A noble cause

My sister is in law school and is currently interning (or is it externing?  I always get that confused) with the legal department at a hospital and she sometimes talks to me about this over messenger.  Apparently one of her duties to to review complaints and determine whether or not the hospital is probably going to get sued.  On the one she was working today, she consulted dozens of cases and statutes as well as her text book before finally coming to a conclusion. So I asked if they were going to get sued.

Sis: hahaha I think we're good [proceeds to lay out 3 paragraphs on why she feels that way] This is what I'm choosing to do with my life, by the way...

Me: LOL, have fun with that.  I'm choosing to spend my life trying to talk people out of using animated kitten gifs and Comic Sans font.

Sis: I think that's actually a far more noble cause. Until comic sans is just banned across the board--that's where I come in!

Me: I WILL SUE ALL THE COMIC SANS! You better watch your back, Papyrus - you're next!

Sis: Here's my co-counsel: Charles Carreon

And this is why my sister is going to be the best lawyer ever.

Where have you been and why are you carrying a jug of pee??

It's been while!  But then, I haven't exactly been myself lately.  In addition to balancing a full-time job, I've also been working on getting back into school (one that will actually return my emails and update their website in a timely manner, unlike my recent experiences), learning to cook, volunteering for test-knitting (more on that later), and dealing with fatigue, muscle weakness, lack of sleep, and mood swings.

That last bit is what's been eating most of my time.  Since March, I've been in and out of the endocrinologist's office for various tests to rule out hypothyroidism, diabetes, and a myriad of other conditions that all share the same vague symptoms.  I've had what feels like gallons of blood drawn, I've chewed on nasty-tasting pieces of cotton, but this last test takes the cake.

Most of these tests were because my cortisol was too high and they wanted to either rule out or confirm Cushing's.  After my chew-on-cotton-to-collect-spit test (ew), I got a call saying that my spit came back normal, but since my blood test had slightly elevated cortisol, they wanted to do a urine test.   A 24-hour urine test, to be exact.  I was told to come pick up the kit.  I assumed it was going to be a whole bunch of pee cups or something like that.  Apparently, I was wrong.

I had The Bastard drive me over there, since we had errands to run anyway, and he waited in the car while I went up to get the kit.  After a few minutes of waiting in the waiting room, a nurse waved me back.  Then handed me a giant, bright orange jug.

THIS giant orange jug, specifically!  Seriously, it's almost as big as a milk jug.

She said, "Ok, what you need to do is start in the morning.  Don't collect your first urination of the morning, but every one after that needs to go in this jug.  Then collect the first one of the next morning and you're done.  Oh, and it also needs to be refrigerated."

Aaaand that's where I almost lost it.  I'd been trying so hard not to laugh, and I'm pretty sure what came out would be classified as a "guffaw".  Not only was I going to have to collect my pee, but I had to refrigerate it?? I think the nurse was having trouble containing the giggles as well by this point.

In any case, I took my giant orange pee jug and walked back to the parking lot with as much dignity as one can have while carrying a giant orange pee jug.  I got in the truck and the following conversation happened:

Dan: What the hell is that?

Me (grinning): Oh you're going to love this.

Dan: Do I even want to know?

Me: Well, you kind of have to know.  See, I'm going to have to collect all my pee over a 24-hour period in this jug -

Dan: And why do I need to know this?

Me: Well... because it needs to go in the refrigerator.

Dan: ...no.  You are not putting your pee next to the food.

Me: I know that!  That's why I'm going to use the beer fridge.

Dan: WHAT? You're not putting your pee in my beer fridge!

Me: OUR beer fridge, and we're not using it right now, anyway.  It's not even plugged in.

Dan: That's not the point!  It's the fact that I'll know that your pee has been in there whenever I do put beer in it!

Me: You do know I'm not peeing directly into the fridge, right?

Dan: Beside the point.  It's the principle.

