December 17, 2005
Advice from the Bean-Eater
Woe is the woman who converts a high-fiber side dish into a main dish...and then has two big helpings plus some corn on the cob.
Shame on me for gorging myself on baked beans. My poor colon doesn't know what to do with the sudden intake of fiber.
I wouldn't have had oatmeal with bananas this morning or had popcorn for a snack if if I'd anticipated craving beans this evening. Too much unannounced fiber is wreaking havoc on my insides.
Sheesh. I'm sure it's good to clean out the ol' intestines every now and then...but is there any way besides this? And what causes one to crave beans of all things anyway??
*rumbling from deep within* Ugh. Excuse me. I think I need to skip to my loo.
Posted by Anna at 08:38 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
December 12, 2005
Spongy Misunderstanding
I get a thrill out of coupons. Even if I don’t really need the item I’m buying, I always feel justified buying it if I have a coupon. Tonight I was at Wal-Mart looking for the Scotch-Brite kitchen sponges (I needed some, and I was going to save 35 cents!). I don’t believe I’ve purchased sponges before at that particular store, and they weren’t in the location that seemed the most logical. I sought out a blue-vested Wal-Mart associate for assistance. There weren’t any workers in the housewares section, so I targeted a friendly looking middle-aged woman named Loretta. Following is my conversation with Loretta:
Me: Excuse me (pausing to look at nametag), Loretta.
Loretta: Yeah?
Me: I’m looking for sponges. Do you know where I could find them?
Loretta: You want the plain kind or the kind with the gunk in ‘em?
Me: Well, I guess whatever is closest. I do like the kind with the antibacterial stuff already in it, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t mind using the antibacterial stuff along with them.
Loretta: Antibacterial? Well, you’ll have to use somethin’ different. The FDA banned those antibacterial kind. We don’t carry the antibacterial sponges any more. Walgreen’s does, though.
Me: The FDA banned antibacterial sponges? Really? Well, I don’t want to go to Walgreen’s--they’re not that important to me. How about the plain ones? Where are those?
Loretta: Go that way *pointing the opposite way from housewares* and ask someone over there. That ain’t my department.
Me: Um, that’s the pharmacy. Are you sure the sponges aren’t over by the kitchen cleaners?
Loretta: No, child. The sponges with the antibacterial kind were recalled, but the plain ones is over in the pharmacy.
Me: Um, I’m not sure I’m communicating effectively. Thanks for your help, but I’ll just keep looking for someone in housewares.
Loretta: Hang on, girl. What kind of sponges you after? I thought you wanted the antibacterial kind.
Me: Well, I do, but, see, I have a coupon for the Scotch-Brite kind, so I was going to get some of those. Or whatever is cheapest. I don’t really care anymore.
Loretta: OH! You mean you need KITCHEN sponges!?! I thought you needed birth control! Why you need the antibacterial sponges if you're cleanin' your kitchen?
It was at that moment that I realized our misunderstanding. Loretta thought I was looking for contraception. She confused the word “antibacterial” with “spermicidal.”
Sheesh. Poor woman. She must’ve thought I was really desperate because I was getting so impatient with her! I keep thinking that maybe I did something to mislead her, but I checked myself. I was not dressed like a floozy, hanging on the arm of a rugged gentleman, or filling my cart with lingerie. I mean, I was in HOUSEWARES, for pete’s sake! I really don’t think I’m the one at fault here!
So, Loretta, if you’re reading this, I recommend you educate yourself a little more thoroughly on the differences between the varieties of sponges you carry in your store. It may have been an honest mistake (maybe?), but please don’t let it happen again. I think I’m still blushing from the whole experience.
And wouldn’t you know, I forgot to get those dang sponges after all?!?!
Posted by Anna at 07:10 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
December 02, 2005
As If I Needed a Reason...
Just in case I needed a good reason to watch The Bachelor this season, now I have one.
An ER doctor from Vanderbilt's Medical Center is this season's bachelor.
I don't know Travis Stork (I've been lucky enough to avoid the emergency room, though I did sit in the waiting room to get my ankle x-rayed earlier this year), but he looks pretty hunky in his pictures.
Would it be considered stalking if I looked him up in the campus directory and called him? Or sent him something through campus mail? Or I bet I could send him an email--the system wouldn't label it as spam if it came from my campus address...
Maybe I could somehow twist that ankle again and earn a trip over to the ER. Nah...that might be a bit too conspicuous. Plus, knowing my luck, I'd end up with some scary doctor instead.
If you want to know more, you can read the article in one of the campus newspapers:
http://www.vanderbilthustler.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/12/01/438e1524cbd63
Posted by Anna at 02:42 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
November 29, 2005
I Think I'm Too Old...
You know when you're getting too old?
When you dig out 10 nickels to put in the parking meter and every single nickel was minted after your birth.
Every stupid nickel was post-1979.
All this and some stray gray hairs too. Growing older is no fun.
As Boomhauer would say: Them dang ol' dang nickels, man, like 1994, man, younger than dang ol' me. It's like them dang ol' octogenarians, man, them dang ol', dang ol' almost dead, man.
Posted by Anna at 11:35 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 24, 2005
Ran Into Reba--Almost
I think I've lived in Nashville too long. Why do I think this, you ask?
I nearly got broadsided today near Music Row (the music recording studios) by a stretch limousine that ran a red stoplight.
Ordinarily, I suspect one's first thought in a near-accident is something like, "Oh my gosh, that was a close one! I'm lucky I was able to swerve!" or even "What kind of moron runs a stoplight when it's clearly red?" Instead, the first thing that came to my mind was, "What if Reba McIntire is in that limo? What if I am in an accident that kills a country music star? Would people hate me forever for taking away their idol?"
Sheesh. You know you've been in Nashville too long when you're more concerned about being in an accident that injures a country music star than you are about your own safety.
Posted by Anna at 05:48 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
October 21, 2005
Don't Get Your Panties in a Knot!
I've always liked the phrase, "Don't get your panties in a knot," which, I believe, roughly translates to, "Calm down."
Last night, though, I did find myself with my panties in a knot--literally.
I was dog-sitting. As I usually do when I'm house-sitting, I took over my laundry (it saves money for me and also saves me from a trip to the scary laundromat). I threw in a load of what I thought was just jeans and t-shirts.
When I went back to transfer everything to the dryer, I discovered that I could not lift any of my clothes out; they seemed to be glued to the agitator by some sort of invisible suction. I tugged...and tugged...and tugged. After an unnerving ripping sound, one pair of jeans was released from the centrifugal force within the washer. I then got a good look at what was pinning my clothes against the agitator: a lone pair of purple panties.
It seems that somehow a pair of my underwear slipped into the washer along with my jeans. Based on my limited scientific knowledge, here's what I think happened. The spinning had sucked my clothes against the agitator, then my skivvies got skewered on the agitator and ended up getting woven around my clothes. One of the seams tore at some point, because I think the ends then somehow wrapped themselves in and out of the little support things at the bottom of the agitator and ended up knotting up, essentially gluing my load of clothes to the agitator.
Even though I had discovered my problem, I still didn't have a solution to freeing my clothes that were being held hostage by a pair of torn and knotted purple panties. Without many other options, I was left to painstakingly unweave the clothes from my unmentionables, one item at a time. Finally, I got all the clothes out and was left to examine my ruined undies.
My underwear was stretched and twisted into a long rope, knotted several times, and torn beyond recognition.
