alphabet catch up

Allo.

I realized that I yearned to get down n dirty with all the details on the cluster that is my life right now.

Immediately afterwards, I realized that I'm too tired for that shiz.

So here's what the fuck is up now.

A. my car still refuses, adamantly, to reverse

B. I HAVE A HEEL SPUR

C. mai birth control has made me gain weight (Kitty's working on words for the unjust-ness that is THAT, rest assured)

D. i need my hair colored, stat, pronto,  ewwy grey bangs are sic (unless you're into that whole "old" thing...)

E. mai favorite watch was broken, got fixed, (shanks, New boy) and has now broken again (boo for a bare wrist)

F. i got new headphones for christmas; this = happy kitteh

G. i miss stuff hard

H. i have zero resolutions for twenty-ten

I. mai toenails ABHOR me, because i do not pay them enough attention

J. our patio has a garbage stain that leads one to belive that we bludgeoned the stray cat that was shredding our trash last month

K. for the record, the cat is not dead

L. i love coffee                   ..                 ..           ....    (um..always and forever)

M. mai roomie and i plan on having an affair with the gym starting Jan 1. (an affair DNE a resolution, btw)

N. mai family is the total and absolute shiz. mai parents/brothers/extended family are rather HIP, from what i can deduct

O. i would give New boy his own bullet, but he reads this.... so i can't gloat on him w/o having to deflate his head later in the day (total J/K, he's humble as pie)

P.what i can give New boy is TWO whole bullets, because he's so dang sweet. ooo, I hope you smile a little, ninja.

Q. my bed has written me a love letter asking me to come back

R. i left my dang camera cord in missouri, whoot for 9.99 usb cords

S. i spent an evening with my 86 year old papa and his 86 year old new bride two days ago. sharp as tacks

T. i have been thinking HARD on my med school secondary applications

U. i am eagerly awaiting a coworkers head-zit, it's premature as of late

V. the past is the past, and there is no sense in being an ass about it

W. i got new running shoes

X. Mess with me, and I will do the total opposite of kiss you pink and softly fluff your soul with pillows
Y? Cause,

Z.  I am a rock, I am an island.

Oh, that's inappropriate.

OH hai. How was your Christmas? Was it inappropriate? Did you find yourself censuring your every topic of conversation whilst spending those limited hours away from the house and in public?

 Cue snapshot, Rolla Walmart 12:12 AM.

Catch the shocker in the background? Yeah, mom was too busy talking to notice we were snapping a photog.

Chatter..talktalk..blahblah..ohwait..no..that's..I'll get that tomorrow...forthe..blahblah...sandra...oh your aunt would love this...yadayadayada..chatter...where's the....with....remember...I had that thing.....the rolls.....rolls are near the cheese.....talktalktalktalk...Nick's got those at home....Sarah, come here and lookatthis,we had this last yeardidyoulikeitornot...nevermind....stay there.....hey,callconnorandtellhimtoruntotheothersideofwalmarttoget......um...the..wait, no....nevermind, it's right here....yada. yada. yada.   Literally. LIT UR ALLY. Literally.

   There was a running commentary on every thought in her mind that both did and did not pertain to the three of us that were acting as her GOPHERS for the night. Chris (stage left here) would pry his attention away from looking up raunchy jokes (WITH which to entertain us) on his iPhone long enough to glace in my direction to ask if she was talking at any of us in particular. (TO which the answer was always no)

But her running commentary wasn't the funniest thing about the midnight walmart adventure, na, Beezie, (stage right) kept another running commentary PARALLEL to my mother's. It consisted mainly of "that's what she said" 's, snarky asides pertaining to her inablility to finish thoughts, and completeing her sentences himself with what could only be considered mad libs. All for my listening enjoyment, folks.

And, OH the bowling alley. This actually occured before the trip to Wally World, but is second because it's comedic grade pales in comparison. the only thing that was really funny about this little event was the ball dance my OTHER brother, Billy (for BillyBadAss) felt inclined to do every time that house ball traveled down the lane. First of all, can we all apreciate what he's squeezed his nuts into? Yep, those are honest to goodness nut-huggers. They adore nuts, love em, stick closer to them than saran-wrap. Above that ball-debacle, he proudly displays a large belt buckle holding together a CINCH belt complete with metal studs, only lacking his name in burnt calligraphy...etc, etc. So when this skinny bitch wiggles his appendages and shouts obscentities downwind at the bowling alley, he tends to draw a lot of attention.

K then this also is bit more mild. My poor jack russel is getting a bit old. We used to hold him in this position when he was younger, and it was funny, because he was just a wee bit uncomfortable. Now COMMA it's just gross. His body has successfully aquired a FAPHA (Pronounced FAP-HA) ((Fat Around Penis Hole Area)) So his penis has essentially become an afterthought to his anatomy. Poor dog, as if imasculation after birth wasn't enough...

And then, because we can't take a family sibling pic without snapping a shot we can't show our grandparents, I leave you with this:

Bless your family, but mine is better :)

Kitty OUT.

Mi hermano, y cheer de xmas

Assorted holiday sayings via my brother and his talented single serving friends:

Get hay, get christmas, get nugs.
Spread Holiday Nugs, make girls dreams come true, real. One day at a time.
Peace, Love and Christmas nugs.
Merry Christmas and a happy holiday shmead.


You have a blessed ass-holiday. :)

Personal Essay Take 7, final

Hey, HO. I realize I'm going waaaay overboard on the December updates, but whatevs, I got shiz to say.

I realized, talking to New boy last night, that I hadn't updated this thingie on my status in the med school process. As a matter of fact, I realized, I hadn't even posted my final version of the personal statement I decided to go with. So here that is: 

Famous car capitalist Henry Ford once said, “Genius is seldom recognized for what it is; a great capacity for hard work.”  As a small overstatement, according to this I believe that I am the next Einstein. My background story is not one of pity or impossible tasks or anything that would make a good movie; but it is a good tale that might make you smile, and it is mine to tell, so tell it I will.

