Thursday, January 29, 2009

TMI Thursday: Who Knew Peeing in a Cup Could be so Complicated?

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In my next life, I hope to come back as a cat. Preferably a lion. Seriously, those bitches have it made. All they do is eat, sunbathe, sleep and seek affection on their terms. And they’re on the top of the food chain. How can you beat that!?

Since returning from Denver on Monday, I’ve been praying that my next life would begin already! Twelve hours of lying in the sun/sleeping would do me some good. I’m still recovering from the time difference and I didn’t get much sleep for some reason in the mile-high city. My hotel was awesome (I actually had a mini-bar in my room…I’ve never had one of those!), but I had to be up at 8 a.m. every morning and I was afraid I’d sleep through my alarm. So, I jolted myself up in a fit of panic once every two hours and looked at the clock, only to find I had a few more hours of slumber ahead of me. Even though I was awake in plenty of time to get ready and arrive at the conference center on time, I still managed to arrive at least five minutes late every day. If nothing else, at least I’m consistent! I would like to note, that I arrived before the exhibit actually opened each morning, I just wasn’t there 15 minutes early to set up.

One of the main reasons I volunteered to go on this trip was to see SayJo, my freshman year roommate from college. I maybe get to see her twice a year so I seize every opportunity I get to travel out west. Once my conference duties were over, I hightailed it out with her so I could experience the city. We saw Jerry Seinfeld’s opening act at a comedy club, went to one of the many fantabulous microbreweries Denver has to offer, and drank lots of martinis-including a gelato martini, probably the best invention EVER. Can’t remember the name of the place, but it’s in an area of the city called Larimer Square. I highly recommend going if you’re ever in Denver. I’ve decided I need to visit SayJo at least once every six months so I can get my fix.

So, I’m not sure if I’m going to do this every Thursday because I’m not sure how much I want to embarrass myself on the world wide web, but today will mark my first TMI Thursday. I got the idea from Lbluca77 over at http://lbluca77.blogspot.com/. Def a blog worth checking out-she is hilarious!

Okay, so here goes. Last Wednesday night, I realized I had a bladder infection. (I know the minute I get one, as I’m sure most of us do…the symptoms are pretty cut and dry.) Those of you who have experienced one of these delights before know how painful they can be. And, luckily for me, I started having symptoms around 11 p.m. Unless I wanted to sign over my first born and donate a kidney as payment for a visit to the ER, I would have to wait 8 hours until my doctor’s office opened. This meant that I needed some Uristat-and fast!

The Hoff got a nice preview of what a woman in labor is like when she’s being driven to the hospital. I had him race me around town to find an open drug store so I wouldn’t be in immense pain the entire night. (I told you he’s redeemed himself…)

I finally got to the doctor at 11 a.m. and was told to give them a urine sample. All I’m thinking to myself the whole time is, I’ve heard this song and dance at least thirty times, I know exactly what I need to do, just give me some meds already!

But I patiently listened, and went to the bathroom to pee in a cup. Now, as I’ve said, I’ve given at least thirty urine samples. I’m one of those lucky individuals who’s susceptible to frequent UTIs. So I should be an expert at aiming my pee into a tiny, plastic receptacle, right? WRONG.

I had held my pee all morning, so I had to go. Bad. And in my haste to empty my bladder into a 3 oz. cup, my pee hit the edge and flung all over the seat, the floor and onto my brand new, wool, ivory pants. And this wasn’t clear, or even yellow urine. This was bright orange, “Hawaiian punch” urine (as my doctor so affectionally referred to it) -courtesy of the Uristat I had taken 12 hours prior to my appointment.

And the best part? The pants are dry clean only. Meaning I’ll have to point out the spots to the person behind the counter who will probably be wondering what in God’s name I could have gotten on my pants.

Maybe I should start taking off my pants before giving urine samples…especially if they’re white.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Everything I Need to Know in Life I Learned on the Keg Bus

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I know you have been anxiously awaiting a synopsis of my keg bus experience. Unfortunately, my internet access is limited to The Hoff’s place and work. Since I don’t want The Hoff reading everything I write and I’ve been slammed at the office lately, this has left me with zero time to blog. Don’t you hate it when work gets in the way of the important things in life?

I’ll provide the details in a list format, because, in all honesty, I don’t know how I’ve gone through life the past 24 ½ years without these tidbits of wisdom.

1) There are no kegs allowed on the keg bus.
Seriously, that’s half of its name, yet not part of the package. False advertising at it’s finest. Luckily, our bus driver wasn’t a complete douche and allowed us to keep the one we already hauled on there…after telling us if we get pulled over we’d all be spending the night in jail and paying a $100 fine. Obviously, we decided it was worth the risk.

2) Mother Nature does not approve of the keg bus.
I’m guessing because it’s a polluting giant. Or maybe she just wanted us to stay on the bus and not go to bars. Whatever the reason, she made it very difficult to venture from bar to bar in the pouring down, bitterly cold rain.

