Tag: funny

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enough!

I’m in an “accident prone phase” and I don’t like it one bit. Sigh.

I won’t deny that clumsiness runs in my family because it totally does. My father has had fireworks blow up in his face, my mom face-planted onto a sidewalk and my sister used to get into her own bits of accidents. I have done a damn good job of avoiding it, until recently. I have always believed that things come in 3s- and in this instance I REALLY need to believe that the third annoying, painful, frustrating and downright stupid third thing has already occurred. Meaning: I am safe now. Nothing else can go wrong.

Side note: I use to think that if you get pulled over by police for speeding, that you are solid for a while because you had your turn. I thought that, until I was pulled over 3 times, 3 weeks in a row. You might remember my letter (Well, okay, Laura’s letter) to the great state of Maine? 

I bring you to the phase: I have sciatic pain in my legs. It gets really annoying when trying to sleep, sit still at all, go to the movies, work, drive, etc. Sometimes it’s downright unbearable. I know, I know “stretch more, Katie.” Yeah, no. Won’t happen. I can lie to you and say I will, but we all know I won’t.  Anyway, my father told me to buy this cream: Capsaicin. I have used it and while it burns like hell, typically it’s no issue for me. That is- until the phase started. I took a bath one night after work and applied the cream. No big deal. 15 minutes passed and I found myself standing over the freezer, putting ice on my legs. 20 minutes later- I find myself in the bathtub, with freezing water. All of a sudden, my face is equally burning. Brad walks upstairs because it has been a while since I have been seen. Where does he find me? Butt-ass naked in front of the fan in the bedroom- trying to get the air to blow on my legs that felt as if the skin was burning off of them, bawling. Awesome. And hot. (note sarcasm and the tricky pun I used there) “Did you get it on your face too?”  Yes, Brad. I did. Next thing we have Brad on the phone with poison control, trying to figure out how to make it stop. Note: there is no cure. You have to wait it out. Fanfuckingtastic.

Next portion of my phase was this past weekend. This is about 4 days after the Capsaicin incident. I was not feeling well at all, in fact, I even stopped at an urgent care on the way home from work Friday. Well, carry that feeling into the weekend. You with me this far? Okay, so Sundays are Brad’s “Officer Von Haden” days- leaving me home alone. Typically I will go grocery shopping, clean, do laundry, meanwhile binge-watching Netflix. Usually, I like my Sundays. Usually is over; I did not like this Sunday. 

Gunnar needed to leave for work and he asked me to move my car, as I was blocking him in the driveway. Sure. No problem! Well, my stomach had started to really hurt me. Like stabbing pain. I tried ignoring it, and decided that instead of moving my car, I would go grocery shopping. That made it worse. I got home and found myself laying down, trying to get it to pass. UGH.  My leg pain was making it hard to lay down. I shall wash the dog! This would help.

deep down, i know she loves baths.
deep down, i know she loves baths, despite the face i always get from her.
Washing the dog went fine, but she left a trail of water all over the house- that I could not see. Think black ice on a winter morning, but worse. 

black ice, sometimes called clear ice, refers to a thin coating of glazed ice on a surface. While not truly black, it is virtually transparent, allowing black asphalt/macadam roadways or the surface below to be seen through it—hence the term "black ice".
black ice, sometimes called clear ice, refers to a thin coating of glazed ice on a surface. While not truly black, it is virtually transparent, allowing black asphalt/macadam roadways or the surface below to be seen through it—hence the term “black ice”.
Fast forward to me, walking down the stairs, in flip flops… that hit the water, causing my feet to slide out from under me. The entire weight of my back SLAMMED on the stairs, and proceed to fall fast, SLAMMING me against the front door, one stair at a time.

Julius Caesar would have been disgusted, as I did exactly the opposite of him: I paused. I felt. I CRIED. I think I was hyperventilating by the time I was able to crawl over to the phone and call Brad.  You know that ugly 2 year old cry you never thought was possible past that age? Well, it is. As I am typing this, I feel the pain of my back, butt and the bruising all up my arms.

Feel bad for me yet? It gets worse.

Last night we got home from back-to-school shopping and dinner, and were all watching TV. I decided to get my bunny to snuggle with me before bed.  (yes, an actually pet bunny, this is not a strange nickname I have for Brad). Well, as bunny is being sweet, licking my neck, being the cute little woodland creature he was meant to be, I decide to give him a kiss on his belly. Well, before you think I am giving TMI of my snuggle-session, out of NOWHERE, Mr. Bunny decided to KICK. My face. My eye. I saw stars. Not wanting to draw attention to what just happened- I slowly get up and put bunny back in his enclosure. I then walk upstairs, and proceed to see blood and scratch marks dripping down my face.

Brad had no words when I called him into the bathroom other than, “you want me to take care of the bunny for you?” Nice. And no.

I’m going to go ahead and be more careful for the next few days. You know, until the phase passes.  Scarlet O’Hara said it best: After all, tomorrow is another day. 

that's all folks.
that’s all folks.

