I'm still here!

I'm still alive. I swear I am. Perhaps that's why I'm in so much pain - to remind me that I am, indeed, alive.

I started my new job last week. It's difficult adjusting to the hours. Not just a 40 hour work week (that I haven't done in months, unfortunately), but starting at a job that I have to drive almost an hour to and starts at 7 in the morning. Pleh.

BUT, I love my job, and the people there are great. Makes it a heck of a lot easier to get up in the morning. Well, if it wasn't for all of the pain, that is. The actual waking up bit, though, is easier because I'm happy.

I have a blog post that I've been slowly working on (no, it's not that great, I've just been working on it when I have a minute here and there... don't get any hopes up), and I'll see when I can get that finished. In the meantime, I'll check in when I can.

Later all!

Lost and Not Found

So, I wasn't gonna post this story, but Strings has persuaded me to share. Here's my disclaimer: If you're overly sensitive, don't like talking about ... um... female issues, or if the word "tampon" makes you run for the hills, don't read this post. If you don't heed my warning and read anyway, hey... it's on you.

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Those who know me well know that I have a condition commonly referred to as PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). Due to this condition, I have infrequent periods - usually none at all without being induced via medication. Anyway, recently I began a very light period (or spotting - hard to say which). Being the modern woman that I am, I use tampons.

The problem began the morning after my "period" started.

Me: Honey?

Hubby: Yes dear.

Me: Can you come in the bathroom, please?

Hubby enters as I'm standing there, naked from the waist down with a slightly disconcerted look on my face. He closes the door behind him.

Me: I need you to look for something.

Hubby (confused): Okay? What?

Me: Um..... my tampon.

Hubby pauses for a moment to consider this.

Hubby: What do you mean?

Me: My tampon... I ... uh.... can't find it.

Hubby briefly looks around the bathroom for my box of tampons which is sitting on the toilet tank right behind me. I see the confusion on his face.

Me: Down here. (I point to my exposed nether regions)

Hubby pauses again. Then, quickly and, might I say, rather unceremoniously jams a finger into my hoo-hoo (ah, yes... the technical term) and begins to feel around. After fishing about for a bit (no, that's not a pun), he retracts the finger and says, "I can't find anything. Sorry."

Me: Shit.

Hubby suggests I call my ob/gyn. I tell ob/gyn nurse that, well, I went to bed wearing a tampon and now I can't find it. Ob/gyn nurse asks if we looked in the bed. "Yes." I tell her aloud while thinking to myself, "I ripped the damn bed and surrounding area apart. Does she really think I felt like calling someone to announce that my hoo-hoo likes to eat string-laded cotton balls without checking into other possibilities first?"

Ob/gyn nurse says I'll need to see a doc. My doc's not in that day.... Other doc could see me later that afternoon, but I have other appointments elsewhere. Ob/gyn nurse tells me to go to the local walk-in clinic. I hang up the phone and find hubby and tell him we need to go to the walk-in. He drops me off after I tell him I don't necessarily need him there with me. Doctors searching for a tampon in my hoo-hoo like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade does not require spousal assistance.

I walk up to the registration desk. I give all of the usual info... name, date of birth, insurance info. Reg nurse asks, "And what are you being seen for today?"

I look at her, straight-faced, and say, "Well, I went to bed last night with a tampon and this morning.... Not so much."

The look on the reg nurse's face is priceless. Somehow, she manages to maintain professionalism.... But you can see, she's definitely laughing... hysterically, I might add.... on the inside.

Reg Nurse: Um.....

I crack a smile

Reg Nurse: I don't know how to put that down.

Me: How 'bout "Lost Tampon"?

I burst into a giggle fit. Reg Nurse realizes it's okay to giggle. She does. A lot. She manages to get it together and finally tells me I can have a seat.

I look at the board of doctors working the walk-in. There's only one. And it's the one doctor I hate. No sense of humor (generally speaking) and condescending as hell. Looks at you like you're evil incarnate when you tell him you're not ready to quit smoking and then gives you The Speech. Ah well.

My name is called a few minutes later and I look up to see someone I recognize. Great. The nurse is a gal hubby knows. She's bound to remember me since hubby was just in the previous week.

Nurse brings me in and gives me the usual once over (weight, bp, pulse, temp). She looks at me straight-faced (like she didn't read the chart.... riiiiiiiiiiight) and asks me what brings me in.