The best place to start would be junior year in high school in Rolla, Missouri. It is here in my life where a lot of things converged. For instance on any given Wednesday, I would open the pool at 5 AM for the assiduous lap swimmers, and guard them until I bolted for school at 8 where I soaked up the wisdom and knowledge until 3 PM. From there, I swung by my house to grab my cleats, a twenty dollar bill, and a sandwich from my mother quickly so that I could make the 2 hour drive to practice in St. Louis by 5:30. After practice was over at 7:30, ten dollars went into the gas tank, and ten dollars worth of food went into my body for the trip home. This was my regime three times a week for two years. If you know any high schoolers, you will realize just what a feat of endurance this was. Let me tell you the reality of necessity behind my drive. I needed the job because my parents had just divorced and money was short. I needed the elite training because I traveled to soccer showcases that exposed me to collegiate athletic scholarships. Lastly, I needed high school, to quell my urge to learn, to study for the ACT, and well, because it is illegal not to attend public school five days a week. For me, no other option than to go to college on a scholarship of some kind was available. So I was extremely aware that I needed to capitalize on every possible opportunity that I could in high school. In hindsight, I realize just how rare my mentality was back then. None of my friends put as much effort into their prep for college as I did, and even today I find it hard to muster the endurance that I enjoyed then. 

Due to the drive that led to my good grades, athleticism, and admirable ACT score, I was recruited to play soccer at Newberry College in South Carolina. The challenges I faced during this stage in my life, gave me more emotional and mental strength. While in college my grandmother was diagnosed with ALS, but she absolutely insisted that I stay in class. At the time I had decided to double major in Biology and Chemistry. This decision was a difficult one, heavily affecting much of my free time. Between my rigorous Division II soccer schedule, my classes and lab schedule, my days were literally non-stop. But, through her unselfish actions, my grandma taught me to work despite my emotion. She hardened my resolve that I should pursue a career involving heavy thinking. She passed away one month before I graduated cum laude and received a rather prestigious award. The W.L. Laval award is presented to one male and one female senior student athletes per year. Its winners are acclaimed to be outstanding in athletics, scholarship, character, and leadership. The award served as a reminder of how much work it takes to shine in crowd. 

Which brings me to now; a rather uncertain period of my life that is failing to fulfill my strongest yet unusual desires. Most of my peers want that rewarding job which yields the top salary, fancy cars and other tangibles. I, on the other hand, possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge; despite my inability to regurgitate such intellect on the MCAT. Nonetheless, success in life for me is defined by the daily pursuance and acquisition of a higher level of acumen.

I am used to putting the effort into a task and reaping the benfits.. My perseverance is being challenged in the application process for medical school. I have not been accepted for a couple of years now, which has been getting mentally, emotionally and financially exhausting. My desire and determination to be accepted has brought me back time and time again. Since graduating college I have been putting in a forty hour work week as well as a full time MCAT study schedule and I maintain such a rigorous workout schedule that I was able to complete a marathon.  I have shadowed numerous doctors, specifically surgeons such as Dr. David Lee, of Columbia, SC in preparation for the day that I am accepted into medical school. I am not certain of the exact qualifications of the people accepted, but I do know that a demonstrable ability to handle a stifling workload is smiled upon. Let me reassure you that my drive and ability for consistently going the distance and beyond is unwavering.  I have already prepared myself for the hardships that every matriculate struggles with. The only thing I ask of you is to recognize my potential and allow me be your next genius, as Mr. Ford would say.

More on the process of application paperwork later, when I feel like it.

Life and Times of Clawed

Everyone say hello to Clawed. He's about 15 minutes old here, and I'm sure there is no place he'd rather be than back on his stump some 200 meters downhill in the field.

This post is more or less an update on the lovelyness that is Clawed. A small biography on the thing that is now our personal air freshener/ ornament holder.  I first wrote about Clawed here. That post was more about the boy than the tree, but it was his first appearance nonetheless. I digest; you may have noticed something rather odd about the name that we chose to bestow upon our Christmas tree (Well, more likely, you're wondering why we thought we had to name it in the first place. For this, I have no answer, it just seemed like a cute idea at the time) However, I do have an explanation for the spelling. That is my doing, and I'd like to take a paragraph to  brag about it.

The question of what we should name it was posed, and I, of course, offered up many a great name, but was ousted, as usual, by the bubbly dictatorship that is my roommate. From the second the four of us began pulling odd names from our memory banks, mine were doomed to fail. And so it seemed that only three people were in the running for the best name for our dear tree. New boy hit the ringer first with a name that Roomie liked, thus, Claude it was. Little did they know that "Claude" it actually wasn't. In my head I mentally booted up how exactly I was going to have a say in this ordeal, and I came up with an annoyingly correct misspelling. I figured that since I was the only one of us that was ever going to write anything about Clawed, and everyone else would be merely pronouncing it, I had regained the upper hand.  Paragraph END.

Clawed had a rather rough trip back home. In the rain.

And once he was on the porch, becoming UN-soaking wet, he was met with yet another hacksaw because we had neglected to have the forsight to fall in love with a SHORT tree. Poor thing.

So yeah. Clawed is happy in our living room. He stands cosily between the TV and the wall, with a small sliver of window to peek through during the day. He is fed daily by New boy who's taken a liking to.. well.. all of our well-beings.

Worst picture ever, best FIRST tree ever. Woo. Go Clawed.

RUUNNINN

 I want to run again. I haven’t run long in months.

I have a heel spur that is really preventing me from getting into the zone.  It used to be so easy, just to lace up shoes in the morning, and walk outdoors. My mind didn’t want to do it, but my body was craving the endorphins.

Now I have to be at work at 7, usually before the sun rises, and I don’t fancy getting up at 4 in the morning to get my workout in. Seeing as I have to drive to wherever it is that I’m going to run, because the major road that I live on is/was known famously for prostitution and drive-by shootings, I can’t manage the wake up, the drive, the run, the drive back, and the shower all before it’s time for me to leave at 6:38 in the morning.

