Hot Diggity Dog

Why keep talk of bodily functions outside the classroom? Some awesome quotes from my professors:

Explaining why her voice is scratchy: "I'm on meds and everything. It's like 'where is the snot coming from?'" Dr. G1

While explaining the phrase structure trees of children whose language skills are developing: "If you show them one of these trees they'll throw up on it." - Dr. C

Upon getting flustered when the class covered a topic she didn't intend to discuss: "You're getting this in a big doodoo because this is not where I want to go." - Dr. G2

Meeeeeep

My friend got married this Sunday and it was absolutely beautiful. It was such a joy to watch her get ready for the day -- she was literally glowing! But while I got my hair done as she herself was pampered, I developed the feeling of having to poo. So I excused myself from the crowd of family, bridesmaids, hairdressers and makeup artists and went to the bathroom. Where I [naturally] clogged the toilet. I had to flush five times before it went down...and I was so embarrassed in front of the hordes of people waiting on the other side of the door.

There was actually a phone next to the toilet though. If all had continued to go wrong, maybe I could have called the front desk...

Mess and a Half (Jess and a Half?)

Last night, a bunch of my SLP classmates had a get-together. Stupidly I decided to walk to my classmate's house in the sweltering heat (I was carrying one bottle of liquor and 3 liters of soda for 20 of the 60+ minutes)so that I was completely sweaty when I got there. Then, I proceeded to drink. Whether or not I drank too much or I just drank my liquor in the incorrect chronological time frame with regard to the beer I also consumed, but my poor little stomach woke me up in the middle of the night with the uncomfortable desire to purge its contents. So yea. I puked. Twice. (I could still make out some of the Goldfish crackers I had before bed. Awesome). Then in the morning, my butt wanted to jump on the purging bandwagon. So I pooped. And clogged the toilet (did I ever write about my Thanksgiving toilet clogging adventure? Ah, another time). On my second try the toilet finally flushed, but not without protest. The water came up and out of the bowl, spilling all over the floor before finally making it's way down the drain. At least that problem was solved. But squatted on the floor with toilet paper to sop up the mess, I split the seem in my pants straight down my butt. So now my neon blue underwear was hanging out. I'm pretty sure my roommate's boyfriend caught this all going on. But I pretended like everything was normal :P In my life, it kind of is normal anyway.

Surfing the crimson wave

I left my birth control at home when I moved to Indiana. Not really a huge problem, since I'm not planning on putting myself in a situation where pregnancy is an option, but I haven't been off of it in 3 years. I have no idea what it will do to me! I originally began my prescription to clear up my skin and regulate my menstrual cycle so now I'm afraid being off of my meds will do just the opposite! I've had so many dreams that I've grown a giant pimple on the first day of school or gotten my period unexpectedly and in the middle of a crowded place. I've also been sure, on numerous occasions in my waking life, that my period was on display for all to see.

So far none of this has become reality but I've still got a month before I'd expect it to return. I'm almost positive my dreams will play out in some comical (and horribly embarrassing) fashion before September is through.

I will keep you posted!

Gleaming Flaxen Waxen

A few weeks ago, I endured my first Brazilian wax. It didn't actually hurt that much, and I'd consider doing it again, but the claims that it takes weeks for your hair to regrow are blatantly false. Well. Maybe "blatantly" is the wrong word. The hairs that would have been waxed had it been a regular bikini wax are, in fact, still missing. However, most of my hair grew back within one single week! Too fast!

MMM. Grooming.

Celebrate Good Times!

I finally have internet in my new apartment! Hooray!

Yesterday while I was reaching to adjust the water temperature in my brand new shower (the shower itself is not new, but it's new to me!), I smacked my head on the hand rail. Now I have a big* 'ole lump on the top of my head. Right in time to meet all my new classmates tomorrow!

Awesome


*It's actually not big and you can't really see it, but I thought it sounded funnier to write it that way. And then to divulge the truth. Yea!