In the end, I won after I remembered that we'd originally received the beer fridge (a 2-foot-tall mini-fridge) from his mom after her office had decided to discard it.  This fridge used to hold blood samples.  Obviously, they were packaged in a secure and sanitary manner, and we thoroughly disinfected it just to be safe, but seriously, if that didn't bother him, then my pee should be just fine!

So I went through all that to get to this: I don't have Cushing's.  But I do have PCOS, which is why my hormones are all out of whack.  Now that I'm being medicated for that, I should be getting back to normal and should actually update this thing once in awhile.

Happy belated new year and Aldi trampolines

Happy New Year, everyone!  Even though I'm almost a month late, but that's beside the point.  With finals, Christmas, family stuff, and moving, I haven't really had the energy to put anything up here.  However, after discussing with one of my friends some of the weird shit that we've seen sold at my favorite grocery store, Aldi, I decided to make this quick post.  I present to you, the top two weirdest things from my most recent grocery run.

Resistance-band style weight bench

Mini trampoline (!!!!!!)

You're welcome.

My kingdom for a macro!

Disclaimer: This is a semi-rant concerning Rift, an MMORPG, so if you've never played one before, you probably won't know what the hell I'm talking about. It's also fueled by slight insomnia, so making sense is optional anyway.

I made a new character on Rift today and somehow ended up spending about 5 hours on her without even realizing it. I have a level 50 rogue that I usually play but wanted to try something different. So I went mage. I was actually kinda having fun with it, too. Then I got The Bastard involved.

All I wanted to know was how to make the best macros, since I had gotten her leveled to a point where they might be useful. That is when I was informed that mages are the hardest to level and their spells can't really accommodate macros. If I was actually able to play on a daily basis, this wouldn't be such a big deal. However, I don't have the time to really get a feel for this type of levelling, so I basically just wasted 5 hours.

I see only 3 options: stick with this mage out of pride and be annoyed; suck it up and go make a cleric; or say fuck it and buy Skyrim for my Xbox.

A rose by any other name... is still a deadly plant of horrors

On Monday, we went over to the in-laws' house.  They've moved to the other side of the country (thanks, economy!) but have kept their house here.  They'll be home for Christmas so we're trying to spruce up the place a bit.  In the course of decorating the front of the house, The Bastard came upon that annual obstacle.

The rose bushes.

First off, I'm not a big fan of roses anyway.  They're expensive.  They're cliche.  They're the type of flower that my grandmother, who likes both expensive and cliche, tried to talk me into having at my wedding (we went with star-gazer lilies).  The worst part?  With the exception of the pretty little flowers, they look like something out of Wes Craven's House of Flower Arrangements.

I wanted to set it on fire.  The Bastard pointed out that his parents' HOA might get mad.

Why why WHY does anyone plant these death plants??  The only reason my in-laws have them is because the neighborhood put it there and won't let them rip the damn things out.  We saw where Nurse Mommy cut them back last year.  They grew back with even MORE thorns.  It's like they increase their defenses every time they're cut, but the only thing we can do to combat them is to keep cutting them.

We move into this house next month and I'm a little concerned that these plants might try to grow under the house, into the bedroom, and try to kill us in our sleep.  Anyone know where I can get a good flamethrower?

Indecisive Bastard is indecisive

With school and work and holidays and blah blah blah, I haven't had much time for blogging.  However, I had to pop in to share this conversation.  Background info: My husband tries his damnedest to never decide anything.  Ever.  Also?  Never consult me for snappy comebacks.  This is a one-time deal here.

Me: What do you want for dinner?

Dan: I dunno.

Me: Well, we have ground beef thawed.  I also bought taco seasoning and spaghetti sauce.  Which would you rather have?

Dan: Meh.  Whatever.

Me: Alrighty.  I'll be in the living room whenever you make a decision.

Dan (as I'm walking out of the room): Whatever!

Me (walking back in the room): You never make a decision.  Do you even know how decision-making works??

Dan (grinning): No, not really! Why don't you explain it to me in 3 words or less.

Me (pondering for a few seconds): ...Choose... an... option.