But oh. Those runs. The runs where the sun is just coming up. Those runs where ice forms on the back of your ponytail. Those runs where your legs and lungs begin to believe you’re strolling through the park when, in reality, you’re cranking an 8 minute mile, on mile 9. Those runs where your ipod dies and you don’t give a fuck because you’re already at that mentality; the mentality where the slap of your feet sounds better than any song that could rustle through your shuffle. Those runs where all you see in front of you are the bobbing heads of others as they run. Those runs where you return to the club house to see nothing but smiling, happy, genuinely elated people. Those runs where your mind and body begin to operate on the exact same wavelength, each one working in harmony with the other with such concordance it's nearly unbelievable.  Those runs that are so long you begin mapping out the state in your mind to see which towns you could make it to in a single day. Hum… I could get to Newberry on foot in three hours. Hmmmm….halfway to Florence, SC in four hours, or all the way if I got two good days of running in. Those runs where you feel, literally, like you have not a care in world because you are RUUNNINN.

Oh, geez. Those runs. I want them back

Christmastree-nut-in-my-pants-have-a-great-time-fest cues feministic critical analysis

Ah, ok, what is today? Wednesday December the ninth. Got it. I don’t  feel  funny today, but I do feel like writing. It’s a shame that those two feelings don’t go hand in hand.

So, here’s the latest in MY life.

I cut down a Christmas tree yesterday, for the first time in my life. It was jaunty and wet and fun. Where was my biological father to be found when that sort of thing would have been the highlight of my friggin YEAR? Peaced out. Might have been drinking.

I digress. As it stands, it definitely was the highlight of my MONTH! I had a great time yesterday, and it was all a part of a bigger more  ob⋅se⋅qui⋅ous⋅ly active plan than I had anticipated. He, as in, new guy, planned this Christmastree-nut-in-my-pants-have-a-great-time-fest, all by himself.

Recently I kicked the BF, the one that had the memory of a goldfish, to the curb. For a while, nobody really cared, I milled around for a month with my thumb up my ass wondering if I was going to adorn the back of a holographic deck of Old Maid cards in the year 2020. But then, poof, just like that I got noticed? (end that sentence like a question, because it is one)

Because really I had been seeing this guy every time I went out to have a good time. *wink*That, my friends, was intentionally misleading.  Hahaha, I am tricky.

But no, really, for a whole year, I saw him because he brought me every drink I ever ordered.  Some smiles, some ah, oks.  But nothing that a BARTENDER wouldn’t normally do for a tip.

Cue poof.

 Now… we are in like. We’re in some serious like. We are bordering  obsequiousity. ( not a word. Leave me alone, it illustrates a great point.)  From his region, not mine. This would usually worry me very much. I dislike it when someone likes me more than I like them because I feel, then, that I owe them attention or I owe them some ‘like’ in return. But I really don’t have any real ‘like’ for them so I use my backup supply of fake ‘like’ and that makes me feel guilty about the situation.

Never. Ever. have I had a guy go out of his way like this. I don’t have to use any of my fake ‘like’ on him. I genuinely, really like him. I don’t know what to think, what to say, what to do. It just seems that all the things that used to coincidentally piss me off when penises are in the vicinity, don’t make me as ill anymore.

1. I’m usually very prejudice about any guy girl relationship. I can have all the events up to and including the means and mode of breakup figured out, weighted and statistically analyzed for likelihood, before the appetizers are ordered on the first date.

2. I typically feel like I need to prove myself. I suppose to appeal to their evolutionary subconscious that I would be the best mate and mother of their children should a zombie attack threaten to wipeout normal human beings. (Look at me boys, I can run for hours, I can solve complex efficiency problems under anxiety-ridden, sleep-deprived circumstances, and I can also cook you lasagna out of leftover trashcan Chinese) I’m a total nug. Fo shiz.

3. I also have this superiority complex.  There are about a billion tasks that we as humans perform over the course of a lifetime. Things such as driving, fitness, cooking, drinking from the sink, cleaning a toilet, using adjectives correctly, yada, yada, yada. Out of these billion things, I must be better at at least HALF, or the guy gets the boot.  Like I have to win. At fuckin tying shoes. I literally must be more efficient and quicker with a tighter, less misshapen bow on my gaddamn tennis shoe, or I am ill. And the guy gets the boot if he’s new or a stern stink eye if he’s a regular.

These are a few of the gems that my dysfunctional twatty mind has defended over the years, but lemme describe how this guy has single handedly broken all the rules… almost without me noticing

He circumvented number one by all of a sudden deciding to glue his sweetheart hat to his head the same week I vowed to live in the moment. Lucky him. I did this purely out of breakup spite.  He doesn’t know that he is the official guinea pig of me planning only into the next 24 hours. This preferred method of handling things is working well so far, but if I begin to think further ahead, I get sick to my stomach, and wheezy. ( like I was ever THAT kid in elementary gym class!? Psssht, I wasn't. Which is why it's baffling now that I get queasy on cue of certian thoughts. I'm tougher than that, I assure you.)

He acts nonchalant about the fact that he is about the same size as me. He never tries to pick me up, or act like I’m light as a feather, and he doesn’t try to out lift me. He just kinda watches me, and seems to be thinking.  Perhaps it s admiration, perhaps it s irritancy. But I’ll never know. Because when he catches me looking at him, the fun is on again. He doesn’t outright EXPRESS his dire NEEEEEED to feel manly in front of me. Which totally quenches my need to prove myself worthy. I think he doesn’t do that because in some areas, he would lose. I’m a pretty girl and I have a nice toned figure/shape, but I am sorta manly.  I’m a manly nug. Uh HUH.

Lastly, about this superiority complex; it’s really the straw on my camel’s back. This is where I become very difficult to deal with. Because I have to be better at EVEN the arguments that are a result of such trifling matters. For example, he feels my boot in his ass or my stern look at him for doing something better than me is unjustified; we argue; I must argue like the best defense lawyer in the history of time.  If he’s a good guy, he sticks it out or he dissolves the situation by handing me a glass of wine. (I.E. SEE HERE) But THIS guy, makes it seem like this problem doesn’t exist, like it’s he’s running on 1 Cuil ALL THE TIME. Anytime I get a whiff of a feeling of this 'betterness' he cracks his back six ways to Sunday, the loud pops completely distracting my building fury. ? He uses a word I don't know... I get a pang of attitude... then he's handed me a coffee mug and we're each chewing on our lip rings watching the rain.  ?
Do you see how that kind of NONSENSE....doesn't even... like....come together in a complete thought??