After I removed the undies from their place of death, I then had another dilemma: what to do with the underwear? Since I'm at my boss's house, dare I put them in the trash can and risk him seeing them when he gets home later today? Do I wrap them in a Wal-Mart bag and take the bag outside to the trash bin and pray he doesn't wonder what the unusual Wal-Mart bag is doing in his bin when it was completely empty yesterday? Do I put them, wet, torn, and knotted, into my overnight bag and leave them there while I spend all day at work?
I wish I could describe it better, because it was definitely a sight to see. I wanted to take a picture but I didn't have my camera...and I'm not sure I want my mangled underwear displayed for all to see anyway! So...the best I can give you is a generic washing machine photo without any purple underwear:
Posted by Anna at 11:31 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
October 07, 2005
I Missed Rockapella!
I just learned very disappointing news.
If I had been prudent, I would've noticed that Rockapella had a concert near me last night.
Dang. One of the icons of my pre-teen and teen years and I missed them. I got hooked on the game, then I watched the shows. I even had a few Carmen Sandiego books.
And just in case you want to get nostalgic and sing the themesongs to both "Where in the World" and "Where in Time," here are the lyrics.
Great. Now I'm disappointed AND I have the themesongs running through my head.
Posted by Anna at 02:25 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 05, 2005
Depends on Me
Am I the only person who has ever contemplated purchasing adult diapers just so I don't have to get out of bed before my alarm clock to pee?
Sometimes my alarm clock goes off before my bladder dictates awaking, but this wasn't one of those mornings. Drowsily, I struggled with leaving my cozy warm bed for the chilly toilet seat for several minutes until my bladder won. Then, of course, I shuffled back to bed but by then I was awake and my bed didn't feel as warm and comfy.
Please, someone, anyone, tell me that you've thought about the same thing so I don't feel really weird for wanting to buy Depends!
Posted by Anna at 09:14 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
September 19, 2005
Raiding the Kitchen
Gasoline to grocery store: $1.00
Can of Raid bug spray: $4.00
Can of Raid bug spray with exorbitant Tennessee sales tax: $5.00
Mistaking can of Raid for Pam cooking spray and thoroughly coating baking dish with bug spray: priceless
Yes, there are some things money can't buy. Unfortunately, I'm so distraught from my near fatal ingestion of poison that I can't think of any right now.
Posted by Anna at 06:50 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
September 05, 2005
This Ain't Mickey!
Dang. I saw the mouse in my kitchen today. He's black. I'm sure he has a tail, but I've never noticed it the two times I've seen him.
I thought they were nocturnal creatures, but this guy was out today. He escaped to a Wal-mart bag that I got yesterday, but I don't know which one and I don't want him to jump out at me if I poke around in the bags. Plus, I don't know what I'd do with him even if he did pop out at me.
I got a set of ultrasound repellants that the sales clerk promised would work. They take up to two weeks, though. I'm hoping that the small size of my apartment means they'll leave before that two weeks. I'm scared to go cook anything because I don't want my mouse pal to surprise me.
Sheesh. I don't mind mice, but I don't want them in my apartment.
Posted by Anna at 01:36 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
August 31, 2005
Ouch!
You know what kinda hurts?
Accidentally sitting on a pair of tweezers and getting your rump pinched.
You know what really hurts?
Reaching under your butt to pull out the tweezers and accidentally jabbing one side of the tweezers under your fingernail.
Now I have a sore rear end and a gash that's oozing under my fingernail.
On a completely random note, has anyone who uses Gmail noticed that the spam folder now has a link for a Spam recipes? I checked out a recipe for Spam and artichoke salad while I was emptying my spam folder...
I guess since spam gets a bad name, it's nice that the Spam people can counteract...
Posted by Anna at 10:11 PM | TrackBack
July 19, 2005
Heed My Advice
Note to readers: Beefaroni at midnight=heartburn and nightmares at 3 a.m.
Did I think about the consequences of eating that before I got the midnight munchies? Apparently not.
Don't do it. Resist the Chef Boyardee urge that late at night. Your esophagus will thank you. Also, you won't dream about giant elbow macaroni surrounding you and flattening you as they steamroll over your body.
Posted by Anna at 12:30 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
July 07, 2005
Many Mini Misadventures and a Word Game
Ive promised a little word game at the end, and I will deliver. Stick with me for a few minutes to read my story, though, OK?
I woke up leisurely and blissfully late this morning. I had the day off except for a paid experiment over in the psychology department. I enjoyed my morning and then headed out for the experiment. I took my clothes basket with me; it seemed like a good day to do laundry. My day ended up being far from typical, though.
Following are mini-chapters of my misadventures. Theyre in chapter form to help you play the word game!
Better Than a Lashing With a Wet Noodle
I prefer the electronic spinning toothbrush to the traditional toothbrush. Im not convinced that the spinning action cleans teeth any better, but it makes me feel like Im being more proactive in my dental hygiene. I squirted my toothbrush, put the brush in my mouth, and clicked the switch to on. Immediately I knew something was wrong.
It seems there is a bristle on my toothbrush that is coming loose, because it is sticking out further than the rest (of course, I didnt realize this until too late!). Note to readers: a longer bristle on a spinning toothbrush becomes a smaller version of a Weed Whacker. Before I could do anything about it, that spinning bristle had become a dangerous weapon, lashing my gums. Long story short, I got several small cuts on my gums from the bristle. Oh, and mouthwash on cutsnot pleasant.
Really Troubling Images? Sign Me Up!
I went to my experiment. It was actually one of the more interesting experiences. It involved a series of landscape photographs, flashing at lightning speed (something like 10 images a second). One of the pictures was turned sideways, and my task was to indicate with the keyboard if the landscape was rotated clockwise or counterclockwise.
Part of the experiment (according to the informational sheet I had to read and sign before beginning) was supposed to include disturbing photographs. I think the experiment was measuring if seeing frightening pictures included in landscapes affected ones ability to focus on the landscape task and still process the rotation.
The experiment started out fine. About halfway through, though, the computer beeped and up popped an informational screen. I got the student assigned to monitor the test administration. She came in, clicked the mouse a few times, and said, Well, looks like youre finished. So I got paidbut I didnt see any of the disturbing images Id been promised. Im not really complaining, but, wellmaybe I am. Im curious about what images are classified as disturbing.
Im Not the Best Person To AskI headed to the laundromat. Ive never been to this particular laundromat before, but it was just down the street from campus, so it was on my way home. Started my laundry; all was fine. I took along my book of word puzzles (my inspiration in including one in this entry) and was busy on some cryptograms when an older Asian man walked in. He came up to me, pointed at a hand-drawn map, and said, No English. Apparently he didnt realize that I am completely navigationally-deficient (you can check out this entry to prove it!). I did the best I could to point the direction he needed to go. He bowed a few times, then exited the building. He stood in the parking lot for a few seconds, then came up to the window, tapped on it, and pointed out a direction. I nodded, he bowed again, and took off. It wasnt until I left the laundromat that I realized I had pointed him the wrong way. Poor guy. Theres some older man wandering the streets of downtown Nashville in the heat who doesnt speak English. I felt terrible.
Reba Washes Here?