3) Britney is played on repeat on the keg bus.
Heaven on earth. ‘Nuff said.

4) Don’t attempt to get on the keg bus sober.
Trust me on this one. Been there, done that. I was still recovering from my sinus infection and an eight-hour shift at the mall when I boarded this bus o’ fun. The only refreshments I had consumed thus far were two cans of Red Bull and a horribly skunked beer. I kid you not I was the most sober person on the bus. I think everyone who says “I don’t have to drink to have a good time,” is a God damn liar. Having thirty drunk people screaming at the top of their lungs, falling all over you while simultaneously dumping beer on your outfit when you’re stone cold sober does not make for a fun time. So, I did what any normal girl would do in my situation-I stood next to the smuggled keg and pounded as many beers as I could before reaching bar #1.

5) The keg bus is not a safe haven for couples.
Picture this. You’re on a bus with neon lights, a stripper pole, a VIP room and an obscene amount of alcohol…with your significant other. Not exactly the ideal setting for a romantic evening. Add to that mix the fact that with your significant other is wasted before boarding the bus. (Not that I blame him, 99% of the other keg bus riders were, too.) Only problem is, the drunk person thinks the sober person is mad at him, when in reality she just wants to catch up so she can be drunk and crazy, too. Drunk person proceeds to perform a striptease in the middle of the aisle. Thankfully pants stayed on; however, drunk person grabs another girl’s lady lumps in front of no longer sober, but not quite that drunk person.

…No bueno.

Let me just say I am not a jealous person. That, being said, my immediate reaction was not to be angry that The Hoff grabbed another girl’s boobs. I got upset because the girl he did it to is a very good friend of his and looked unbelievably pissed he did that. Not a good showing of respect towards me or her. (He’s redeemed himself, though, so don’t hate him too much.)

6) Best friends get lots of drunk dials/texts on the keg bus.
See #4 as to why. Luckily, Just Jack and Lo know how to cheer a girl up!

7) Gay guys know how to spot a keg bus girl when they see one.
After being dropped off at bar#2, I decided to stand underneath a bus stop so I could drunk dial Lo without getting drenched. As I’m rambling to her about The Hoff’s antics, two gay guys stop and tell me my outfit is cute. Totally made my night! You know when you get a gay man’s approval you have a good outfit on.

8) People like to talk in British accents on the keg bus.
Don’t ask me why. It’s not like it’s some sort of classy establishment where tea and crumpets are served.

9) There are no lighted bathrooms, or toilet paper, on the keg bus.
Ladies, let this be a lesson for you to treat the keg bus like you would frat house.

10) The keg bus giveth, and the keg bus taketh away.
The keg bus will drive you to your destinations of choice, but it will probably leave you there. The Hoff and I lost our group and were left outside bar #2, forcing us to take a taxi. Oh, and by the way…the taxi fare was the same amount as the keg bus fare. So, basically, we paid for two keg bus experiences.

If you can’t tell, the keg bus and I have a love/hate relationship. Much like a guy, he can be prince charming one minute and a real bastard the next. I’ll let you decide whether the keg bus is worthy of your money, time and energy.

**I’m off to conference in Denver for the next few days. I’m not sure I’ll have computer access, but if I do, I’ll be sure to post. Thanks, as always, for putting up with my uber-procrastinating ways!**

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Happy Inauguration Day!!

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I was up at 7 a.m. and I'm off to the National Mall to brave the crowd. Have to take advantage of living in our nation's capital on such a historic day!

Full update on the happenings in my life tomorrow...things have been quite hectic lately!

Friday, January 9, 2009

Miss Procras. and the Wolf

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So, sometimes, as a habitual procrastinator, Murphy’s Law intervenes and I am late through no fault of my own.

The dog ate my homework. I was washing my hair. I’m surfing the crimson wave. My car broke down. I have the black lung. ::cough ::cough::

Problem is, when those tried and true excuses actually happen, I’ve already used them so many times no one believes me. You can start referring to me as Peter, I don’t mind.

Seriously though, no matter how hard I try, I feel like some higher power is determined to make me tardy everywhere I go. Maybe it’s karma, or maybe God just has a sense of humor. If so, he was in rare form this week.

On Tuesday, I felt like my head had blown up to the size of a hot air balloon. I couldn’t breathe, a jackhammer was pounding my skull into a million pieces and my nose wouldn’t stop running. I passed it off as allergies and took a decongestant. Two hours later, when I was trying to go to bed early so I could wakeup feeling half-human again, the electricity at The Hoff’s house went out. No electricity=no heat=a frigid Miss Procras.

So, we drove the 20 minutes back to my heated, lit apartment and attempted to fall asleep. Attempted being the operative word. I never really fell asleep. Turns out decongestants have the same effect on me as 50 cans of Red Bull.

There was no way I was going to work running on virtually no sleep, sounding like a car without a muffler. If you looked up sexy in the dictionary you’d see of picture of me on Wednesday morning. I was that hot.