I don’t even notice that the problem was a problem and isn’t anymore, until I sit down here and analyze the sitch. Then I see it. Refer to #1 here. Trying to live in the moment, for my own feelings, and no one else’s, right now.

But let’s break this down just little bit more. What does it mean for all these general rules to be circumvented all at once? Does that mean that I’m losing sight of the things that my evolutionary dating eye has made me remember over the years to avoid heartbreak? Does it mean that I’m doing something that I know I shouldn’t? Or is it going the total other way; that this bartender has potential? The fact that none of the rule breaking is bothering me would seem to vouch for the latter, that this may just be the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. But I don’t know. Because I’ve got the Great Wall of China up between my real honest to goodness, honest Abe, honest to Blog, down and dirty, it puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose feelings... and the feelings I tell/show everyone else. There is a massive, massive difference between what I attempt to convince myself my true feelings are, and my actual true feelings. Ergo, even I don’t know what I think about this situation.

I think, though, that it would be very best just to sit back and watch it all happen from behind a smile.

OH. Wow. It’s been over a month since I posted. Why is it that the best laid plans….

NM, doesn’t matter.

Here’s what the fuck is up now.

A.      Breakups suck

B.      Being mean intentionally sucks even worse

C.      Money is the root of all evil

D.      The MCAT will fuck your mind body and soul up irrevocably

E.       My thoughts are worth WAAAY more than a penny

F.       Love is hardly definable, let alone attainable

G.     Surgeons are too intimidating to have a normal conversation with

H.      I need new running shoes

I.        My car has LOST its reverse gear and I’m told it will never find it…

J.        My birthday was last week and I was a very irresponsible little girl

K.      We need new kitchen chairs because ours are too low

L.       Both of my big toes have massive blood blisters on them

M.    My chiropractor just got back from Egypt and if he ever leaves again, I’ll kidnap him home

N.     We have a stray cat that keeps ripping up our trash

O.     Dating is hard

P.      College boys rocked whist in college. However (COMMA) it seems that now they suck horse nuts for a living.

Q.     I had a nail in my back right tire for 3 months and didn’t take care of it

R.      I was the first responder on a 3 car accident a week ago. HUGE adrenaline rush.

S.       I have two jobs. I needed two jobs.

T.       Sugardaddys can apply, right here

U.     I plan on buying a pair of high heels from Wally World, tonight.

V.      We have been out of milk for 3 days.

W.    Life is a clusterfuck of crossroads

X.      I found some GREAT curl product last week, smear it is. Enjoy

Y.       I can’t get enough of Dane, Bob, Joe, and Ron.  They are my main-men.

Z.       I miss stuff. Hard.

A           Also, I had this in A,B,C format, because I'm fond of alphabetical lists. But I'm an idiot with little time so I will not be trying to fix this formatting fiasco, even though it might make the whole thing a smidgen betta

Precursers of happiness

There are a few things in this world that I could not live without. These things are not giant expensive valuable things, but rather small vital functional tangible whosits that make my happiness appear, and stay, every day.

My bracelets: Bear with me, I know this is odd. My wrists are sacred. I regard them as other girls might regard their va-jay-jays. (not to say that I don’t have adequate regard for the jay.. just a comparison) They cannot be muddled with or I am pissed. Don’t grab my wrist, it will equate to your broken arm. I dunno when it caught on, but since before I was socially acceptable I was wearing wristlets. Metal, Livestrong, embroidery floss. Whatever will tie into a knot and fit around my wrist usually ends up on my wrist. All of my friends can attest that at one point or another in our relationship they have asked me not to pick up such-n-such off the ground and put it on my wrist. I have small wrists and slightly large hands, I enjoy the feeling of something resting on the base of my hand when I stand, and then sliding back to the small of my arm when I gesticulate. Whenever I acquire something new to adorn my wrists, I always assign a certain amount of sentimental feelings to that thing. Since these items have a small value when they inevitably break and fall off, I am sad. Very sad. Too sad I’d say. My latest example of this small mourning is when my watch fell off my right wrist. [It was an awesome ironman watch that sat sideways so you would read it while running without having to rotate your arm.] Not only did the fucker fall off, it ran out of battery the very same day. So, that left me with some of options, I could superglue the watch band and keep a non-working watch on my wrist, I could drop my days activities and fix the battery myself, or I could just keep my wrist bare in mourning till I could get around to fixing the poor thing. Soooo my right wrist is bare cause I’m more busy than sad. My left wrist however, is still going strong. I have a Tiffany’s clasp bracelet that my biological father gave me for graduation, a livestrong band, a Strike Out ALS band (b/c my G-ma passed from ALS) a leather and cloth thing that was a gift, and metal charm band with soccer balls on every flat chink. I cannot live without these things, because they are part of the part of me that makes me unique. Little things that clink when I walk around, little things that make me smile my smile of weirdness when I see people notice them.

Air conditioning: this kind of goes without saying, there are some people who can make do without this vital part of society, but I think that they just run cold all the time. Don’t get me wrong I would love to fall into that class of people; but seeing as I spent most high school lunches in the little girls room holding my shirt’s wet pits under the hand dryer, that is likely never to happen. I would swear that breathing makes me sweat. I run… HOT, I mean like a furnace, like a space heater, like an oven, like a bike muffler…HOT. Air conditioning is as vital to my happiness as oxygen, and only under very few circumstances will you find me milling about in the heat with anything more than a swimsuit on. If you DO happen across me on a hot day and I am wearing clothes, keep your distance, I bite. Na but for real, the only two times I get un-handle-ably grouchy are when I’m hungry or I’m hot.

My fitness: Actually this is more of an intangible, and will thus be discussed in a later post.

