A whole new world...

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

I realized today just how different California is than New Orleans. See, in California, it's not that teenagers don't drink, because they do (I didn't, I was literally the picture of a perfect teenager and I'm not even being sarcastic), but they don't do it publicly or noticeably. Parties happen, beer is consumed, however, almost never is it something that people talk about and in California, you can't go in a bar unless you're 21 and if you show a fake ID, they keep it.

Here in New Orleans I get to hear from students about the bars they go to (of which I wrote down the names of so that I would never ever go to them) and the fact that they're making jello shots at home right now as we're speaking. And it's not like I was snooping on a conversation, one stopped to tell me about the molds she had for the jello shots.

A big part of me wants to be appalled and the other just kinda wishes that I'd grown up here.

An open letter to the customers of Walmart

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Dear Walmart Shoppers-

I do not mean to lump all Walmart shoppers together, because, as a resident of a lot of different places, I've seen some nice Walmarts, however, something about being in a Walmart seems to bring out the worst in all of you who go there. It's like a transformation takes place when you walk in the door.

When in said store, it is polite to acknowledge that other people exist. Running into me and looking back as though I was an inconvenience in your life is not a proper way to react to other people. Additionally, talking about me as you run into me is even less appreciated. It's not challenging to not walk into people, in fact, it might even be easier on your body in general to switch directions than to plow into other people. Just a thought.

I appreciate that having multiple children is difficult and I'm going to forego my thoughts on the simplicity of birth control, especially for those under the age of 20 years old with multiple children, however, if you have multiple children and are in Walmart, please don't ignore them. See, it really was challenging for me to ignore your child while he SCREAMED at me, so I know you must have been trying. And yes, it was cute that his idea of counting was "2! 4! 5! 6! 7! 9!" It was less cute when he grabbed the item we were returning and screamed "MINE MINE MINE MINE" over and over. The least cute part was a tie between when he started spitting on us and when you totally freaking ignored your kid. You see, I get that you're busy, but your child was making more noise that any human being I've ever encountered and you couldn't even give him the time of day. Gee, I wonder why he's so damn loud?

If you happen to work at Walmart, your english needs to be intelligible. I'm not speaking about non-english speakers, I'm talking about slang-talking mumblers. You cannot be irritated with my asking you to repeat the statement 4 times when you neither increase the volume of the statement or decrease the speed at which it is said any of the 3 previous times I asked. I'm not an imbecile, I just need you to say what you need aloud. Weird, right?

And really? Would it kill you to put shoes or shorts on your children? I mean really? Is it difficult? I've met a number of small children, lived with some and none of them have been so tempermental that I couldn't put pants or shoes on them. I do not wish to see your childs diaper or underwear and it seems so incredibly unsanitary to have them shoeless that I actually feel nauseated thinking about it.

Finally, frozen pizzas should not be returnable. They just shouldn't be, especially when they're not frozen anymore.

Target Lover


Monday, October 29, 2007

Okay, consider this my attempt to explain my sister's and my relationship. It's going to get fairly (and by fairly I mean exceptionally) long because our relationship is the result of 24 years worth of experiences.

First, you should know that she is my only biological sibling. I have 3 step-sisters and 1 sort of half-sister (no brothers) and her. She 2 1/2 years older than me (3 years ahead in school), oh and she's a super-bitch. Sorry, did I say that? My bad.

Growing up until our teenage years it was just the two of us, we were a little older when all the others entered the picture. We have never gotten along. From birth to high school were 18 years of terror on both our parts. We fought like crazy. She told me there was no Santa Claus when I was 6 years old, just to be mean. She chased me around the house with a butcher knife and tried to pick the lock to the bathroom when I finally got away from her in there. She stabbed me in the face with a pencil when I was 8 (in all fairness she was actually just trying to shove me off the barstool and had a pencil in her hand...) and I still have a mark. This is not to say that I didn't bite her and kick and yell and otherwise be a super pain in the ass also because I surely did, it was a give and take thing.