UPDATE: 2 days post attack.

#selfie #streetcred #aintnoshameinabunnybeatdown
#selfie #seriousface #streetcred #aintnoshameinabunnybeatdown
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the art of bragging.

Adj. 1. bragging– exhibiting self-importance; “big talk”

boastful, braggart, braggy, cock-a-hoop, crowing, self-aggrandising, self-aggrandizing, big
proud – feeling self-respect or pleasure in something by which you measure your self-worth; or being a reason for pride; “proud parents”; “proud of his accomplishments”; “a proud moment”; “proud to serve his country”; “a proud name”; “proud princes”

 

We all know the people in our lives who fit this description. The ones who must let you know that no matter what you have done, are doing or own- they have done, can do and own it bigger and better than you.

“How great that you got a gold watch for your 10 year anniversary at your job…have you seen my rolex?”

You know who they are.

Yes, we know no one is as rich and amazing as you.

I’m not talking about being exciting for something excellent happening in ones life (I’m excited for you too!), I’m talking about the serial braggers..the ones who do with every word in their vernacular.

The funny thing about braggers is that they don’t realize how transparent their words are to the rest of the world. Their insecurities are so BOLD and obvious they might as well have a neon sign around their neck. I’m not writing about anything recently, mind you, I’m just remembering fondly all the laughs I have had on behalf of the braggers in my life. There is the family member or boss who will click their car alarm- just so you will be drawn to their new car. Then there’s the name-brand-freak-friend who will comment on everything- just so that the conversation points back to the fact that “they don’t know because they only wear X brand or dine at X restaurant” (fill in the X with any designer clothing or fancy establishment label you like). I have some people in my life that will only contact me if there is something completely random and unnecessary to brag about, and then end the conversation before I even have time to comment on; how many designer bags or pieces of jewelry they own, accomplishments of family members, money they (or their spouse) make(s), parties they attended, trips they took, etc. The list goes on and on- and NOTHING surprises me at this point in my life, as I have heard it all. The best part is that most of the time the bragger is full of shit. Part of their story might be true, but all in all its a complete fabrication of the reality. If the “brag” is true- you have to question why they feel the need to try and make others around them less? My mother and I actually made a game out of it to “count” the brags (silently, of course) when in the presence of a bragger. It’s very fun and makes you almost encourage the behavior. Oops…did I just admit that one?

Note to braggers reading this: We are not jealous of you, we are laughing at you. We like you as a person- and no matter how many things or stories you have- IT WILL NOT MAKE ME LIKE YOU MORE. Be yourself, it’s actually kinda worthwhile in and of itself.

It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles. ~Niccolo Machiavelli

SNL mocks it best with their series of skits and sometime digital shorts.

Love Samberg, as he couldn’t have expressed it better:

That is the end of my rant. Hope it gave you a laugh- or a nice reflection. If you have a funnier story than this- please read this again and pretend I am talking about you, as you are doing it again. 🙂

 
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dear air conditioner.

Dear Air Conditioner,

Please do not take this as a slight. Understand that I simply adore how you keep me cool when it is an unbearable 107 degrees in the summer. I appreciate the hum of the breeze blowing in my room to help me fall asleep at night. Most of all, I know you are there for my selfish needs- any day and any time.

That being said; I have no tolerance for how sick you have made me. I know it was you because I am more sick when I turn to you- and Google told me so:

Air-conditioner lung: A form of the sick building syndrome caused by organisms that contaminate humidifiers and the piping of air conditioner ducts. The air conditioner blows cold air containing spores of the organisms throughout the building.

The organisms responsible for air-conditioner lung are the same as cause farmer’s lung which is due to repeated inhalation of dust from hay. (The organisms are thermophilic actinomycetes).

The symptoms of air-conditioner lung include episodes of fever, chills, cough, and shortness of breath, typically occurring 4 to 8 hours after reexposure. Loss of appetite, nausea, and vomiting may also be present.

The diagnosis of air-conditioner fever is made based on a history of exposure to air conditioning and consistent clinical features, chest x-ray findings, and pulmonary function tests. Confirmation comes from laboratory results showing exposure to thermophilic actinomycetes and other organisms known to cause air-conditioner fever.

Treatment is avoidance of offending organism from the air conditioner. Symptoms usually subside within hours, although complete recovery may take weeks.

Repeated bouts of air-conditioner fever can result in pulmonary fibrosis with cough, fatigue, and weight loss and progression that sometimes requires hospitalization.

If I end up with this “pulmonary fibrosis,” I will not be pleased. In fact, I will be down-right pissed off. I have been seeing signs your ac is low on refrigerant and will make plans to fix that ASAP. I understand you didn’t know I was allergic to dust, but you didn’t have to make me so sick that I have not slept from coughing…all….night….long.

Thank goodness there is a breeze in the air tonight, so I won’t need you. However, I highly suggest that if you plan on continuing this relationship for the rest of the summer, and more summers to come, that you cut it out- now. I deserve to not feel like shit.

Please?

Warmest and sincerest regards,

*Katie.