My comics: I’m not a computer junkie by any means, but I do enjoy the occasional webcomic. I HAVE to read these things EVERY day. Sometimes I KEEP myself from reading them for one day so I can have the treat of catching up for two days the next day :D BIG smile. BIG. So, the comics that I follow regularly are. QC, Girls with Slingshots, XKCD, BUNNY, Pics for Sad Children, Cyanide and Happiness, The Doghouse Diaries, STW, and Wolfmorganthaler. I could probably compile a large list of my favorite comics/storylines, but I think I will save that, also, for another post. I’ll keep it simple and say that usually I come back to these gems more than one time in a day to get a laugh. Also, they are the thing that I most widely spread, via email, or twitter. Lolcats comes in at a close second, but these little finaglings of reality are my most prized bookmarks. So much so that I’m hesitant to use any other browser for fear that their little book mark symbols will not be at a clicks notice, as they are in Google Chrome.

COFFEE: If I had to PAY for all the coffee I imbibed, my diet would whittle down to nothing but ramen noodles and coffee, as that would be the only two substances I could then afford. Wafflehouse coffee, stiff coffee, flavored coffee, iced coffee, motor oil coffee, two-day old re-heated coffee. All coffee is good to me. Let me explain to you what coffee does to my psyce.

You know that, “Fuck it, I would normally care…” feeling you get when you’re doing something OBVIOUSLY bad to your body? ….like when you light up a cigarette (I don’t’ smoke) or down your sixth shot of the night, or (heaven forbid) hork down an entire Bloomin Onion from Outback… those things. The feeling that follows is usually, “OOO, that was soo worth it” and the brief period of guilty pleasured happiness sets in as endorphins pulse through your body all the way to your toenails. Unfortunately this feeling of happiness only lasts about that long until the much worse feelings of weakness and disappointment course through your once euphoric veins in response to your obvious failure to keep your personal ‘temple’ clean.

However, folks, coffee does me the great service of plopping me down right in the middle of the “OOO, that was soo worth it” feeling. Not only does it hit the drop zone perfectly, it KEEPS me there. I feel the guilty pleasure of something naughty, but never the repercussions. (well, my dental hygienist would argue otherwise ) But still. MMMMhMMhmm coffee, I need it to SURVIVE.

There are a thousand other little things that make my inside squeal with glee, but some of them are too cliché to talk about (like chasing squirrels and birds no matter who‘s looking) or too disgusting to discuss (such as, what SMELLS I tend to enjoy more than I should)

And with that. I bid you adieu.

Sanity Restored

Originally uploaded by rollabarnessa

Member how I said that I was going to go crazy and lose my mind? Well I was taken on a trip to Charleston, and it turned out to do a lot more good than harm. All is well in rollaworld.

Dear Kroger's Shredded Wheat

Dear Kroger's Shredded Wheat,

I really appreciate your efforts towards being better then Post's Shredded Wheat, howeva, you have utterly failed.

You are the cheaper choice, and I appreciate that in this economy. I also like the look of your box better than I do Post’s. Lastly, you usually do a great job of boosting the frequency of my BMs. But, regrettably, your flaws outweigh your sensibility factor, and I can no longer pretend that there is not a problem.

You are a wee bit smaller, which would be good except that your smallness gives the illusion that I'm taking a smaller bite than I actually am. This leads to some inopportune and frequent choking, and that's just not what I’m looking for at 6:55 AM. Also, you are a smidge on the bland side, even for me. You are utterly tasteless in every regard of the definition. I enjoy, at the very least, the tiniest hint of sweetness, and I’m tired of having to get out the honey and Splenda to tolerate your nothingness.

For all these aforementioned reasons and some that I have reserved for my own personal festering, I delight in telling you that after this box, I am done with you and will happily never give you another thought.

Best of luck with other customers,

-Boobookittyfuck

Blanking Tuesdays

First off, I'd like to commission whoever is in charge of naming days of the week. There are too many that begin with T. I wish badly that there was a day of the week that rhymed with Rant, piss n moan, or bitch. Hell, I’d even settle for alliteration of any of the three at this point. So, then, with no day of the week to poetically and cleverly deem suitable for such brocades; it is henceforth Tuesday s for me. I’d also like to say that I am an expert in nothing and my opinion on anything is just that, an opinion. It is based on nothing more than my own relatively selfish interactions with the term in question.

Can I burn my bra for a minute or two?? What was that? ... Did you just say, “Yes please do, we haven’t had our daily dose of feminism yet.” Well, in that case… I don’t mind if I dooooo.

Am I the only one who feel s like I have to open up the goddamn handbook on relationships every month?? I mean… the way that it is supposed to work is:

1.sig other does something you don’t like

2. you bring it up

3. you have words about the issue with sig other

4.sig other realizes said action led to the WORDS about it.

5. sig other does not DO said action unless they are looking to have WORDS about it

But, the way that it actually works is that significant other forgets sometimes has the ‘relationship’ function in his brain TURNED TO ‘GOLDFISH’ So that he effectively adds another bullet to the list which is:

6. Promptly forget 1 through FUCKING 5.

And, yes, I did say “HIS” above because we all know that unless you’re a special breed of female… you do not forget a fight. Well, perhaps the fight, but not the principle that was created through the fight.

But really, do these things NOT stick in someone’s’ head? Na, na na. Seriously. Let’s write with rationale here. For example, if I had a friend who hated... air conditioning… after enough times of them getting into my car saying…. “Ahem… would you mind turning that off… please?” I would learn to save a step in the scheme of things, and turn it off right before they got into the car. It’s called a memory; I make them when events happen. Then I store them away for later use… I learn from the past, to not create tension in the future. But, it seems that said GOLDFISH has no room for this concept IN HIS HEAD. So, back to the handbook; I have to reopen this sucker about once a goddamn month and point out that it really is best in the long run of a relationship to be unselfish, un-lazy, and above all things to REMEMBER.

Ok, bra is going back on my chest now. Pity, it was a nice bra that now smells like burnt hair.

