ranch -- Location of probably my happiest childhood memories with my Dad, and the place I truly had one gorgeously tranquil moment of peace as an adult.
• Balboa Park -- Located in sunny San Diego, it is one of my favorite places in CA. And of course, Nicole is just minutes away . . . if anyone can inject a whopping dose of escapism, it's her!
• Sonoma & Napa Counties, CA -- Specifically, my beloved Chateau St. Jean, with a quick sidetrip to Cakebread, too (both finds that must be credited to Adrian/ManHands).

I should dash home and pack. Really.

I wonder if Kirsten would fit in a suitcase? Probably only if it were a Louis Vuitton.

Acronym School

I don't even know where to begin . . . I'm no angel, but sometimes even I stumble across these moments in which I feel like an Amish schoolgirl, sweet and innocent, and unknowing.

So as Dr. J and I were falling asleep last night, we watched one of those classic VH1 offerings, called "40 Most Softsational Soft Rock Songs" -- you know, one of those it's so bad it's good episodes?! We LOVE those shows, especially since we can entertain each other for hours with our own non-stop smart ass remarks about what we see and observe on t.v. and in public (gawd, do we love to peoplewatch!)

Anyhoo, as they are reviewing these awesomely bad songs, mainly from the 70's and 80's, they have comedians offer smart ass remarks throughout. So during the recap of one song, some female comedian makes a crack about "JBF Hair".

"JBF Hair"??? Dr. J and I look at each other -- WTF is that?!

JBF Hair . . . JBF Hair . . . awesomely bad soft rock songs . . . JBF Hair . . . what does this mean?!?!?!

OHMIGAWD -- then it hits us!

JUST BEEN FUCKED HAIR!!!

LOL! Yeah, you know it, girl! Half your hair is still styled/curled, the other sweaty, or straight, or has some jism substance dried in it . . . ROTFLMAO! Ohmigawd, we were wide awake, laughing like two higher-than-kite frat boys!

I consider myself "hip" to the lingo the kids use nowadays, but "JBF Hair" is new to me, and Dr. J! I will be checking with my 20 year old brother, "Mr. Bill," to see if this term is making the rounds on college campuses.

How psyched am I to have LEARNED SOMETHING OF VALUE last night?!

Of course, we immediately thought of Jesse, and what tales of JBF Hair he may have to tell -- now and in the future!!!

Can't wait to hear Jesse work this phrase into his latest tale of debauchery!!!

Alum Rock vs. Cory Heights

(I can't go to sleep without commenting on this one . . . every time I move I get a physical reminder).

So now that summer is here, I am anxious to resume my favorite warm weather hobby of hiking. I always was a fan of walking outdoors (surprising, consider my awful childhood allergies). But I kinda fell into hiking when we lived in Kal-ee-forn-yah. It was partly because of the amazing scenery that is so prevalent in the Bay Area, partly because it was a way to "sneak" in some exercise, and partly because it's a free and fun thing to do.

The best hikes were probably those in Yosemite (gosh, we have thee funniest photos from that outing), and Big Basin (redwoods, need I say more?). We frequented Rancho San Antonio quite a bit, as well as Stevens Creek, Almaden Quicksilver, Coyote Creek, and the Los Gatos Creek trails.

But the one that KICKED OUR ASS was Alum Rock. Oi Vey. The M-F'er was soooo steep! Even the horses that passed us on the trail seemed to have a desperate look in their eyes, lol.

So anyhoo, near our house there is this road we sometimes drive as a shortcut to Dr. J's office. It is VERY steep, and at the top of the hill is a very peaceful-looking and beautifully maintained cemetary. (I am strangely comfortable in a cemetary, probably since my grandparents dragged me to tons of them when I was a little girl, pulling up weeds around our ancestors graves, placing flags on the patriotic holidays, and so on).

But back to hiking. I have measured with my car's odometer, and this steep hill is a half-mile, and all incline, baby. Each time we drive it I comment to Dr. J, "gawd, remember when Alum Rock kicked our ass?" and he nods in complete agreement.

So yesterday, still not ready to resume attending church, I decided I was gonna finally tackle the hill.

It was not easy. But I am giving Dr. Dre lots of credit for getting me to the top (shitty video, but GREAT song IF you listen to it in it entirety -- gotta love how he mixed in an old school rhythm). It was so friggin' humid, and I was sweating my ass off, literally. But I always feel like I have accomplished something when I get to a summit. And this time was no exception.

I still think that Alum Rock wins, in a head-to-head battle. But then again, Alum Rock wasn't paved, and I am in much better shape now.

So 24 hours later, I am feeling the effects of the steep climb . . . my glutes are sore! But I am definitely inspired to repeat this suburban climb, and begin planning real hikes for each weekend from now on.

Deep Breath . . . Don't Stop on a Thought for Too Long

With so many things on my mind tonight, it's hard to settle on just one topic to write (vent) about. This is typical for me, whenever I have a long car ride all by my lonesome, and then have to sit through meetings at a conference -- it's like a constant monologue in my head, jumping from one topic to another, never settling on one for long -- but thinking that there is plenty of writing material for each topic that pops into my head.


So rather than try to figure out which possible blog topic would be most worthy or interesting of my time, I think I'll just post the possible titles of what the blog entries would have been. Who knows, maybe someday I will actually want expound upon one of them in the future (eh, so-so). Nonetheless, here they are:

• Blue Sky Moments, I Forget
• Why Exertion is Better than Exercise
• If Money Were Not A Factor
• The List of People I'd Like to Strangle
• The Perfect Two-Week Vacation (which really would take four)
• Regrets, Part I
• Adrian's Boring Hobbies
• Can You Buy a Time Machine on E-Bay?
• Great Bay Area Hikes
• Fear or Pain -- What's Worse?
• If Jesse Had His Own Realty Show . . .
• In Search Of Just ONE Good Night of Sleep
• Noah Speaks (Not)
• The Slowest Clock

Hopefully my brain will clear and my literary mojo will come back soon.

I really could go for Indian food right now (wait, that sounds like another entry). Sigh.

This Time, It Was My Glasses. Unbefuckingly believable.

It's happened again! YET AGAIN. I am an excellent packer, when it comes to trips. I do it fairly quickly, semi-efficiently, and am especially good at rolling my clothes to maximize space. I have enough travel-sized toiletries to mark me as a frequent traveler (though not "road warrior" status). And yet, each time, no matter how careful I am, I seem to ALWAYS forget something.

This time it was my glasses. Of course, I noticed AFTER I had washed my makeup off, and had taken off my contacts, and was fumbling around in my one bag searching for them. Which lead to a frantic call to Dr. J who confirmed they were at home, and gallantly offered to overnight mail them to me. Of course, I declined, citing the ol' "we need the money for other things" excuse.

Sigh. Gawd, I could smack myself sometimes.

Wishing I was at home, curling up on my massive bed, in my glasses right now. Dammit.