Doomsday 2012

Well, I hear tomorrow is it.  We're all doomed.  The planets will align, and life will cease to exist on this earth.

And I know for a fact that this is true.  Want to know how I know this?  Allow me to take a few seconds of your precious time (we have a very limited amount left) to explain why tomorrow will be the end of the world as we know it.

Today, I had an appointment with my optometrist.  My vision has been incredibly blurry, especially at night.  So blurry that I cannot read license plates, speed limit signs, or road signs.  I decided I needed to do something about this, so I made an appointment and off I go.

When I go, the nice lady doctor examines my eyes, proceeds with some spiel about how my prescription hasn't actually changed, and then asks if I look at a computer or a book all day long for my job.

Why no, I do not.

I do not have a job.

But if you are asking if I ever look at a computer to study, that would be a positive.  And when I'm not looking at a computer, I'm reading.  And when I'm not reading, I'm sleeping.

Unless I'm on break.  I haven't looked at a computer much on break.  Checked my grades and email a couple of times, but that's about it.  Instead, I have been reading books for FUN.  What a novel word.

Anyway, as I was saying, the pretty doctor lady tells me something about how my eyes are spasming, blah blah blah (at this point, I'm thinking, "Yeah, I can just put down the computer and slowly walk away...  Not. I have to study, here, lady.).  Then, she says, "I don't think we need to change your prescription.  I think you need reading glasses."

...

Come again?

...

Reading glasses?!?!?

...

Probably the look I gave her

Yes, folks.  That's right.  READING GLASSES.  I am officially 90, and it's my time to go.  The world will end tomorrow.

That's not even all, though.

I went to my mom's work (I had to drop off a Christmas present for little miss Sophia that I had picked up in Knoxville).

Cutest thing EVER

When I stopped by, I told her the news...  I had to get reading glasses before she did.  Pitiful.

So then my oh-so-sweet-and-supportive mom (she really is) asks me if I'll need a chain to hook to my reading glasses so they can hang around my neck and I won't lose them.

My role model right now

All I need is to cut my hair off and drape a sweater across my shoulders.  Perfect.

Then my husband calls when he gets off works.  I tell him the news.  He asks if I want him to bring home some prunes and warm milk.

So tomorrow, when the world ends, don't say I didn't warn you.  Wisdom comes with age, and since I'm about a hundred, I would know.

(Another) Man-Eating Tarantula

What is it with me and spiders????

So I have a test on Monday, and I'm at my house studying fervently attempting to study being scared because I'm by myself (what a big baby) studying fervently (no, seriously!).

My eyes are heavy, and I'm pretty tired.  I notice something moving across the floor (or so I think--John has been watching a lot of scary movies lately, which leads to me seeing lots of things moving, especially when I'm home alone and it's dark outside).

The next song comes on my computer...  What is Love by Haddaway...  I decide that I must be seeing ghosts.  So I continue to study.

Until something moves again.

What is love?  Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more...

So I get brave and decide to move my computer to really get a look at what is moving across the way (surely I'm not hallucinating, right??).

Holy canoli batman.

Now let me tell you that this picture is deceptive.

No, no, it was truly as big as you think it is.

But I was not that close.  I only attempted to take a picture in case it killed me in the war of Jade vs. Giant Man-Eating Tarantula Part II.  But I zoomed all the way in on my phone.

I figured if I was dead when John got home, someone would think to check my phone, right?

Anyway, nobody else is home, so I make a decision.

I must go to war.  At this point, it's me or the spider.  One of us has got to go (and right now, it's about a 50-50 shot).  I can't risk the spider running away or hiding before John gets home, so I step up to the plate.

Batter up.

Now let me stop and allow you to ponder what's the worst that could happen.

I'll answer by saying that I'm still alive, so it wasn't that.

So now think about what's the next worst thing that can happen?

Cause it did.

My heart is racing, my blood pressure (I almost abbreviated it BP, but then I realized that non-masochistic normal people (read: non-med school students) may be reading this and perhaps I should keep the acronyms down to a minimum) is through the roof, my mouth is dry, and I've broken out in a disgusting sweat at this point.

Here it goes.  All or nothing.  Do it or DIE!

I swing my shoe with a force that you wouldn't believe.  I was Babe Ruth at my last at-bat.