If a tree falls in the woods.

I just arrived in Indiana...and since I don't have internet in my apartment yet, I've been spending a lot of time in the bookstore taking advantage of their free Wi-Fi. I also purchased a book while I was there...and when I returned home and my roommate asked me what I'd bought, I had a hard time explaining what possessed me to buy "Stiff: the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers." I make awesome first impressions. It IS an awesome book though.

Beeeeeeees!

I'm starting the big ole' drive to Indiana! Today I arrived in Bedford, PA where I went with my mom on a self guided driving tour of it's famed covered bridges (awesome). We ended up seeing five bridges and then taking a detour to Gravity Hill, where cars in neutral are rumored to roll up the hill. We got there and it was hardly a hill. And our car didn't move. So much for that.

We also saw a crazy car fire! I was pretty scared it would explode in my face. It didn't. Phew. I hope no one was hurt! Tomorrow I'm off to Columbus, OH!

Wokka wokka wokka

I've moved in with my parents, and due to the fact that I can only access the internet from their computer right now and I'm a little bit afraid to leave any trace of this blog on their machine, I've fallen behind in my updates. [Note to self: don't forget to erase the history when you're done writing this pointless blog entry].

Today I accidentally saw my dad in his underwear and I lost my debit card. So despite a change of scenery, there's no shortage of stupid things happening to me.

Glargh

An hour later it looks like this.

Disco Inferno

This afternoon I was removing my lunch -- chicken tikka masala and broccoli -- from the microwave when I had an accident. I wobbled, spilling scalding hot sauce all over my arm. The boxes I'd packed with the dishes I'll be bringing with me to Bloomington blocked my way to the sink, so I stared in pain and shock at the bubbly orange globs of sauce on my arm before submerging it beneath the water from the faucet. Holy sh*t it hurts. Why am I so dumb?

Rooms

My roommate moved out this morning. She set off before 9am on her way back to her family home in Pittsburgh. Now my apartment is all empty and sad. Well...my bedroom is still mainly intact...but only for a few more days. I move back in with my parents next week. I'll stay there for two weeks and then head out to Indiana to start my grad program. But for now I'm sad. I miss my roommie.

You are smelly!

Today I spent some time with my friend Jen and her amazingly adorable two-point-five-year-old daughter Elle. I told Elle that her toy kitty that she was gripping so tightly was an admirer of the sparkly kitty that adorned her shirt. Jen concluded from my observation that I was creepy. Thanks to this suggestion, her daughter spent the better part of the car ride home declaring that I was creepy. And then shouting over and over that I was also smelly. Either Elle is really astute, or I really can't hide anything :P.

A Pocket Full of Posey

I believe in Karma (or something like it). I know I shouldn't, and my therapist asserts that this belief is a desperate grasp at exercising control over what happens in my life.

Recently, I went through a health scare related to my butt shingles. And then this weekend, I found out I was selected to conduct a 10 minute interview with Hanson (HANSON!!!) before their performance in Hyannis this summer. So...noone can call me unlucky. When something bad happens, something good often comes to balance it out. And when something good happens...

It's a Brazzle Dazzle Day

I was at the beer garden tonight when my stomach began to quake. When I could take it no more, I ran to the bathroom and unloaded my pain into the toilet. A few seconds later, I heard some complaints outside the stall: "Ugh that smells terrible. Who did that?" The voice of an older lady responded with "don't worry, I got it honey" and I subsequently heard the whoosh of air freshener (room deodorizer, as my dad likes to call it) being released. How mortifying.

Whatevs, people. It was me!

The Roof is on Fire!

So those bug bites? They turned out to be shingles. The disease that comes from the varicella zoster virus. A reincarnation of chicken pox, so to speak. It's a disease that mostly old people get. Except for me and a good friend of mine who shares my name :)

Blooming onion

Gosh my butt is still so itchy! Make it stop!! Stupid bugs. Also, I farted in front of my future roommate today. Not sure if she heard me, but what a first impression to make!

