bowel movement blockage

you know you're living a productive life when you spend a majority of the afternoon researching breast reduction surgery. i was interested and ok with everything until the line "your surgeon will take a photograph of your breasts". i am not that kind of girl!

i most likely shouldn't share things like that with you, but, i don't know who "you" are, so i don't care. (I do care though, if you are a practicing surgeon who would be willing to take on a "pro-bono case .)

i had a traumatic experience yesterday. my dog came in looking highly uncomfortable and unable to sit. upon further investigation i discovered a bowel movement had become trapped and hard in a jumble of hair. because of this "blockage" he was unable to produce more. there were tears, rubber gloves, emergency baths and a quick butt-hair cut. i am happy to report that after a sleepless night, the tail is wagging again.

my dad just came into our computer room to proof read my latest and greatest cover-letter. what makes this moment special? he's wearing his C-PAP machine.

i've stopped wearing deodorant. the only reason being that i can't find mine. ok, even when i know where it is, i don't use it. too much effort, not enough results. i'm all about results.

melted jesus

He has risen! Risen, indeed. Unless of course you are eating a resurrection roll. then He has been consumed. consumed, indeed.

let's be frank for a minute. resurrection rolls: delicious and a little bit disturbing. c'monn kids. let's stuff a marshmallow in a dinner roll and pretend it's jesus. then bake it at 350 degrees for 15 minutes and eat it up.

to be fair, i certainly do "remember Him" when i eat this bread.

i'm feeding my dog nerds, you'd better come out and pound me

my oldest sister is currently in the process of sending some dead fish from her lab to france. she is struggling with the customs forms. my middle sister has just finished her final exams in law school and is starting to prepare for the multi-state bar. i am finishing the second disc of mad men and feeding my dog nerds.

i know feeding a dog nerds isn't healthy, but it is so cute.

i woke up this morning thinking about artwork in coffee shops. ok, unknown artist from some liberal arts college. sure, i'll pay 500 bucks for a 8 x 10 acrylic attempt at cubism. who needs an art dealer when you have your local coffee shop?

i used to hate coffee. i remember buying a white chocolate mocha from marketplace and having to buy a snickers in the vending machine to melt in it because it tasted "like poop". my oh my. time and taste buds have certainly changed. it could have been my 17 hour work days with high schoolers, but man...my stained teeth do love the warm acidic buzz i get from that smooth cup of liquid beans.

old people always comment on my teeth. "OH MY! they are so big and beautiful!" "what perfect big teeth!" "you have such lovely teeth." pretty much the only physical compliment i get, but it reminds me of a story.

one day my sister was working in the medical center. let's get one thing straight. this sister does not share my ample bosom. with that being said...as she was working, a man walked by and did a double take. "oh my god! they're so big!" she was uncomfortable as he continued. "are they real? they are huge!" as she shrunk back she gained the courage what he was talking about. "you're canines! they're so big!" good one, man at the medical center.

personal

SWF seeks M.

extreme knowledge in all things minutia & ability to win all trivia games is highly desired. personal hygiene not expected. prefer those fashioned in crew neck sweatshirts and corduroy pants. ability to comment on how cute dogs are is a plus. humor appreciated, as is the knowledge that quoting dumb & dumber, tommy boy and wedding crashers is not humor. fans of public radio and television programs, james taylor, john denver and other 60-something singer songwriters given special consideration. no polos, gelled hair or lady gaga fans, please.

please submit a short and personal cover letter, resume and an 8x10 glossy picture of yourself (including your body) to be considered.

breast strokes in shallow bandaids

some things bring me back to a very magical time of my life. freshman year of high school. i'd like to recount some of them for you now.

i heard a strokes song today and i flashed to playing "this is it" on repeat while we floated in an above ground pool on jon street in neenah. When I say we, i refer to the dynamic duo of roxanne ashton agusta patty butler and myself. (her discovering that she had 3 middle names is still a highlight of my life).

i have never in my life participated in more innocent shenanigans than in that time. prank calling gym teachers was old news, so we called KISS FM when their recording device was broken and said something inappropriate about Nelly liking little boys in our best "candy man" voice. don't worry, we have an audio tape recording of the DJ giving us a stern talking to.

i don't think i was ever cooler than i was that year. staying late after school with a tape recorder, pretending we had to do interviews for a class was a wonderful excuse to mingle with the odd assortment of individuals left after the bells rang in the menagerie that was neenah high school. magic players, STAND members, unfortunate teachers (and that hot boy who didn't shower much).