Problem was, I made a personal goal on January 1st to be present and on time to work until the next holiday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Yes, I realize that’s only a span of eleven working days. Baby steps, my friends. I figured if I made it through that length of time, I could make it until the end of January, and then until President’s Day with no absences or tardies. Set the bar low, then gradually raise it-you get the idea.

Well, our dear friend Murphy, who can be quite the bastard at times, decided to bless me with one of the worst sinus infections I’ve ever had. My goal was shot to hell.

And it gets better.

Yesterday, I came into work, sounding more like a Pug than a muffler-less automobile. But instead of a stuffy nose and a pounding head, I was greeted by another visitor, and an unwanted visitor at that. Aunt Flo came to town. And while I’m thankful that there will be no little Miss Procras. or little Hoff running around anytime soon, she arrived a week early.

On the first day of her visit, I’m guaranteed a night of interrupted slumber. Usually around 3 a.m., I’ll wake up thinking I’m being stabbed repeatedly in the ovaries/uterus/fallopian tubes. Why my cramps decide to act up in the middle of the night, I have no idea. But this means I have to get out of bed, grab a slice of bread, some water, and a bottle of Advil, and wait in agony for thirty minutes until the pain reliever kicks in.

Unfortunately for The Hoff, last night he was forced to witness the wrath of Aunt Flo. When I couldn’t take the stabbing any longer, I woke him up and asked him if he could gather my weapons of defense. Only problem is, he had Tylenol, not Advil. Didn’t work as well. That meant another night of restless slumber for Miss Procras.

Hence, I woke up late, and was 20 minutes late to work this morning.

Murphy’s Law/God (or higher power of choice): 2

Miss Procras.: 0

Rough week for me. To unwind, I’m going on a keg bus this weekend. Never been on one, but a moving vehicle filled with 35 people and tons of alcohol sounds like a splendid idea. I’ll let you know how it works out. (Side note: I don’t have a good track record when alcohol and buses are involved. Should make for a fun post on Monday.)

Monday, January 5, 2009

Keeping Track of Time in 2009

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I’m back from my holiday hiatus and I promise to stick to a more regular blogging schedule. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season!

The start of a new year inevitably brings about resolutions. I never really take these seriously because, quite frankly, I never stick to any resolutions I make, no matter how good my intentions may start out being. I know-so uncharacteristic of me...

This year, though, I want to really try. I’m turning 25, the quarter century mark, and it seems as good a time as any to start acting like a more mature, responsible adult. (I think I just threw up a little from that statement.)

Here are my resolutions, and God knows, I’m going to need all the help I can get in keeping these:

1) Start arriving to work (and other places of importance) on time

**I would like to note that yesterday, I arrived right on time to a 10 am store meeting, after a night of drinking that ended with a celebratory tequila shot. AND, today, I arrived 1 minute EARLY to work. Please, don’t hurt yourself falling out of your chair.**

2) Start a regular workout regimen. Does anyone know any fun workout routines? Or better yet, one that involves shopping and/or drinking? I think I would exercise all the time if those two were involved.

3) Find a job doing something I enjoy. This will probably be determined more by the job market and economy than my own efforts. I have high hopes, Obama, high hopes!

4) Continue expanding my ever-growing shoe collection. This also means I need to find a bigger closet.

5) Reclaim the alcohol tolerance I lost upon graduating from college. Oh man, how I miss the glory days of being able to knock back 11 drinks with no problem. My family and friends have already helped me toward this goal with their alcohol-themed gifts:

*Lo bought me my favorite gift this Christmas-an engraved cellphone flask. It’s by far the coolest thing ever and will certainly provide bountiful opportunities for me to smuggle alcohol into bars, concerts, subways, family functions, etc. Ah! I can’t wait to be drunk all the time!

*My roommate gave me a cute apple martini gift set. If you know me, you know my go-to cocktail is an apple martini. This will definitely come in handy when I need to unwind after work and I’m certain it's contents will be depleted by the end of the month

*The Hoff, among other things, gave me a cranberry and pomegranate martini mix set. Never had either but they sound delish and they came in a fun case that I’m thinking of using as a container to hold my magazines. What can I say, The Hoff has pretty good taste for a boy.

*Christmas morning, when my little bro was already getting on my nerves with his picky eating habits, (My mom forgot a loaf of bread for his toast and gravy, but she had potato rolls she could toast. Not good enough for him…he wanted white bread, so he insisted on finding an open store. Crazy teenage boys.) I immediately asked for a strong drink. My mom, being the lifesaver she is, suggested I make poinsettias. Done and done. So, I proceeded to get drunk off poinsettias on Christmas Day so my family wouldn’t drive me crazy.

As awesome as all these gifts were, I also wonder whether my friends are trying to tell me something…

I’m gonna go with the supportive stance. I know they want me to succeed and keep a new year’s resolution for once.

Good luck to those of you who also made resolutions this year. Maybe we can support each other and actually keep these through 2009!

Remember to take time for yourself each day, whether it be stopping here, or enjoying your personal favorite methods of procrastination.

 

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