On the bright side, my future home of Bloomington, IN is pretty cool.

The itsy bitsy spider.

I'm currently in the midst of a road trip to Pittsburgh and Indiana...it's been a lot of fun save for the fact that during our first night, a bug found itself trapped in the leggings in which I was sleeping, and bit it's way from the intersection of my leg and my torso all the way up my butt. It hurts. And itches, and my only relief comes from slathering on the cortisone cream. Stupid bug.

Climb Every Mountain

The other day I was inviting a bunch of my friends to dinner at my apartment. And to see a free Hanson concert with me. Only the link I included in my email wasn't the proper link to the promotion for the concert. Instead I accidentally included a link to a bra I'd been thinking about purchasing. A bra specifically tailored to A and B cup ladies. I never tire of embarrassing myself.

This post is dedicated to my wonderful boobies, which survived a mammogram and sonogram today with no indication of any trouble! (Take care of your boobies, people! And good health to you all!).

One the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

This is my last Monday at work. I have four more days!

I put so many notes in my Google calendar reminding me of the fervor with which we should all rejoice over this occasion that my alerts went bonkers. I came home to nine separate emails reminding me that "Jessie's in da house" "hallelujah" "last week OMG OMG OMG" and "happy happy joy joy."

FOUR MORE DAYS!

Throw Your Hands Up At Me

My roommate and I do everything together. It's sort of a running joke that we're a better couple than most actual couples. Usually there exists the assumption that if we leave the house together it's more than likely we'll return together.

Last night I tried to resist this trend, proving that when I move to Indiana I'll be totally capable of living without her. We left together for Justin and Emma's party, but when I wasn't feeling well I returned early, leaving her at the party. Alas. Now I have some real fears about my inability to function independently -- As soon as I reached the door to my apartment after the 1 hour 15 minute train ride (and no sooner), I realized I'd left my keys on my dresser. We'd used my roommate's to lock up behind us when we left. At the same time that I came to this realization (1:09 am), I received a phone call from Emma explaining that my roommate was too drunk to come home and was going to stay there. Sadly this prompted Emma and her friends to bring my roommate drunkenly home in an $80 round trip cab ride just so I could enter my apartment. And my roommate really should have stayed put. Twas one of her drunker nights.

I did finally make it inside my apartment just after 2am. And I totally made friends with my neighbor while I was waiting outside for the arrival of the keys (and my friends). So there were some bright sides. And my roommie got home safe, of course :)

Braaaaiiiins!

Woah! I was involved in a riot the other day! Sorta. In the sense that I went to a free concert at the Seaport to see Hanson, but it attracted way more people than they expected, the crowd got unruly, and the concert was canceled.

Truth time. Hanson was only part of the act. Drake was also scheduled to play, and I would say about 95% of the crowd was there to see him. Also, Hanson fans are more of the shoving and hair pulling type...but I've never really known them to throw chairs and potted plants off balconies like the crowds at the Seaport did. (Not that they couldn't or anything). But. Erm. Yea! I was there! And I made it out alive!

Special thanks to Emma for helping us navigate our way safely out of the crowds before any trampling occurred.

Sharing is Caring

Do you see this image of an unidentifiable subject? Well then, allow me to identify it.

This is a pile of hair (both my own and my roommate's -- hence the marbleized color effect ) that I loosed from the clenches of my broken vacuum cleaner. With all this hair on the floor how do I still have any on my head?

Boooooooored

Hellooooo people! I'm bored! (10.5 more business days of work!) If anyone out there reads this, please engage me in some kind of comment conversation.

Some food for thought: I just had an amazing German chocolate Crumbs cupcake. Take that, Weight Watchers! Ok, I didn't eat the bottom {who needs cake with no filling?) and I totally tracked the points and planned to fit it into my calorie budget. But! Yum!

Comment! On anything! I'll respond! I'm bored!

Happy 8 Year Anniversary Taylor and Natalie Hanson (Really?)