All along the walls of the laundromat were photographs signed by country music stars. While this isnt unusual in Nashville, the fact that the pictures were in a laundromat was a little weird. During the wash cycle, I walked around and read them. Just a few: To XXXX, thanks for the fluff and fold. XXXX, the place that gets my clothes clean. My favorite laundromat in Nashville. Yeah, right. Like Randy Travis or Dolly Parton are going to walk in with their dirty underwear.
Exactly Whose Butt is Prohibited?
When my clothes were washed and ready to be dried, I put them in one of those wheely baskets and pushed it over to the dryers. Saw a sign on the dryer: Please, no butts in the dryer.
Im sure that someone had somehow put a cigarette butt in the dryer (though why is a mystery!), and the consequences merited a note. Maybe a note clarifying what kind of butts arent allowed would be helpful. Or even better, maybe a sign stating that no butts of any kind are allowed. Just to clear up the confusion, of course. You know I was tempted to drop my pants and give my butt a fluff-dry.
All About Mary Katherine
After I transferred my clothes to the dryer, I left the facility for a few minutes to drive something over to my brother (hes in town on a mission trip for the week; you can read about it in some of the blogs on my sidebar). When I got back to the laundromat, a cute little old lady met me at the door. I dont think she worked there, but she was certainly being hospitable to all the patrons; she greeted everyone and told her life story to her captive audience. (Oh, and shes one of 9 children, but shes the only one alive. Shes got a 34 year old son named Rob.) Around 10 minutes into her story, I started figuring out that something wasnt quite right with Mary Katherine.
She had come over to me several times and patted my hair. She kept saying, Oh, baby girl, youve got pretty hair Oh, you look like a little doll with hair like that! After the first time, I started getting uncomfortable. I was relieved when she went over to the ladies on the other side of the building and talked to them. When my clothes were finished, I went over to the dryer and heard what she was doing, though. In between telling about her son and her dead relatives, she would poke any lady near in the gut and say, So whens that baby due? I had a baby myself, you know. She was disappointed to learn that none of the ladies were pregnant. She still proceeded to tell her sons childbirth story, though. In fear that I would too be poked like the Pillsbury Doughboy, I threw my clothes in my basket and took off. Didnt even fold emtoo big of a hurry to escape Mary Katherines finger.
Zebra SkinningFinally, I reached the parking lot. I saw something right behind my car that looked like a furry dead animal. I was afraid Id run over something somehow, so I but down my basket and squatted down by the fur. Well, it wasnt an animal. It wasa hairpiece.
Not the toupee variety, but a hair extension. A ladys extension; black with magenta streaks. Well, more like stripes. Like some sort of mutant zebra got skinned and then made into a hairpiece.
I suppose the kind thing to do would be to advertise it. Im not sure of the cost of hairpieces, but this one appears to be made of real human hair. I picked it up. I had to. I couldnt stop my fingers. And since I hadnt seen anyone in the laundromat who wouldve worn it (the group was older women, and Im pretty sure it wouldnt have looked good on any of them).
You wanna see the hairpiece? Ive still got it, so if its yours, let me know and Ill mail it to you if you pay for shipping. (I know, its a longshotbut Ill take a chance)
Now, click on for the word game...
Now, the word game. Take the first letter of the first word in each chapter title. Unscramble the six letters correctly and youll find a word describing my day.
Posted by Anna at 06:03 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
July 05, 2005
Blushing and a Weird Nipple Sensation
I just realized that I somehow put my bra on inside out this morning. It's been that way all morning at the office.
You would think the backwards-hooking and the unusual, um, texture against my bosoms would lead me to question why...but it didn't.
Sheesh. And the stalls in the women's bathroom are so tiny one can hardly fit their feet in, let alone take off one's bra. And there's always a line, so I can't do it in the sink/towel area...
Posted by Anna at 10:19 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
July 04, 2005
Fireworks in the Bedroom
I woke up to a very strange sight early this morning. Below you will find a transcript of what happened and my thoughts:
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! *brilliant flash of light* Zzpt! *another flash of light*
Me: What the heck?
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! *flash of light* Zzpt! *flash, flash*
Me: Oh, its July 4th. I guess the fireworks started a little early this year.
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! Zzpt! *flash, flash, flash* Zzpt!
Me: Urg. Just go back to sleep.
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! Zzpt! Zzpt! *multiple flashing, almost creating a strobe light effect*
Me: (burying head in pillow) Aaack! Stop it!
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! (sound getting more urgent) Zzpt, zzpt! *flash, flash, flash, flash*
Me: (sitting straight up in bed) What is that?
Inside bedroom: Zzpt! *flash* Zzpt! *flash* Zzpt! *flash*
Me: (something lands on my nose) Dag nab it! (swatting thing that landed on my nose)
It was then, finally out of my stupor, that I realized what was happening. My bedroom had somehow been invaded by lightning bugs/fireflies/whatever you call them in your area. Ha! Solved that mystery!
I wonder if my landlord would complain if I hung up a BugZapper
Posted by Anna at 01:08 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 30, 2005
Real People, Real Stunts--Fear Factor!
One of my roommates in college will admit that she got me interested in watching Fear Factor. Not addicted to it, mind you, but interested. Even now, I sometimes watch it if there is nothing else on Monday night. (I know, I live a sad existence...) Basically, I just watch the second stunt, the one where they do the mental challenge instead of the physical. I like watching people eat really disgusting things, especially if they gag and make retching noises while they do it.
Well, I had my own reality experience last night. I was sitting in the dark, watching Golden Girls on late-night TV. I was also having the midnight munchies, so I was eating some tasty trail mix with peanuts, almonds, M&Ms, and raisins.
In the bluish glow of my TV during commercials, I noticed I had dropped an almond on the floor. Since almonds are a rare commodity in this particular brand of trail mix, I picked it up from the floor (I live by myself, so eating off the floor isn't quite as questionable) and popped it in my mouth.
Crunch. Wiggle. Squirt. Gag. Spit. Curse.
What I thought was an almond was actually a bug. It was dark enough and I was nauseated enough that I didn't look carefully enough to see what kind after I had spit the parts into my hand.
Gross.
If Fear Factor is interested in me, I'm available...
(Not quite what I ate, I don't think...but it was too dark to tell.)
Posted by Anna at 03:41 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
June 07, 2005
Volunteering to Pay...or Paying to Volunteer
I loaned my brain to the campus Psychology Department today for an experiment in short-term memory.
The good news: I made $12 for about half an hour of (easy) work.
The bad news: I got an $18 parking ticket.
Posted by Anna at 10:02 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
May 04, 2005
My Visit to the Golden Arches
I don't know why I forgot to post this earlier...
I guess my rant about the parking spots led me to forget my original posting.
I went to McDonald's for breakfast. Even though I live in a section of Nashville heavily populated by Spanish speakers, I've not had too much trouble communicating (note: I speak very little Spanish). I've been to the McDonalds near my apartment many times and never faced a language barrier, but there must have been several Spanish speakers through the Drive-Thru that morning. Either that, or they just simply felt like sticking their Spanish speaking worker on the drive-thru line. When I pulled up to place my order, I heard something like this:
Her: "Hola. Bienvenido mumble, mumble, McDonalds, mumble mumble. Que mumble?"
Me: "Ur, ug, hmmm, uno, um, dos breakfast burritos, um, and, um, grande agua."
Her: "Mumble, mumble, two, mumble, breakfast burrito, mumble, large water. Mumble, mumble?"
Me: (not sure at this point if she's speaking in Spanish or just the garbled English that comes out of those speakers) "Um, yeah, right. Si. Correcto (just made that word up). Thanks. Gracias."
