7.02.2008

Knowing is Half The Battle

I started playing Trivial Pursuit with my Grandmother when I was about 7 years old. I didn't know any of the answers to the real questions so my Grandmother would make up questions that I would know. I always seemed to beat her about the time her favorite TV shows started in the evenings...I still don't know how that happened.

Those early days of trivia challenges set the stage for a life long love of useless knowledge. There's nothing better than popping off answers to some of life's random questions.

Now you can join in my love of trivia with Cricky's Daily Trivia Challenge! Tournaments start the first of each month, playing doesn't cost you a dime and you can earn awesome fake prizes!

Our Category Schedule:
Sunday: Religion 1 : Easier
Monday: Music 1 : Easier
Tuesday: Movies 1 : Easier
Wednesday: Music 2 : Intermediate
Thursday: Movies 2 : Intermediate
Friday: Celebrities : Easier
Saturday: Music 3 : Difficult

Sponsored by FunTrivia.com
(not a payperpost)

7.01.2008

I'll Take Chinese Torture Methods for $2000 Alex!


Last Wednesday I announced to the world that my sister groped my boobs when we woke up that morning. Today I’d like to modify that statement –

“My sister feels me up when I’m unsure about what I’m feeling in the privacy of our own home. My mother however, is not afraid to ask me to raise my shirt in a busy parking lot so that she can feel my lumps.”

Rest assured, I declined my mother’s request and instead guarded my lovely lady lumps as she tried her best to get to them, oblivious to the office full of people 5 feet away from us.

I went to the smasher’s office yesterday with every intention of flashing my breast to anyone who wanted to see them. (Sorry Mr. Hospital Orderly!)

The nurse was a very kind, warm woman who discussed the procedures with me before asking me to remove my clothes. I felt very comfortable with her and sent good thoughts to God for sending me such a nice and comforting nurse. I changed into my front opening shirt and traipsed through the office without a care to the exam room.

Enter the Spanish Inquisition-

Who in your family has had breast cancer? My maternal grandmother had actual cancerous lumps; my mom’s lumps are always benign.

When did you start your period as a child? 13…or 12….no it was 13….is there a multiple choice?

Have you ever given birth? Yes

When? 2002

Did you breast feed? Yes, right up until my milk ducts laughed at me for attempting to pump 8 ounces out of 2 ounces.

Are you currently pregnant? Ummm….welll…..no…maybe…no….I have no freaking clue.

Alright well, we aren’t going to do the test today. You aren’t menstruating or on birth control, you might be pregnant.

Look lady, I’ve been trying to get pregnant for over four years. If I happen to be pregnant it will be a freaking miracle, I PROMISE! Just do the test.

You need to go get a blood test to confirm you aren’t pregnant and we’ll reschedule you for tomorrow. Unless you’re pregnant….we can’t do any radiation test on pregnant women. We don’t want to cause any three eyed fetuses.

CRAP, ARGGGGGHHHHH, AREYOUFREAKIKIDDINME!

So I go to my doctor, get some blood drawn and pray for 10 minutes that I’m not pregnant so I can get this mammogram and then pray for 4 hours that I am pregnant.

Apparently it only takes 10 minutes for God to listen and get on to the next girl, because the test came back negative. Proof that the Almighty One is a man? He and my husband share an attention span.

So I go back to the doctor this morning and they rush me through the lobby, billing & questioning portion. Nurse Wonderful from yesterday stops by and says she’s glad to see me back. She then apologizes for not being able to take care of me today but assures me that today’s nurse is really nice.

She Lied.

I am positive that today’s nurse can squeeze a completely full, unopened aluminum can and crush it into 1,000 little pieces. How can I be so positive? Because she demonstrated on my right tit.

This woman groped, tugged, pulled, prodded and pummeled my breast. It instantly brought back memories of a few ex-boyfriends; I even started to expect a sloppy wet kiss.

