Thursday, September 29, 2011

Snakes>Broken Brakes>Colds

I rue the day that I ever thought watching the movie Contagion would be a good idea.

I'm sick.

And from watching the movie I now know that I probs have an illness that came about when the wrong panda bear and the wrong penguin got together somewhere in southeast Asia, had a love child, and then said lovechild was sneezed on by some sickly pigeon...who later that week snogged with one of the chickens that laid some of the free range eggs I ate for breakfast last week. #fml

floozy chicken... you'll pay. mark my words.

At least I've learned my lesson in not consulting WebMD for help anymore when it comes to checking symptoms, if I did my next post would probably be titled "My last post. Forever." and would most likely be an outline of topics and jokes suitable for my funeral, probably throw in a lifetime achievement video... or two, and a list of people who are most definitely not allowed to speak at my funeral.

It all started last weekend when I even missed out on a camping trip over the weekend because I was sick. Which is saying a lot; I also suffer from FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) Disease, so missing out on a camping trip was almost as bad as the cold itself.

So Saturday, while sick, I thought for some forsaken reason that it would be a good idea to go for a hike. "Fresh air will be good for the soul... and my cold, right?" So I talked Taylor (who was getting over a cold at the time as well) into going on the hike too. We suited up and headed up the canyon. Little did I know that by the end of the day I would be fully capable of writing an educational pamphlet titled; "Three Simple Steps to Ruin Your Fun Filled Saturday Hike."

Step 1: One thing that I did not really take into consideration beforehand was small fact that heading up to a trail that is 6,851 feet above sea level with a congested head and not being able to equalize the pressure change properly because of all the junk in my sinus cavities from my cold was probably not the best idea ever. So as a result, the higher we drove up the canyon the more and more my face felt like it was going to explode.

Step 2: You know that point during a cold when you can't really hear anything and everything just sounds muffled? That's definitely what I had going on Saturday as well. So that + Step 1, turns out, is the recipe for temporary deafness. While we were hiking I had to keep looking back behind me to even see if anyone was still behind me, because I literally could not hear anything going on around me. Now just in case any of you were born with common sense and haven't experienced Step 1 or Step 2 combined, let me just tell you; hiking in silence within nature but sans nature sounds may or may not be one of the most eery feelings ever.

Step 3: So after the hike we headed back down to my car. I have already given a glimpse into the pure beauty that is my car... aka the bane of my existence; so as we were driving along on a steep tiny little swirvy two lane road down the mountainside, my car turned off. Yup, just plain turned off.

So riddle me this, when exactly is the best time to tell your passenger that you no longer have steering capabilities or working breaks while racing down a curvy mountainside? They might want to look into teaching that in drivers ed these days. Mostly so you could a.) read it and laugh at the time b.) forget all about it and then c.) panic trying to remember when the day finally does arrive when you actually need to know it. A lot like the scenarios 'what do you do if your car gets stuck in a snowstorm', or 'what you're really suppose to do after you get into an accident.'

Well, I chose to hold out at first, that was until Taylor noticed me using pretty much all of my arm strength to turn the steering wheel at just one of the hundred windy curves that it took us to get up the mountain in the first place.

Taylor: Did you loose your power steering?
Me: Yeah.. um, I think my car turned off.
Taylor: [silence]

I looked over to the part of the dash where all of the warning lights live to see that about half of the boxes were now aglow. Yeah, because as if the inability to steer and the lack of breakage weren't big enough hints that there were problems... thank you little warning lights #captainobvious #nohelp

After arm wresting the steering wheel yet again around the next corner, I saw that there was a strip of gravel on the side of the road. #miracle

As we hit the gravel we started slowing down a little and Taylor turned and asked if we should probably stop here. I felt that this would probably be the appropriate time to tell him that I had the breaks pushed all the way down as we were still cruising through the gravel. Luckily there was enough gravel and ol' grey finally came to a stop. I put her back into park, tried starting her again. By #miraclenumero2, it started right back up.