My freshman year of high school she drove me and our neighbor to school and one morning I was being obnoxious for some reason (probably because it's rare that I can really get under her skin and I knew I was suceeding) and she told me that if I didn't stop talking she was going to pull the car over. Well, hello? That's like an inivitation to be more obnoxious. So I talked to myself for like 20 minutes, and she pulled the car over and waited until I ran out of things to say, effectively making all of us late for school, including our neighbor in the back seat.

Something else you should know is that my sister is perfect. She is valedictorian of everything. If there was a valedictorian of grocery shopping or of working out, I'm sure she'd add those to her preschool, kindergarten, high school and Summa Cum Laude college finishes. She's perfect. She got into the number 1 physical therapy program in the country and got a scholarship (of which there is only one given). She then received not one, but two distinguishing awards when she finished there and was offered one of 2 spots available nationally for a neuro-physical therapy residency. I got rejected from her college when I applied. Ouch. She's ridiculously intelligent, has always been naturally fit and cute and basically has never failed at anything ever. We did the same sports and she always won. We both participated in music and even though she couldn't carry a tune in a wheelbarrel if forced, she still did better than me. She's perfect, and maybe I have a small complex about it.

Things for us settled some what when she moved away for college and even more so when I went away to college. We didn't see each other and when we did we had so many other things to share that fighting didn't take priority. For whatever reason, the 2000 miles between us now do not have the same effect. The real trouble began when I began dating The Fiance. The Fiance (TF) is Jewish, I was raised Catholic (but no longer participate in that specific realm of Christianty, I'm still finding my place) and she is a converted Fundamentalist Evangelical Christian, which as you can see, presents a number of problems. Just before TF and I got engaged she decided to remind me that just in case I forgot and before I signed up for a life with him, that he'd be going to hell for the fact that he's Jewish. And if I did not stop him or did not force our kids to do something different so would I and our offspring. Let me give you a second to soak that up. My sister, the keeper of the gates of hell.

Once I put my foot down and told her that I would no longer have that discussion with her (that was after I think the 3rd time we had gone at it) it was not mentioned again. But her new thing is this surgery. She's fixated on it in a way I've almost never seen her fixated before. She's doing it very much under the guise of good intentions (and I'm not saying that they're not good intentions necessarily, I just don't know if pure evil has a soul or a heart), and suddenly has taken to reminding me that I'm her "baby sister" and this is something that she's not going to stand aside and let happen. Hi, have we met? I'm 24. I'm not a child.

Essentially her issues with the surgery are 3 separate ones. First, she doesn't think I need it. We saw a doctor at her university right after it was picked up on the MRI. He was an MS specialist and once he determined that I didn't have MS, he basically gave up and said that none of my symptoms could be caused by my brain hanging down into my spinal cord. And apparently those words came directly from God because they are recited back to me regularly. So essentially, she doesn't see the point of my having the "elective" procedure when it's not going to help (or alternately, now she believes that it WILL help, but only because I've so convinced myself that it will that I will psychosomatically become healthier...).

The second part is New Orleans. I won't for an instant stand up here and pretend like I live in the Mecca of healthcare. Um, no, I'm not an idiot. But my sister is ignorant and does not believe that anywhere in the South (her issues are not confined to NOLA) could have good healthcare, period. I could quote statistics until I'm blue in the face, but she simply does not believe it. She also doesn't believe that a good neurosurgeon would ever work in New Orleans, and I can assure you, he is quite good. So basically this is a no win for me. I cannot prove to her anything and as soon as the slightest little detail goes awry, I'm in for days and months and years of "I told you so."

And finally, she just doesn't trust me. She doesn't believe that I've done the research. She doesn't believe that I'm in pain. She doesn't believe that I've tried other things and looked at other doctors. She believes that I am lazy (and this goes back to her asking me what I could possibly be so busy with when I was teaching full time and taking two courses- after all, they were only two undergraduate courses...) and as such, I cannot be trusted to do anything that requires effort. Of all the things she's said or done, it's her inability to trust in me and have faith in me, that is the most upsetting. She'd declared that she'll never support this decision and to me, that's a brick wall. I don't know what to do with it besides punch the shit out of it and turn around and walk away. So that's where I am. Either a door needs to appear in that wall, or I'm walking away from it.