I just spent the past 2 hours twitter stalking the extended Hanson family. I wish I felt no compulsion to do this!

Coney Island Nightmare

When you have a cold, does your nose ever get so irritated from blowing it into tissues all day long that your nostrils start peeling? That happened to me. And I have an addiction to playing with fringes that carries over into playing with anything...flappy. So I've been sitting here at my desk picking my nose (note: not picking boogers out of my nose. Just picking dead skin off my nose) for the past day and a half. I look like a freak. But as my good friend Jen would say, that's because I am :)

He walks amongst us.

Speaking of butt cracks, I totally had to pop a squat during my 8 mile hike through Harriman State Park this weekend and I was really concerned I'd end up with a tick in there.

Brush 'em Brush 'em Brush 'em

My hair sheds a lot. My carpet is always covered in it, and the evidence is particularly convincing when you look at the floor below my side of the couch and compare it with the floor below my roommate's side. My hair makes the floor an entire shade or two darker.

This morning when I was taking a shower (see? I shower sometimes) I suddenly noticed that my butt itched. Well, whaddya know? Half the hair on my head had fallen out and into my buttcrack. I know y'all love that image.

Cookie Monstah

I feel sick today but I've got to stick it out for the 3 interviews we're doing for my replacement this afternoon. And through my 7:00 appointment with my psychologist (I gotta stop going to those. They feel forced and pointless). I also forgot to put on deodorant. I'm noticing a pattern of forgetfulness these days.

I just want to complain. And sleep. And eat some noodles.

I am dummy hear me roar.

This morning I packed up my stuff and went to the gym. Mid-stairmaster I realized that I'd probably neglected to put my flip flops back into my bag. So I had to shower without flip flops (gross!) and walk 7 blocks to my office in a black dress and white nike sneakers.

Oh, wait. That's not all. I also discovered that despite opening my underwear drawer and contemplating which bra would look nice with my electric blue underwear, I forgot to put one in my bag. And yes, I'm a member of the "itty bitty titty committee" but it was still hella uncomfortable and I was still hella embarrassed as I made the trek to my office. When I got there, I decided to just suck it up and put my sports bra back on even though 45 minutes later it was pretty darn wet with sweat. And that you can see it sticking out from my dress. Yum.

I lost my poor meatball

I finally cleaned my keyboard at work. It was disgusting. I removed actual cobwebs from between the keys (the space between A and Z was particularly troublesome). Crumbs, dust, eyelashes, poppyseeds, onion flakes, garlic (I like my bagels), and what I can only presume to be flecks of dead skin piled out onto my desk as I whacked the keyboard on its underside.

Seriously people. It's really hard to focus when you know you're leaving your job in 4 weeks and 1 day and moving on to bigger and better things. I'll do anything to get out of actual research. Cleaning is way more fun than making the wheels turn.

I like to eat eat eat apples and bananas.

Today I wore a dress that I bought (and wore) when I was a 12 year old. I wore it in 7th grade. And it still fits. And I still like it. So weird.

I guess this is only feasible because my vertical growth was curtailed by the time I was ten (at which time my epiphyseal plates in my long bones were replaced by the epiphyseal lines :P) and my horizontal growth was diminished by my...erm...adhesion...to the Weight Watchers plan. Uh...so here's to wearing dresses that were sold at Banana Republic in 1997!

Fuji Apple Chicken Salad and French Onion Soup with No Croutons.

I wonder how much time I can waste today at work by playing around with the nutrition calculator on the Panera website. I bet I can waste a lot of time.

Bright Young Women, Sick of Swimming, Ready to Stand

To elaborate on a previous post, I really hate taking showers. I avoid them at all costs. At least in my apartment. Ok, in truth I avoid cleaning the house at all costs, and the resulting dirt and grime that accumulates in my shower leads to my aversion at all costs to cleaning myself. Showering at the gym is awesome. But standing 5 inches deep in sudsy water that refuses to drain while unable to see to the bottom of the exfoliating-bead-laden tub in my home is one of the worst ideas I can possibly conceive. Bleh!