WHAMMO!

Now scroll back up and look at that picture.

Don't worry, I'll wait.

Did you see what the spider is next to?  Yes, that would be a vent.

Once the dust settles and the damage is done, I lift up my shoe (yes, I dropped it like a little scaredy cat) to check the bottom for dead spider guts.  None there.

Yes, my friends, the spider has escaped down the vent.  I can only hope that I did enough damage to fatally wound it and it never, ever, ever getting back together (WHAT??) comes out of the vent.

As for me, you can reach me at my mom and dad's for now.

The Man-Eating Tarantula

So the other day, I got pulled over.

Yes, by the cops.  The po-po's.  The po-lice man.

Pulled over.

When I saw the blue lights, I checked my speed.  Nope, not speeding.  Much, anyway.  I was doing a steady 50 in a 45.  Okay...

So maybe it was my windows.  I mean, I've been pulled over for them before (never in Tennessee, always in Virginia, but I digress...).  They are a wee bit too dark, but is that really something to be concerned about??

Anywho, being the good, law-abiding citizen I am (can I say that right now when I clearly just admitted to breaking two laws?), I pulled over, rolled down my window, and got out my license and proof of insurance (both sit side by side in my wallet).  The nice police officer (he actually was super nice) comes up to my window and asks for my license.  I hand it over.  He starts to walk back to his cruiser, but then he stops.
 
He kinda looks at me funny.  He looks down at my license.  My hands are shaking, and I have profuse diaphoresis (for the world outside of med school, that means I'm sweatin' like a ho in church...  I won't get started on the topic of med school language...).  I'm going to jail, folks.  That's it.  I'm going to jail.  Probably because my license picture is hideous.  Or maybe because I didn't wash my hair that morning.  Whatever it is, I'm going to jail (anyone else have this intense fear of cops??).

He steps back up to my window and asks if I know why I got pulled over.

Okay, does anyone ever say they know why?  I could have been going 30 miles over the speed limit and I would have looked at him and said, "No, sir."

Now the first thing you need to understand is that I hate creepy crawlies.  The more legs something has, the more I hate it.

Snakes = no legs = not too scared.  I can coexist with snakes.  Live in harmony.  They really don't bother me.

Humans = two legs = a little scared.  I can coexist with most humans.  Tolerance, people.

Gators = four legs = a bit scared.  I wouldn't like it if there was a gator crawling through my living room right now.

Ladybugs/flies/termites = six legs.  Hate 'em.  They are gross, and I wouldn't mind if I never saw another.

Spiders = eight legs.  Enough to make me lose control of my sphincters.

Centipedes = 100 legs.  I will stroke out.

So now that you've got that down, just imagine...

I'm driving to school on a beautiful Saturday morning.  The sun is shining, there isn't a cloud in site, but I am tired.  Dog tired.  I have an exam in two days, and my stress levels are higher than the US debt.

I see something moving down toward my right leg.  I look down.  It is a SPIDER hanging off my windshield wiper bar.  It is small and colorless a gigantic man-eating tarantula.  To think I could have missed it crawling all around me on the whole way to school, well...

I freak out.  Panic.  Hyperventilate.  Almost black out.  How am I going to get out of my car when it's traveling 50 mph down the road and my seat belt is buckled and this is a disaster.  Chernobyl-sized.

So I use my doctor skills and think fast (okay, maybe not doctor skills, but I'd like to think this was some good thinking on my part).  I grab my phone from the cup holder and hold it under the spider.  At this point, the spider is mere inches away from my skin.  I'm literally about to pass out.

I finally get it to land on my phone, and then I take my phone, turn it over, and start beating it against the dash.  I mean I'm hitting my phone so hard against my dash that I don't know how I didn't crack my phone or the dash.

At the end of it all, the spider was successfully killed.  And I was probably mere inches from my death if the spider touched me.

Anywho, back to the cop.  He proceeds to tell me I was swerving.  Swerving.  Yes, swerving.

I opened my mouth to tell him what happened, but he says, "I don't really know what's going on--maybe you're just tired?"  I take the beautiful, heaven-sent escape route and say, "Yeah, I'm just soooo tired.  (Fake yawn...  No, really, I fake yawned.  What can I say?  I didn't major in theater.)  I just have a test on Monday (not a lie), and school is so crazy, and I'm just exhausted."

He proceeds to give me a look like, "You poor little dumb girl, you probably have to study for your remedial math 90 class that you've taken 100 times."  I take it, trying my hardest to look dumb, dumb, dumb.  He hands me back my license, gives me a speech about how I need to get a good night's sleep before I drive because it can be dangerous, and tells me to be careful on the way to school.

Yeah, as long as terrorists don't put any more gargantuan spiders in my car, we'll be cool.

My Snuggly Snuggies

Well, this is the longest I've ever gone without writing a post (I think--I'm not going to go back and make sure because I'm way to lazy for that).

I've been so busy with school.  Let me tell you, med school is no joke.  Which leads me to my reason for writing this particular post...

I have come to the conclusion that I am obsessed.

OBSESSED!!

I love them.  I think they're gorgeous.  I want to live in them (I practically did all last week while studying).

It is my opinion that they are best invention of my lifetime (and yes, that includes all the technology/new medicines/new innovations in communications/whatever else you happen to think is more impressive).

An exact replica of my Cheetah-print Snuggie

Let me tell you how I came about owning one of these marvelous inventions.

It was about this time last year, and my Aunt Patsy asked me if I would like to yard sale with her.  I said yeah (I mean, who doesn't have junk that they need to sell...  One man's junk is another man's treasure and all that good stuff).  So here we went to the bank to sell our crap really awesome, really good, practically new stuff.

Now, let me go ahead and put this out there...  The reason I should never go yard sale beside someone else is because I suddenly become interested in all their junk awesome stuff.  So as I was digging through her stuff, I found this...  This...  This AMAZING THING!

Yes, my friends.  It was the Snuggie.  Now, I had seen the commercials.  I had made fun of them.  I secretly wanted one.  But I decided to give it a try.

I took it home, slipped the glorious sleeves right over my arms, sat down on my recliner, kicked out my legs, and folks...  It was finished.

Since then, I requested one for Christmas.

I'm seriously in love with these things.  I'm thinking about starting my own personal collection.  Is that appropriate?

For example, I was thinking about how much I love football.  Would it be appropriate for me to wear a Snuggie to a game?  I mean, they're like blankets except way more practical (and awesome).  So it's really like I would just be taking a blanket to keep me warm...  Is that acceptable?

Or would you all make fun of me like I used to make fun of the commercials?

Anyway, I really recommend that everyone try one of these.  And if you don't like it, I think you are dumb.  And if you ever run across one at a yard sale...  Go ahead and pick it up.  Promise I'll buy it.

The Break Up

I hate to disappoint everyone, but this post has been a long time coming...

We have officially split.  Broken up.  Dunzo.  Kaput.

That's right, folks, you heard it here.  We are over.  I have ended my relationship with pizza.  And ice cream.  I'm done with both of those jerks, and I hope I don't ever see them ever again.

Let me tell you what happened...

Approximately two years ago (around July 13), I got married to this wonderful man named John.  I had been working out, watching what I ate, etc., etc., so on and so forth.

Then we went on an all-inclusive, amazing, beautiful, super-duper honeymoon to Sandals.  And yes, it was that beautiful.


So on said honeymoon, I ate.  And ate.  And ate and ate and ate.  I ate a lot.


So we get back home, and I continue to eat.  And eat and eat and eat.  I love pizza.  And ice cream.  So I ate a LOT of pizza and ice cream.

Not an actual picture of me, but close enough...

And then, it happened...  One of them got me pregnant.  Not pregnant with a human baby, mind you.  Pregnant with a food baby.  I really don't know how it happened.  John says I need to go on Maury.  But all of a sudden, I had put on a lot of weight, and my pants didn't fit.


So last night after I finished off my carton of Moose Tracks only to be followed by dinner of cheesy bread from Dominos, I decided to call it quits with both of them.


Even though I'm not sure who the father of this food baby is, I know one thing: I'm done with them both!


So from now on, if you see me out with pizza or ice cream, come smack me!  Don't let me cheat on my one true love (the clothes in my closet that are going to fit again) with either of those fools.


Thanks in advance for all your understanding and support.  This break up will be hard, but I know I can do it!!!