Me: I went to bed with a tampon and woke up without one.

I swear I see her bite her lip in restraint.

Me: I even had hubby look for it. No luck.

Oh, let's see how professional she can be.....

Me: Couldn't find it. He suggested putting duct tape on things and inserting them to see if the tampon would stick.

I can't help it.... Even I burst into hysterics. Nurse joins me. After another minute or two of snide banter and giggling, Nurse's face gets serious. She pauses. She says, "You know, I'm a woman and I don't even know what I would do." More giggling ensues.

Nurse: Well, at least you can laugh about it. The doctor should be in shortly.

I'm left to sit giggling by myself. I get into the oh-so-fashionable paper-wear that you get in doctors' offices and plop myself on the exam table. Doc knocks and comes in. He's already smirking. Must be a good day.

Doc looks at the chart and says, "What seems to be the problem?"

Me: Well, I went to bed wearing a tampon and this morning... Well, I seem to have lost it."

Doc: It's not exactly like losing your keys, is it?

Me: I sure hope not. If I lost my keys up there, I've got a real problem.

(the giggling starts)

Me: It's not as though I've got an ignition in my hoo-hoo.

Doc: Well..... *snicker*.... I'm not gonna touch that one.

We're all laughing heartily as he tells me to saddle up. He checks. It feels like my hoo-hoo is Shea Stadium, that's how many lights are in and around there. Finally, he looks up and says, "Sorry. I can't find anything."

I look at him... (what do you say at this point?) "Well, uh, thanks for looking."

Doc leaves and I get dressed and walk out to wait for my hubby. Hubby gets there and says, "Well?"

Me: Couldn't find it.

Hubby: So now what?

Me: I guess we assume it fell out or something.

Hubby: Yah know, there's still the duct tape or chewing gum option....

Nice.

Good News!

It's official! I got hired on by the company I was working for as a temp! Really excellent benefits - good insurance, education reimbursement, freakin' awesome 401(k) plan, even adoption assistance.

Happy happy happy. Oh yah, and I love my job, too! Happy happy happy.

Weird Al

So a week and a half ago I (with Spoon and Tinker) go to the Weird Al concert here in Wisconsin. It was awesome. I totally geeked out on Al when I got a chance to meet him (aka get his signature). By geeked out, I mean, speechless, jaw moving up and down, rest of my body frozen. I may even have drooled a little.

The thing is, I think Weird Al Yankovic is totally sexy. And of course, ever since then, Tinker and Spoon have been teasing me about "The Red Suit" - one of Al's outfits for his very seductive song, "Wanna B UR Lovr." This teasing, of course, had already started on the way home from the concert, which resulted in a few occasions of me almost driving off of the road. (Getting a fixed, blank stare and drooling is not recommended when driving, by the way.)

So for the last week and a half, I've had that song running through my head. And daydreaming a lot.

Bottom line, if I ever start rambling, I guess the best way to get me to stop is to say, "Red Suit." hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. *drool*

Ink Blot Personality Test

According to experts, my personality type is : World Leader Other people like me display these traits. They can't spell They have 6 fingers on each hand They dine and dash They are good in bed Take the Ink Blot Personality Quiz at JokesUnlimited.com

I completely refute everything stated here except the last bit. *snicker*

Harry Potter

Heh... Went to the book release party for Harry Potter last Friday and got the book (I preordered). I've already read it, so roommie has stolen it (He had his own copy, but wifey gave it to the Old Man to read first. *snicker*) I've been having a gay 'ol time teasing roommie. Like "Hey, did you get to the part where..." I've already been threatened to have all of my joints shot out. It's a start anyway...

*snicker* I'm eeeeeeevil.

I Can't Win

Yee Gods Almighty... Has it really been almost a week since my last post? I suppose I should probably write something so people don't think I died. Or maybe I shouldn't... it would certainly cut down on my phone bill...

Last weekend was an SCA event over in WFABFE (Way Far Away Bum Fuk Egypt). After a six hour drive that was supposed to take "3 1/2 hours" (per hubby, that is), we rather crankily arrived at the new site of the event. A giant stretch of flat land with absolutely no trees. It's 90+ degrees, the sun's going down, there's no shade and we have to try to set up a tent, a carport and a pavillion. And all with our ever-so-sunny dispositions up so high.