Her: De nada.
Sheesh. I should've taken Spanish instead of German
in high school. A lot of good Guten Tag has done me
here...
Posted by Anna at 04:05 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
To My Friend in Parking Lot 78
Just a note to the soul who squeezed his Lincoln Continental into a parking space designated for compact cars:
Your car is not compact. Neither is the minivan belonging to the putz-head who wedged his auto into the neighboring compact space. Because of your insensitivity, the owner of a Honda Civic drove by and flipped you off. I know because I walked by at the precise moment of the driver's irritation. Just be glad the driver wasn't prone to road rage.
Now, I recognize your desire to park closer to campus. I, too, have the same yearning. Please notice, though, that I avoided cramming my Chevy Impala into the remaining compact car space--not that it would have fit anyway. The passenger side of the minivan was taking up half of the last space. I'm going to be considerate--I'm sure a VW Beetle will drive by at some point today, and I don't want to be the recipient of anger. Frankly, I don't want my car keyed by a vengeful compact car owner.
Please be kind to your fellow parkers.
Posted by Anna at 10:29 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
April 30, 2005
Despite Popular Opinion...
I'm not dead.
Ive just been a bad blogger lately. I apologize. I think one phrase sums up the whole ordeal: final papers in grad school.
In the past two weeks, Ive written 8 papers, two of which were 30+ pages. But theyre finished now (not necessarily good, but finished), and so am I. Now the waiting game for grade reports begins. But at this point in my semester, I really dont care.
And now my semester is over, as is my first year of grad school at Vanderbilt University. Whew.
You can post your sympathies or congratulations in the comments.
Posted by Anna at 02:36 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 14, 2005
The Cat's Really Out of the Bag Now...
My heart is just now returning to its normal rate. Whew. I saw my life flash before my eyes.
I'm housesitting again this week. I had a coupon for some desperately needed new tennis shoes, so I stopped at the nearby mall for the shoes and also a trip into the half-price children's bookstore next to the shoe place.
The people at the bookstore gave me a big brown shopping bag. Because I had my hands full with moving everything else into the house (laundry, laptop, etc.), I combined all my purchases into that bag. Since I got here Tuesday, the bag has been sitting by one of the couches, still with my empty shoebox and a couple of kids books.
I decided to move the bag just a bit ago because the dog kept sniffing it and I wondered if there was something under the bag, like maybe a chew toy, that she was wanting. So I put my hands on the bag handles and lifted...
MMRROWWW! HISS!
It seems Sterling the cat had taken up residence inside my shopping bag. He literally jumped out of the bag, dug his claws into my jeans, and howled a very frightened meow. Then he darted off and ran under the boss's bed.
We're both not quite recovered yet. I think I may have given the cat a nervous breakdown. I'm not far from it myself right now. Whew.
So, in my sorry little pun, I must say that the cat is indeed out of the bag now...
(*for my foreign readers, "let the cat out of the bag" is an idiom for telling a secret!)
Posted by Anna at 10:09 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
April 08, 2005
Sticky Situation
I got myself hopelessly tangled in my DYMO LabelWriter about an hour ago. Am I the only one who frequently gets outsmarted by office equipment?
I was printing off 30 labels during work and it seemed to be taking forever. In my impatience, I clicked "print labels" about 10 times. The machine started dispensing labels faster than I could blink. I tried to tear them off as they came out, but it was useless. My desk was getting covered and they were spilling off the top and down on the floor and around my phone and over my printer. Finally, I just started wrapping the labels around my wrists and neck and arms. By the time all 300 or so labels printed, I was wrapped up like a mummy.
*sigh* I'm just glad I got here early enough that nobody saw me, but late enough that there were other people in the building in case I needed help. Somehow, the newspaper headline of "Graduate Student Suffocates From Ill-Placed Labels" doesn't appeal to me right now.
The phrase "What a tangled web we weave" has a completely new meaning for me now. I wove my own tangled web of address labels. At least they still had the paper backing and I didn't have to physically peel them off my skin. I suppose it could've been worse.
I think I need sleep. That's my only excuse.
Posted by Anna at 09:50 AM | TrackBack
March 30, 2005
I Feel Used
I feel used.
I inadvertently left my car windows down last night and lured in an uninvited visitor.
Intruder made himself at home in my good ol' Impala.
The good news: Nothing is missing.
The bad news: Intruder tore open all the juice boxes I keep in my front seat (you never know when you'll get stuck in traffic) and left a sticky apple juice mess everywhere.
The good news: Intruder left physical evidence.
The bad news: Squirrel poop does little good in our court system.
Yes, friends, my intruder was a squirrel, possibly a collection of squirrels.
I HATE SQUIRRELS! THEY THINK THEY'RE CUTE, BUT THEY'RE EVIL, HORRIBLE CREATURES!!!
And now I need to go clean up the mess. Apple juice and squirrel crap. At least it's not raining...
Posted by Anna at 12:44 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
March 28, 2005
Ooh Dah Poo and Estrogen Pills
I've written about my trips to the pharmacy even before I had my own blog.
Therefore, some of you may know of my antics involving my crossdressing pharmacist.
I stopped by the pharmacy tonight to refill my Claritin before I dog-sit again this weekend (its not the dog, its the cat that bothers me). Douglas/Donna was there in fine form tonight. Decked out in an elegant black dress and silver jewelry, he almost looked pretty. Almost. As Ive said before, hes in transition to becoming a woman. Apparently hes either stealing estrogen pills from the pharmacy (think of all those poor menopausal women) or he actually has a prescription for thembecause his voice is changing. Its doing whatever the opposite of a boys puberty voice change does. Instead of cracking into a higher voice like a boys, it cracks into a lower tone, reminiscent of what Douglas/Donna sounded like before he started wearing womens clothing and cutting his hair in a cute style. *sigh* I find it disturbing that my pharmacist is going through reverse-puberty. Its just unsettling.
And I also have the knack of meeting preschoolers learning to talk. A little guy came up to me tonight (who are these parents that let their kids walk up to a stranger?!?) and said, Ooh dah poo. Eee dah poo. He said it again (he mustve realized I didnt catch his meaning the first time), this time with a different inflection at the end. This phrase sounded like, Ooh dah poo? Eee dah poo!
Then Mom came around the corner of the aisle, her cart full of toilet paper. I instantly understood Childs question: You go poo? Me go poo!
I just dont understand how, in the span of less than 10 minutes, I can encounter a man whose voice is changing into a womans and a child who questions me about my excretory habits. *scratching head* I just dont get it. Do I exude some sort of pheromone that draws weird people to me?? And now my undergraduate stalker (Josh aka Goat Boy) has found me again. My life just gets brighter and brighter. *rolling eyes*
Oh, and I invented a new diner lingo that will stand up there with moo juice and Eve with a lid. Heres what Im havin for dinner tonight: a Sticky Bimbo. Translated: peanut butter sandwich. But Sticky Bimbo is just more fun, don't you think? I dare you to incorporate the phrase Sticky Bimbo into your conversation. And if you do, you'll be an "insider" and a trend-setter! Do it! Do it!
If youre confused about why a peanut butter sandwich is now hereby known as a Sticky Bimbo, check out an earlier post. I think youll understand.
Posted by Anna at 07:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 26, 2005
Complete Lack of Judgment
OK, so I exercised a complete lack of judgment at 3:15 this morning.