On to the second topic at hand. I need to tell you a story so that I can tell you the pertinent story. I was sitting at a double light this morning. Thus… in order to get through the intersection, I must pass under two lights. Both of these lights turn green at the same time… it’s just a matter of getting over some railroad tracks. No big deal, lights turn green, everyone goes underneath both of them. WELL NOT THIS MORNING. Pertinent story; I sat through TWO round s of this light, and there were only five cars in front of me!! The car immediately in front of me had decided that the best way to handle the intersection was only to lift their foot off the brake and inch forward. LIKE THERE WASN’T 75 YARDS of NOTHING in front of them. It is one thing to sit through a couple of lights when there are 40 cars in front of you… reaction times and acceleration differences of the people in front of you, but this… this was a whole other ballgame.

Ok… I must admit at this point that I’m not the most patient person when it comes to driving. I’m actually only patient when dealing with myself, but, another time for that. So I’m not patient at all, but I tried the “put yourself in someone else’s shoes” method this morning, and IT DID NOT WORK. I used my grandmother, Eva, because I can’t ever remember her losing her temper at anyone. But I could just hear he little agitated euphemisms, “oh my achin back” or “god bless them, this is silly” or “good gracious.” So, if even an event like this would get your GRANDMA riled up… what do you do?? How should this be handled? (well you could vent in your blog) Clever idea, subconscious, I knew there was a reason that I wanted TUESDAYS to be Rant days. :)

But wait, I’m not finished. What is WITH the mindless babble on TV?? The Kardashians, NYC prep, Dance Your Ass Off.. etc.etc. I thought that those shows were supposed to draw viewers IN… keep them entertained. They have taken the stupidity to such an embarrassing level that even if I’m watching those shows, I have to turn the channel when embarrassing or idiotic portions come up. I just can’t handle it. Their new technique has had quite the opposite effect on me. The only thing I really like to watch on TV now is The Soup, which thankfully has the same opinion on most TV shows as I do. Contrastingly, when I’m watching some program that I find intelligent, like the History Channel, or How things are Made, (which might be on the History Channel), or Nova, or Draining the Oceans, or ANYTHING that is not drooling babble, inevitably, someone walks in and is staggered that I could even sit through such a thing! It is not some superhuman feat that I can hone my attention intelligently for at least half an hour and learn a thing or two from TV. It is astonishingly inhuman that THEY can’t.

And with that I say, each day, learn something new, retain it, and for GODS sake apply it to real life.

that’s it. I’m done.

2nd Rough Draft

I am that spark that you’re looking for. I am that bubbly presence that makes the room come alive. I am full of energy, essence, and enthusiasm. My trials and tribulations created my spark and gave me drive, determination and focus.

I’ve had many opportunities to be overcome my situations and become less than I am right now, but I chose the high road in every instance. I overcame my obstacles through sheer will, and sometimes, back-breaking work. From an early age, I overcame and disproved a chauvinistic father. I was constantly led to believe that there was no way I could ever be good enough, no matter how good the grade was, or how well the game went. My father had never gone to college, so his attitude seemed hypocritical to me. His hypocrisy set a drive within me on full-tilt. I decided that not only was I going to graduate from college, but I would become a professional.

My parents divorce had both negative and positive contributions to my journey through higher education. For example, it taught me to deal with certain kinds of oppression. I understand that being a white female from a middle-class family gave me certain privileges. However, given the total population of doctors, only a small percentage of them are surgeons, and of them an even smaller percentage are female. I believe that having had to deal with a constant bombardment of unfounded blatant male chauvinism from my father will help me persist in the medical world. I’ve developed a tough shell. Furthermore, my father’s attitude gave me a skewed perception of men, and perhaps instilled in me the cockiness with which he carried himself. Cockiness and misperception, will do you only a small amount of good in this world. So it has been to my advantage, despite the hypocrisy and oppression to see and strive for the lighter side of things.

I have also overcome physical obstacles. Since I was eleven, I’ve had asthma. I have not let it stop me from competing in challenging sports. In high school I ran track and competed in varsity soccer from my freshman year on. During the seasons, I always trained harder than the other girls to overcome the effects that asthma had on my lungs. Then, leading up to college, I began competing in club soccer. Club soccer is elite; I tried out and beat other girls make my team. I played for four years in St. Louis, Mo which was physically taxing. This is where I was recruited to play Division II college soccer. In college I was known as the girl who worked hard. I may not have been the best technical player but I ran further, faster, and harder than anyone else. I started every single game, save one due to injury, all four years. My asthma was never a burden on me, and I have never used it as an excuse. I treated my asthma the same way I treated my father’s chauvinism, as an accelerant to drive me forward. I believe that the physical strength I accumulated through overcoming my problems with asthma gives me an indelible presence in a room or in a crowd. For that, I am proud.

My aforementioned weaknesses had just as much influence in creating my spark as my strengths, but, I tend to favor my strengths. My strengths developed through the actions of my mother and my grandmother. They were my foundations. Both took such pride in my achievements that it was worth it to me to go that extra mile, if only just for them. My mother has sacrificed a lot in her life to give me what I need. As I said, I was a rather athletically talented teen, and I developed a passion for soccer. However, there was no soccer program in the small town where I grew up in Missouri, so my mother signed me up to play competitively in St. Louis. She spent countless hours on the road driving me to practices, and spent hundreds of dollars in new uniforms, cleats, gas, and food. My playing was a financial burden on the family. I knew she was fighting my father’s wishes to keep me in the league but she did all of this because she thought it might help me pay my way through college. As it turns out, I was recruited to play soccer at Newberry College. During my stay in South Carolina, my grandmother, who still supported me by writing me one letter a week with a little money inside, was diagnosed with ALS. Over the course of the next three years, her penmanship worsened, and her voice became so breathless that I could not hear her over the phone, but she absolutely insisted that I stay in class. Not only did I have to stay in school; I must also turn in every single homework assignment, and pass every quiz or test. She would not let of me leave classes to come see her, she also would not let me feel sorry for her. I was to do my duty in college and get that degree. My grandmother used to tell me that it would be a waste of good brain for me to not become a doctor. She didn’t know it, but she was teaching me how to perform under heavy emotional stress. I was torn between school and home and the only place I wanted to be was back there with her. In the end, I took one Friday off from class to attend her funeral up in Missouri. This was one month before I graduated with two degrees in Biology and Chemistry. With these unselfish actions, my grandma taught me to separate emotion and work. I miss her encouragement and her loving reinforcement of my finer qualities; mostly I just miss her. It is therefore easy to see that not only was I birthed and raised by these wonderful women, but I owe them my education and my will power, and therefore my spark. The day I walk across the medical school graduation stage, and see my mother’s smile, will be a grand day indeed.