Nurse Man Hands continued massaging my breast tissue into my spine for a good 10 minutes all while telling me about her first mammogram experience. I guess they don’t teach that whole “Make the patient less nervous by talking about something off topic” in nursing school. She regaled me with stories of ancient machines that smashed your boobs into little pancakes, acupuncture type probes, and nurses manhandling your breast. (I might have imagined that last one…)

When she was positive that all of my breast tissue was pulverized into something akin to grains of sand, she took me to the radiologist room.

The radiologist was a bright and cheery little troll who complained about her job and husband more than I could ever imagine.

“Oh, that’s a beautiful diamond ring. Are you married? I’m married to a scum sucking communist pig who thinks I like to come home at 7pm and cook him a gourmet dinner after working in this hell hole all day.”

“Yes I am married. I’m…..sorry?”

She walked me over to the machine and told me to “plop it” on the machine. (Oh I wish I had a plopping sound effect) I did my best plop impression and prayed that it was as good as she expected.

The first few pictures weren’t that horrible. There were uncomfortable positions involved, but I wasn’t experiencing any of the pain my elders had warned me about.

Here’s the part where I eat my words….

She took the first round of pictures back to the doctor and came be bopping back in with excellent news. “He wants more pictures, he saw something. But don’t be alarmed!”

“Yeah...Sure.”

She brings me back to the plopper and tells me to do a position straight out of a Kama Sutra guide. The machine is now at a 20 degree angle and she says “I’m putting a different tray on here, it smashes a little harder to get the tissue to spread more.”

“No problem, it wasn’t that bad last time, I’ve got this.”

“Ok, here goes, this might pinch, hold your breath.”

“Ok…..ouch, yeah, that pinches….wow…..Holy Mother of God what in the hell are you trying to accomplish? Does he need to see through the freaking boob? They aren’t going to be transparent!!”

“You’re supposed to be holding your breath.”

“Oh…yeah…about that….you’ve got my boob inverted, holding my breath isn’t an option at this point.”

“Stop talking and it will stop hurting.”

“Fine”

And with that, she lowered the tray just a “pinch” further until I yelped in pain, snapped the picture and said “All done!”

“Hip, Hip, Hoo-freaking-ray.”

She took the second round of films to the doctor and was gone for an exceptionally long time. After putting my “shirt” back on I secretly wished that Nurse Man Hands would come massage my aching boobs.

Troll Baby came skipping back to the torture chamber with even better news, “He’s asking for an ultrasound, seems you’ve got a lump.”

“Here’s your sign.”

We walked to the ultrasound room and Troll Baby explains to me that the “goo” is going to be cold.

“After the pain in the last two rooms, I would expect nothing less.”

What she didn’t tell me was that the tube soaked in an ice bath.

“Well, we got that nipple up didn’t we?”

“Brrrrr…iiiiiiittttccccchhhhhhh”

She wielded the ultrasound wand with the same skill as a 3 year old with chopsticks. She left the room and called the doctors name in the hallway. I’m really beginning to freak out at this point. The cancer is climbing out of my areola. I’ve got 10 minutes to live. I'm dead already.

“Well Christina, you’re good to go! You’ve got a few areas of tissue and muscle clumping and a fluid filled cyst. We’ll recheck those in six months to make sure they haven’t changed.”

“Have a nice day and don’t forget to self-exam each month!"

6.25.2008

Hurry Up And Wait

I don't normally write sympathy/empathy/pity post. I try to maintain a positive or snarky attitude when faced with problems. I try my best to consider all the options and then run head first into my best intention.

Not this time. I'm going to be over the top melodramatic, poor-poor-pitiful me.

I'm FREAKING OUT. A few days ago I was sitting at my desk and noticed some unusual pain in my right breast. I didn't think much of it and blamed it on posture and under-wire.

This morning I woke up to a searing, shooting pain in the same boob and immediately thought "WTF, someone shoot me!" I asked my sister who was laying on the couch to help me out:

Me - "So I know you're in pain and staying home from work because you don't feel well but do you think you could feel me up for a few minutes?"

Her - "What in the hell do you smoke this early in the morning? Why are you speaking to me and why would I want to hear about your feelings this early?"

Me - "Not psycho feelings, I smoke Marlboro's, I need you to grope my boobs before I go to work."

Her - "I'm finding a new place to live damnit!"

Me- "That's great and all but I really need you to tell me if this is a lump or if I'm just a retard."

Her - "A lump, holy shit! Let me at 'em!"

(Jumps off the couch, throws my arm in the air and immediately begins prodding and poking the boob in question)

Me - "That spot you're on, Yes that one, that hurts like a son of a bitch so let's not do that aga-YEOUCH!-in."

Her - "I'm calling the boob-smashers right now! You've got a lump under the tissue at the bottom of the breast."

Me - "Oh, ok...I'll see you later on tonight!"

(Get into my car and immediately begin losing my shit on the way to work)

Me - "Mom, Sister found a lump on my boob this morning, I have an appointment on Monday at 9am with the smashers."

Mom - "I'll be there. Don't worry, I was 22 when I found my first lump. We survive these kind of things."

Me - "I sure hope so."

6.23.2008

Rest In Peace Mr. Carlin 1937-2008

SANTA MONICA, Calif. (AP) -- George Carlin, the dean of counterculture comedians whose biting insights on life and language were immortalized in his "Seven Words You Can Never Say On TV" routine, died of heart failure Sunday. He was 71.
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GEORGE CARLIN'S NEW RULES
New Rule : Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates. com ! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them!? Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days--mowing my lawn.


New Rule : Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar.

What did you expect it to contain?? Trout?

New Rule : Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.


New Rule : There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.



New Rule : Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.


New Rule : The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a 'decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one sweet-n'-Low, and one NutraSweet,' ooh, you're a huge asshole.


New Rule : I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing 'Enter,' verifying the amount, deciding no, I don't want cash back, and pressing 'Enter' again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy

New Rule : Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to 'beef with broccoli.' The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.


New Rule : I don't need a bigger mega M&Ms. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.


New Rule : No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.


New Rule : and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom
attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.


New Rule : When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. '27 Months' 'He's two,' will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.


New Rule : If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh . If so, then plan your future around saying, 'Do you want fries with that?

***************************************************************

"We're all fucked. It's nice to remember that." - George Carlin

6.19.2008

How Do You Say It, When You're Not Supposed To Talk About It?

There has been much debate lately about the amount of personal information a blogger shares. I personally hide certain aspects of my life because my family asked me to. I do not share marital disputes, family disputes (at least the serious ones), or personal information about my daughter, my sister and my nephew. Sharing the good, the bad, and the ugly within those limits can be difficult at times.

Writing is my personal refuge. It gives me a way to express my personal opinions, views and beliefs. It allows me to express feelings that I have trouble expressing vocally so that my family can try to understand the dark places I sometimes travel through in my mind.

Sometimes an event happens in my world and I want so badly to share it with my “internets”, but I know that my “real life” would be terribly angry with me for posting it. There’s a very thin line that a blogger has to walk; but it’s something I’m willing to do for the relief I gain.

This is type of stuff I need to write about.

Recently one of my family members became involved in a very confusing love triangle. She has been with her partner for quite some time but was faced with a previous love interest walking back into her world. She is now dealing with a very difficult aspect of love, choosing the right partner.

I can tell her what I think all day long but does it really sink in? When do I have to back off and say “I’ve given you advice, now make up your own mind.”? When I say that to her am I allowed to go back and offer more advice or am I supposed to stay away?

I want so badly to tell both of the girls on this side of the triangle –

“You’re going to be OK when this is over.

The outcome will mean the world to you right now, but not so much in 20 years. You’re still so young that this will be a minuscule moment in your own personal time line.

Sometimes staying with someone hurts more than living without them.

Being in love sometimes means having to back off and let the other person figure their own feelings out.

Just because you are one person’s everything doesn’t mean that you are nothing to someone else.

Being someone’s entire world sometimes hurts worse than if they’d just ignore you.

Love and confusion often go hand in hand.

Make yourself happy, screw everyone else.

Misery loves company, make it feel uninvited.

DON’T SETTLE FOR ANY NOUNS! (person, place, or thing)

Life is too short to be stressing about this kind of stuff.”

That’s what I’d tell them if I was ever able to blog about it.