CLASICAAAA jaaj xD

En las bodas nunca puede falta la clásica borracha que trata de opacar a la novia, desgraciadamente para esta recién casada no sólo la opacó sino que literalmente le tiró la fiesta. Menos mal que se llevo su merecido.

Marcianos MX

It’s been a long time between blogs but we’ve been diligently putting in our trivia time – with disappointing results. It’s been a time of drought for the Gang of Green with nary a top 3 finish in a couple months. Fourth place appears to be our friend with a fifth place acquaintance having an all too constant presence. Despite a brief 2nd place finish by 2 Members of GG (Traci & Jon) with help from Jon’s sister Jennifer (playing as Zoinks!!) on 11/17, the entire team, playing  as Gobble Gobble Hey (in a T-Giving nod to the Ramones), fell again to fourth place on 11/24, despite breaking the vaunted 60 point mark. A crushing blow to the egos of all involved, made better only by continuous refills of beer or cider. As we head into the Thanksgiving holiday, we say our thanks for the improved music rounds (iPods! what an idea!) and for just having each other to laugh, joke, commiserate and utter petty disparaging remarks to the teams who defeat us. Sore losers? Maybe… but amusing!

But let’s look forward! Here’s to starting off December with a win! We’ve got two weeks to forget to prepare! Go Gang Green!

Gang Green 11/24/09

Traci “Would you like a chutney Squishee?” Bocci
Erin “Cloture… yes, cloture!” Ewart
Darin “x² x z² = y… wow that looks smart” Chong
Jon “I’m the go to Bible guy? oh that’s so wrong” Lehre
Nora “Death Cab for Cutie meets Miley Cyrus” Guy
Kate “I can name that Christopher Cross song in 3 notes” Kelly

by sylvia

A while ago, I wrote a post about my neuroses regarding how I look and feeling bad because I wasn’t “beautiful” but was ok with being cute, because I like cute things better than beautiful things.  The post was called “Are You Beautiful“, and it was, like a lot of the stuff I write, cathartic and cleansing for me to get out there.

But the other day, someone commented on this semi-old post, and as I read it, I thought “Wow, I feel bad for that girl.  She is really down on herself and I hope she is able to pull out of it.  I totally feel for her.”

Until I got to the end:

P/S: I DONT MEAN TO LOWER YOUR CONFIDENCE OR ANYTHING BUT UNNATRACTIVE PEOPLE ONLY GET THE ‘CUTE’ REMARK. WANT TO KNOW WHY?

CUTE MEANS……….

ugly but adorable…. SORRY.

OUCH.

Really?  You’re telling me that I’m ugly?  Sure, I’ve heard that one before.  And worse things, too.  But here I was feeling bad for you because you felt so bad about yourself, and I quote:

I like this post a lot especially because I feel the same way as the writer. I have been self-loathing myself ever since I realised people NEED to look some way to be ACCEPTED. In high school, the pretty girls get all the advantage and ever since I’ve been trying to improve my looks. I am not fat, not thin either…somewhere in the middle. But if you would ask me what I would change about myself, I will give you a million answers. I feel embarassed everytime I am out with my friends because they look like top models. Sometimes I feel I look okay but the feeling is so delicate. It doesnt help that people around me are sO hypocritical. Everything from my hair to my feet had received numerous harsh comments. I hated mirrors ever since. I hated taking photographs too. Everything that remind me of myself would only make me feel worse. Sometimes I feel like going out with a brown bag over my head. Only then, I would feel safe. I would do anything to be beautiful.

I sense some projection, some self-hate, and there is also a possibility of trolliness in that comment. 

And I’m trying not to take it personally, because this person doesn’t know me, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me.  Not because some random commenter might think I’m ugly, but more because this random commenter has probably been called “cute” on more than one occasion, and probably hates herself for it.  Which is wrong.  I don’t know what this girl looks like, but based on her comment, it’s obvious her self-esteem is in the toilet.  And as someone who knows what that is like, I know it can affect how others see you and what you “look” like.

But seriously – do you think CUTE = UGLY but ADORABLE? 