My perseverance has already been challenged, here in the application process. I have not been accepted a couple of years now, and it is getting mentally, emotionally and financially exhausting. For any one of a number of reasons, acts of God, man, and naivety got in the way of me being the best potential candidate that I could be. But, I have made up my mind that enough is enough and I am no longer shooting for just ‘getting in.’ I am competitive. I am the person that you want in your school. I am the student that you will enjoy teaching in class. My determination to be accepted has brought me back time and time again. I have spent thousands of dollars teaching myself the correct way to master MCATS. I have sacrificed countless job offers from various companies because I don’t want to work at a job that will not help me become a doctor. Anything less than what I know is my best will not do for me. I know that everything else that came before this application round is not fruitless, because it is merely one more obstacle that, like the others, I will overcome. I believe that I can and will push through anything with vigor, pressure and perseverance.

Upon graduating cum laude from college, I received a rather prestigious award. The W.L. Laval award is presented to one graduating female and male a year. Its winners are senior student athletes who are judged to be outstanding in athletics, scholarship, character, and leadership. This was the cherry on top of the proverbial ice cream for me. It let me know that all of my efforts were worth something; that all of my mother’s and grandmother’s encouragement finally paid off. The award was merely a reminder of how much work it takes to win something so prestigious.

Medical school will be the springboard to my professional career as a surgeon. I believe that my strong upbringing that led to my awesome education has prepared me for the trials that could keep me from achieving my career goal of become a successful surgeon. I want my peers to respect my thoroughness and professionalism; and I want my patients to have confidence in my procedures and my quality of work. One day, with much hard work, I will be the model female surgeon in a largely male-dominated profession. Hopefully my persevering, bright personality will push me to achieve that goal.

I will push on past this current obstacle, like those before it and get into medical school. So I ask you, will you let me work hard for you? Will you give me the chance to shine; to use my vigor for good? Could this incoming class use an extra catalyst? I am that spark, that catalyst, and I will not disappoint. Thank you for your time.

----so now I have to edit about 1,000 characters without losing steam. wish me luck, artsy farts...:D

Rough Draft

I am that spark that you’re looking for. I am that bubbly presence that makes the room come alive. I am full of energy, essence, and enthusiasm. It was my trials and tribulations that created my spark. It’s hard to say exactly what my spark can do for me in the future, but what can be said about that spark is that it makes for great determination within my personality.

I’ve had many opportunities to commiserate my situations and become less than I am right now, but I chose the high road in every instance. I overcame my obstacles not through sheer will, or the most back breaking work imaginable, but just by being me. From an early age, I overcame and disproved a male chauvinistic father. I was constantly led to believe that there was no way I could ever be good enough. Looking back I realized that my father was too hard on me because no matter how good the grade was, or how well the game went, I had never done enough. This, coming from a man who had never graduated college, became hypocrisy in my mind. That hypocrisy set a drive within me on full-tilt. I knew that not only was I going to graduate college, but I was going on to become a professional. The concluding divorce have had both negative and positive contributions to my journey through higher education. Firstly, and on the positive side of things, it taught me to deal with certain kinds of oppression. I understand that I am already a privileged person being that I’m a white female in a middleclass family. But I am a female, and my dream is to become a surgeon. Given the total population, only a small percentage of them are surgeons, and of them an even smaller percentage are female. I believe that having had to deal with a constant bombardment of unfounded blatant male chauvinism will help me persist in the medical world. I’ve developed a tough shell. However, there is a dark side to this tale of triumph, and it brings me to my second point about my chauvinistic father. He gave me a skewed perception of men, and perhaps instilled in me the cockiness which he carried himself. These two things, cockiness and misperception, will do you only a small amount of good in this world. So it has been to my advantage, despite the hypocrisy and abuse to see and strive for the lighter side of things.

I have also overcome physical obstacles. Since I was eleven, I’ve had asthma. I have not let it stop me from competing in challenging sports. In high school I ran track and competed in varsity soccer from my freshman year on. I did so well I held records in track. During the seasons, I always trained harder than the other girls to overcome the effects that asthma had on my lungs. Then, leading up to college, I began competing in club soccer. Club soccer is select; I tried out and beat other girls make my team. I played for four years in St. Louis which was taxing. This is where I was recruited to play Division II college soccer. In college I was known as the girl who worked hard. I may not have been the best technical player but I ran further, faster, and harder than anyone else. I started every single game, save one to injury, all four years. My asthma was never a burden on me per say, and I have never held it as an excuse. I treated my asthma the same way I teated my father’s chauvinism, as an accelerant to drive me forward. I believe that the physical strength I accumulated through overcoming my problems with asthma is indelible to my presence in a room or in a crowd. For that, I am proud.

My aforementioned weaknesses had just as much influence in creating my spark as my strengths; but, I tend to respect, favor, and cater to my strengths. My strengths came about through the actions of my mother and my grandmother. They were my foundations; both took such pride in my achievements that it was worth it to me to go that extra mile, if only just for them. My mother has sacrificed a lot in her life to give me what I need. As I said, I was a rather athletically talented teen, and I developed a passion for soccer. However, there was no soccer program in the small town where I grew up in Missouri, so my mother signed me up to play competitively in St. Louis. She spent countless hours on the road driving me to practices, and spent hundreds of dollars in new uniforms, gas, and food. My playing was a financial burden on the family; I knew she was fighting my father’s wishes to keep me in the league. But she did all of this because she thought it might help me pay my way through college. As it turns out, I was recruited to play soccer at Newberry College. During my stay in South Carolina, my grandmother, who still supported me by writing me one letter a week with a little money inside, was diagnosed with ALS. Over the course of the next three years, her penmanship worsened, and her voice became so breathy that I could not hear it over the phone. But she absolutely insisted that I stay in class; not only did I have to stay in school; I must also turn in every single homework assignment. She would not hear of me leaving classes to come see her, she also would not hear of me feeling sorry for her. I was to do my duty in college and get that degree; she used to tell me that it would be a waste of good brain for me to not become a doctor. She didn’t know it, but she was actively teaching me to perform under heavy emotional stress. I was torn between school and home and the only place I wanted to be was back there with her. In the end, I took one Friday off from class to attend her funeral up in Missouri. This was one month before I graduated with a degree in Biology and Chemistry. With these unselfish actions, my grandma taught me to separate emotion and work. I miss her encouragement and her loving reinforcement of my finer qualities; mostly I just miss her. It is therefore easy to see that not only was I birthed and raised by these wonderful women, but I owe them my education and my will power, and therefore my spark. The day I walk across the medical school graduation stage, and see my mother’s smile, will be a grand day indeed.