Hubby lays out the truth - "I'm hurty and crabby. Let's just get this sh** done." I go about doing the usual - setting up the tent (it's my tent and I'm very anal about setting it up). I do this not only because I too am crabby and hurty, but mostly because I simply want to go to bed. Hubby goes to set up the carport and enlists a few unlucky stragglers who happen by to help.

I get the tent up and start grabbing things from the car. I'm tired and sweaty now. I ask Hubby where the air mattress is. He responds with a distracted "In a tote." I glance around at the still unpacked trailer and pile of goods next to the trailer, most of which is a giant pile of... yes, you guessed it... totes. I decide to go for the one that is the easiest access. I luck out.

I grab the air mattress, the air pump and the extra set of batteries. I go into the sweat lodge now known as my tent. I spread the air mattress out in the appropriate spot and start to attach the air pump. It feebly starts up with a rather reluctant whirr.

"Screw this." I think and decide to change the batteries before I even really get started. The sun is now mostly down and the temperature has not dropped a bit. Sweat is running into my eyes and now the brand new flashlight I bought on the way up is starting to dim - damn batteries - and I don't have any fresh AA's.

In the fading light (both the sun and the flashlight), I pop open the battery compartment of the air pump. Like one of those 'snakes in a peanut brittle can', four D cells come flying at my head. I wipe more sweat out of my eyes and whip all four batteries at the far wall of the tent, then open the new pack. I pick out four fresh batteries and suddenly realize that: a) I didn't look at which way the batteries were originally in the compartment (as if I had a chance, mind you), b) there is no diagram telling me which way to put them in and c) if I don't get them in there soon, I may as well shove them up my bum for all the good it's gonna do me.

I am, at this point, seriously contemplating sleeping on the ground. To which my back, already screaming with sciatica, gives a resounding "No!" flash of pain. I fumble with the batteries and guess. It takes me about five minutes to get the damn cover on. I try the switch. Nothing. I open the compartment again. I manage to find the four batteries that have just sprung out at me again. I try to remember which way I just tried to put them in. I remember. I try a different way. I struggle for 10 minutes to get the cover back on. I try the switch. Nothing.

It's at this point that I step out of my tent for a breather. I walk over to where Hubby is diligently screaming incoherently at people and sit down. Somehow, everyone else's misery makes me feel a bit better. Besides, there's a breeze starting up.

I go back into the tent. After searching for the batteries again (those springs in that compartment must be really good!), I get them configured a third way. The sun is completely down now, but that hasn't help the temperature. I struggle for a good twenty minutes to close the cover of the compartment (cover askew, batteries pop, search for batteries, cover askew, batteries pop, search for batteries, repeat). At this point, the flashlight has seriously dimmed. I fairly positive a wet sparkler throws off more light. I flip the switch. I hear a strong whirr. I smile.

Now, have I mentioned that I have night blindness? I feel around for the flat peice of vinyl that is my air mattress. I have given up wiping the sweat away and simply decide to watch the waterfall as I bow my head. I find the air mattress but darned if I could find the blow hole. In different circumstances I would be wishing for flour while I slapped away. I find the blow-up hole and get the pump attached.

I step out of the tent again and wander over by Hubby. The carport is now up and everyone is huddled underneath it, commenting on how nice the breeze feels. Hubby is drinking a cold beverage and his mood is beginning to lighten. I ask Hubby where the pillows and sleeping bags are. "In the car." is his response. I look over to the car where practically nothing has been unpacked, knowing full well that my sleeping bag is completely buried. It is at this precise moment that I realize I forgot my pillow. "Screw it," I think, "I'll deal."

In the slight distance I can hear my air pump beginning to strain against an almost full mattress. I go back into the EZ Bake Oven that is my tent and cap off the blow-hole and set the pump in an accessible area of the tent in case it deflates a little before I am able to finally go to bed.

I emerge from the EZ Bake Oven one last time to ask Hubby to help locate/unbury the mock-bedclothes. He looks at me and says, but we haven't even set up the bed yet. "Yes I did." I respond. "Where?" he asks. "In the tent." I reply as calmly as possible. "You set up the tent?" he asks. I simply point to where, sure as sh**, my tent stands. I ask him - for my own information - mind you, "Where the hell do you think I've been this whole time?" He pauses, obviously realizing that he hadn't thought of that in the bustle of things, and says, "Well I figured we'd sleep in the carport tonight. That's why I was trying to get it up so quickly."

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Communication is, quite obviously, not my marriage's strong point.