Wind beneath my wings

On my flight back to New York from Chicago last night, my brother and I sat together in the front of the plane, and my dad got stuck alone in the back. A half hour into the flight, a space across the aisle from the brother and I opened up, so I fetched my father and urged him to the front.

After the flight, my father, who was envious that his children did not have to sit with strangers, remarked "I went from sitting next to fat guy to sitting next to a guy who was farting the whole time."

"Don't worry," my brother replied "Jessie was also sitting next to a guy who was farting the whole time."

Nice work, Stinkbot.

Don't go chasing waterfalls.

I haven't washed my hair in 3 days. (I also haven't showered in 3 days, but that's more embarrassing to admit, so let's stick with the hair washing thing). Anyway, apparently the ~natural oils~ from my scalp made my hair all purty. I've gotten more compliments on my hair on this day than on any other.

I'm just glad no one's gotten close enough to smell me.

How long do you all go without a shower?

My dear friend Jen

Hello Jen,

I know this post is a little late in coming, but congratulations darling, on your marriage to Ed! It was a beautiful wedding and you and Ed are a beautiful couple. And you and Ed and Elle are a beautiful family!

Thanks for keeping up my hope that love exists, and thanks for taking part in teaching me how to use a tampon back in college (thanks also to the others who stood outside the bathroom door while my freak outs commenced). Both valuable things I've learned from you!!

Much love!
Jessie

More Hanson Adventures.

The wives of the brothers Hanson are no good for my self esteem. They are all so gosh-darn gorgeous. I found myself staring at them instead of at Hanson for the entire length of the show tonight and envying them completely (except for the churning out kids thing. And the part about catering solely to their husband's careers, despite the fact that it's a fun one).

Oh! Also, there was a wasted girl trying to hit on the Hanson's 16 year old brother. She got kicked out of the venue. Woops!

Flock Together

I need a duvet cover. The feathers from my down comforter keep escaping. This means they land all over everything from my clothes (I keep a lint roller on my dresser and on my desk at work) to my throat. I can't stop coughing. I think I inhaled a feather.

I've Been Thinking 'Bout Somethin' Other than Poo

When it comes down to it, my favorite thing in the world really has nothing to do with poo, or the physiological names for our body parts, or tomatoes. My favorite thing in the world is Hanson. Hanson Hanson Hanson.

And because I'm the epitome of a teenybopping nerd, I just have to share their adorkable new video for their latest single, Thinking 'Bout Somethin (Ugh. Yes. It's spelled that way). I criticize, but I love.

Please enjoy! (And I do mean enjoy. This is me commanding you to enjoy it)
http://www.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=music.videos&videoId=104317949

Electric Gardnerella

Don't ever get a bacterial infection in your you-know-what. Just.Don't.Do.It.
I know y'all wanted to read my sage advice on the matter.

Cammanderson Jones

Guess which idiot forgot to bring clean underwear to the gym this morning. Hello, panty-liner taped to my leggings. I also dropped my lunch all over the carpet on my way to the kitchen. I was really excited about that lunch though. So naturally I picked it all up, scurried to the kitchen and washed it off in shame. Someone was getting coffee. I think she was on to me.

Let it Spew

I'd like to share a selection from an email I received from my good friend. Let's call him T. To preface this story, I should explain that T has two cats. One is named Meener and the other is named Boo.

T says: "so.....GROSSEST THING EVARRRRRR. this morning, meener was barfing a little, don't know why...it wasn't even that much. Boosephine, for whatever reason, likes said barf and always tries to eat it, so i have to chase her away before I clean. On this particular occasion, Boo got to meener mid-hurl and GOT BARF ALL OVER HER HEAD. I had to chase her down and clean her head before i dealt with the mess on the floor. SO MUCH GROSS. CATS ARE GROSS. I'M NEVER HAVING BABIES."