My perseverance has already been challenged, here in the application process. I have not been accepted a number of years now, and it is getting both mentally and financially exhausting. For any one of a number of reasons, acts of god, man, and naivety got in the way of me being the best potential candidate that I could be. But, I have made up my mind that enough is enough and I am no longer shooting for just ‘getting in’ I am competitive. I am the person that you want in your school. I am the student that you will enjoy teaching in class. I want to be accepted bad enough that I have come back time and time again. I have spent thousands of dollars teaching myself the correct way to master MCATS. I have sacrificed countless job offers from various companies because I don’t want to work if it is not as a doctor. Anything less than what I know is my best will not do for me. I know that everything else that came before this application round is not fruitless, because it is merely one more obstacle that, like the others, I will overcome. I believe that I can and will push through anything with my vigor and background experience with pressure and perseverance.

Medical school will be the springboard to my professional career. I’m working to one day become a surgeon. I believe that my strong upbringing that led to my awesome education has prepared me for the trials that could keep me from achieving my career goal of become a successful surgeon. I want my peers to respect my thoroughness and professionalism; and I want my patients to have confidence in my procedures and my work. One day, with much hard work, I will be the model female surgeon in a largely male-dominated profession. Hopefully my persevering, bright personality will push me to achieve that goal.

Upon graduation from college, not only did I graduate cum laude, but I received a rather prestigious award. The W.L. Laval award is presented to one graduating female and male a year. Its winners are senior student athletes who are judged to be outstanding in athletics, scholarship, character, and leadership. This was the cherry on top of the proverbial ice cream for me. It let me know that all of my efforts were worth something; that all of my mothers and grandmothers encouragement finally paid off. But I will not stop at this, the award was merely a reminder at how much work it takes to win something so prestigious. I will push on, I will persevere, and I will get into medical school. So I ask you, will you let me work hard for you? Will you give me the chance to shine; to use my vigor for good? Could this incoming class use an extra catalyst? I am that spark, that catalyst and I will not disappoint. Thank you for your time.

Artsy Fartsy I am not.

SO, I’m trying to write my personal statement for medical applications. And I’ve been forced to admit, that despite years of effort; I am not, in the least bit artsy fartsy. Now, there are some of you who may like to take offense to that word and to you I say, hold your horses. Because this is a discourse in how I wish I were artsy fartsy, not how geeky I think you artsy farts are.

The term artsy fartsy I’m sure did not originate in my family. But, my grandmother and my mother used the term loosely because that was the time of non-political correctness, ( you know, the good ole 90’s)Probably because it sounded funny; my mom will say anything if it sounds the least bit fun on the other side of her lips. To further this little digression, I’d like to say that I wish I had even a person in my family that played AN INSTRUMENT. I kid you not there is not a person in my immediate or extended family that has one art-ish bone in their body. There are only two things that come even remotely close, and after you read them I guarantee the first thing you’ll think is “Well that was quite a stretch”

Firstly, my grandmother, Eva, god rest her awesome soul, could sing. I mean she could belt it. She sang in our church choir for the longest time. After her choral career ended, I remember sitting next to her in the congregation on Sunday wishing I could even get ON KEY. The second is that my boyfriend’s uncle can tickle a set of guitar strings such that your arm hair perks up and asks what’s going on. Srsly, he’s that good. Thing is I’ve known the man for five years, and I didn’t know until LAST MONTH that he could strum.

See? So, even though I adore my grandmother and admire her to nth degree, singing doesn’t really count.. Because even I can do it, in the right chord. And hell, my boyfriends uncle is not even a valid in-law yet. So unless someone in my family has been holding on to some right brained charisma… I’m telling you the truth about my total lack of artsy fart genes. But I digress…

Here’s the connection. Art, media, sculpture, songs, instruments, dance, poetry, fiction… all artsy fartsy stuff. Where does a personal statement fit into that? Well, yes, that’s right… somewhere between poetry and fiction. And as I have sufficiently proven above.. I have neither. So after all these years of starting little projects with yarn and hemp and trying my hand at poetry in high school and adventurously trying to re-learn how to crochet… I’ve willfully and honesty thrown in the damn towel after attempting to weave a good tale about myself. I cannot. It’s either some sob tale or too boasty. But, see my biggest problem in the whole shebang is that because I’m not artsy fartsy… I’m the worlds best analytical critique. Which really makes matters worse. Oh to be able to sketch a little doodle of me multi-tasking in a white coat whilst sick patients spin around me on gurneys in need of my immediate help. I’m sure that if that did not catch the eye of the admission committee that it would at least give me some kind of writers’ ambition!

But seriously tho! It's not fucking fair. If there was one thing that I wish I'd gotten around to doing when I was younger it would be to learn something artsy; i.e. piano, sculpture, coal sketching... really just anything. I dunno what I was thinking, but I do know that things like this cannot be re-gotten just like that. poof I can sew. NO, not so much really, and it's a pity. Imagine all the pent up expression in thousands of people's minds that never learned an expressive outlet.. tisktisktisk, god. You couldn't have found it necessary to hard wire us a little less tight?

So in light of all my toils and trials. I salute you, artsy farts, for being able to dream up the abstracts and translate them into media.