And no, Bianca – I’m not fishing for compliments….I’m curious how y’all feel about it…

Now I’ve got something else to obsess over….sheesh

last week, Harlequin announced a new venture into self-publishing called, oddly enough,  Harlequin Horizons.  from the press release

“Harlequin Horizons expands upon Harlequin’s tradition of providing wonderful opportunities for fresh voices in women’s fiction,” said Donna Hayes, Publisher and CEO of Harlequin Enterprises. “Partnering with Author Solutions, Inc., the recognized world leader in self-publishing, is an innovative and original approach to discovering new authors to add to our traditional publishing programs.”

Through this strategic alliance; all sales, marketing, publishing, distribution, and book-selling services will be fulfilled by ASI; but Harlequin Horizons will exist as a division of Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Harlequin will monitor sales of books published through the self-publisher for possible pickup by its traditional imprints.

almost immediately, criticism emerged.  a Harlequin rep tried to reassure readers and authors by explaining that it wasn’t a case of brand dilution, that it would be very clear to customers that these self-published titles are not in any way associated with Harlequin.  said Malle Vallik, Harlequin’s Digital Director, on Dear Author

Harlequin put its name on the Harlequin Horizons site to clearly indicate this is a romance self-publishing site. The books published through Harlequin Horizons will not carry traditional Harlequin branding. The self-published author will be the brand and the Horizon double H logo will appear on the spine of the book. Harlequin is the gold standard in romance and that will not be compromised. Readers will not confuse Horizons books with traditional Harlequin books.

clarifications did nothing to stop the outcry.  on one hand, over at the All about Romance blog, the point was raised that Harlequin Horizons isn’t really self-publishing in that it requires a good sum of money to get published by Author Solutions (including a percentage of royalties) and that in the end, the author doesn’t even own the ISBN.

then some questioned the continued value of Harlequin’s name to their published authors, worried that all those rewrites and edits are worth naught when readers and others in the industry can no longer take Harlequin seriously.  of course, the requisite snotty commentary followed from The New Yorker blog, but that’s to be expected (do those of us who read in the genres, especially romance, need to be reminded how much smarter the literary reader is ?!).

up next was the protest by 3 major writing organizations to withdraw support from Harlequin in various ways.  both the Mystery Writers of America and the Science Fiction Writers of America removed Harlequin from their list of approved publishers which is a big deal on several levels (explained very clearly by the previous link).

the biggest blow came with the Romance Writers of America statement:

With the launch of Harlequin Horizons, Harlequin Enterprises no longer meets the requirements to be eligible for RWA-provided conference resources.

oops, back pedal, back pedal, back pedal.  apparently, Harlequin officials were very surprised at this move and stated that they will remove all references to Harlequin from the HH imprint.

there is a nice summary and links to other commentary over at Jane Friedman’s Writer’s Digest (via Dear Author).  Friedman’s philosophical musings get to the heart of the matter:  the publishing model is changing and Harlequin is an innovative company that is trying to secure a future.

Harlequin is clearly at an advanced stage of considering how it will evolve—or devolve, considering on your perspective. But most writers and writers organizations (and publishers) have NOT grappled with these questions yet. Publishing has often been slowest to change and adapt of all industries.

Some argue Harlequin should’ve been better prepared and planned more strategically to respond to the criticisms that would arise. But when you’ve already moved on, like Harlequin—and are seeking solutions—it’s tough to backtrack to the mindset of those people who are stunned, angry, and indignant, and can’t even conceive of adaptation.

now, if you’ve actually read this far, you might be wondering why this all matters.  the future of publishing and the continued prominence of vanity press (aka self-publishing) has a huge impact on libraries.  last year, titles published by print-on-demand and the like (often vanity titles) outnumbered books published through traditional outlets.  every day we get requests for vanity press titles that we don’t purchase because there is often no editing process, the bindings and formats aren’t reliable and/or standard, and there are no reviews to verify the accuracy and/or quality of the content.  adding Harlequin Horizon to the field muddies the waters.

posting by marin (who is doing her best to understand all the nuances of this complicated business)

Unbelievable!  I can’t say enough…so here goes with all the photos of the weekend – okay not all of the photos, but many.