To say my trust levels and amount of caution in continuing down the mountain weren't effected by ol' grey would be a lie. It's a lot like that video where the snake is freezing and cold on top of the mountain and he asks and indian that is passing by to take him down to the bottom of the mountain and the indian is like, "No, you'll bite me." And the snake is all like, "Nah man... I'm cold, I'm not going to bite you.. just take me down the mountain." So the indian takes the snake down the mountain and at the bottom the snake bites the indian and then the indian is all like, "YOU SAID YOU WOULND'T BITE ME!" To which the snake replies, "You knew what I wassssssssss when you picked me up..." In probably the most haunting voice. ever. As the indian is left lying on the ground... abouts to die. Does no one else remember this video?! Maybe its because I'm Indian or maybe because I'm uber freaked out by snakes (anything that can move that fast without legs has got to be from hell) either way - it has stuck with me all these years for worse or for better.

Luckily we made it down the mountain alive. But lets just say hiking and close calls when you're sick generally isn't the greatest idea, and I had all day Sunday and Monday in bed to remind me of it.

Morals of Post:

  • In related news, this was the banner ad stalking me when I just googled trying to figure out if I'm to use "supposed to" vs. "suppose to" right now...

           um, creepy much? #paranoia

  • To those who brought soup and/or NyQuill this week (you know who you are)... I love and owe you. When I am better and not contagious, I will even hug you. #grateful
  • If there is at least one take away from this post; let it be: NEVER PICK UP THE SNAKE. but for reals.. NEVER

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Onus Goatfish

Last night my friend Kiera was over at my apartment and told me that she had read through all of my posts after she had found out about my blog last week... [120 points to team Kiera. huzzah!] but my favorite part of the convo was when she said;

Kiera: I loved all of them! I kept having all my coworkers read them too; I couldn't stop reading them!
Me: Thanks!!
Kiera: Except one thing... being a psychology major, I think... well...
Me: Yeah?
Kiera: Well, its just that... you kinda have a ton of issues.
[semi-awkward pause]
Kiera: Ya know, like some of your post are pretty anxious; for example, kind of like this... or even this one.
Me: [laughing] Yeah, I know; that would definitely be one of the many reasons why I go to my therapist... thanks.

Speaking of my therapist... my friends affectionately refer to my therapist as 'Onus Goatfish'. This came about after a little auto-correct incident in a text message when trying to type 'therapist' (thank you iPhone auto-correct) and the name Onus Goatfish (O.G. for short) kinda stuck.

I don't know about you, but Onus Goatfish kind of sounds like some mythical ominous creature that offers up life advice and supplemental life wisdom, no?

We'll you'd pretty much be right.

The "Onus Goatfish" just got more and more used and developed; Nate and Libby even sketched down some ideas of what an 'Onus Goatfish' would look like; my favorite was a sketch of fat fish with goat legs and only one giant all-seeing eye... that may or may not also swim in space. I'm also pretty sure another looked like 1/3 fish with tusks, 1/3 goat with claws, and the other 1/3 looked an awful lot like a Narwhal.

Pretty deep if you think about it...


Also, in related news, one of my favorite birthday gifts this year was this t-shirt from Trina that she had made for me that says:

Morals of Post:

  • PSA Announcement of the Day: Everyone should have a little Onus Goatfish in their life. They are one of the single greatest things that the majority of people don't even take advantage of. I'm sad I didn't find my little Onus Goatfish sooner!

  • It's good to have friends that can handle any amount of crazy that you dish out. My advice; don't let those ones get away! For example, the other night I was hanging out with Addi and out of the blue he pulled out this memory out of his hat to tell Libby;

    Addi: About a week after Hawk bought his MacBook Pro I asked him how he liked it. He told me that he didn't know. I asked him what did he mean by 'I don't know?' He then proceded to tell me that he didn't know because it was still in the box unopened and that he had hid it in the back of his closet behind his hamper.

    Libby: Why on earth were you hiding it in your closet?

    Me: I was so excited to finally have it, but I was waiting for the buyers remorse to set in, and I didn't want to open it until I was sure I wouldn't return it.

    Libby: So did you take it back?

    Me: No, I would just go up to my closet every night for a week, pull it out, and stare at it for a while before putting it back in the back of the closet and then spending the whole next day trying to forget that I had a brand new MacBook Pro living in my closet waiting for me to use...