If someone comes to your door at 3:00 in the morning and rings your bell incessantly, alternating the bellringing with pounding on the door, my first thought (when Im awake) is that something disastrous happened.
Not so with me. I had just gotten to sleep about an hour earlier and awoke to the scene above. Not only did my heart not sink with the fear of what couldve happened, but I neglected to consider that there is a Tennessee manhunt occurring for a murderer. Heres the transcript of what I believe happened, though I was groggy when it happened and Ive slept since then
Door: *ring, ring, ring, ring* *rapid pounding* *ring, ring* *pound, pound, pound* *ring*
Me (thinking): Is that my door?
Door: *ring, ring* *pound, pound, pound, pound, pound*
Me (thinking): Should I answer it? I dont have a bra on. (interesting how my first concern was a bra instead of the fear of catastrophe or murderer.)
I got up, and without even checking the peephole (*stupid*), flung open my door to whatever fate awaited me. Please notice that I had no fear nor concern about who is there or why. The survival instinct wasnt there, nor was the gut-reaction fear of catastrophe. Yeah, Im not real smart when Im awakened suddenly like that.
Man: Hey, I gotta see Josephine now.
Me: Huh? *processing if I know a Josephine or if she could possibly be here*
Man: I gotta see Josephine.
Me: I dont think Josephine lives here *obviously, Im still unsure if I know Josephine*.
Man: What do you mean? Why are you hiding Josephine?
Me *finally coming to understanding of what is happening*: No, I dont even know a Josephine.
Man *peering into my apartment since I was so brilliant to fling my door wide open*: You sure she aint in there? I gotta see her.
Me: Yeah, positive.
Man: Fine.
Me *thinking, closing door and mindlessly locking it again*: Good thing he got me up. I really need to pee.
As I sleepily shuffled to the bathroom, I could hear him out in the hall, ringing and pounding on another door. I hope he found Josephine at the next apartment he triedbecause if he didnt, I bet Im not the only person he awoke in vain
Posted by Anna at 12:16 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 22, 2005
But That Was MY Idea!
Sometimes I wish I knew more about patents and how to obtain one.
I've never ever considered myself an inventor, but maybe I am. Perhaps "problem solver" is a better term. I keep finding things that people are "inventing" and making oodles of money from that I've been using for years.
For instance, the Swiffer Wet. Ever since I got a Swiffer when they first came out, I've been attaching a baby wipe to them to get the mop effect (you can just ask Christopher! He knows I used to do this in undergrad school!). Then what happens? Someone patents a little wet wipe thing and makes millions!
Then there's the way I always filled my contact lens solution bottles with bleach (after they were empty, of course) to clean the grout in my tile. It gave a wonderful concentrated stream of bleach, and then I'd use an old toothbrush to scrub it. So our friends over at Clorox invent the bleach pen. Hello, I've been doing that for years!!
But today was the clincher. The folks over at the 3M company that makes Post-It Notes now produces chart-paper-sized post-it-notes. It's like a giant post-it-note that you can write on and then move wherever you want. Well, I did that a few years ago with a sheet of butcher paper and my removable spray adhesive!! You can ask anyone in my Methods of Teaching Math class. I did it before they did...and yet I'm seeing none of the profits.
I just wish someone would consult me before they patent something. It's possible I've already made it and have been using it for quite some time!!! Come on, who needs the money more? Some wealthy company that employs professional inventors or a poor graduate student?? It seems like they could just let me get one multi-million dollar invention patented before they do!
Posted by Anna at 07:21 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 17, 2005
Blech...
I think I've got the flu. Either that, or I'm pregnant. (Joke!)
Fever, chills, body aches...sounds like the flu to me.
I'll be around, but I probably won't be posting too much. That's really too bad, because today was my elementary school day (I probably shouldn't have gone, but $$ is nice). I have quite a few kid-isms.
Maybe I'll feel like posting more later. Right now, I'm off to wrap up in my quilt again.
Posted by Anna at 05:57 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 09, 2005
Parking Problems
Why do I have more of a problem finding a parking space on campus when it's Spring Break than I do during the regular semester? Nearly all the students are gone, and yet I still drove around for about 10 minutes before giving up and parking in the "last resort" and practically-in-Kentucky lot!!
This irritates me.
Posted by Anna at 11:31 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 08, 2005
This Ain't Your Father's Oil Change
I had yet another realization that I'm not living in a small town any more: I had an oil change for the car.
Not really knowing what places around here are reputable, I went to the old standby: Valvoline. (Plus, I had a coupon...)
At this particular car place, there is no waiting room--you sit in your car while they work. The whole experience was somewhat like a restaurant drive-thru; I got in line and later a guy with a grease rag in his pocket came out and "took my order". Rather than asking my name, he just copied down my license plate and model of car.
When I pulled in, I was fairly shocked to see the staff: all females in their early 20s except for the grease rag guy who took down the information. Don't get me wrong; I don't have ethical issues with a gal changing my oil...I was just expecting a group of middle-aged men like they have back home.
I didn't really roll down my window during the process because it was pretty cold, but I did hear them shout across the garage, "Show-Me State" and "Hillbilly Missourian." This from people who live in the country music capital??
They drained my oil and did all the other check-up things that they do--checked the different fluids. Girl #1 pulled something out (maybe my engine? How do I know?) with wires and tinkered with all of the wires...and then crammed it back into the car rather roughly. She then proceeded to take out some sort of filter (car stuff is beyond my comprehension). Apparently it met her approval because she started to put it back in...but she couldn't.
I ended up with about 4 girls in greasy shirts trying to wedge this oil filter back in. They had some sort of crowbar thing about the size of a screwdriver. Now, since I've never actually stayed in my vehicle during an oil change, maybe this isn't uncommon. I just know that each girl took a turn smooshing my filter back in. But then they called for help...another teenaged looking kid named Jonathan. Jonathan came up the stairs (I guess the offices are downstairs, below the ground. Since they drain oil into the downstairs, there must be a whole level down there). He easily popped the filter into place, checked over Girl #1's work, and then summoned Girl #2 over. He said some stuff and pointed, and then she said some stuff and pointed, Jonathan nodded, and they put my hood down.
I was pleased with Jonathan's efficiency, but he lost all professionalism when he greased up his hands, put one hand on each rail on the side of the stairs, and slid down the flight of stairs using his hands. He looked like he was going down the stairs on an escalator except he was propelled by slippery hands. *rolling eyes*
With my coupon, I got a good deal on the lube job (I always blush when I say that even though I know it's not necessarily a obscene phrase). I am a little concerned about how Girl #1 yanked several pieces of my car out and then shoved them back in, but the car seems to be running fine, so I guess it's OK. I hope. This is one of those times I wish I knew more about cars.
Oh, and my reminder sticker didn't say "God Bless You" like my previous one did. I didn't think the sticker here would, but I must admit I was a little hopeful...
This ain't your father's oil change...welcome to the new generation of oil changers!!
Posted by Anna at 05:42 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 06, 2005
Missing Moo
My Little Tykes mooing cow flashlight has ceased both mooing and lighting. I've changed the batteries and triple-checked to make sure they're in right. This troubles me.