Dan (boggling): Oh my god.  You actually did it.

Me: That's right!  I win!

Dan: What the fuck?!  GTFO!!

Me (walking out of the room): I WIN, BITCHES!!!

That's right.  I'm a winner!

I haven't occupied anything recently, but I may have accidentally crushed a bank employee's spirit

So we closed our accounts with Mid-Size Bank (not the actual name... duh) since we decided to transfer over to the company where we have all our insurance policies because hey!  Multi-account discounts!  We've just been lazy about it, but when our old bank sent a letter saying that they were increasing rates and charging to use our check cards, we had all the incentive we needed.

The banker that we spoke to was very nice and very enthusiastic to keep our business.  I felt kinda bad for him because I figured that there had been a lot of customers leaving for other banks and credit unions with the fee hike, so I tried to sympathize with him.  That didn't really go so well...

My solid relationship

This conversation just happened:

Me: Where are you going?

Bastard: None of your business.

Me: Where are you going?

Bastard: Strip club.

Me: Uh huh. Where ya going?

Bastard: I just told you. Strip club.

Me: At quarter to 9 on a Tuesday.  By yourself.

Bastard: Yup. (starts digging quarters out of change dish)

Me: Ummm, I don't think that you're allowed to put coins in a stripper's g-string.

Bastard: That's not where I'm gonna put 'em! (eyebrow wiggle)

Me: Wrong kind of slot, sweetie!  Seriously.  Where are you going?

Bastard: I don't want to have to repeat myself.

Me: Good!  Maybe this time you'll actually tell me where you're going.

Bastard: (heads for door)

Me: You're going on a soda run, aren't you?
 
Bastard: Nope.

Me: How long are you going to be gone?

Bastard: A couple hours.

Me: Alrighty.  See you in a few minutes.  Have fun on your soda run!

He was back a few minutes later carrying a soda.  We know each other so well!

Working with Frankenteen

I have a coworker that some of us lovingly call Frankenteen.  Ok, by "some" I actually mean "two", but that's beside the point.  He's a funny kid and will just swoop past my department, grab candy out of the candy dish, pop my bubble wrap, then swoop back out again with a "Hi! .... Bye!"  This is an actual conversation that took place during the company's busiest week of the month.  To set the stage, my desk was absolutely buried and I was frantically trying to get as much done as possible when Frankenteen came bounding into my section.

Frankenteen

Frankenteen: Are you busy?

Me: Uh... yeah... just a bit!  What do you need?

Frankenteen: Can I use you as a test dummy?

Me: ...for what?

Frankenteen (pointing at my computer): For that!

Me: What do you need to do?

Frankenteen: Don't worry, it won't effect your work! We just need to test something!

Me: What do you need to test?

Frankenteen: I need to check to see if you have admin rights.

Me: I DO have admin rights! I already know that I do so you don't need to check!

Frankenteen: Oh, well we can't use you then. Bye!

Because I'm a friend and I care

To my friend A who had to back out of last week's campout at the last minute:



Hallmark, eat your heart out!

Happy birthday, you Scotch-Irish Bastard!

Thursday was The Bastard's birthday, so yesterday I threw him a little get-together.  It was just us, a few friends, some cake, and a whole lot of balloons.

The decorators may have been 12.  And by decorators, I mean me & my friend JB.

I also found this kickass Betty Crocker bar mix that was brownies and chocolate chip cookies mixed together. So fuck yeah, I bought it!  I bought 2 boxes!  And this was the result:

OMNOMNOM

I might have made a joke about calling the fire marshal at this point!

The Bastard gets his motorcycle back... then goes to jail

So after sitting in the shop for almost 2 months, The Bastard finally got his bike back.  Of course, the first thing he did was go for a ride.  And when he goes for a ride, he usually ends up somewhere in Bumblefuck.

::snicker:: That sign says "Blowing Rock"

Now, I always worry about him getting a speeding ticket or get into an accident, but I never expected him to get arrested.