    For the record... I only lasted a week [as he types on his sleek and sexy backlit Apple MacBook Pro keys...]

Monday, September 5, 2011

The One About the Tooth

It's about to get real personal up in here.

First things first; I wasn't shot. So that is not the reason why I have been a little late in writing. To tell you the truth; my communication skills have decreased a solid 92% since I moved to New York. I blame the subway. No really. You know how some things bring out the best in people i.e. chocolate, avocados, puppies, DuckTales theme song, etc... and then you have things that bring out the worst in people i.e. the subway, stepping on nails, the subway, wet socks, the subway, etc..

Things I also attribute to my new decrease in communication:

1. My phone charger is on the other coast in someone else's possession and wont give it back... (you know who you are...) and I'm too stubborn to buy a new one #taurus
2. My phone has no 'silent' anymore, so I have to turn my phone completely off when I need it silenced. UPDATE: turns out someone saw me power off my phone and said, "why don't you just put it in airplane mode when you need it to be on silent?" Well that would just make too much sense..
3. Dear Apple, come out with the iPhone 5 already; I can't make it much longer..

Um, little interjection - (I have ADD, deal with it) - I'm at the laundry mat and there are these girls that are having a myspace photo shoot right behind me using the full length floor mirrors. I'm the only one back here and this desolate corner of the laundry mat has become extremely uncomfortable. I literally feel like I'm watching the photo shoot for some scary planned parenthood campaign #yikes

Where were we?

Oh, yeah - missing teeth.

Let me take you on a journey, so almost three years ago on Christmas day I was over at my sister-in-law's parent's house visiting and while I was there they offered some toffee of some sort (the kind that gets stuck to your teeth before you even put it in your mouth somehow and is only available once a year during the holidays) and when I started to chew on it, I felt the crown on one of my bottom molars come ripping off.

I pulled out the half chewed gloppy mess of caramel toffee and sure enough, there was my tooth.

Cue: panic and anxiety

I am fine with blood and things of that nature, but for some reason I am NOT cool with dental anything. So I stood there feeling light headed as I was holding my tooth thinking; great let me just hop on over to the dentist and get this taken care of on Christmas day, oh wait..

Cue: more panic, more anxiety

My now exposed tooth was incredibly sensitive and by this point I was freaking out a little (and by a little I mean a lot.) My parents saw the whole thing go down, and my mom tried to offer some advice;

Mom: We can just superglue it in and you can get it taken care of when the dentist is open again.
Me: Um, no thanks. We are not putting super glue in my mouth none the less on an exposed sensitive tooth. 
Mom: People used to do it all the time. 
Me: People used to drink and smoke when they were pregnant, was that a good idea?

Banter continued until I breathed in again and the air shot a shock down my tooth. 

So there I was asking my sister-in-law for superglue who in return went and asked her parents if they had any superglue at their house.

Sister in law: Do you guys have any super glue?
Sister-in-law's parents: Why do you need super glue?
Sister in law: Hawk's tooth fell out
Sister-in-law's parents: He's going to superglue it back in?!
Sister in law: Yeah, I think so.
Sister-in-law's parents: I don't think thats a good idea...

Yeah, thanks - let's go ahead and make this a family affair. Anyone else that we would like to get in on this; poll the neighbors? phone a friend? draw a diagram for group discussion? For the love.. just someone get me the damn superglue!

So a few minutes later after some rummaging, the mom found some superglue and gave it to me - I immediately set up camp in front of the bathroom mirror - paper towels, crown, superglue.. It was go time.  

[Fast forward to the following monday after the 'incident' in my dentist's office]

Dentist: Well what can we do for ya?
Me: Um, well my crown came out on Christmas and I, well I, you see it was like..

I beat around the bush for at least a solid minute before I blurted out in panic/shame:

Me: I superglued my tooth back in, can you ever fix it?!

The dentist tried pulling out the tooth, got a few tools and tried again; each time more aggressive tugging and still no results.

Dentist: Hmm, looks like you did a PRETTY good job in there.
Me: um, thanks? 
Dentist: No really, excellent job. It is not coming off. It's not even budging. Ever think about going into dentistry?

really? now is NOT the time for dentist jokes..

