Last night

You guys haven’t gotten a story from me in a while, so here we go….

Last night, I get home, and I’m walking from the car to the house when this guy probably around 22 stumbles out of a cab (thank God), tries to open the gate to the fence surrounding the house (um, there actually wasn’t one – fence OR gate) and failing to do that, falls face-first on the concrete stairs leading up to the house. This is the side of the street with a ton of stairs, so I’m not feeling too confident about his chances of actually getting up them without the police and a CSI unit being there in the morning (of course it’d be eventually ruled accidental, but still). I offer to help the guy up them. Not quite sure what I can actually do about that, but I figured I’d try. He lolls his head over and yells at me to leave him there. Nice. The driver sees this, gets out and goes, “Do you know this guy (I didn’t); does he belong here? (Not a clue).”

We decide not to leave him on the front steps so the driver grabs him around the waist, and I go up and start banging on the door. Then, when we realize no one’s home, we start dragging him up the stairs so at least he’ll be on the porch and not lying face first on the sidewalk. Even if it’s random, it’s better than nothing. Since he’s 100% dead weight, this isn’t fun. The driver is yelling at him to at least help (yeah that’s gonna work). We’re most of the way up, the guy’s pants are falling down, and the door to the house finally opens.

First thing I notice, stuff is EVERYWHERE. Seriously, it’s like the packrats from hell live there. Second thing, the guy who answered the door is preparing to yell at ME for getting what I presume is his son in that condition (completely obliterated and now half-naked! – Kinda sounds like an ad for a sleazy club on the Block, but I digress). Cab Driver steps in and goes, “Do you know this guy?”

Father: Yes, what the HELL happened (this is directed at me)?

Me (smiling, attempting not to provoke): No clue. I’m your neighbor, this is the cab driver. I was just walking by…

Cab Driver (who’s pissed that he’s now dragged this guy up the stairs and doesn’t know if he’s going to have to drag him down): His friend gave me $20 to take him home. Is…this…home?

Father: Yep.

Instead of taking his kid from the cabby, he just opens the door to let him inside. I drop the arm I’m holding, but seriously, there is an established order to these things. Whether it’s a pizza or a drunk-ass kid, if a stranger shows up to the door to deliver something and it’s not from IKEA, you accept it with a smile and a tip and you transport it inside yourself.

Thinking about it though, I bet the driver didn’t even get a tip.

A moment of silence and a speedy recovery

For the fencing team at The College of William and Mary.... (pulled directly from the team website).

The William and Mary fencing team was traveling to Haverford PA this weekend to compete in our 2nd of 3 MACFA team events. We were traveling in two vehicles, a
van and a car, when the car was involved in a crash on I-95.

It brings us great sadness to report that our longtime coach, Pete Conomikes, died in the crash. Three fencers from the team were also in the car and are being treated at
Medical College of Virginia in Richmond. Their injuries range from minor to critical.

We mourn the loss of our coach and are hopeful that our teammates will make a complete recovery.

Pete has been an amazing influence on so many in the fencing community. We ask that you keep those involved in the crash and their families in your thoughts and prayers over the next several days. We also request that the privacy of our team members and their families be respected in this time of great stress and uncertainty.

We will update this post with further information as we receive it.

Thank you for your concern.

William and Mary Fencing Team

11/11/07, 1:30 PM Update:
Matt Peppe has been treated and released from MCV. Spencer Butts remains in critical condition as does Ben Gutenberg.

Shut up and drive

To the woman who was at the red light outside of the Superfresh about 4:30 this afternoon, let's go over a few basics...

1. This is a STOP SIGN. When you see it, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
2. This is a WALK SIGN. When you see it, and me, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
3. This is a CELL PHONE. If you ever move your big-ass car while talking on it and ignoring both the previous two signs to the point where I scream like a fucking banshee and slam both my hands on the big ass car that is rapidly approaching me, I assure you that I WILL rip it out of your hands, call the police to report an attempted murder and then shove it up your ass.

And no, when I am screaming like a fucking banshee because your GMC truck has almost run me over, the little smile and wave doesn't work. You roll your window down and actually apologize for being a dumbass who thinks their phone conversation is more important than actually watching out for someone who's trying to walk.

Hi New People

I promise, the update from this weekend's camping trip (including being felt up by a Sand Crab and losing part of my bathing suit in the ocean) is coming, but first I have to address a quick little concern. Since, you know, I'd like to stay in my parents' will (and good graces).

If you've found me through my brand-new Facebook profile, like what I have to say and have any sort of relationship to someone who knows my parents (basically, if it would be more awkward than a nun in a whorehouse if we started dating), THIS IS NOT THE SITE THAT YOU WANT TO SHARE WITH THOSE PEOPLE!!

This is the site you want to share with those parental types:

http://the-f-files.blogspot.com

Same stuff, except it's a PG-rated version.

Squee...

Bought a dress today.

My birthday's Monday, and we're going out tomorrow. Plus, I've dropped a ton of weight in the last few weeks thanks to dub-dub and my half-mara training. I thought a cute dress would be a great way to celebrate the day. Plus, Ann Taylor is having her end-of-summer sale. How could I go wrong?

Well, for starters, how about walking into the dressing room carrying dresses of two different sizes, all of which were way too big???

I've been working hard, and I'm thrilled. Yes, I'm wearing it tomorrow night. It makes me look like Donna Reed. No pearls though, don't worry!!