As for having her out of the hospital room, that's not an option. My parents will both be there and asking for her to not be there is simply not something that I can do. I cannot really explain why, except that as mean as my sister is capable of being, my mother is capable of guilting. And she'll have good intentions too, but I promise that my experience will be worse if I boycott my sister, as counterintuitive as that may seem.

Also, someone inquired about TF's take on everything. He's been great. We had one moment of struggle, but it's because his goal has been to remain as Switzerland. He's not taking any sides. He's supporting whatever decision I make, he's going to doctor's offices, asking questions, bringing up both pros and cons and otherwise just trying to make it as easy on me as possible. It's both lovely and frustrating all at once because frankly I want him to tell me what to do, but apparently that's the other side of being an adult and you can't have one and not the other.

So there. That's essentially it. I had another long conversation with a family member today and I'm just plain exhausted with it all. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing and I don't know that I ever will know that. I've made the decision that in my heart and humongous brain I think is the best for me. It is a selfish decision and it turns out it is also an isolating one. But it's my decision and that's the heart of the matter.

Good Sportsmanship

Sunday, October 28, 2007

So The Fiance and I went to the gym today. He almost talked me out of it, but since we didn't go Friday or yesterday, I held firm in my resolve to be fit and not lie in the comfiness that is my bed. We got there and played racquetball like usual. He killed me the first game (14 to 1) and I may or may not have told him to go, um, vacuum, or something similar to that when he told me not to hit my racquet against a wall. Don't try to stifle my rage, it will not be met with kindness.

About halfway through the second game, a ball came over his head and bounced right in front of me. It was the perfect shot and I was ready to back-hand the shit out of it. I cranked, I swung, I made contact and at the very moment, for some unknown, but surely stupid reason, The Fiance turned around to watch me hit...him in the eye.


It's not so much a black eye as much as a puffy upper eye-lid with blue spots. And in all fairness, usually when a ball is coming at you, you duck, or move or otherwise don't watch the most beautiful backhand I've ever cranked out hit you in the eye.

And not to worry, I'll definitely post pictures if it gets prettier.

(And I will be posting some information regarding my sister later. I just had to share this story first)

One month

Saturday, October 27, 2007

One month from today, I'll be having brain surgery. Everyone together now...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Jeeeeeezum. Holy Hell. [Insert every other exasperated expression here].

And perhaps more scarily, in one day less than one month my sister will be here. If you live in the New Orleans area and you feel a sudden rush of cold, it's because the ice queen hath entered the area and trust me, no one will ever be the same again.

(And for those interested in the details of the condition and surgery that I'll be having, here are a few websites about it.
Also, if you go to ABC's website you can still view last week's Extreme Home Makeover, which is all about a family with Chiari.)

Men are from Mars

Friday, October 26, 2007

I remember watching the show "Mad About You" as a kid and boy was it ever funny, just some awesomely classic moments. One of my favorites was the episode in which Hellen Hunt comes into the living room to show Paul Riser how to put toilet paper on the toilet paper hanger really exaggerated-like. I remember laughing out loud because those jokes about how men are lazy were always just so funny.

It was funny, but also, apparently true. Did you know that men are genetically incapable of putting toilet paper on the hanger? Did you? I did not. And I've done the same toilet paper tutorial that Helen Hunt did at least twice, and yet, the toilet paper still sits on top of the hanger until I put it on. This could be days, this could be until the next roll runs out and I finally give in and fix it. I've tried waiting it out, but it really just doesn't seem to bother him.

But my favorite part is that once I finally get tired of not having the toilet paper sitting on top of the hanger and put it on, I then get complaints from him about which direction the toilet paper is rolling.

Wait wait wait. So it's not an inconvenience for you to have to pick up the free-flying roll, hold it in your hand and unravel it to get paper from it, but if the toilet paper is going under the bottom and not over the top we have a crisis on our hands? It's THAT inconvenient to have the toilet paper roll under the bottom? I...how...I just don't understand.

Just more and more proof that men are truly from Mars, and women are just plain sensible.