riding the bus and buying a bag of regular and cool ranch doritos, watching requiem for a dream, little big man, or say anything at least once a week was required. some days we'd skip the movie and lay on the floor listening to the strokes, or radiohead...maybe a james taylor album for good measure instead.

we made our own morbid music videos to alanis and rescued a litter of bunnies found where the above ground pool was being put. slowly they all died--lt. dan, simon birch, and others named for their maladies. one was released into the wild...we'll never know if that one made it.

we strapped her cats into her paralyzed brothers stair machine. and i learned about the "real world" from that machine and the brother that used it. her mother was usually naked when i'd come over. perhaps in the company of some interesting fellow she met at an AA meeting.

we both failed CPR certification due to our inability to preform rescue breaths without making our dummies talk to our poor mister kreiger. he hated us, but i made him smile once. he got me back by making me practice strokes on the pool deck, among dirty bandaids.

i peed in my pants at least 8 times because of her. one time in my choir dress, alone on the bus. i have never laughed so hard in my life. except for maybe the drunk ewoks on the today show video. that is good.

my dad said we were kindred spirits. two peas in an "unromantic pod". she's off living the life of a vagabond on the west coast and i'm living the life of a vegetable in my parents home. our pod is stretched, but i'd like to think we're still peas.

coming soon: my personal ad and a reflection on a 6 year relationship. these posts may or may not be related.

timez r hard 4 dreamerz

i haven't had sugar in 10 days. perhaps, an accomplishment many could boast, but almost unthinkable for this lover off all things refined and syrup'd. my ideal meal would be heapings of fresh fruits and vegetables, followed by a jug of dew and 15 pounds of gummies from the candy aisle of cub foods.

the first three days i was a monster. i swear my eyes were green. i found some caramel corn in our pantry and put a piece in my mouth "to remember what sugar tasted like" and in a rage spit it into the garbage, screamed, tore my clothes and beat my breast. what is pushing me on? lack of dental insurance and a cavity prone mouth. dr. joe, this one is for you!

last night was purely torture as i helped reprice all the candies at VandeWalles. i made it without licking or smelling anything. PROGRESS. YES WE CAN.

the weather is hurting my feelings. i crave sunshine and bugs. warm days and camping adventures. the ability to go days with unkempt hair and soccer shorts while eating everything good and beautiful from tinfoil tents put in the fire pit.

thinking of camping made me think of the single most terrifying moment of my life. it happened in yellowstone national park. driving up a windy road high above the tree tops, greeted by a SUV on one side and a raging buffalo running straight towards me. i let words out of my mouth i never thought i would. in front of my mother. i apologized immediately and i knew it was ok when she said "i think it was situation appropriate." thanks annie.

i'm moving to montana.

me and my dog soul-gazed today. while laying in my parents bed.

i'm not actually moving to montana, although i wish i was. if i had a friend there i would take advantage of their hospitality and live on their couch until i got an hourly job at some restaurant named "the fry'n pan" or something of unfortunate similarity.

a girl can dream.

ganglion dedication

last night i couldn't sleep. my dog had a bad odor about him... but i still wanted him near me. in revelation, i thought to myself "this must be what it's like to have a husband! they smell horrible, but you still want them close." since i've already perfected my needlework and fruit preserve techniques, sleeping next to a stinky dog is the obvious next step in preparing me to be a wife. i'm all about preparation.

well, my giant ganglion cyst makes typing slightly uncomfortable. look at how i suffer for my craft! (or "i have nothing else to do" hobby.) I hope my dedication leaves you in awe until next time.

ROTFL

my 3 day trip turned into a 7 + 3 day trip. I knew it was time to go home when I couldn't button my jeans. Nothing says "turn back" like those judgmental pink teeth marks of shame around your belly.

i love salt. i've loved it since i was a child. i have fond memories of pouring handfulls of table salt in my hand at hardees, or sneaking out to the garage to lick my bunnie's salt block. my sweetest (or should i say, saltiest) memory is when my dad would bring a bag of water softening salt home from fleet farm. ready to burst with excitment, i would sit at the top of our basement steps waiting for him to bring me a big crystal of affirmation. nothing says "i love you" like a big hunk of sodium chloride.

nothing says "unfortunate" more than a wet hair middle part.

nothing says "lame" like this blog.

i apologize. i promise to be better next time.