I don't know. I thought that was hilarious. Maybe that's just me.


P.S. I hope Meener is ok!

Indiannnnnnaaaa

I just returned from a weekend trip to Indiana with my parents. I actually had so much fun! When we arrived at the hotel in Bloomington at 10pm, the young man told us that there were tons of restaurants open...what else would you expect from a college town? It turned out he meant "open for delivery" and "only until 11." I'm not complaining. It was just a funny way to highlight my own elitist "cosmopolitan" notions of life. Eventually we did find an open Mexican restaurant where each of us ordered a margarita. They came out the size of fish bowls and the next morning we all woke up with headaches. It was pretty awesome. Too bad my bro missed out.

Other highlights include the trip to Smoky Jack's Rib Shack where my parents held up the entire line to inquire about the state of the brisket, and my father's quest to purchase air freshener at the local gas station. He almost failed, because he called it "room deodorizer." What can I say? Farting runs in the family.

Vasalva Maneuver

Surprisingly, I haven't yet tired of the gym. I had the personal training session that came with my sign on fee last week, and my adorable trainer made me so happy! I love trainers who don't make me feel like poo for not being strong enough to do a single push-up.

All of the ab work and crunches and plank positions left my stomach feeling really sore. And as a result it hurt to cough, it hurt to laugh, and most importantly, it hurt to sh*t.

The exciting part is that I knew enough biology to explain this! The vasalva maneuver, performed by forcefully exhaling against a closed airway (therefore building up the pressure and strength in the abdominal cavity) was surely at work in the bathroom. Wahoo!

Pop Goes the Weasel

I just burned my kettle corn. It's black. And I keep hearing murmurs in the office: "What smells like burned coffee?" "Is someone eating a hot dog?" "What's that smell?"

Yea, that would be me. Me and my char-grilled kettle corn.

My hair stinks. Really badly. And I think I inhaled some carcinogenic air. Never run to the bathroom to pee whilst the popcorn is popping in the microwave. It can have disastrous results.

Schweaty Balls

I joined the gym! And I'm trying to develop a routine where I can actually wake up early in the mornings and work out before...work. It's pretty easy, I can just take a shower at the gym! And to be honest, the showers there, with their non-lockable translucent doors and the germs of a thousand people are less disgusting than the one in my own home. And! Free! Shampoo!

Stalactites abound!

There's been a lot of snow 'round these parts over the past few days. And the snow that fell yesterday was the thick slushy variety. Rather than accumulating in heaps on our roof, it found a spot of weakness over my front closet through which it has been raining down for hours.

There are over four puckers on the ceiling that look like upside down volcanoes dripping water onto the floor, which we've been collecting in an assortment of punch bowls and garbage pails. This morning, when I emptied one pail of its gritty brown contents, it was so heavy I could hardly lift it. And all of the supplies my roommate and I had kept in the closet are currently scattered all over the living room.

Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.

Hi Mom

Hi Mom, Did you find this blog? If so, you should probably stop reading right now. Seriously. If you haven't already read further, you don't want to allow yourself to do it. Read at your own risk. Namely the risk of feeling inclined to disown me for rudeness, lewdness, and various other types of obnoxiousness.

And Aaaaayyyyyy Will Always Love Youuuuuu

It was a long day at work today. And yesterday. But I suppose that's what you get when you're lowish level staff member at a museum that is opening a highly publicized exhibit that attracts crowds of people who are frustrated that their status as donors does not grant them the privilege of passing all of the other VIPs in the 3-block-long line. So they wait in the rain and complain to the lowish level staff who is assigned to stand guard along that 3-block-long-line. In the rain.

Tis ok! The bacon creme brulee, the chocolate praline mousse, the raspberry or espresso brownies from the vendors strategically parked alongside that 3-block-line make everything better! Except my figure, maybe.

Hello, Beavis.