Dash-point update

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I have a lot to say since I haven't been around in, um, like a week, so it's a dashy update. See that? That's a play on words. Because I'm using dashes AND because I'll be dashing back and forth between topics. I know, you've missed me.

-My sporting season is sorta over, which is awesome. And we had a crazy winning season, which is awesome, since I had no freaking clue what I was doing. And did I mention it's over? Because it is. Hallelujah.

-I hate my job with a burning passion. I'm not sure that's new, but today I actually told a student that if she tipped her desk over and hit her head on the ground I was going to laugh. Oopsies.

-Speaking of oopsies, the car I hit (a black Nissan), suffered no damage and it was a mere scrape whilst I was parking. Ironically since then, I apparently was hit by a white car, as evidenced by the white scratches on my car. Double oopsies. Whatever, it'll come off with some scrubbing. Which we all know I'll never actually do.

-Scheduled neurosurgery. November 27th, yea, I know, a little scary. Freaking out has commenced.

-I'd like to declare emancipation from my sister. Which is interesting since she's decided that she's coming out here for the surgical recovery. Coming here. Staying here. With me. And the first time she opens her mouth and says, "this would never have happened if we were in (insert "big" city here)" or a derivative therein, I'm going to punch her in the face. If it sets me back in recovery, then fine, but it has to be done.

-Our scale is remarkably broken. Yesterday I stepped on it and then stepped off, stepped back on and in those 5 seconds I gained 5.2 pounds. I also weighed 6 pounds more at home than at the gym. I don't understand it, but I really feel like I need to work out now.

-It's cold as hell here. Like the high yesterday was 61*. It rained 7 inches on Monday and then got hella-freaking cold Tuesday and today. California needs water like you will never know, and we, who need a draught, got 7 inches.

-I had an anatomy practical yesterday, which was not awesome, but it's over with. Hooray.

=I think I'm done. I should be more around some more now, but no promises.

I'm an aunt!

Friday, October 19, 2007

So technically I'm not an aunt, but I will be in June once we're married. The Fiance's sister had the baby this afternoon. She weighs 7lb 5oz and was delivered via c-section after more than 24 hours of labor. I won't get into the details of the labor stuff because there is familial drama here that is too crazy to even begin to tap into, but she dealt with more than 24 hours of labor, Pitocin, an allergic reaction to Pitocin, antibiotics, an allergic reaction to antibiotics, a crazy mother, a fever, and then a c-section.

And all she has to show from it is a beautiful baby girl :)

Oh and I hit a car today. Oopsies.

Da Brain

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

So for those interested in brain updates, we're meeting with the neurosurgeon again tomorrow. I have a laundry list of things to ask, but I'm leaning in the direction of surgery. Everytime I talk myself out of it, I get a headache and then I remember why I feel like I owe it to myself to try this.

Incidentally, I told my boss this morning what was going on and that I might be having this surgery and a few of the details. And then, because the whole world needs to be informed about it, she told EVERYONE at our faculty meeting today.

Note to self: do not tell boss private information on the day of a faculty meeting.

An evening with the New Orleans Hornets...

Monday, October 15, 2007

Tickets: $0

Parking: $0

Jambalaya: $7, plus whatever it will cost in paper towels to clean it all off my shoe after I tipped the whole bowl over onto my foot.

French Fries: $0 (okay, free to me, The Fiance bought those)

Rum and Diet Coke: $7

Cotton Candy: $3

Cinnamon Sugar Pretzel: $4 (though I didn't pay for that either)

Consuming this much crap in less than 1/2 of a preseason basketball game that almost no one in the universe cared about? Priceless.

(and also nice to spend time with my man, but really, the food).

(If you're looking for a brain surgery update, save yourself the effort, I'm taking a hiatus while I try and figure out what might be the most difficult decision I've ever had to make)

Oh Sweet Jesus

Friday, October 12, 2007

You must watch this. No really, you must. And for the record, the next time my sister or The Fiance's mother says anything, I'm just going to ask them if they know that Jesus loves them. Because, you know? He does. And that's a perfectly normal way to answer any and all questions.

Credit to Blurbomat.


