I'd rather go to the dentist than go on a date

I'd rather go sit in an uncomfortable chair for 25 minutes with a man's hand in my mouth, following commands (rinse, spit, open wider) than spend 2 hours getting ready for a first date, then an hour or so trying to come up with appropriate "things to reveal" to someone I just met. At least with the dentist all I gotta do is lay back and listen to commands. Also, I'm usually not thinking two days later about the dental appointment other than perhaps paying the bill. I'm not thinking "well, Dr. so and so seemed to be all into me, but is he really?" If the dentist is thinking about me two days later, then it's only because I'm the punch line of a story about "oh my god this one chick came in and I swear she had a whole cob of corn embedded in her teeth."

Sigh. I hate dating.

God or Papa Smurf or whoever is in charge out there needs to just get on with it already and just point an arrow at the "right" dude and save me the time looking for the right shirt to wear. I'm just saying....

Sanguine Musings: What it’s Like to Live with a Writer: Significant ...

Sanguine Musings: What it’s Like to Live with a Writer: Significant ...: "** My entry for the Tessa’s Birthday Bash Blogfest is here. **   Today is the Significant Other Blogfest, hosted by DL at Cruising Alti..."

How to Become an Interesting Person in ten easy steps

It's easy to be a follower, not so easy to be a ‘followee’. I think this is because, quite frankly, you have to be interesting to be followed or even thought about by more than one person at any given moment. So I have decided to try, perhaps in vain, to come up with ten easy steps to become interesting enough to be thought about outside of the work environment or family circle (I note those two because both groups either have to care about your existence because they have to see you 8 hours a day or because they are counting on your spare kidney---just in case).

Some may argue that the two concepts are mutually exclusive: you don't have to be 'followed' to be interesting, nor does everyone who is followed actually have to be of interest (yeah I know, a mind bender). However, we live in a society where most of the time some kind of empirical measurement is the true test of value. So regardless of how interesting you think you are, the only way to measure it is if more than a handful of people corroborate your self assessment.

Now don't get all excited...there's no way in Hades I'm cool enough to come up with all ten steps right now. I'm just going to give you one at a time and see where it goes from there.

1. The easy one: get a twitter account. I got one because I wanted to advertise this blog but some friends of mine actually informed me that that's not what it is for. People on Twitter really care about my teeth brushing habits and what I'm thinking about at any given moment. This is the first step in the BIP process. Of course, it is not the ONLY step because lots of people have Twitter accounts. This is the first step in the process because it’s a good way to step into the kiddie pool of the public limelight. You can get used to someone caring about your existence by them simply retweeting your retweet about a recipe for chicken wing sauce. It’s all about baby steps.

So get out there. Get a twitter account and then check back soon for the next step. I'm not quite sure what it is, but I assure you, it will be interesting.
(Oh, and follow my blog...it's not required as one of the ten steps, but it's just good juju.)

Two times a charm?

The last post I put up was based upon a suggestion that included a reference to the Sound of Music. I'm stuck again. Usually my postings come from unusual experiences (i.e., weird dreams, foot in my mouth experience, run in with a really dopey Xray tech) or from a minor suggestion from a friend or acquaintance. So here I am again: void of any cool 'happening' happening lately. So ....suggest away! Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Raindrops on Roses

"When the dog bites. When the bee stings...when I'm feeling sad..."
You just have to love the Sound of Music. What other musical in the world can make life before and during World War II seem magical and light hearted? One of the hallmark songs from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical is "My Favorite Things." Ironically, years before I even saw the movie version, this song was one of my favorite songs to sing.
"I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so sad.."
I can't help thinking about how much the list of things has changed over the years...although cheese is still near the top of my list but alas, it's just not musical:

"Brie on biscuits and Gouda on apples..."

When I was five, I was partial to Winnie the Pooh and cough drops (I was a sick kid). When I was 15, it was New Kids on the Block (sigh, wish I could say it wasn't so) and Slim Fast.
Again, just not musical:

"Winnie in a bee hive and Ricola on crackers...New Kids on vinyl and Slim Fast in a shaker..."