I hit my head on the corner of my dresser on my way up from retrieving a dirty spoon that I had dropped to the floor. It left me with a large bump on my head and a larger load of paranoia regarding intracranial hemorrhaging.

Wouldn't it be weird if we had a fatty layer of padding over our skulls? Our bums are well protected by it, why not our heads? We could literally be buttheads!

Stratum Granulosum, Perhaps

I chewed my cuticle a little too hard today. I tore off a chunk of skin and I think I exposed a few layers of epithelial tissue that don't normally see the light of day. It hurts, and it's red (to match my nail polish). Probably won't stop me from chewing it some more though.

Groan

Owww crazy forces wreaking havoc on my stomach. Why did you decide that it would be good to make your [very prolonged] exit during work hours? There are too many people in the bathroom right now!

Owwies.

My stomach has been aching something terrible. Actually, I just wanted to use that phrase.

In truth it's only aching badly once every ten minutes. During the intervals I'm fine. But then the ten minute mark approaches and I feel like a little man has been sitting in the middle of my abdominal cavity and suddenly decides to pull on my small intestines from all directions and scrunch them into a tiny ball. And then the little dude laughs and lets go.

Well, little dude. I don't know who you are but I'm going to get rid of you somehow! Whether you are hurled out via the oral cavity or pooed, your final destination is surely the toilet! Buahahaha.

Ground Control to Major Tom

Do you ever walk down the street and fart until you're halfway down the block? Cuz I sure do...(as long as I'm alone and it's the silent type. Don't listen to headphones while you're doing this. It obstructs your ability to gauge fart volume and the stranger behind you will be on to your secret).

The Yellow River by I.P. Daily

I went to the Lady Doctor the other day and because my bladder is so apparently tiny, I asked to use the bathroom as soon as I arrived. They needed a pee sample, but try as I might, I could not fill the cup past its very bottom ridge. The nurse informed me that this would not be enough for the doctor to conduct a routine pregnancy test, and suggested I help myself to some water and try again. So I downed a liter in a span of four minutes. And then the nurse decided that I had, in fact, supplied enough pee the first time.

It took me about four hours of five-minute-interval pees to rid myself of all that water I consumed. Augh!

Stomach of Steel!

Last night I attended an Indian ceremony symbolizing for one of my friends. During the celebration, I found myself earning the label "hardcore" due to my unabashed ability to wolf down Indian food. I've never before been called "hardcore" unless it was related to Hanson! Rock!

Follow Your Nose

I recently dated this boy who seduced me with the way he smelled. In the sense that (Haha! Sense! Get it?) it was only after I got a whiff of him while we stood side by side playing an arcade game that I realized just how badly I wanted to erm...smell him.

Anyway, I'm not dating this boy anymore, and though it ended on good terms it's kind of too awkward to call him up and ask what cologne or soap he uses. (That IS awkward, right? Because I've thought about doing this...but so far I've kept myself in check). But damn I need to replicate that smell!

A friend told me that for a guy in his twenties, it could only be one of three things: Old Spice, something I forgot, or something else I forgot. And I also forgot who told me this...so please speak up if it was you. Yesterday I stopped into Rite Aid to sample their selection of Old Spice. Definitely not it. What do I do next?

I see London I see France

When I was in elementary school, I went to the bathroom on what seemed like a normal morning. Only when I pulled down my underpants to facilitate my pee, an extra pair of underpants fell to the floor.

More recently (four days ago to be precise) I put on a pair of underwear and followed with a pair of jeans. They felt a bit odd at first, as if a piece of the denim had folded up underneath itself. I shook my leg a bit, so as to un-stick the material and allow it to align itself properly. But after a few waves of my foot, a spare pair of underwear exited the hole where my ankle appeared at the bottom of the pants.

Shouldn't I have learned to dress myself by now?

Robin Joy

My friend Robin died on Monday. She and I had been classmates from kindergarten through 8th grade. In middle school I considered her one of my closest friends.