See, I originally bought the flashlight because I was chaperoning a group of 5th grade girls to church camp last year and I thought it would be a big hit--and it was. The girls strangely loved being awakened by a cow's moo, and they always giggled about how I would make it moo just as things got quiet. But I brought it to Nashville with me for a safety kind of thing. Now, I realize that a plastic flashlight is of little good in self-defense, but I also told myself that any criminal who broke into my apartment might be a little freaked out by a "moo" coming from my bedroom and leave before he/she took anything. So even though it's mainly for cute purposes, I rationalized keeping it.
I miss the cheerful moo that I would hear when I squeezed the handle. I miss how Mr. Moo's little mouth would open with the moo and how the light would shine from his mouth. Simply put, I miss Mr. Moo.
Any suggestions on how to fix my mooing flashlight??
My mute moo-er. I had to copy the picture from the Little Tykes website because mine no longer moos. *sigh*
Posted by Anna at 06:53 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 05, 2005
The Thrill is Gone
OK, so the thrill of Spring Break is over. Nothing good in the mail, no good shows on TV (that's what I get for no cable or satellite), no good food to eat--I need to go shopping but never on a Saturday, and the book I'm working on isn't holding my interest. Therefore, I'm stealing a questionaire thingy that's been floating around. I stole it from Kendall, but she stole it from someone else. So here is my non-original but rather fun to write questionaire:
1. WHAT IS YOUR MIDDLE NAME? Marie. It goes back several generations on my mom's side, so it was definitely a no-brainer in the delivery room.
2. WHAT COLOR PANTS ARE YOU WEARING? Blue jeans. Had I written this an hour ago, it would've been red flannel PJ pants with penguins in sweaters.
3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Some woman yelling Arabic out in the parking lot. I've got my windows open to air out my apartment (I've been around a lot of sick people), and this woman apparently doesn't have a phone, email, or the patience to actually knock on the intended party's door. She just stands outside their balcony and shouts things up to them. A rough impersonation: "Dwa quoy bighua! Jiet! Dwa quoy!" Of course, that's just what I'm hearing. I'm sure the sounds are much more sophisticated and meaningful than that.
4. DEAD OR ALIVE, NAME THREE PEOPLE YOU WOULD LOVE TO MEET. My paternal grandfather, my maternal great-grandmother (who I've met but I don't remember), and Fannie Flagg (the lady who wrote "Fried Green Tomatoes." I've heard from more than one person that my writing style is very similar to hers, and I just would like to visit with her and see her for myself. Plus, she always wore fun shirts when she was on "Match Game" in the 70s and I'd like to see if she's that eccentric in person.).
5. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? I finished off the box of the Kroger-brand Frosted Flakes--I believe they were called Sugar Flakeys or something like that--that've been in my cabinet for over a month (chip-clipped, of course, so they stayed reasonably fresh).
6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Hang on, I've got to get my crayon box so I know exactly what color I want...
My favorite color when looking at the box is cerulean, but I don't like the way it looks on paper. I like the dark purples, and wisteria is actually my favorite even though it's not one of the darker shades.
7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? Deceptively sunny. It looks as though it would be very warm, but it is rather chilly. Hence me wearing long sleeves and socks.
8. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED WITH ON THE PHONE? A man telling me all about the new deals on Comcast cable.
9. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX? Hands. And no, I don't interpret anything from the size of his hands as perverts always ask me...
10. SHOES YOU LOVE TO WEAR: None. I almost always wear socks, but I don't like shoes. So how about the shoes I really hate to wear: flip-flops (sorry, Kendall). I can't stand things between my toes. Plus, sandals mean others can see my toes...and that's not something I want to show off after that minor toe surgery. Still not pretty.
11. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? Fine, thank you. How are you?
12. FAVORITE DRINK? Apple juice. I have, however, taken a strong liking for the orange-strawberry-banana Crystal Light. I had a coupon for it in August and tried it and now I really like it.
13. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Um, I don't have a lot of experience in this field. Maybe Nyquil.
14. FAVORITE SPORTS? To watch, I like basketball. Or at least, I loved attending the SBU basketball games. Of course, that was because it's fun to people watch. To play...well, *blush* ping-pong.
15. HAIR COLOR? Dark brown with strands of gray. *sigh* That's what teaching does to you.
16. EYE COLOR? Dark brown.
17. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes. Thinking of contacts, it's about time to take them out.
18. TYPE OF VEHICLE YOU DRIVE: 2003 white Chevy Impala. Well, it's white after it gets washed. Right now it's an almost-white with a few areas of dirty brown near the bottom. Oh, yeah, and it has a small red patch where someone bumped me last year at Wal-Mart, and a beat up front license plate where my paraprofessional my first year of teaching backed into me with her cattle trailer hook-up.
19. TOP FIVE FAVORITE FOOD? Pizza with lots of gooey cheese, extra sauce and some sort of meat except for canadian bacon, lasagna of any variety, garlic bread, movie theater popcorn with the salty sprinkly things on it, and canned pears (you read that right). Yes, I'm terrible. I know it.
20. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Because of Winn-Dixie. I had to for my Advanced Children's Literature class, but I was planning on seeing it before I knew it was required. Fabulous book, fabulous movie. I like it when they stay very close to the book. Two thumbs up from me.
21. TOP THREE PET PEEVES. People who make a word plural by adding an apostrophe (you don't need an apostrophe to mean more than one cat, people! It's cats, not cat's!), spam emails that look like they're from a real person and then you open it and it's an ad for breast augmentation, and the high-pitched squeal of TVs, florescent lights, car brakes, and security systems. Yep, I have very sensitive ears in the high frequencies. I have a hard time going by jewelry counters because I can hear their security systems and I feel like I'm gonna pass out.
22. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT? Yes. No further explanation needed.
23. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS BETTER? Either. I really like to be scared silly and then it end with a happy ending. (Like in The Exorcist.) There aren't a whole lot of movies that do that, though, so I generally prefer happy endings. They're even better if they can make me cry at the end.
24. WINTER, SPRING, SUMMER, FALL? Spring. I've always liked spring the best, but even more now because the daffodils are blooming on campus and the smell of magnolia trees is in the air. Anyone who wants to see something refreshing should visit the Vanderbilt campus in spring. It's just great. It was one of the factors that convinced me to go there when I visited last spring, and after walking across campus yesterday under the blooming magnolias, it just got reconfirmed.
25. HUGS OR KISSES? Neither.
26. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS? See #25. Too many other things in my life to worry about either. Plus, I'm content being single at this stage in my life.
27. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate. No contest there.
28. THREE ANIMALS YOU WANT TO OWN. Really none. My solitude is too important to me. I would maybe consider some sort of terrier dog, and I think it would be neat to own a lizard or a snake or something like that, but I really wouldn't want one. I'd forget to feed it or something.
29. NAME FOUR PLACES YOU HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO VISIT: New York City (I've been close on several occasions but have never made it. I go to school with a girl from Manhattan and I'm always tempted to ask if I can go home with her sometime and get a real look at it), Switzerland, New Zealand, and the Holy Land (except I'd always be scared to actually go). Oh, and I really would like to visit Africa as well. I kinda want to be on every continent, so I'm waiting for Asia, Australia, and, well, Antarctica.
30. FIRST CONCERT YOU EVER WENT TO? Carmen and DCTalk. It was at the Fox Theater and I was in 7th grade.
31. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS? I live in an apartment by myself. It's just the right size and I have interesting neighbors (most of which don't speak English, but that just adds to the interest).
32. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Textbooks, "Al Capone Does My Shirts" (I'm using it for a presentation for my Children's Lit class), and a few unpublished textbooks that I'm reviewing and critiquing. Oh, yeah, and lots of research journal articles for my job.
33. WHAT IS ON YOUR SCREEN SAVER AT HOME? Photos of Vanderbilt. I downloaded it off the VU website and I really like it.
34. FAVORITE CARTOON? Little Bill on Nickelodeon. It used to be Blue's Clues, but then Steve went off to college (I had a minor crush on him and would've liked him better if he had a better haircut). When Joe came to take care of Blue, I lost interest in the show.
35. FAVORITE SMELLS: Rain, clothes right after they come out of the dryer, and anything cooking that contains garlic--but not too much garlic. The woman across the hall uses tooooo much garlic and it's nauseating.
36. SMELLS YOU HATE: To quote from children's book character Junie B. Jones, the ones that smell like stink. I'd paste in a link but I can't find an official one.
37. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? Is that really my alarm clock or am I still dreaming?
38. FAVORITE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT THE SINGLE LIFE: Being able to sleep, eat, and go to the bathroom whenever I want without worrying about someone else. Oh, yeah, and walking around naked (hey, I'm just joking!)
39. HOW DO YOU EAT AN OREO? I use my teeth to scrape off all the words (I like a flat cookie surface), then I dunk it in milk until it's so soggy it almost breaks off when you take it from the cup. It's a very delicate procedure--one false move or one second too long and you lose the hunk of cookie down into the cup.
40. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND TO THIS BLOG? Doesn't matter. It was mainly for self-entertainment since Spring Break is boring me.
Posted by Anna at 02:15 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
March 02, 2005
Glad It Wasn't Me...
There are times when you're so embarrassed you just want to crawl into a hole and die. Then there are times when you're just so relieved the embarrassing moment didn't happen to you.
Luckily, today was one of those days when it wasn't me. My boss plays squash. I don't know anything about it except that it involves a racquet. Anyway, he had been in and out of his office all day, so I never really know if he's around or not. I went downstairs to check the mail. When I came back up, his office door was closed. I knew he had an appointment to play squash with another professor at 3, and since it was just a few minutes before 3, I'd figured he'd already gone to play. So I went on with my work, typing and filing and emailing and copying and reading. THe janitor came in and emptied the trash in the front area, then emptied my trash. After our visit (I always like to visit with her), she went into another professor's office (we're in pods, so there are 2 front sections and then 2 offices) and emptied her trash. THen she pulled out her keys and let herself into my boss's office.
Apparently he wasn't gone. I heard an, "OH! OH, my! I'm so sorry!" and then she shut the door quickly. It seems she had walked in on my boss while he was changing into his sweatsuit for squash. But it gets worse--the janitor said he was not only in between outfits...but he WAS PUTTING ON HIS CUP!!! Basically, the janitor got a full view of my professor while he was putting on his male protective equipment. AAACCKKK!
It easily could've been me--I have keys to his office and I go in and out quite a bit because of how closely we have to work together.
But to make it even more enjoyable (and mortifying for the janitor!), my boss saw her in the hall when he really did leave for his squash game. He called out to her, "Hey, next time I'll hang a note on the door when I'm naked, OK?"
I learned an important lesson today: always knock. I'm sure the janitor will!!
This picture just made me think of it because someone added shorts to the pedestrian...
Posted by Anna at 09:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
February 20, 2005
Presentation Butterflies
People who know me well know that public speaking doesn't really bother me. I mean, I was a tour guide (and I've got some stories!) at Meramec Caverns one summer in high school, and I've given various speeches and presentations throughout the years. Up until this point, my most nerve-wracking presentation was to the board of directors at Crawford Electric so I could win their essay contest for a free trip to Washington, D.C. (which I did, by the way).
But now, I've got my first "professional" presentation to make. When the Nashville Area Association for the Education of Young Children (a branch of the NAEYC, which teachers recognize as a major organization) approached my professor about presenting at their February Training Day, Tisha decided to let her students present instead. She's still giving the keynote speech, but the breakout sessions are our responsibilites as students. Therefore, next Saturday, I am giving my first "real" presentation to a group of educators. You can see the page here. It was supposed to have our names on it (and I was a smidgen disappointed that it didn't), but it just has our presentation titles. I'm doing the one on anecdotal records. Anyway, the tummy butterflies are out already. It's not the speaking aspect I'm worried about...it's the possibility that something will go wrong: my PowerPoint presentation won't load or the overhead projector bulb blows or I'll lose my voice and not even be able to squeak or the group of teachers already know more about anecdotal records than me and I look like a fool. Plus, knowing that this presentation makes up 40% of my semester grade doesn't make me feel any better because I can't anticipate all the problems like I can in a term paper or something.
I keep telling myself that it'll all be OK, but I don't think the "butterflies of the unknown" will disappear until this time next week. I'll keep you posted.
Posted by Anna at 01:17 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
February 19, 2005
Spam and Eggs
I got my first spam comment today. *sigh*
And in a side note, I'm having a hankering for scrambled eggs. Must have an omelet NOW...
Posted by Anna at 08:34 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
February 18, 2005
Hiccups
OK, so I've had the hiccups for an estimated *hic* 39 minutes now. I've documented 33 of *hic* them based on my computer's clock, but the remaining 6 are an educated guess *hic*. I got the hiccups while I was looking for a parking *hic* spot anywhere near campus, and I know that it *hic* takes around 6 minutes to circle through all the close parking *hic* lots before I give up and drive to the "last resort" lot.
*hic* My hiccups have evolved from the minor internal bubble to the explosive and rather obtrusive *hic* eruptions that get looks from anyone near. I've already been *hic* laughed at by the special ed *hic* professors here in the office where I work because they've become so loud, *hic* and the hiccups don't seem to be lessening *hic*.
Sheesh. It could be a long day. *hic*
Posted by Anna at 11:06 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
February 07, 2005
Physical Therapy Follow-Up
Travis/Thomas/Timothy is no longer my student PT. There's a story there, but I only know what I overheard the real physical therapist saying on the phone while my neighbor and I were racing on exercise bikes. She complained because he just wasn't personable and that he didn't know what he was doing...and he complained because he felt Julie was working him too hard. Don't know where he is now, but he's not at the Vanderbilt Orthopedic, Joint, and Arthritis Center anymore. I guess that means he won't ask me out again.
Too bad. PTs usually make decent money...
Posted by Anna at 02:09 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 06, 2005
Blech
Ever have one of those days where you feel like this?
By the way, this is the cover of one of my picture books by Patricia McLaughlin, who later wrote "Sarah, Plain and Tall."
My throat is scratchy, my eyes are itchy, and I can only breathe through one nostril.
Too bad I still have about 300 pages to read for class tomorrow...
Posted by Anna at 11:16 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
January 25, 2005
Flop (not to be confused with my blogging friend Flip)
I tried something today that I haven't tried since I was 16: parallel parking.
It didn't work.
I was trying to find a parking spot anywhere close to the sports medicine clinic where I had the ankle stuff and the toe stuff examined. The only available spot was in a metered parallel spot. So I gave it a whirl.
I got the car in the spot without too much problem but there was a distance of about 3 feet between my car and the curb. Had it been likely that someone would've interpreted my parking as a job done by a little old lady, I would've left it and gone on inside. I think the Vanderbilt University rear-window decal would've given me away, though.
So I just circled around the parking lot 17 times (yes, I counted) until I saw someone leaving and then I snagged their spot.