Got in late Friday night to Tampa to stay with some friends of my Fast Runner Friend (aka FRF) – it was dark, they had a fantastic spread of shrimp (my favorite), veggies and dip (my favorite), humus (my favorite) and bread (my favorite).  They also had some fantastic wine they had recently purchased on a trip to The Biltmore Estate…(speaking of wine – let’s go to the beginning of the trip… on our 45 minute flight – when Simon (flight attendant) gave us free “cocktails”.  You know – those little bottles have a lot more booze in them than you can imagine.)  Back to the story – it’s the first day and so far I’ve downed 3 glasses of wine.  Hmmm…this can’t be good.  Oh well.  The next morning I woke up to this:

That is not typical for where I’m from.  But a lovely way to wake up. 

After breakfast FRF’s friend drove us to Pass-a-Grille, FL to this lovely spot -

then we ate at this fine establishment: 

Fantastic  food – fantastic views – what more could a girl ask for?  (probably more wine)

You get the picture right?  It was amazing!  After lunch we decided we better go to St. Pete’s and get our  numbers and goodies.  Here’s a shot of our swag!

Not too bad – usually I end up with a shirt and sore thighs – nothing else.

We spent the evening in St. Pete’s seeing the sights:

and visiting the starting line:

those folks know how to prepare for a women’s race. (there were 90 additional toilets along the course!)

Then we checked into our room: (please take notice of the size of the bathroom and consider my back is against the wall while taking this pic)

If you click on the photo you can go to their site.  Don’t let the pictures fool you – it was tiny – very small – adorable – and I’d stay there again in a heart beat.

We prepared for the morning. I asked my FRF what she was going to be wearing…

FRF is tiny – she can get by with showing her mid-section.  She’s also fast!  She finished 22 minutes ahead of me – and was done with lunch, having a drink, getting a massage - not really.  But she is fast. (men like her too – remember Simon & the wine? – men helped her everywhere we went – I was invisible to many – and that is cool with me – it was fun to watch them checking her out – she was oblivious to it)

After spending 4.2 seconds checking out our room - we went to have dinner (more wine), site seeing in art galleries, then off to bed.  (in the middle of the night FRF hit her mouth on the sink while getting up from the toilet – OUCH!  I slept through the whole thing)  

It was 70° and 80% humidity at 6am.  The entire race was amazingly beautiful.   The weather was warm and I ended up with a few blisters (have pictures – refuse to show) and tired legs, but overall the best. 

We got one of these after we crossed the finish-line (the center comes off to be charm on a necklace -  so smart).

After we ran we drove  to Pass-a-Grille (again), went back to lay on the heavenly beach and eat at Brass Monkey (again) - it was just too good.  After a bit of sun and food (and beer) we drove back to Tampa – ate more food, took Tylenol, laid around, and spent the evening packing our swag to fly home. 

If you ever have a chance…if you ever have a desire…if you want to get away…I highly recommend this:

It’s worth it.

Now - time to do laundry, clean the house, catch up on work, and pack to leave for CO tomorrow for Thanksgiving.

Run on Friends!

So Chad sprained his ankle and is spending the next couple days lying in bed. Last night it looked like he had a giant red tumor on the side, today it’s more evenly swollen — his whole ankle looks like the skin might just burst — and has a bruise stretching from halfway down his foot almost up to his calf. The color’s really starting to come in, it’s hideous.

I never really thought too much about sprains, I only had the one middle-finger one in 8th grade [hilarity ensued!] and I don’t remember it being all that awful but it turns out they can be not as awful as a break but serious nonetheless, and Chad is in pretty sad shape. We make jokes about how he is my little invalid and I yell at him when he tries to hobble around because all I need is for him to be laid up in a cast for a month.

Chad had one very sorry for himself spell this morning when his painkillers had obviously worn off and he tried to walk to the bathroom instead of using his crutches. Surprise, surprise, it really hurt! And there is far too much conflicting advice on icing of sprains [30 minutes on, 30 off? 20/20? 15 on then 2-3 hours off?] and whether to bandage or not [yes?? no???? yes?????], and the bruise, is it traveling up his leg or just coming into full bloom??????? so he is being kind of OCD about that and pestering me with a LOT of questions, like I know anything.

But he has his laptop and they have lots of Nova episodes and Obama speeches online so he is pretty quiet. The vicodin doesn’t hurt, either, though he is worried that he might get addicted.

Anyway.

We went on date day Friday, got a late start and had an excellent breakfast at Albert’s, the storm turned out to be not so much but traffic was pretty heinous so we got to the museum pretty late, but it was totally empty and we were able to take our sweet time going through Star Trek – The Exhibition. They had a full TOS bridge and lots of costumes and a transporter and some weird time portal set I don’t specifically remember and TNG and Klingon captain’s chairs. We stopped for dinner at Taste of India in Fremont, where they had some seriously kickass samosas and a full bakery.

Saturday there was some lounging at the café and I don’t remember the rest. Sunday we had dim sum with Sarah and Ming, then I went to the estate sale we’ve all been waiting for and scored a bag of really nice vintage glass pearls and the jinglingest silver leaf and ball bracelet ever and sat in the café knitting for awhile, while Chad watched football [poor Broncos], then I went to La Piñata with a friend while Chad went to play tennis and sprained his ankle.

Luckily I don’t have a whole lot to do this week so I am not feeling all ragged and irritated playing nursemaid, though I am kind of horrified at the state of our kitchen cupboards, which Chad has dealt with [or, rather, not!] more and more as he has taken over more of the cooking duties. Which is to say, he just throws shit in willy-nilly and I don’t know where anything is anymore [and if he had a system, that would be one thing, but I can guarantee you he doesn't know where anything is either]. I’m planning to spend the next couple days fixing all this while he can’t interfere. I need to do Christmas tree cleaning anyway.

I made a really cool neckwarmer for myself. Orange with green buttons, it is lovely and autumnal. I should take a picture. I’m making ones for Chad [slatey-grey manly thick wool yarn] and D [teal] and my mom [green! I found Esperanto-esque green star sequins at the craft shop to sprinkle on it, too.] for Christmas. I am thankful that our buy list isn’t so long this year, which is good because our money isn’t so plentiful.

Today was amazing out, it felt like spring. In the sun, anyway. Tomorrow is a walk to farmer’s market and getting groceries and hopefully coffee with S, so those are some nice breaks. Thursday is Thanksgiving [San Jose], and Friday [Oakland] and Saturday [Sacramento] there are more Thanksgiving dinners, though a lot of this depends on whether Chad’s up and around, and able to apply enough pressure to drive, and for how long.

5 things
1. My order finally came [after a month. do not order from these people!].
2. Popcorn with brewer’s yeast.
3. My meatloaf was even more outstanding than usual.
4. My daughter has had some nice, responsible moments lately.
5. My neckwarmer.

Saltar siempre termina mal xD

Literally. I think I fractured my tailbone. Or at least bruised it pretty bad. Saturday night Bing and T, CGN and Dr. D. and a few other friends all piled in a cab to go to a Russian whore themed party. Our friend Lucky has been living in a mansion for free for a few years because the owner has had it on the market and wanted someone to watch over it after the basement flooded and caused a lot of damage. This thing is a for-real mansion. Chandeliers, oil paintings, golden toilet, the works. It looks like a museum. The guy even has a Faberge egg and life sized oil paintings of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra…my favs! (Yes, I am aware that I am a history dork, I’ve made my peace with it). The 1996 Russian Olympic team stayed there, Playboy had a shoot there, its a cool little mansion. Anyway, the dude finally sold the house and Lucky and her roomies decided to throw one last party at the mansion before they get evicted into the real world. Since the owner is about 100 and has a thing for young Russian whores Lucky decided to have a Russian style pimps and hoes party. I couldn’t figure out what a Russian whore looked like so I dressed as a Russian figure skater. I was so excited that I actually still fit into my high school skating dress! I think it was a hit too. Sexy was not the look I was going for considering the fabric looked like something the Golden Girls would have selected but I got the laughs I was after. I even brought my old skates for added affect.