Me: So what do I do?
Dentist: Just leave it in until it falls off again and then come in and we'll put it on the right way

He reassured me that the 'superglue was safe' and blah blah blah 'used to use it in the military' blah blah blah 'for surgeries' blah blah 'organs' blah blah blah 'you'll be fine'...

[Fast forward three years and on the opposite side of the country]

Every weekend I'd go to the beach, and going to the beach in New York is quite a bit different that what I'm used to. You have to take the subway to Penn Station and then take an hour long train to Long Beach and then you would have to pay to just get into the beach. I know right? 

Each week there would always be a group that would go down it was a big group of friends of friends of friends of friends so there were always like 20+ people that you didn't know until after spending a day at the beach together.

I had just put on 5 spf sunscreen and plopped down on my towel when my friend Kristen offered me one of her swedish fish. 

Swedish Fish. Saturday. Friends. Sun. Beach. #bliss

That was until mid chew the half masticated jolly red fish viciously attacked said molar/crown and ripped it out... again.

You have got to be kidding me. Here I am.. on the beach.. an hour away from Manhattan... and about 7 or 8 states between me and my dentist. 


But if we've learned anything from Ellen (#hereandnow #dvd #gobuyit) it is that pain takes a backseat to your pride and/or ego. always. So in a big group of people that I didn't know well enough to freak out to that my crown had just fallen out.. I had a silent anxiety attack as I casually and sneakily pulled out the fish that now consisted of Sugar, Red 40, and my crown. 

I dare any one of you to stealthily fiddle around with a half chewed swedish fish, with sandy hands, all while trying to get your tooth back in the way came and is supposed to go without anyone noticing. Yeah, about as easy as it sounds. 

At the train station on the way back I bought a pack of four little super glue packets... just in case. 

Dilemma; dih-(lem)-uh. noun: "When one looses their tooth in a gummy fish accident and is faced with the decision to wait two days with a loose crown until one can go to the dentist and get it fixed, or superglue it in again and hope for the best."

[Fast forward to the dentist office that Google search found for me in the Rockefeller tower]

New Dentist: Hi, so what can we do for you today?
Me: Um, well my crown came out at the beach this weekend because of a swedish fish.
New Dentist: What's a Swedish Fish
Me: Are you human? What rock have you been living under?   It's a candy.
Under-qualified Dentists Assistant: [chimes in] I love those!
Me: Yeah, I did too. 
New Dentist: So my [under-qualified] assistant said that it has come out before?
Me: Yes, once... but I super glued it back in. 
New Dentist: Wait, are you serious?
Me: Do people usually kid around about that?
New Dentist: Well no, I have heard of people doing that but have never actually seen it in real life before. Really? You really super glued it in? And how long ago was that?
Me: Yup, true story. Three years ago.
New Dentist: Wow.
Me: uh-huh.

The rest of the office visit gets a little hazy; what I do remember is how nervous I was that the [under-qualified] assistant kept doing the exact opposite of what the dentist asked her to do, and she made me hold the x-ray machine gun up to my face in place so it wouldn't fall down. Is that normal? That can't be normal. Please tell me that you have never had to hold an x-ray gun barehanded up to your face as she runs and hides behind a wall and hits the button from a safe distance!? Ugh, homegirl was buggin. 

[Fast forward to now] 

I have all my teeth. Huzzah. No more living in constant fear of chewing gum, See's candy, or anything of the like. 

Morals of Post:
  • Speaking of 'I should be a dentist'... I should. Lets talk about this for a minute a.) I have nimble hands b.) in a dimly lit bathroom I was able to successfully semi-permanently attach my own crown c.) one time I extracted someone's molar in the mountains of Peru #truestory (but that's a post for another day) and d.) I'm sure the whole phobia of all things dental would get better over time, right?
  • Not only did the [under-qualified] assistant make me hold my own x-ray gun aimed at my face, but she kept calling my crown the 'cover thingy' and she doubled as the receptionist/magazine reader #worrisome
  • Swedish Fish... still worth it.

Remember when..