I can't help but notice my favorites were based on the situation I found myself in at the time: Ricola because I was the kid in school who was the impetus for every viral outbreak that plagued the playground; Slim Fast because I thought all tall chicks had to weigh 120 pounds (but really, it was quite tasty and beat the alternative of dry toast and pickles).

Nowadays I find that I have a tiny drugstore of vitamin supplements and body sprays in my bathroom. The situation I'm in now is that I need to stay in shape and workout because I'm in the military reserves and well, they have "standards." Supplements because they have magical powers of weight loss and body sprays for post exercise (I found a new scent: chocolate cinnamon spray: HEAVEN).

So I guess where I'm going with all of this rambling is this: the things in life we like the most are sometimes dictated by the circumstances in which we find ourselves. That's not to say that if I find myself, oh I don't know, in a ditch because I fell while on a jog, I'm going to all of the sudden have a fascination with mud and roll around like a pig...that's way too simplistic (although it sort of sounds like fun). It does kind of bring the whole "which came first/chicken or the egg/cart before the horse" thought process into question, however.

What if you never had roses in your garden? Would you give a rats behind about whiskers on kittens if you never had a cat?

You see, I was given the idea to write about my favorite things and I had to turn it all around and start thinking about "why" I like certain things. I couldn't leave well enough alone and just be comforted with the notion that I love to eat cheese and I like smelling like a red hot dipped in chocolate. Of course, if the order was reversed, this post would take on a whole other meaning.

New Years Eve makes me want to find a way back machine

Childhood is the world of miracle or of magic: it is as if creation rose luminously out of the night, all new and fresh and astonishing. Childhood is over the moment things are no longer astonishing. When the world gives you a feeling of "déjà vu," when you are used to existence, you become an adult.
EUGENE IONESCO,

Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY,

There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.
GRAHAM GREENE,

Childhood, n. The period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth -- two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age.
AMBROSE BIERCE, The Devil's Dictionary

Childhood has no necessary connection with age.
AUSTIN O'MALLEY


The happy childhood is hardly worth your while.
FRANK MCCOURT, Angela's Ashes


[Growing up] is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD, The Crack-Up

Childhood is that wonderful time of life when all you need to do to lose weight is take a bath.
GRENVILLE KLEISER, Dictionary of Proverbs

Morning

I have a "carpe diem" mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet. ~Joanne Sherman

'Moist' people say strange things

This morning I went to GNC to buy vitamin/exercise supplements and protein snacks. I really like these protein snacks called Ostrim (accidental plug), made from ostrich meat. When I rowed in college I lived on the yummy, low-fat ostrich meat jerky and meat sticks. These days I can never find them so when I do happen upon them, I stock up.

Today I lucked out and came across 3 or 4 boxes of them, both sticks (sorta like Slim Jims but not as greasy) and jerky. The guy manning the store, Zack, showed me where they were after selling me on the idea of "stocking up" on the other supplements I was there to buy since there was a sweet sale going on. I'm a sucker for a buy one get one half off deal...this guy was really making the sale with me today.

I'm not sure the dude's name was Zack, but for whatever reason that's the name my fingers named him while texting this post to my email address.

After finally saying no to a box of acai berry chews Zack was trying to 'push' (honestly, I don't think that the hard to pronounce berry really is all THAT), I brought the supplements and the Ostrim to the counter. Zack, an average looking, friendly and sorta stocky but seemingly sweet fella, went around to the cash register. He noticed that I got the sticks and not the jerky and said "yeah I prefer the jerky. The sticks are too moist for me sometimes."

"I like it moist," I said.

Silence.

As if on cue from some omniscient director standing in the shadows, we both looked down at the counter at the exact same time.