So we arrived at the party, chit chatted for a while and decided to do our own photo shoot in the playboy room. We had a ball until Bing and another girl decided to pose against the wall. I decided to climb up an antique step stool and join them. But my foot went right through the step. I was mortified! Luckily I fixed it quickly then in my immense embarrassment scampered out of the room and went back downstairs where I thought I couldn’t break anything. Wrong. I broke me.

I had my shoes in my hand because I didn’t want to put my gross simpleton shoes all over the fancy furniture upstairs and I was wearing tights. Well, stockinged feet, fast scampering and slick hardwood stairs resulted in my ass going bump bump bump down the last three. The partygoers in the basement looked at me like the idiot I was and asked if I was okay. “Of course!” I drunkenly replied, grabbed another beer and continued my scamper of embarrassment out to the porch. Good thing the mansion is so big, plenty of places to hide from my growing list of shame!

The party was actually a lot of fun and we continued to party back and Bing and T’s condo later on. Thanks to the booze I was feeling no pain, just slight soreness. So I laughed as Dr.D. mutated into the Destructor and took out Bing’s patio furniture, made an attempt to take down the door frame and paraded around butt ass naked with his buddy mini-destructor (T). The girls shook their heads, the boys did ridiculous things to amuse us and all in all a good time was had by everyone.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I woke up with a lot of pain in my tushy. Getting up and sitting down were a challenge. It didn’t get any better throughout the day as I lazed on Bing’s couch, unable to muster up the courage to drive my stick shift home and climb up three flights of stairs. I finally made it home and managed to find a position on the couch that didn’t make me want to shoot myself. I went to bed thinking the next day would be better but as I woke up for the 30th time during the night I felt like the pain was getting worse.

I called my Dad this morning because he broke his tailbone about a year ago and asked for advice. Should I go to the doctor or not? He said there’s no point in going to the doctor because they can’t do anything to fix it. As long as my feet or toes weren’t tingling there’s probably no nerve damage. All the doctor would do would be to take an x-ray, confirm the fracture, give me a doughnut to sit on and a prescription for pain killers. I only have $43 in my bank account right now so I opted to just tough it out. He made about 1,000 ass jokes and told me it’d be cheaper and equally as effective to just spend the money on a few bottles of wine. Thanks Dad. But as the pain gets worse I’m thinking of taking his advice!

So I guess the moral of the story is to always wear your shoes when flying down the stairs. Oh yeah, and don’t be a drunken idiot. But I bet I won’t take my own advice. Where’s the fun in that! I may have a sore bum for a week or two but I got a great story out of it! Guess I won’t be going to the gym this week.

by sylvia

Well, today is the day.  The day of Bianca’s debut as a runway model at a local fashion show.  She’s been practicing for 8 (!) weeks to get her walk down pat, her fierce on (thanks, Tyra) and find her inner supermodel.  I’m sure she’s going to be fantastic, but I’ll let her tell you all about it next week.

Let’s get back to talking about me, one of my favorite subjects.

This fashion show was quite a thorn in my side there for awhile.  Why, you ask?  Well, I’m getting to that.

When we tried out, we basically thought we would either both get it or not get it, not the other option of only one of us.  And my initial feeling was that if I made it, I wouldn’t do it if Bianca didn’t.  Because we tried out for it as something fun, something for both of us to do together.  BFF and all that shit.

But before we even found out who made it and who didn’t, we decided whomever made it should do it, regardless.  And I was cool with it because I’m an adult and not a jealous bitch, right?

Well, the day of the callbacks came and went, and neither of us received a call or email.  And then I got my rejection email, which read very similar to a job rejection letter and quite formal for what I thought was a cheesy local fashion show (it’s not so cheesy, we found out).  But Bianca had received nothing. 

Until the next day. 

And when she told me that they wanted her, my heart dropped.  I felt like I had eaten 40 lbs of bread and with nothing to drink.  I hadn’t really prepared myself for that, even though I always knew it was a possibility.  Besides, Bianca is fabulous and more comfortable with her body.  But the only thing I could think about was R E J E C T I ON.  I was rejected.

As happy as I wanted to be for her, I felt worse about myself.  I’ve spent so much of my life avoiding situations where I could be rejected, and then when I put myself out there, rejection just threw up in my face.  It was a terrible lesson to learn – don’t bother putting yourself out there because you’re just going to be rejected.

But I’m beyond that, right?  I mean, I’m a 35 year old adult, I should be past the whole “afraid of rejection” thing.  Yeah right.

I must admit that I wouldn’t have been so bothered by it if we had both been rejected.  But we weren’t.

I went home that night and cried.  Sure, it’s just a silly fashion show, right?  But all my life I have felt rejected by the way I looked.  Whether it was my face or my fat self or how tall I was, any rejection I got was from my physical self.   And now, here it was happening again.

I felt like I wasn’t even good enough for the other fatties.  Even if I accepted myself for being fat, I still wasn’t good enough to be in a plus-size fashion show that was celebrating fat women of all ages and ethnicities.

So it was a hard couple of weeks for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hide under a blanket and cry for weeks.  But it made me realize that my “acceptance” still had a lot of work to do.

And poor Bianca, she wanted to badly to be excited about it, which she should be, but she was also concerned about hurting my feelings talking about it.

So I did some soul-searching.  And realized that I could analyze and overanalyze why they wanted Bianca over me, and I would never EVER get the answer.

And I became ok with how things worked out.  Not just ok, but honestly very happy for Bianca because I knew she would shine.  They wanted her for a reason, and she would rock that shit out.

And once I told her that it did in fact make me feel bad at first, I know she was relieved to hear me say to her truthfully, “I want you to talk about it with me, you have every right to be excited about it!”

So, I learned me some lessons from all this:

• Being rejected just means you weren’t right for that for whatever reason.  You can’t take it personally or you will end up going insane
• Modeling may not be my thing – I’m probably better at other things
• Everything happens for a reason
• Not all girls are bitches
• Me and Bianca may be fierce on our own, but we are pretty damn flabulous together:

Asombrados médicos extrajeron en una operación quirúrgica más de medio kilo de clavos del estómago de un obrero de la construcción con aparentes problemas mentales.

El paciente de 26 años llegó al hospital con fuertes dolores estomacales, por lo que los médicos creyeron que se trataba de un caso de apendicitis, pero la sorpresa fue al operarlo, el viernes, encontraron en su estómago diversos objetos de metal.

“Más o menos hemos sacado unos 700 gramos entre clavos, monedas, alambres y cosas que no pensamos que un ser humano podría haber ingerido y sin haberle dañado el esófago”, dijo el miércoles a la AP el médico Carlos Delgado Cruces.

El extraño caso ocurrió en el Hospital Regional de la ciudad andina de Cajamarca, a 560 kilómetros al norte de Lima.

El obrero Requelme Abanto, quien popularmente ha empezado a ser llamado “comeclavos” y “ferretería”, declaró a los medios de prensa que lo hacía “como un deporte”.

Señaló que desde febrero pasado había empezado a ingerir clavos y la primera vez se comió 17 clavos de cinco pulgadas de longitud en un solo día.

“Aparentemente, el señor ha estado tragando (esto) desde hace un buen tiempo, porque el estómago ya estaba medio fibrótico”, dijo Delgado.

Afirmó que el paciente se recupera satisfactoriamente y que fue derivado a especialistas en psiquiatría para que indaguen sobre su salud mental.