Apparently he was fueling up at a gas station where a Bumblefuck town cop was sitting out front.  Said cop decided to run The Bastard's plates.  Why?  No idea.  Apparently his plate came up with no valid license attached to it, probably because he thought he still had another month on it, but it had actually expired 2 weeks prior.  Oblivious to the activity in the police car he pulled out of the gas station, immediately after which the cop pulled out behind him and flipped on the lights.  The cop checked his license and registration, then almost immediately put him in handcuffs.  Instead of having the bike towed or asking if someone could pick it up, the cop left it on the side of the road!

He apparently tried to call me, but it was the one time I didn't have my phone on me (it had died and was charging).  When he got home, he was pissed off and flailing a bit.  I'd left him in jail!  To hear him tell it, you'd think he'd spent the day in a supermax facility with hardened criminals.

Don't drop the soap...

Here's what really happened.

At the station, he sat there for about a half hour before another cop apologized and said that with his clean record and the fact that he'd never been pulled over for this offense before, he shouldn't have been brought in.  They gave him a ticket for the expired license and told him he could GTFO.  That's when he called me, I didn't answer, and then he called one of his riding buddies.  So really, his afternoon looked more like this:

Seriously.  He looks badass in that jacket.

It actually turned out that it was a good thing that I didn't go get him - his buddy was able to ride the bike home, which I wouldn't have been able to do.  Eventually he calmed down and let me know what really happened.  So don't worry, he's not too traumatized from his ordeal!  (I know you were all worried)

Pardon me, madam, your geek is showing

So Dragon*Con is in full swing right now, and I am so fucking jealous of everyone there right now!  So I've decided that I'm going to start planning now for next year's Con.  I've been wanting to make a Mara Jade costume for awhile now and with the current state of our finances combined with my total lack of sewing skills, this could take a full year!

Fuck yeah, Mara Jade looking like Olivia Wilde!

I'm already starting to make my list of priorities for the Con:

• Complete a kick-ass Mara Jade costume (note to self: research colored contacts...)
• Convince the bastard to dress up with me - I'm thinking Talon Karrde.  So far, he's thinking "himself".
• Get Timothy Zahn to sign my old tattered copy of the Thrawn trilogy
• Get Wil Wheaton to autograph a photo of Wil Wheaton collating papers
• Drool over the geeky shit being sold at the vendor booths
• Take tons and tons of pictures while people-watching

But first, the costume...

Win: Weapon of Choice

I have just been informed that there are people in existence that have never seen the greatest music video of all time.  Because of this, I'm posting it now.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

OMG Look A These Fucking Hot Dogs

I was in Aldi today and was checking out the sale and limited-time stuff because some of it's pretty awesome.  Like what I found today:

On the right, normal sized hot dogs.  On the left, JUMBO-SIZED JUMBO JUMBO DOGS!!!!

Oh yes.  I bought them.

Copernicus may have been a lamp model

The most awesome lamp ever.  EVAR.  And yes, that is a Han Solo bookmark next to it!

So between insomnia, quitting smoking, chronic pain, and general stress, my head's been in a weird place lately.  Last night I took a look at my bedside lamp.  Like, really looked at it.  Now, I got this lamp as a Christmas present, I think in 2003, from my mom with whom I have this recurring joke about monkeys.  For some reason, I have accumulated lots of monkey-themed paraphernalia, and never realized it until about 9 years ago when one of my fellow cast members pointed out that I showed up to many of my Pirates of Penzance rehearsals in monkey shirts and I earned the moniker "Monkeymonkeymonkey".  I told Mom this, since she was the one who bought most of the shirts, and she thought this was hilarious since she hadn't noticed it, either.  IIRC, there was eye-rolling from The Bastard over this.