She was the first person I knew to join in my Hanson obsession. Her love of HITZ later morphed into an infatuation with the Dave Matthews Band, and as his lyrics suggest, "Celebrate we will, cuz life is short but sweet for certain." Robin had a short but sweet life, and her death made me think about the memories I shared with her and want celebrate them.

My sense of humor was born out of time spent with Robin. Like me, she took great pleasure in laughing at bodily functions. In sixth grade, we made up a song to the tune of "Let it Snow" called "Let it Spew" and by the end of the year, we had many of our classmates singing "All that vomit is flying out of your mouth let it spew let it spew let it spew."

That same year we also nicknamed any girl who had her period a "Dotty." I was the second girl in the class to become a Dotty and was teased (in fun) by Robin and our friends whenever I wore red, as it was interpreted to be indicative of my Dotty status.

In Seventh Grade we filmed a video for a history class, and neglected to delete the final scene of me and Robin and my brother dancing in fits of hysterics as I cleaned up a puddle of pee that my late doggy Misty had left at the top of the stairs. We were graded on this project, which we showed to the entire class, including that final scene. A!

On the last day of that history class, Robin and I convinced our teacher to play the MMMBop music video in front of our whole class. We both sat on the edge of our seats, salivating at the sight of Taylor playing keyboards in front of a giant pansy as the rest of our class groaned out of boredom and possibly disgust.

We both had a crush on David S. We called him Lobster because he used to rest his head on his hands, leaving giant red marks all over his face. When AOL was first released, we made our screennames Lobgrl1 and Lobgirl2 in honor of our mutual crush. (And yes, I was the one that found it necessary to engage in computer speak and omit the "i" in "girl.")

Robin was also one of my friends who was responsible for assigning me the role of "Purdue Mentor" in their oh-so-creative game of "Purdue World" where a bunch of chickens with human brains tried to take over the world in order to obtain everlasting youth and control of an oldies radio station. My role as the mentor was to be the singular character with a human body and a chicken brain. I had to teach the others how to behave like a chicken. And I also began to enjoy being the butt of the joke, as long as it was in fun.

More recently, after reading Robin's blog, I was inspired to start my own.

This post is getting super long, so I'll cut it off. But Robin, may you rest in peace. I am thankful for all of the ways you have touched my life and all the memories you shared with me.

Warning: My Grossest Post Ever

My awesome friends Justin and Emma surprised me with a gift the other night. I tore open the pretty floral wrapping, revealing the words "What's Your Poo Telling You?" against the warm brown background of a hardcover book by Josh Richman and Anish Sheth, M.D. With illustrations by Peter Arkle.

I'm pretty sure this qualifies as one of the best presents I've ever received. It discusses the varied types of poo one may encounter (the book is exclusive to human feces...it tells you nothing about the kind that, say, descends from a bird in the sky and lands on your hand) including the "hanging chad," "soft serve," and the "log jam."

My favorite though, is the "clean sweep," defined as "rare and special occasions [when] you engage in the entire stooling process from engagement to deployment and note, in the cleanup phase, that amazingly there is no poo residue on the toilet paper." Because of some ~minor~ traumatizing experiences as a kid who couldn't spend less than 45 minutes on the toilet (my best friend's parents would often have to delay our dinner in order to accommodate my presence), I have learned to perfect the "clean sweep." You learn to recognize the feeling that proceeds this type of poo and take advantage of it.

Or maybe it's just all the fiber I eat.

Libra

I don't own a scale. I go to monthly meetings down the block when I want to get weighed and assure myself that binging on chocolate granola and fiber one bars hasn't driven me too far from my Weight Watchers goal. But I digress.

Sometimes, when I am outside of my home and I notice there is a scale in the bathroom that I am about to use, I weighh myself before I excrete. And then I weigh myself after I excrete. The aim of this exercise is to see how much weight I appear to have lost via urination and defecation. Or rather to see how much my pee and poo weigh. It's kind of awesome. Sometimes I wish I owned a scale just so I could keep tabs on these processes.