Planeta curioso

So there I am eating my cordon blue (say it with a french accent or don’t say it at all, thank you!) watching a college game at the chew hole. Wisconsin v. Northwestern. Normally, I do not enjoy college games because, quite frankly, they aren’t very good football players. Let’s be honest, though. Should they be? Eff no! They should be reading a book or studying math. College is for learning still, isn’t it? At any rate, it’s a running play and ol’ boy is really chugging along here … until it happened. This poor referee who is scrambling to vacate the area that will soon be occupied by this 250 pound bohemouth turns and, as he does, is cornered and blocked in by one of the defenders from the other team. Like a poor, defensless, little baby cow about to be turned into veal. Then, BAM! (SHWACK!, POW! .. Thank you, Bats) Ouch! Right to the chest. And the reff falls to the ground, snapping his head on the well trodden field of battle. I have never seen a bigger swarm gather so quickly as every other zebra stripe did to that poor old feller. As I said, not very good players if they rough up the referees. Am I right?

From FoxNews.com and the Daily News:

NEW YORK —  A man from the Bronx is suing New York City after emergency workers tossed his ear, which was ripped off by his son’s bull terrier, in the trash, the New York Daily News reported.

The lawsuit filed in Bronx Supreme Court says emergency services workers placed the large chunk of the upper ear that had been ripped off of Eduardo Garcia, 67, on ice, but threw it in the garbage after arriving at Montefiore Medical Center.

“Now he’s got a deformity,” Garcia’s lawyer, Andrew Friedman, told the Daily News. “They deprived him of an opportunity to have treatment.”

Hospital records say the ear was thrown out because there was a “potential risk of contamination or infection” if it was reattached.

Friedman argues that Garcia should have been given the option to rebuild his ear, but was left with 22 stitches, two staples and a life without a lobe.

Sometime this morning, during a stop in Fullerton, I managed to poke my eye out with my contact lenses.  We spent 10 minutes in a McDonald’s parking lot because I managed to scratch my cornea along with it, ouch.  Luckily, I lived; my mascara did not.  Baby #2 and I somehow got on the subject of the time I really did scratch my eye out and we ended the conversation because we were both laughing hysterically.  Baby #2 asked me to re-tell the story of my 1^st date with UTBH.  Since it is relevant to why we were laughing and is equally funny, I will.

Bro #1’s girlfriend and I flew to Kauai for a week several years ago to vacation with her family.  Upon returning, I met UTBH on a Saturday; he asked for my number and said he would call.  Like clockwork, he called the next day and we talked on the phone for an hour.  He made me laugh.  We set a date for Tuesday night.  This evening rolls around and UTBH calls me to cancel.  His lame excuse was that his car broke down.  He has a 2^nd car which is in the shop being repaired.  Totally could not gauge if he was blowing me off or not.  I said let’s try this, “I have never done this before, but I do really want to go out with you, I will offer to pick you up and take you out.”  Silence.  He hesitated and for a moment, I thought he might be less than thrilled to take me out.  Then I thought about it.  Nope, any man would be thrilled to have me!  (Again, my huge ego.)  It was getting late, he had nothing planned.  I drove over to his place in Anaheim where he was renting a room to finish up his Senior year of college in Engineering school.  (Yes, I was going on a date with boy Genius; he is still brilliant.)  I am an easy date.  I really am.  We agree to walk through the barrio to 7-11 to buy Slurpys’, give ourselves a chance to talk.  We do this.  Return to his place an hour later and sit on the couch to chat.  I am getting ready to head home cause I have to work early and it is late. 

His roommate was a slob, no nice way too put it.  The house was covered in dog fur.  My eyes start itching, tearing, swelling up.  Within minutes of rubbing my eyes, I am in the bathroom literally scrubbing my eye make-up off to get it to stop hurting.  I scratched my cornea bad.  Now, I am standing in a strange man’s bathroom, no make-up on (nice 1^st date appearance,) and he is telling me that the white part of my eye is swelling out of my eyelid.  Attractive.  At this point, nearly blind, I grab his arm and say please take me to the ER.  He looks at me, totally serious, and says “what is an ER?”  Oh &^%$!

He drives, I navigate with one eye open to a hospital in the next city.  I am calling my parent’s repeatedly to let them know, my eye is now swollen and bleeding and I am trapped in the car with this total stranger headed to the hospital.  No answer, 10 times.  We arrived at the ER around midnight.  My eye is throbbing.  He fills out the forms, so I have to hand this man all of my personal information to jot down, lovely.  Now he knows everything about me, my address, the whole deal.  UTBH was an Angel though.  The first hour waiting in the lobby to be seen we sat.  Second hour he let me lean on his shoulder.  Third hour, he finally just pulled my head onto his lap and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. 

Around 3 am, I was finally seen.  He had called my parents like 20 times for me in between midnight and 3 am, still no answer.  The Doctor enters the room, shakes hands with me, with UTBH.  Says, “nice to meet your Mr. Z (my last name.)”  Recap, I am with a total stranger on a 1^st date, I show up at his house, have an allergic reaction to his roommate’s mangy dog, we are now standing in an Emergency Room, (a 1^st for him in his 30 + years of life) and he was just addressed as my husband, by my ex-husband’s name.  Classic.  Does it get any better than this?  Yes, of course it did.  I am fitted with an eye patch to cover half of my face, I now have no make-up on and look like Long John Silver.  This is pre-Pirates of the Caribbean, I don’t look fashionable and trendy, I just look like an idiot.  Around 5 am, I left some colorful verbage on my parent’s home answering machine for not coming to get me.  “HELLO!  Did you not notice your daughter never came home from her date with a total stranger?!?”

UTBH and I leave the hospital, he goes to the pharmacy, fills my prescriptions, pays for them, then takes me to breakfast at Denny’s.  I wish I had a photograph to depict just how sexy I looked.  Hair a mess, no sleep, no make-up, eye patch, bad breath.  I must have been a sight.  UTBH takes me back to his house where he rents a room.  Roommate comments, “wow, you must have had fun last night, she’s still here…hee hee hee.”  I can still barely see and I am too exhausted to go to work or drive home yet.  We went in UTBH’s room, I curled up in his arms and fell asleep for a few hours.  We moved in together two months later and lived together for 4 years.  People thought I had lost my mind moving in so quickly with him.  I never do rash, ever.  I knew he was a good man though.  UTBH always made me feel safe.  I just knew that in a crisis, he would take care of me like that and he always did.  Although we are broken up, we are still friends today and he is certainly reading this Blog.  We always loved when people asked how we met and what we did on our 1^st date. 

After he followed me back to my house to make sure I made it there safely, I entered and woke everyone up.  My parent’s are looking at me through groggy eyes, wearing a huge patch across my face.  My mom smiles, “wild night huh?”  I replied, “yes mom, it was totally out of control.” 

UTBH called me up about 8 hours later to inquire what I had planned for our next date, “maybe we could collect cans to recycle then check out another ER together?”  I asked him if he “possibly needed to get his eyes checked, had he seen me, I looked like hell?”  He thought I was the perfect girl.  Within 3 weeks, he told me he loved me, he couldn’t imagine any girl being more fun to be with and couldn’t wait to see what adventure I scrounged up next.  Honestly, I can truthfully say this about my existence, even when I wish the opposite, never a dull moment when you are around Mon Cherie.              

What we have here is an example of what can happen when an index finger is pulled in between a metal guide and a spinning shaft.  As injuries go it is pretty minor, but it sure looked ugly when it happened. It cracked the nail, tore it and the skin under it loose from the meat. It was hanging by the skin at the finger tip. I promptly tore the remains off before pain sensation had a chance to return to the finger. Pretty lucky that this is all that happened. Looks much better 3 days after the incident. Throbbed pretty good the first couple of days. I know, what a baby…

JUST NOTICED BY ME NOW: Lies by McFly is basically Ouch! by the Rutles. I’m exaggerating, but I’m right:

the advice: when you meet them you just know, it’s simple.

{but how?}

by asking yourself these two questions:

if you had to picture your life without them…could you? {no}

is this person your best friend?…{yes}

Too bad the most important question of all was left out…

are they in love with someone else?…{yes}

2 Girls 1 Fails as she tries to slide but ends up slipping on well waxed Hardwood Floors Bitch!!! [in-joke]

How do these videos end up on the internet? I guess they can laugh at themselves enough to want to upload them. Ouch though.