Anyway, every now and then, my mom will give me a monkey-themed gift or card or whatever, the most epic of these being my prized monkey lamp.  It has been a point of contention between me and The Bastard, such as when we moved into this apartment:

Me: Hey!  I just unpacked the monkey lamp!
Dan: Oh.  Yay.
Me: Where do you think we should put it? Do you think the living room is too big a space for it?  It's not a very big lamp.
Dan: I think the closet could use some more light.
Me: What?!  The monkey lamp needs to be seen!  The monkey lamp is awesome!
Dan: The monkey lamp is creepy.
Me: Whatever! I'm putting it by the bed!

So that's how the monkey lamp ended up on my nightstand.  Anyway, I couldn't sleep so somehow between chapters of "Sphere" and pondering turning off the light again, I took a good look at the lamp.

Holy shit!  He looks like Copernicus!  For those of you who do not know of Copernicus, he's a stuffed monkey that The Bloggess recently purchased from a thrift store.  He likes to give hugs and may be missing part of his face.  Now I'm thinking that he also may have modeled for lamps when he was younger, which means Jenny seriously got a deal on him.

Also, since I'm sharing my decor with everyone, this is my zebra lamp that one of my friends gave me for my 21st birthday.  I loved it because I adore tacky zebra print, and because it goes so well with my monkey lamp.

Consequently, The Bastard has forbidden me from shopping with The Bloggess, even though I've never met her and probably won't unless I begin stalking her or somehow convince Nathan Fillion to take a picture with twine.  I am warming The Bastard up to the idea of getting me a "Knock-knock, motherfucker" t-shirt for Christmas, though.

Why I don't take The Bastard grocery shopping

Recently, I may have temporarily lost my mind.  It all started with a little app called Our Groceries.  It's a great app - you can set up a list, then sync it with your phone and the phones of anyone else you want to be able to access your list.  I instantly fell in love with it because I'm always trying to get The Bastard to tell me what he wanted me to pick up from the grocery store.  Usually his answer was "food".  Bastard.  I figured that with this app, he could just add whatever he wanted to the list whenever he thought of it.

Of course, this would require him actually bothering to download the app, even though I sent the link to him twice.  One day, completely fed up with his lack of participation in the grocery list, I dragged him shopping.

Now, here's how my shopping usually goes, and it usually takes all of 20 minutes to get in and out:

I go in, I get what I need, I get out.  I don't know what I was expecting with The Bastard, but it went more like this:

Forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes.  In a freakin' Aldi!  That store has, like, 4 aisles!

If he was trying to make a point then he wins, because never again!

Sexy Saxophone Interlude

You're welcome.

Happy Valentine's Day!

So my friend Foxy and I got together this weekend to bake cookies for our husbands in an uncharacteristic display of Valentine's Day spirit.  Of course if you look at these cookies, how could we resist?

Recipe: Mandarin Chicken (complete!)

I think I may have finally perfected it last night!  This may be due in part to the fact that I sucked it up and asked The Bastard for advice, but overall it didn't need much tweaking.  It may need a little more cornstarch, though... I'm still a little iffy on the consistency.

Ingredients:
2-3 chicken boneless skinless breasts, cut into 1-inch cubes
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tbsp (or to taste) crushed red pepper flakes
1 can (11 oz.) of mandarin oranges
1/2 c sugar
2 1/2 tbsp of cornstarch
1 sweet onion, sliced
1 yellow pepper, sliced
2 c broccoli, steamed
1 can water chestnuts
1 c rice, steamed
Olive oil

Combine soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, crushed red pepper, and juice from mandarin oranges.  Place chicken in a bowl and pour just enough of the mixture over it to cover the chicken.  Marinate in the fridge for about 15 minutes.  Set the rest of the sauce aside.

Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sautee onion and pepper slices until onions begin to caramelize and peppers are tender.  Drain chicken and add to skillet.  Cook until chicken is no longer pink in the middle.  Add water chestnuts and stir-fry for an additional 2 minutes.

Add sugar and cornstarch to remaining sauce, then pour the sauce and mandarin oranges into the skillet and bring to a boil.  Heat for about 2 minutes or until sauce thickens and oranges fall apart.  Pour over rice and broccoli and serve.

Makes about 4 servings.