At least I didn't have to feed quarters to a hungry machine just for the privilege of parking. Personally, I think it's a rip-off anyway because I already pay $200 a semester for campus parking privileges.
Oh, and the toe got a clean bill of health...well, as "clean" as an infected toe minus the nail can be. As for the ankle...physical therapy is still on the planner for awhile.
Posted by Anna at 06:07 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
Road Trip
I have a hard time with directions. Kindly put, I get lost easily. I sometimes get hopelessly turned around in grocery stores; shopping malls are nearly impossible. Therefore, I shouldve anticipated an adventure trying to find my way to the nearest UPS warehouse. And, as you would expect, it was definitely an experience.
I actually made it to the store without too much of a problem (thanks, Mapquest!). When I visited with the clerk, however, he informed me that my package would not be available for pickup until 9:30 (it was a little after 7:30 this morning). OK, I thought, Ill go get some breakfast, read the campus newspaper, and be back right at 9:30 to receive the materials I MUST have for my 1:00 class. And my plan workedpartially. I looked at my scribbled directions and knew that if I just did the opposite of the directions, I would end up back at my apartment and near the McDonalds where I anticipated getting my breakfast burrito. Unfortunately, I sometimes also have a problem negating things, and I ended up going the wrong way on a major road, blissfully unaware that I hadnt passed that way before.
As I drove by the headquarters for Captain Ds and Shoneys, my initial thought was, Hmmm. I dont remember seeing those before. Of course, I rationalized my surprise by reminding myself that I had been focused on a particular address when Id gone by before. I drove a little further and passed the Standard Candy Company, which created and produces the southern favorite, the GooGoo Cluster. Again, I told myself that I had just not noticed it before.
After several miles of unfamiliar terrain (and road signs and businesses), I saw the star shining in the sky, the beacon that would lead me home: the Waffle House. I knew that if I could see the Waffle House that was near my apartment, I could find my way home. So I drove toward the Waffle House, fully expecting to end up on road I recognized.
It was then that I realized that there are no fewer than 40,000 Waffle Houses in Nashville. I looked at a road sign and noticed I was on Wanda Street. Wanda Street? I had no idea where Wanda Street was. Even though my atlas and Nashville maps were under my passenger seat, I avoided looking at them; since I dont know how to read maps, I figured it would just confuse me more.
I kept on driving, turning randomly on streets that I felt would lead me to some place I recognized. One road led me down into an area with office buildingsand I recollected that my cousin worked somewhere in one of the complexes. Mind you, I had no idea how to get back to anywhere familiar from there, but at least I was in a vaguely familiar location. So I followed the road until it fed into a major road. I got my bearings again and realized where I was36.7 miles from my apartment on the only roads I knew (I certainly wasnt going to try side roads again). I drove the 36.7 miles back to my apartment and then the 6 miles back to the UPS store to retrieve my package. All totaled, the excursion that was only supposed to last about 20 minutes and add only 12 miles to my car ended up lasting over 3 hours and added an undetermined amount of miles driving aimlessly through Nashville industrial areas.
At least I got my UPS package.
Posted by Anna at 11:06 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
January 18, 2005
Going, Going, Gone
*Warning to Readers--This Entry is Kinda Gross*
I've had an infected toe for quite some time. The doctors have warned me several times that antibiotics weren't going to fix everything. So today they cut off my toenail. I'd post a before and after picture except the before picture is pretty nasty looking and the after picture doesn't look much better.
Did you know they inject anesthesia directly into the toe? I've never had five shots in my toe before. Not particularly comfortable. It was better than slamming it in a car door but not as pleasant(?!) as donating blood. I'm just trying to keep my readers informed in case you need to have it done.
The doctor told me to go barefoot or wear sandals until everything heals. Yeah, that's likely in freezing weather. Plus, who wears sandals in January??
Posted by Anna at 10:59 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
January 17, 2005
My P.T.'s Cruisin'
I hurt my ankle in May and it isnt getting any better very fast. A doctor at the Vanderbilt Student Health Center prescribed physical therapy (PT) twice a week. My physical therapist, Julie, is great. She is very kind, caring, and sympathetic. Shes just nice and I enjoy visiting with her. Julie has, however, a physical therapy student. Travis (or Timothy or Thomas or some sort of T name) is in his final semester and is doing his clinical experience, which I equate to student teaching. Travis/Timothy/Thomas is not very personable and not even all that knowledgeable, but he is assigned to work with me because Im a typical case.
While Thomas/Timothy/Travis was working on my ankle today, we small-talked a bit. He discovered that I was the same age as he is. He then found out that Im a Vanderbilt student and he told me all about the University of Mississippi where he went to school. He found out that I lived in Nashville (imagine thatI certainly wouldnt be driving to Nashville if I lived in Chattanooga or someplace) and revealed that he, too, lived in Nashville. Then he popped the question: would I like to go out to dinner with him sometime?
Julie, my lovely middle-aged PT, must have radar ears. She bustled over quickly from across the busy room and reprimanded him for making a pass at a patient. He put his head down, apologized, and shuffled off to work on a man with an injured neck. Julie mothered me for a bit and told me that she wouldnt let Timothy/Travis/Thomas work on me again if it made me feel uncomfortable.
Even though Im not interested at all in the guy, it was nice for him to ask. I just feel so guilty because he got in trouble. Poor guy. I just hope its not awkward when I go in again on Wednesday. Maybe he'll be busy with someone else...
Posted by Anna at 08:14 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
January 12, 2005
Rubbed the Wrong Way
This wasn't the entry I intended to be the first "bloggy" kind of post, but something happened to me at the gas station that just needed to be shared:
I visited a local gas station before class today. After filling my tank and paying for my purchase, I got out my antibacterial hand sanitizer (you never know where the previous gas-pumper's hand has been!). I squirted the gel onto my hand...and then realized that, as it inevitably does, the sanitizer had squirted other places. One of those places just happened to be...my left boob. I wasn't sure if the sanitizer would stain (I didn't think it would, but it was also the purple variety so I wasn't sure), so I knew I had to get it off my shirt immediately. I quickly reached down and wiped the glob of goo off my shirt. Much to my chagrin, though, I discovered a wet, discolored patch where the gel had been. I glanced around and saw nobody else pumping gas, so I decided it was safe to do the only method I thought would work: rapid rubbing of the spot. I commenced rubbing frantically, hoping I could dry the goo up before I ended up with a purple blotch on my boob.
I continued rubbing as fast as I could; much to my delight, I saw that my rubbing was working. So I kept rubbing and rubbing my boob. I was rubbing so fast and so hard I could feel the heat forming from the friction. I finished the job (one could barely tell where the incident had occured unless looking specifically at that particular area) and smiled with a sense of satisfaction and relief.
Then I looked up. Remember how I thought the scene was clear before I started fondling my boob and going to "second base" with myself? Well, I was correct when I determined that there were no other customers at the gas station. I didn't, however, consider the people waiting about 10 feet away for the metro bus. My heart sank when I saw a clump of about ten people staring, wide-eyed, at me. Not even a grin or a confused look--only those deer-in-the-headlights stares. They must have thought I was a pervert or an exhibitionist or something!
I shall not be patronizing that particular gas station again. I'm afraid the bystanders took down my license number so they could get another free show the next time I'm there and they're waiting for the bus!
Posted by Anna at 08:37 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack