Wednesday, June 04, 2008

And this, dear readers, is what we call...

My 400th post here in the B-World Blog. Holy crap.

It's taken me almost four years to get here. That's four hurricanes, four digital cameras, three jobs, three Gator National Championship titles, countless threats of bitchslapping, $240 worth of pudding, one amazing fiance, and one timeless joke about the Greek Army, to get to right here, right now. Yikes.

The irony of me going through yet another one of my fabulous writer's-block-it's-just-a-dry-spell-no-inspiration-to-be-had-bullshit episodes is not lost on me, friends.

I try to think about why I've been so neglectful of writing here. Someone told me once that sometimes you stop writing in your blog or your journal because things are going so well that you don't have anything to write about. I don't know if I agree with that. Sure, I've been known to fire off a missive when I'm feeling particularly riled about something, or when I feel the intense need to over-share. Sometimes, absolutely small, crazy, and wonderful things happen, and I want to write about those, too.

But I don't.

Then I peek at all those wonderful blog writers who have allowed me to come into their world for a few brief moments every so often, whose voices I can hear in my head when I see their written words, and I'm so inspired!

Then I don't do shit.

On the plus side, things are going pretty well.

Work has been very calm the past couple of months, since the ouster of our biggest "issue" here. Wedding plans are chugging along, and I am just pretty much telling my mom to get all crazygonuts if she wants, but I am still keeping final word on certain things. The stress is just not worth it, and heck, I think it gives her joy to be doing this.

Maybe it's true: I can't write because there's nothing for me to bitch about.

Or I just haven't figured out how to highlight the good stuff, to write about it in a way that truly conveys what's going on, and have it make sense.

Any suggestions on how to do that?


Thursday, March 20, 2008

Waylaid by bronchitis... Again.

We're rounding out Week Two of this season's epic battle with bronchitis (I actually went home early yesterday and proceeded to spend much of last night coughing, which resulted in my waking up this morning with my well-hidden abdominal muscles afire). I elected to stay home today, where much of my schedule was as follows:

1.) Take medicine.
2.) Sleep.
3.) Become conscious enough to realize I cannot breathe out of one side of my head.
4.) In state of half-consciousness, turn over.
5.) Sleep.
6.) Get awakened by my mother with things she's "heard" from other people, or ideas she's gotten from extensive internal reviews of previous weddings she's attended.
7.) In state of half-consciousness, agree with whatever she says (upon further review, this may come back to bite me huge).
8.) Bolt upright in bed and proceed to actually listen to whatever she's saying.
9.) Fall asleep sitting upright, because, surprisingly enough, this is the only way I can guarantee breathing from both sides of my face.

And so on.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go repeat steps 1-5 now.


Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Because Orson said so...

Found a gem at Every Day Should Be Saturday. I can't really align myself with the Stuff White People Like (although I totally dig on shorts, dogs, Arrested Development, having black friends, t-shirts, and grad school, and I'm quite certain I'll love Juno... maybe it can be "Stuff White People Like, and Brown People Have Been Known to Like Some of This Stuff, Too"?), so this is as close as I'm going to get.

I must give a grateful nod to lengli for first pointing out SWPL to me in her Facebook links, and to Orson for being one literary, talented lawya!

By the way, on SWPL: lol at #11!


Thursday, March 06, 2008

The ongoing battle between Calgon and Chuck E.

I have the feeling that I may have to escape the office during lunch.

I have been fighting a sore throat and general malaise since yesterday. This morning, I woke up with a cough that leaves my throat feeling raw, along with the unmovable urge to stay in bed. I went to work anyway, where I was greeted with at least six e-mails all asking for the impossible, along with the distinct stench of coffee burnt to tar at the bottom of a coffee pot.

After tending to the coffee pot (by turning off the burner) and the e-mails (half I replied to, the other half I flipped the bird at), I made every attempt to let my dear co-workers know that I would rather not try to speak today, despite the fact that I sound just like Selma Diamond. Most were sympathetic; the small gaggle of idiots that constantly raise my ire proceeded to ignore my ill health and send calls and patients back to my office, left and right.

Excuse me? Let's send oncology and hematology patients, who are more than likely either already sick or highly susceptible to illness, to the sick-ass person suffering in the small, enclosed office in the back!

More patients coming in right now. Goodness. On goes my SARS mask.


Friday, February 29, 2008

Arts and farts and crafts.

Sorry, but since they've been talking about it on Armsweat's little slice of blog heaven, I can't get it out of my head. That shit is good.

Takin' it higher and higher!

That's all I really wanted to do: post an image of Christopher Meloni pelvic-thrusting his way through a montage of nothing but comedic gold. The man is an inspiration.


Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Either I have too much time on my hands...

Or I'm trying to avoid work/wedding planning/everything else. Yes, probably that.

I just signed up for that Grand Central business you see in the form of the "Call Me!" button to your right. Apparently, you plug in your phone number, and the system calls you and connects you to my assigned phone number or voice mail. And it's all free. I have yet to get a phone call in this manner; probably because I'm not quite sure whether or not I want to give out the number. But I guess that's part of the charm, since I'm not actually giving out my cell number or anything, just a number I've been assigned.

I think I was just really missing the old audio blog capability and felt like maybe, just maybe, someone will get soused enough to leave me drunken voice mails to post on the blog to be reviewed in later moments of clarity. Drunk dialing a blog? Oh, hell yes. It's starting to feel like college all over again (except without all the vomiting and early morning shame)!

And I see your mouse pointer hovering over the button contemplatively. Give in and call it, already! At the very least, we'll know how the hell this works, and your dulcet tones may be broadcast far and wide! Why am I yelling?


Friday, February 22, 2008

Another gem from my mother.

Despite the fact that in the past six days, any and all talk of wedding planning has made me want to commit "quality matricide," as Buffy would put it, I have to share just a small thing before I retire for the evening.

Moments ago, I asked my mom what the heck she was still doing up at this hour. She then dutifully informed me that she was watching America's Best Dance Crew. An entire episode. And she had opinions on each crew competing!

"I don't understand why they call them 'dance crews,'" she said. "It's more like calisthenics!"

Oh, the whole thing was too cute; I just had to enjoy.

So kudos to Perla for her cultural immersion! Too bad she'll probably start talking politics to piss me off next.


Tuesday, February 19, 2008


Okay, because I promised, here are a few pictures. I only mananged to salvage a couple from Perla's stellar photo shoot (see entry about my mom vs. electronics), especially because she kept insisting that instead of looking into the camera, we should "Look at the ring! Look at the ring!"

I refuse to call my ring anything even remotely sounding like "My Precious." And yes, I do realize that my intended proposed to me wearing what we call his "Mr. Happy Ass" t-shirt. This may give you a tiny bit of insight as to why I said "Yes!" before he finished asking the question.

Okay, Ma? Knock that "Look at the ring!" shit off already!

And here's the ring close-up. Oh, if I only knew how to really use my camera...

Great. Now everyone's seen my "Rubble Hands," which are similar to what Stumpster calls my "Flintstone Feet."

Here comes a doctor... Back later.


Friday, February 15, 2008

I still feel like I'm going to barf a little.

Okay, long story short, because I'm exhausted from this day. And I promise I will elaborate and include photos (assuming I can get the auto-focus on the camera right), but I just had to share this with you, dear friends.

Ben asked me to marry him this evening, and I said yes!

Now, I am going to try to sleep. Very little of that happening lately. Wonder why that is?


Tuesday, February 12, 2008

And now, to celebrate my conceding to Facebook...

And in honor of one particular Tacky Blog Lady from the Tri-State Area, I present to you... Mr. Vartan:

Please, Hammer, don't hurt 'em.

Carry on, dears. Carry on.