Thursday, October 11, 2007

If you're offended by swearing, you're going to want to stop reading this instant. Like right now. Because I'm so angry that I could spit nails and instead I'm going to swear, A LOT.

Today is apparently Give-Your-Opinion day. Not just that, it's Give-Your-Opinion-And-Be-An-Asshole-In-The-Process day. I had my second neurosurgical consult today, with a specialist who has done 15-20 of these surgeries each year for the past 20 years (which is significant because it's not a very common surgery). He's skilled, he's good at what he does, he's literally had good results in every surgery he's done (which has everything to do with patient selection I realize, but that's beside the point for now). He's on lists by associations of people with this condition and I truly have every confidence in him.

And yet, The Fiance's mother (who by the way, I really really want to add a swear word to, but am refraining out of some very odd sense of respect) feels that what we're doing is stupid and ridiculous. That it's elective brain surgery, that it's going to ruin The Fiance's future career, that it's going to ruin the wedding (that incidentally she doesn't want to happen so isn't that just fucking perfect for her then? ISN'T IT?). And that she's read the literature and I need to wait a couple of years.

Fuck her. I'm sorry. I warned you. But fuck her. Yes, she's intitled to her opinion, but she has absolutely no earthly idea what she's talking about. NONE. I have waited over a year, I have lived with daily pain for over a year, I have gone to doctors and been patient. It's remarkably easy to sit aside and tell someone to wait when you're not experiencing pain or when you're not the one who can't see to the left or right or down. Or who can't walk up a flight of stairs without tripping. It's really fucking easy, but it's also wrong. And moreover, my having brain surgery (which p.s. can we get one thing straight? It's not actually surgery on my brain, it's on my cranium and the lining of my brain) does not have any impact on her life. None. So why the hell does she get to have any opinion on this at all? I don't know why I care, I'm trying really hard not to. I hit around a racquetball for well over an hour trying to get these frustrations out and yet, they're still here, ever present, making me want to punch everyone in the face.

And as if that wasn't enough bullshit for today, I then got to talk to my sister. I talked to her yesterday and she accused me of being too flippant and unconcerned about having brain (cranial!) surgery and I explained how offensive that idea was and she backed down some. I may seem flippant, but do not assume things that you do not know. I've always used humor as defense and yes, I make a lot of jokes about this, but I am incredibly aware of how serious this is. Anyway, I wrote down all of her questions, about half of which were ridiculous and I asked them to the doctor today (and for the record, everywhere I said "I" in the last sentence you should read as: The Fiance, because no one wants to prove my sister wrong more than him.) I talked to her this evening and started giving her the answers to said questions. Her response after the first one was to tell me they were wrong. I'm sorry, maybe this makes me a bitch, but he's a doctor and she has a PhD, and that's not the same. He is a brain surgeon and she is not. And frankly, I trust him more than her. Why? Not only because of his credentials, but because he actually listened to me today. He opened his freaking ears and accepted that maybe I'm not creating this out of thin air and maybe, just maybe, I'm in pain. Oh and also? He looked at my MRIs. And he did tests. And he's not 2 fucking thousand miles away guessing about what's happening.

She went on, ad nauseum, to tell me that I shouldn't be having surgery here because it's not Los Angeles or New York, and subsequently there couldn't be a good surgeon here. She then accused me of not seeking out a better neurosurgeon because I wanted to spite her. And that's when I lost my shit.

Let me make this point painfully clear- I am advocating for my own health. I will not have brain or cranial or any other kind of surgery by someone who I do not feel is the best at what he does. I will not settle for anything other than perfection. I am not an idiot, I am not a moron and I actually do know what I'm talking about. I do not have a degree in brains, I do not work as a neuro anything, but that's why I go to doctors instead of performing surgery and writing prescriptions myself. That's why I get second opinions and read the literature. I AM NOT STUPID.

I am so frustrated I could punch a hole in the wall. I don't even know what to do with myself. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin in frustration. I don't know how either of the two assholes who felt a need to be rude to or about me today came to the belief that they were right or that they had any business telling me what is. I just don't understand. I don't get it.

I don't know what to do, but then again, I guess that's what everyone's been trying to tell me.

