This upcoming Monday I have a doctor's appointment. I'm not sick sick, just the usual flu, but if we're planning on trying for kids this year, I should make sure I'm fit. Since I have gained so much weight over the past few years, it's a little alarming. There has been no change in my daily habits, no immense bingeing, less exercise, nothing has changed. This is why it's so strange that my weight should have changed so much.
When I head to the doctor on Monday, I hope to have blood tests ran (eeek), and my body basically overhauled. Hopefully we'll find the reason my weight has drastically changed, and be able to fix it. Normally I'd just assume it was a body change, and I just gained weight. If that was true, though, would I only gain the weight in my midsection and face, but no change to the arms or legs? I mean NO change. It's really a horrible thing, I am so far out of proportion, it's crazy. My dad actually told me to bring a photo from two years ago to show her the huge difference. While that didn't exactly make me feel beautiful, whatever. I need to figure out what is wrong with me, no matter how scary it may be.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Please Stop TALKING
I love our upstairs neighbor, but as of 3:41am last night, I kind of hate her, too. With a sore back and neck, I took a tylenol pm (advil pm is better, but doesn't come in vanilla flavored) and fell asleep around 11pm. Let me start off by saying that our upstairs neighbor has 4 cats. Four fun-loving, jump off the scratching post onto a mirror, racecar kittites. They are CRAZY, and I should know, as I've cat-sat them many times now. Despite the sounds of racing kitties, last night was seriously miserable.
Waking up at 3:3oam or so, I got up to go to the restroom. I crawled back into bed, still slightly drugged thanks to that tylenol, and all of a sudden heard our upstairs neighbor LAUGHING. At 3:30 in the morning. Not only was she laughing, but she was walking across her apartment very quickly, and she seemed to be having a conversation. Who is on the phone at (now it was) 3:45 in the morning?? Add to all that the fact that the television was blaring the whole night, and I attempted to fall back to sleep with my fingers in my ears. It was ineffectual, to say the least.
When I had to get out of bed this morning, I was angry and sleepy. The only time I've ever had someone else disrupt my sleep was years ago- when some neighbor down the street was blasting mariachi music. I get VERY cranky when someone disturbs my slumber, even more so when it seems to be caused by someone who is unable to sleep (EVER, we think she may be on drugs) but is doing very loud things as if she's the only person in the building.
She gave us a Christmas/Wedding gift not too long ago, and I have yet to write a thank you note. I will eventually send one out, but would it be wrong to thank her and also mention how much noise she makes at all hours of the night? Seriously, it was BAD last night.
Waking up at 3:3oam or so, I got up to go to the restroom. I crawled back into bed, still slightly drugged thanks to that tylenol, and all of a sudden heard our upstairs neighbor LAUGHING. At 3:30 in the morning. Not only was she laughing, but she was walking across her apartment very quickly, and she seemed to be having a conversation. Who is on the phone at (now it was) 3:45 in the morning?? Add to all that the fact that the television was blaring the whole night, and I attempted to fall back to sleep with my fingers in my ears. It was ineffectual, to say the least.
When I had to get out of bed this morning, I was angry and sleepy. The only time I've ever had someone else disrupt my sleep was years ago- when some neighbor down the street was blasting mariachi music. I get VERY cranky when someone disturbs my slumber, even more so when it seems to be caused by someone who is unable to sleep (EVER, we think she may be on drugs) but is doing very loud things as if she's the only person in the building.
She gave us a Christmas/Wedding gift not too long ago, and I have yet to write a thank you note. I will eventually send one out, but would it be wrong to thank her and also mention how much noise she makes at all hours of the night? Seriously, it was BAD last night.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Introducing....
My new niece, Ivy Jean Hayley-Brown. Man, that's a long name. Anyway, she was born at 1:30am, on January 25th in Sydney, Australia. Oddly enough, in America, she wasn't 'technically" born when we were notified. This time change thing is crazy!! Without further ado, I now present my adorable niece:
I think she looks like me. :) It's so strange to think that somewhere on the opposite side of the world, I have a niece. My brother has a child. The dude who would save all his Halloween candy until I ate all mine (and then eat each piece slowly, to torture me) is now a father. I honestly can't believe it!