I really don't remember much of anything after laser beaming the counter with my eyes. Somehow, I got my receipt and walked out the door but all I can recall really is sitting in my car thinking to myself, "did I just say, 'I like it moist?' "

Remove your bra at the door, please

Several weeks ago I went to get an MRI for my left knee. I'd been trying to "run" through the pain, like a good Amazon should...but after a particularly hard run one day I gave in and went to my doctor who subsequently ordered an MRI.

Oddly enough, it was an evening MRI and it seemed that when I rolled into the waiting room at 8:30 pm, I was the last rocket ship ride for the day.

I've had one of these before so I knew what to expect...remove all metals, don't move, and don’t breathe if you can help it. I filled out the paper work etc and after waiting about 10 minutes this little dude comes in the room to take me back--a short 'wittle' guy who looked either tired or just "not ...all... there." He goes through the "put this robe on, lock your valuables in here, and follow me to the magnetic room yadda yadda spiel." Yet, he never said, "got any metal in ya'? On ya?"

Last time I had an MRI I was told to remove my bra, regardless of the fact it was an MRI for my ankle. I have no problem with this, so much so that this time I took it off anyway, for good measure, even though he never mentioned it. I also recall being asked a few years ago the "got metal?" question repeatedly and annoyingly to the effect that I wanted to ask, "do YOU have any metal? Nose ring? Fun ring? Are you wearing a bra?"

After I walk across the hall to the magic room, it isn't too long before DD (Dopey Dude) has me positioned on the table where he immediately clamped my left knee with the brace to hold it in place. All the while I was still thinking ,"wow, the last time in Florida they really asked more questions like, "are you sure you don't have any metal on you? In you?" "Is this the correct leg?" "Shrapnel from combat?" etc...He did none of these things. Even then I didn't say anything because I knew this and it was the correct knee so I just let it go.

After I'm all clamped in and even have the nifty goggles on to watch TV, DD was about to walk to the magic booth, he stops, as if just remembering he left the stove on eight hours ago, and says, "Oh... which knee is hurting you?"

Oh yeah.

He then enters the booth and turns the machine on and I glide on the table into the groove tunnel. Although the noise was too loud to hear the TV I somehow was able to fall asleep.

Thirty five minutes later, it's over and I glide back out; DD comes in and without skipping a beat he asks, "You didn't have any metal on right?"

"Is there a problem?" I ask.

"No, I was just checking," he casually says, but I can tell he had an 'oops, I forgot to ask' moment and was trying to make up for it in the end, as if asking after the fact canceled out the stupidity. It didn't.

Oh yeah. This is the dude who was the star of the Safety and Radiology Training video of what not to do. Apparently, that night was a follow up shoot and they forgot to ask me to sign an acting release.

I relayed my story to my doctor a week later. Her eyes got really big and she was quite appalled. I'm sure she reported it. I'm sure he was reprimanded. I'm sure the next time I walk into that magic room I will be wearing nothing but ear plugs and a checklist tattoo that reads: “Which knee is it? Got metal?”

Mama found a new bag

I'm hooked to this blog called 2birds1blog.
I read a few posts this morning and was "semi" into it...but after reading this particular post about awkwardness, I'm totally hooked. I drank their KoolAid.

Dorothy Parker - Women: A Hate Song

Here Comes Shaka Claus

It's strange not to at least go through one to four "freezes" during the Holiday season.

Even stranger to see Santa's tanned legs.

Granted Florida, where I lived most of my life, isn't the snow capital of the world...but we could at least count on an orange or two becoming collateral damage from a cold blast every now and then.

Hello Kitty

I wonder if my dog is starting to hate me. I've been calling her kitten when I come into the house from work, running, etc....saying, "Hello Kitten!"....I swear this morning when I came in from working out she gave me a dirty look. Apparently, Audrey doesn't like my wit.

I absolutely love David Sedaris

I want to be David Sedaris when I grow up. This is a video of him speaking at a college graduation. I believe it should be a running theme to have American humorists speak at college graduations instead of politicians and the like. It is better to hear the "truth" about what the last four years has really gotten you.

Kindle Wireless Reading Device, Wi-Fi, Graphite, 6" Display with New E Ink Pearl Technology