The only time I wish I had a camera at the gym

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


So The Fiance and I were playing racquetball at the gym tonight, which is our new workout routine (I lost like literally 3 pounds, but I think most of it was in the knee skin I left on the floor). The Fiance hit a wildly terrible shot (I love you!) into the only non-sealed off area of the court, which was like a 5 by 5 foot window into the court adjacent to us. He went to get the ball and when he came back he noticed something that must have fallen own from the little window area (which is accessible from the next floor). Wait for it...

A condom wrapper.

And what he didn't see? A USED condom.

He didn't see it, so while I was freaking out in grossness, he told me we had to finish the game before we went and told the front desk to have it removed. Incidentally, whilst I was giving the used condom a 15 foot area of personal space, The Fiance managed to win that game. Weird how that worked, huh?

So, to those of you who feel a need to engage in "other" kinds of cardiovascular exercise, please dispose of the trash in, um, yea, the trash can.

**Doctor's appointment update: neurosurgeon #1 said that whilst he is categorically opposed to doing this surgery, in my case he thinks I would actually benefit from it and I wouldn't have too hard of a time recovering (relatively speaking). So the verdict for consult #1? It's my decision whether or not to have brain surgery. Frick frick frick frick frick.

And this is how I spent my free morning...

Try and beat me!

Ex-stream of Consciousness

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

I've been gone since Sunday and I have a lot to say (and something to ask, so skip to the bottom if you want to share an opinion) and I don't think I can do it in any story telling way, so I'm just going to blurt it all out, skipping wildly from subject to subject, because frankly, that's what my life is like right now.

Almost all of Sunday was lost to racquetball and studying. What was I studying for? An Anatomy lab quiz, which, even though I have one every week, always seem to catch me off guard, and my Physics midterm. And when were these? Oh yes, tonight. All of which was made more fun by the fact that my grades for the quarter (at work) were due today too. And I hadn't finished testing, let alone grading, as of Monday morning, hell, as of this morning. In the past day and a half, I have grade over 750 papers, and that's not counting the fact that the test I graded 105 copies of has 3 pages.

So Monday was mostly spent grading, then at a sporting event, then grading, then studying, then watching the end of a freaking awesome football game, then more studying and grading. I don't think I actually got on the computer for anything non-work related at all yesterday. It was absurd and I still was neither finished grading, nor educated in the subjects of my exams as of this morning.

So today I got to work early and did as much as I could as fast as I could. The grading and studying cannot be done simultaneously, and though I've tried to juggle them for the past few days, I decided to buckle down and deal with the grades and then worry about the studying, which was a decision made in large part because my grades were due at noon and my tests were at 6pm and 8pm. So I graded more and in the middle of giving my last test, the doctor who was to be neurosurgeon consult #2 (I've seen him before, he's kind of a douche) called and said that because my neurologist (not neurosurgeon) is going out of town, they want to move my appointment from Friday to tomorrow. Why that needs to happen I don't know, but maybe this means my neurologist will be there so that the neurosurgeon won't walk in, blurt out a 20 word sentence and send me on my way, without EVEN SHAKING MY HAND. But beside that point and more importantly, clearly this office does not realize the amount of obsessing over that appointment that I've put aside for Thursday and Friday morning since I had all this other stuff to do before then. So then I graded and obsessed, because those can be simultaneously done.

And then I went to my lab and took my quiz (85%ish would've been higher but I erased a correct answer and wrote down a wrong one) and then came home and took my Physics midterm (an 85% would be a miracle. Pigs will sooner shoot out of my ass wearing rocket packs than I will have passed that test) and now I'm finally, at 10:40pm, relaxing. I went ahead an called in for the whole morning tomorrow even though I could teach my first class, I just decided I needed to spend some time obsessing, I mean relaxing, so I'm going to and I'm going to enjoy it too.

I'm pretty sure I just spent um, like 6 paragraphs telling you that I graded a lot of papers, blew a physics test and have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I could've saved you so much time.

But anyway, I do want opinions because something happened at this wedding this weekend and I have a feeling about it, a feeling which got me literally yelled at at work on Monday because I'm too uppity for my geographic location. So, in your opinion...