It's going to be so hard now. I already miss my brother more than I thought I would. And yes, I do slightly resent him and his wife for living so far away- it's just so sad to me. My niece is going to be living her life, walking her steps, smiling the first smile, all without me there to cheer her on and give her hugs and kisses. I guess I'll have to do it by webcam then, right?
The only people I truly feel bad for are my parents. It's not quite fair that in order to see their first grandchild (which is easy for most other grandparents), they must pony up a couple grand, get their passports, and prepare to find somewhere to stay in Sydney. I guess we'd better hurry up and procreate, so the parents won't miss out on too much.
Still, welcome to the world, Baby Ivy.
I think she looks like me. :) It's so strange to think that somewhere on the opposite side of the world, I have a niece. My brother has a child. The dude who would save all his Halloween candy until I ate all mine (and then eat each piece slowly, to torture me) is now a father. I honestly can't believe it!
It's going to be so hard now. I already miss my brother more than I thought I would. And yes, I do slightly resent him and his wife for living so far away- it's just so sad to me. My niece is going to be living her life, walking her steps, smiling the first smile, all without me there to cheer her on and give her hugs and kisses. I guess I'll have to do it by webcam then, right?
The only people I truly feel bad for are my parents. It's not quite fair that in order to see their first grandchild (which is easy for most other grandparents), they must pony up a couple grand, get their passports, and prepare to find somewhere to stay in Sydney. I guess we'd better hurry up and procreate, so the parents won't miss out on too much.
Still, welcome to the world, Baby Ivy.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Black Out Girl
When I was a junior in high school I fell into a hole while helping out with the Special Games. You'd think that for the insane tuition amounts Loyola Marymount University (In LA) charges, they'd be able to fix some freakin' holes, right? Especially when there will be HANDICAPPED people there? Like, people in wheelchairs, and on crutches? Luckily for those aforementioned special gamers, I was the one (the ONLY one) who managed to fall into that tricky hole filled with dried leaves.
I must say, wearing low-top Converse All-Stars didn't help my ankle bone keep it's stability, as my dainty ankle gave up holding the fort- while I was still standing. There I was, one foot in the hole, ankle touching the ground STILL UPRIGHT. Isn't that some kind of law against nature? I don't think I should be standing while my whole foot was on its side. Seriously. Obviously, my brain felt the same way, and my battle with my pain receptors began. Ever since that fateful (and bruised and puffy) day (when the special gamers made fun of me. I walked funny, they said), when I get hurt my body instantly gets cold, I turn greenish, and I start blacking out. Why does this happen?
It's actually kind of entertaining sometimes, when I whack my elbow on the side of the car or something and black out. My dad gets a little worried, since we're pretty sure that's not a common reaction to hitting yourself, but what can I do? Rewire my internal hardware? Don't think so, buddy.
The point to this story is: I'm an odd bird. I fall down in the most random of places, hurt myself in odd ways, and once actually hurt, I pass out. I wonder if labor will be something to watch out for, black out-wise. Hm.
I must say, wearing low-top Converse All-Stars didn't help my ankle bone keep it's stability, as my dainty ankle gave up holding the fort- while I was still standing. There I was, one foot in the hole, ankle touching the ground STILL UPRIGHT. Isn't that some kind of law against nature? I don't think I should be standing while my whole foot was on its side. Seriously. Obviously, my brain felt the same way, and my battle with my pain receptors began. Ever since that fateful (and bruised and puffy) day (when the special gamers made fun of me. I walked funny, they said), when I get hurt my body instantly gets cold, I turn greenish, and I start blacking out. Why does this happen?
It's actually kind of entertaining sometimes, when I whack my elbow on the side of the car or something and black out. My dad gets a little worried, since we're pretty sure that's not a common reaction to hitting yourself, but what can I do? Rewire my internal hardware? Don't think so, buddy.
The point to this story is: I'm an odd bird. I fall down in the most random of places, hurt myself in odd ways, and once actually hurt, I pass out. I wonder if labor will be something to watch out for, black out-wise. Hm.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Geeks of the World
I've long assumed I am a geek. I had an internet boyfriend when I was but a child (and I'll be 29 this November so date THAT), when the webpages weren't all cool and WIKI. No, I still had to use a dictionary for terms I didn't understand, and now that I'm older and lazier, I just go to dictionary.com. I learned to read before kindergarten, and I began kindergarten at 4 years old. I was such a tiny little thing in kindergarten, but I was still moved up to a first grade reading class- having to miss the super coolness that was fingerpainting with my kindy classmates. I sound gloaty, don't I? It's not meant to be that way.
As I grew up, I thought it was cool that my cousin was my best friend. What do you mean she HAS to be my friend? Noooooo, she WANTS to. It's only later that I realize I probably wouldn't have been her choice of friend had we not been related. Last night I recounted to Paul a story from 2nd grade.
"I remember when I was a kid- I loved this one boy in my class. Every Valentine's Day, I'd "forget" that we were supposed to bring enough cards for all, and would assume that the valentine from HIM was especially chosen for me. I mean, it had a sticker- of a FROG! I LOVE frogs! (well, at that time I made it a point to) I ignored his mother's script on the back, reading "To Amber, from Chad". Every year he was in my class, kindergarten through 5th grade, and I adored him. It wasn't until 5th grade when I saw him holding hands with my cousin, and I realized I lost that 6 year race for his affection. I was heartbroken, but what can you do? You're a 48 pound 10 year old with legs like sticks- not exactly the most glamorous."
I wore stirrup leggings with suspenders. And a puffy painted t-shirt I made myself. I thought I was hot stuff. Looking back at photos I cringe- who let me go OUT like that?
As I aged, I became a little more interested in looks and a lot more interested in boys. I tried to write them the notes of the "Gifted and Talented", trying to prove to these boys that I was more than just a pretty face- since at that point I wasn't all too attractive in my matching sweatsuit. YIKES.
When I finally got to high school, I finally had the looks that weren't so bad, but I had gotten so used to pretending not to exist that I didn't react well to being newly "boobish". With the new figure that had sprouted up I became THAT girl. The idiot who pretends to be dumb. I'm totally ashamed of that now, but whatever- what can you do when you're tired of being a geek and life finally presents you with some ammo to be a "cool girl"?
Trying to be that girl made me do poorly in school, even though I was in all the AP classes I was assumed to be the random idiot who somehow tested well. I still didn't get the attention I so craved. I wanted me a nerd, the captain of the golf team rather than the captain of the football team. I wanted to have long chats about the Cretaceous Era, and about why Gatsby was like he was... Instead, the jocks called me "Knobs" and told stories about me. I became the prudish "slut". If the jocks told it, it was right. Right? Wrong. It wasn't until Junior year when one particular senior, the class love- our quarterback (and despite my adoration for nerds, I adored him as well) signed my yearbook telling me I was beautiful exactly how I was- and those boys were all idiots. My favorite part? "Look me up someday, I'd like to know the real you." *sigh* After that, I straightened up and dressed appropriately. Sean, if you're out there: thanks, this is the REAL me.
I have to be glad to be a geek, with people like Michael Cera and McLovin (yes, he's a character, but leave me alone, I'm making a point), we're free to be geeks! I don't have to pretend to be dumber than Paul, I don't have to wear a hooterlicious shirt to make him love me. It's OKAY to read a novel at his football games.
Finally, I am free to geek.
As I grew up, I thought it was cool that my cousin was my best friend. What do you mean she HAS to be my friend? Noooooo, she WANTS to. It's only later that I realize I probably wouldn't have been her choice of friend had we not been related. Last night I recounted to Paul a story from 2nd grade.
"I remember when I was a kid- I loved this one boy in my class. Every Valentine's Day, I'd "forget" that we were supposed to bring enough cards for all, and would assume that the valentine from HIM was especially chosen for me. I mean, it had a sticker- of a FROG! I LOVE frogs! (well, at that time I made it a point to) I ignored his mother's script on the back, reading "To Amber, from Chad". Every year he was in my class, kindergarten through 5th grade, and I adored him. It wasn't until 5th grade when I saw him holding hands with my cousin, and I realized I lost that 6 year race for his affection. I was heartbroken, but what can you do? You're a 48 pound 10 year old with legs like sticks- not exactly the most glamorous."
I wore stirrup leggings with suspenders. And a puffy painted t-shirt I made myself. I thought I was hot stuff. Looking back at photos I cringe- who let me go OUT like that?
As I aged, I became a little more interested in looks and a lot more interested in boys. I tried to write them the notes of the "Gifted and Talented", trying to prove to these boys that I was more than just a pretty face- since at that point I wasn't all too attractive in my matching sweatsuit. YIKES.
When I finally got to high school, I finally had the looks that weren't so bad, but I had gotten so used to pretending not to exist that I didn't react well to being newly "boobish". With the new figure that had sprouted up I became THAT girl. The idiot who pretends to be dumb. I'm totally ashamed of that now, but whatever- what can you do when you're tired of being a geek and life finally presents you with some ammo to be a "cool girl"?
Trying to be that girl made me do poorly in school, even though I was in all the AP classes I was assumed to be the random idiot who somehow tested well. I still didn't get the attention I so craved. I wanted me a nerd, the captain of the golf team rather than the captain of the football team. I wanted to have long chats about the Cretaceous Era, and about why Gatsby was like he was... Instead, the jocks called me "Knobs" and told stories about me. I became the prudish "slut". If the jocks told it, it was right. Right? Wrong. It wasn't until Junior year when one particular senior, the class love- our quarterback (and despite my adoration for nerds, I adored him as well) signed my yearbook telling me I was beautiful exactly how I was- and those boys were all idiots. My favorite part? "Look me up someday, I'd like to know the real you." *sigh* After that, I straightened up and dressed appropriately. Sean, if you're out there: thanks, this is the REAL me.
I have to be glad to be a geek, with people like Michael Cera and McLovin (yes, he's a character, but leave me alone, I'm making a point), we're free to be geeks! I don't have to pretend to be dumber than Paul, I don't have to wear a hooterlicious shirt to make him love me. It's OKAY to read a novel at his football games.
Finally, I am free to geek.
I Heart Michael Cera... and so does she.
My friend Laura and I are going to be co-wives. Despite both of us having been married in 2007 (not to each other, weirdos) , we both share an affinity for a certain Michael Cera. Annnnd while I am almost nine years older than Mr. Cera, I'm okay with that. So I'm a Cougar. I'm okay with that.
Laura and I have decided that because we're both married, and we're both going to marry Michael Cera, it all cancels out any weird illegalness of it all- since we're not bigamists, we're just... jointly married to the adorable little guy.
Okay, it sounds weird, but it's not. It's totally cool. Now get off my back, Narc.
Author's note: Laura is apparently weirded out by Michael Cera's age (he's going to be 20 in June). Now I get to keep him all for myself. And probably millions of women and girls all across the world.
Laura and I have decided that because we're both married, and we're both going to marry Michael Cera, it all cancels out any weird illegalness of it all- since we're not bigamists, we're just... jointly married to the adorable little guy.
Okay, it sounds weird, but it's not. It's totally cool. Now get off my back, Narc.
Author's note: Laura is apparently weirded out by Michael Cera's age (he's going to be 20 in June). Now I get to keep him all for myself. And probably millions of women and girls all across the world.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I'm Hatey
It could be working the day after a three day weekend, it could be the caffe mocha, it could be the acid reflux from that dumbass apple fritter I got this morning, no matter: today I am full of hate.
It all began with hearing the drizzling rain this morning while I was still lazing about in bed (can 6:14am be lazing about?), dreading getting out of bed and freezing my ass off. When I did get out of bed two minutes later, I hustled to put my warm clothes on. When I dress for warmth, I seriously don't dress for the visual appeal of it since today I wore my charcoal grey yoga pants, a baby blue long t-shirt with eeyore on it, and a baby blue hoodie, shorter than the actual t-shirt- it's quite the breath-taking look.
Once I got to work and realized I may actually have to go out in public in this, I felt a little ashamed. Then I realized I currently don't care. That began my day.
I then received a fax from Office Depot, from the accounts receivable person named "Tasmonie Nation". Hm. Is that in fact, her REAL name? Doubtful. Anyway, this was her 2nd fax, telling me my payment was overdue. I realized she sent the same notice back on the 14th, five days before it was actually due. Since I can be righteous as I had sent payment on the 18th, I gave her the ol' what for. I told her that as far as I knew, four days until the due date wasn't quite overdue. And mailing something out the day before also resulted in the invoice being paid by the due date. Sooooo Tasmonie can suck it.
After I had finished my hatred-filled email (I so hate Office Depot), I called my doctor's office to make an appointment for a checkup, so I could get new asthma medications. What did I hear? My office had moved and was no longer available to me. Instead of a quick trip to the doctor, I would have to take the freeway and then take another few hours to get seen.
Now, I called the phone number of my dad's physician, and was told that although it is the SAME branch of my other medical group, I have to call my insurance to have them switch me over to a different doctor, even though it's a PPO. I am so frustrated about this that I just feel like crying. What if I had an asthma attack?? What the hell??
I just called the old doctor's office and they said that I was right: I can go anywhere because of my PPO. Ha. Dumb bitches.
Update: I have a doctor's appointment for February 2nd! Hm. I may have to change my name with them, too.
It all began with hearing the drizzling rain this morning while I was still lazing about in bed (can 6:14am be lazing about?), dreading getting out of bed and freezing my ass off. When I did get out of bed two minutes later, I hustled to put my warm clothes on. When I dress for warmth, I seriously don't dress for the visual appeal of it since today I wore my charcoal grey yoga pants, a baby blue long t-shirt with eeyore on it, and a baby blue hoodie, shorter than the actual t-shirt- it's quite the breath-taking look.
Once I got to work and realized I may actually have to go out in public in this, I felt a little ashamed. Then I realized I currently don't care. That began my day.
I then received a fax from Office Depot, from the accounts receivable person named "Tasmonie Nation". Hm. Is that in fact, her REAL name? Doubtful. Anyway, this was her 2nd fax, telling me my payment was overdue. I realized she sent the same notice back on the 14th, five days before it was actually due. Since I can be righteous as I had sent payment on the 18th, I gave her the ol' what for. I told her that as far as I knew, four days until the due date wasn't quite overdue. And mailing something out the day before also resulted in the invoice being paid by the due date. Sooooo Tasmonie can suck it.
After I had finished my hatred-filled email (I so hate Office Depot), I called my doctor's office to make an appointment for a checkup, so I could get new asthma medications. What did I hear? My office had moved and was no longer available to me. Instead of a quick trip to the doctor, I would have to take the freeway and then take another few hours to get seen.
Now, I called the phone number of my dad's physician, and was told that although it is the SAME branch of my other medical group, I have to call my insurance to have them switch me over to a different doctor, even though it's a PPO. I am so frustrated about this that I just feel like crying. What if I had an asthma attack?? What the hell??
I just called the old doctor's office and they said that I was right: I can go anywhere because of my PPO. Ha. Dumb bitches.
Update: I have a doctor's appointment for February 2nd! Hm. I may have to change my name with them, too.
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