If someone was to get married on the night of a sporting event- a college sporting event, one that is neither a championship nor a playoff game, would it be rude to, oh, I don't know, say, have a small tv in the foyer of the church? Have people checking the score on their cell phone during mass? Have a table to 20 people crowded around that same tv at the reception during the groom/mother dance and screaming wildly in the middle of it when a touchdo- I mean "point" is scored? Or is it just me?

I dunno, I guess if that makes me uppity, I'm pretty okay with it.

All about...him

Sunday, October 7, 2007

I got this Meme from Marriage-101 and I really really liked it. Especially after the wedding I went to last night, it just made me realize how very much I love him, and that since we're getting married in 8 months (eee!) maybe you should know a little more (vastly non-personal) information about him. :)

1. Who is your man? The Fiance.

2. How long have you been together? 3 years and 3 months (minus 2 days).

3. How long did you date? (before getting engaged) 2 years 6 months and 2 days

4. How old is your man? 25

5. Who eats more? He eats more meal food, I eat a lot more crap.

6. Who said I love you first? I did, but it's a story he loves. About a week and a half into our relationship we were in the car and he said "I love you too." And I, in a very Katie-like moment, flipped out because I thought that he had thought that I said "I love you" which I had not. In fact, I had made a vow that I would not say it until well into a relationship, because several times before, my significant other had said it very early on and it made me uncomfortable. So when he said it I rambled on uncontrollably for a few minutes about how it's too early and I wasn't ready and other really terrible things. And after a minute or two of this, he looked at me, both bewildered and amused and said, "no, I meant the song. I love the group U2." And then I felt like an ass and was forced to be the first to say it because he was afraid of my reaction to it when he really said it. I think it was about 6 months into dating that I said it and he reciprocated.

7. Who is taller? He is, by about 5 inches. Unless you look at my driver's license, then he's only 4 inches taller.

8. Who sings better? That's a toss up. He won't ever admit to it, but he's a great singer. I'm not saying I'm a great singer, but I have an incredible ability to match pitch and memorize song lyrics, so sometimes it sounds like I'm a really good singer.

9. Who is smarter? He is, and if he worked to his full potential, he'd be dangerous.

10. Whose temper is worse? Tough call. We fight and argue very very differently but we're both pretty short tempered about certain things. As a rule he doesn't like to argue, he does however happen to be the mayor of Passive-Aggressiveland.

11. Who does the laundry? Both of us, though I'm trying to explain to him that it really wouldn't take any more effort to throw in two little dryer sheets into the dryer before drying them. TWO LITTLE SHEETS.

12. Who takes out the trash? He does, unless there are cockroaches in it.

13. Who pays the bills? He does, I pay him and he pays the bill people.

14. Who is better with the computer? Another really tough call. I've had a lot of computer trouble in my life so I have a lot of knowledge about that, but he's also a tech-dork and reads a lot about it. I'd rather do the whole figure-it-out-on-my-own and he'll read the whole manual before opening the box. We're different kinds of good with the computers.

15. Who mows the lawn? Our landlord.

16. Who cooks dinner? Me. Sadly, the only things he knows how to cook are eggs, which I'm allergic to, so I cook, which I actually really like most of the time.

17. Who drives when you are together? We split the driving, but he doesn't like to drive or ride in my car because it's a mess.

18. Who is the most stubborn? This goes back to the arguing topic. It's really a toss up, I'm stupidly stubborn about daily things, he's profoundly stubborn about other things. Too close to call.

19. Whose parents do you like the most? Mine, because his mother is bat-shit crazy.

20. Who kissed who first? He kissed me. We had just finished eating Islands after watching a movie at a little shopping center in Pasadena. I kept singing this really annoying camp song and he said leaned over and kissed me in a cute attempt to get the song out of my head. It was very cute and very romantic.

21. Who asked out who? He asked me. We spent a whole night talking to (he was the EMT, I had broken my ankle and I was waiting for someone to pick me up) and then he called to check up on me the next day, then we started carpooling, and then he casually mentioned that we should go see Shrek 2 since we were working with kids. And that was our first date :)

22. Who proposed? He did...twice. And both times were very very romantic surprises.

23. Who has more friends? We both have friends in our occupational spheres and we share some mutual friends, but neither of us are those people who have big herds of friends. But we have each other. I'd rather hang out with him any day than with a big group of friends.

24. Who has more siblings? Strictly speaking he does. He has 2 brothers and 2 sisters, but half are adopted. I have one sister and 4 step sisters, so I have more volume, but his are more closely related. :)

And now I'm going to go kick his ass at racquetball. (ed. note: I decided instead to let him win. I'm so nice like that.)

Moving on...

Friday, October 5, 2007

Okay, so maybe I expected a few more people to delurk themselves...whatever, I'm still glad that you're reading and I'm still happy to be here writing. Thanks to the 4 of you that did sign and I'm going to answer your questions now and then go on to other life events and craziness sometime this weekend. Right now I'm riding the high of kicking our rival school's ass in a sporting event that I coached, so I'm not going to try and be funny because I'm just so caught up in being awesome (and humble!)

Q: What are you dressing as for Halloween?
A: No idea. Last year we went as upper and lower GIs (it was a med school party, it worked), so we gotta find something easy and humorous again. I have a few ideas, I like the ones that are plays on words and aren't expensive, but I haven't come up with anything great yet. My best halloween costume of all time was the year I dressed up as grapes and had balloons pinned all over me. It was great.

Q: What is the most interesting place you've ever visited?
A: Meteora, Greece. It's north of Athens and it's got these series of free-standing mountains (like poles made of rock) with Monastaries at the top. Some of them can only be accessed by rope/basket/pulley systems and they're amazing. Crazy-scary high in the air, but amazing nevertheless. I spent a weekend there in Spring 2004. Google it and look at some images, seriously, it's incredible.

Q: What is your favorite holiday?
A: Good question! Thanksgiving is by far my favorite meal of the year, and Christmas is sometimes awesome (and sometimes not). I guess I'd say that I'm a sucker for Valentine's Day because it's all so very romatic. :)

That's it! All the questions. If you want to know more about me, feel free to post a comment and ask one. Otherwise this book is staying closed for now!

Delurk yourself!

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

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(That image is supposed to link here but frankly, I couldn't get my computer to do what I wanted, so I'm giving credit/linkage here!)

Today is national delurking day, so you, yes YOU, who are reading this, even if it's already tomorrow and not officially the delurking day, it's time to leave a comment and delurk yourself. I know someone besides me is reading because that little ticker keeps increasing, so it's time for you to let me know who you are!

Here's my idea- tell me who you are, tell me the most interesting place you've ever visited and then ask a question for me and I'll answer all of the not-too-personal questions asked. 'mkay?

Happy Delurking Day. Go forth and comment!

At 14.2 pounds

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Karma (the cat) has joined the wedding diet. Besides forcing the cat to eat less and get her to lose a pound in 4 months, apparently we also have to check her butt for pulsating lumps that could signify worms as a result of her ingesting any of the fleas that were found on her today.

Um yea, that's just all different kinds of never going to happen.

The Verdict...

Monday, October 1, 2007

Well, the neurologist really didn't know, which is not a surprise considering that I'm literally the first Chiari patient he's seen. He said that the MRI wasn't remarkable in that it doesn't scream that I need surgery, but the increasing neurological problems indicate that it's really the only option and is probably a necessity. As to when it will happen and at who's hand, I cannot begin to say. I have referrals to 2 different neurosurgeons, so hopefully one of them will be competent. One I've seen before and he's a class A jackass, but he's supposedly the best in the state, so again, we'll see.

So the verdict is...we're right where we started and we don't have a timeline for new information yet. But at least no one to my knowledge, other than my mother, thinks that I'm faking the problems anymore!

Oh the sweet sweet irony

I take a lot of pills for a lot of different reasons, so I think it must have been Murphy's Law that determined that I would run out of my daily anxiety med the night before a big neurologist appointment and would then forget to pick up the prescription before the pharmacy closed.

See this way, on the day of said big appointment, not only am I be super-duper anxious, I'm also withdrawing from a medication I've taken daily for 3 years too.