Fast Food Funerals

This morning, a friend sent me a warning about flashing lights and Bloods "membership drives" on I-70 this weekend. Luckily, that turned out to be an urban legend.

Sadly, this isn't one. If you're as upset and disgusted as I am about the turn of events, please take a few moments and contact your Congressmen.

These young men and women gave their lives for a cause that was not their own. Let's not make this their final insult just because Dick Cheney is looking to save a few bucks.

Fort Lewis to consolidate memorials for dead
Michael Gilbert The News Tribune

Fort Lewis, which this month has suffered its worst losses of the war, will no longer conduct individual memorial ceremonies for soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Instead, the post will hold one ceremony for all soldiers killed each month, the Fort Lewis acting commanding general, Brig. Gen. William Troy, wrote in a memo to commanders and staff last week.

“As much as we would like to think otherwise, I am afraid that with the number of soldiers we now have in harm’s way, our losses will preclude us from continuing to do individual memorial ceremonies,” Troy wrote in the memo, according to a copy obtained by United for Peace Pierce County and posted on the group’s Web site. A post spokesman confirmed the policy change Tuesday. It will start in June.

There are 10,000 Fort Lewis troops in Iraq, more than at any other time since the March 2003 invasion. The post has reported 16 soldiers killed there so far in May, by far the most in any month of the war. The previous worst month was December 2004, when nine soldiers were killed, including six in the Mosul chow hall bombing. In all overseas deployments since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, 124 Fort Lewis soldiers have died.

In his memo dated May 22, Troy said he asked the post’s senior chaplain, Col. Jack Van Dyken, to work out the details of the new policy.

“I see this as a way of sharing the heavy burdens our spouses and rear detachments bear, while giving our fallen warriors the respect they deserve,” Troy wrote. “It will also give the families of the fallen the opportunity to bond with one another, as they see others who share their grief.”
Other Army posts already consolidate soldier memorials into one or two ceremonies per month.

At Fort Carson, Colo., they are held every other Thursday afternoon in a post chapel, a spokeswoman said.

At Fort Hood, Texas, the 4th Infantry Division has been holding a monthly ceremony since at least 2004. The division has lost more than 130 soldiers in two deployments to Iraq.

“We do schedule them, and unfortunately we do have them every month,” said Sgt. 1st Class Damian Steptore, a division spokesman.

Van Dyken on Tuesday said the change reflects the reality that Fort Lewis, for the next several months at least, will likely be called upon to memorialize soldiers killed in action. Two Stryker brigades of about 4,000 soldiers each will be fighting in Iraq until October, when one of them is scheduled to return from a 15-month tour.

“This is not an intent to streamline the process or in any way detract from honoring the soldiers,” Van Dyken said. “It’s just being cognizant of the fact that when you have this many, the time involved in doing each one individually is just prohibitive.”

Until now Fort Lewis has held memorial ceremonies for those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan on a case-by-case basis, usually one or two soldiers at a time.

Post spokesman Joseph Piek said each ceremony requires significant planning and coordination by the rear detachments of the deployed units, particularly if a soldier’s family comes to the post for the event.

Under the new policy the Fort Lewis headquarters staff will take on much of that work.

Army life is replete with ceremonies that mark promotions, changes of command, awards, homecomings and so on. Van Dyken pledged Thursday that saying farewell to fallen soldiers won’t become part of the routine.

“My commitment would be that we never allow it to become just another ceremony,” he said.

Officials at Fort Lewis said the 4th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division is scheduling a consolidated memorial on June 5 for the last four soldiers it lost in its first month in Iraq: Staff Sgts. David Kuehl and Kristopher Higdon, Pfc. Robert Worthington, and Spc. Mathew LaForest. A single memorial service for Sgt. Iosiwo Uruo, a member of 3rd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, will go on as planned this Thursday.

Things that are awkward #1,213

Having your boss walk up behind you while the only sex-scene in an entire audiobook is playing and asking what you're listening to.

Independence Day

It's that time of year again....


Time for the country to take a breather, a time out, and celebrate a major accomplishment by blowing each other up with the pyrotechnic amateur hour.


Call it: Thanksgiving for the dangerous, if you will.


This year, we have much to celebrate in the world of independence. Scooter Libby is one step away from a presidential pardon. Paris Hilton is finally out of jail. Nicole Ritchie is finally going to eat again (we hope!!).


But I know that the real reason that we're all celebrating this year is because of the six little words my boss said to me yesterday:

Everything looks good; let's open the system.

For those of you not in IT, that means: The project from hell is officially done!!!

Photo by Flickr User: Kyle Walton

Yes, kids, my life can finally get back to normal. I can go out on a weeknight. I can resume my half-marathon training with gusto. I can make it back to the gym. I can go to bed not having worked a 14 hour day (like last week when I worked 50 hours of overtime). I can wake up at a normal time. I can eat real food again (again, last week: the pizza guy and I were on first-names and I gained 5 pounds). I can breathe. I can sing (karaoke!). I can take people up on their social invitations.

I can go on vacation.

I've even written a short play about it (ok, really, it wasn't me, but if you want to have a role, you'll say it was me).

Supportive Friend: Linds, that's awesome that your project is done. What are you going to do next?

Me: I'M GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!!!!

Photo by Flickr User: JiminDestin

See, how hard was that?

I do want to sincerely thank each and every one of you for all your support over the last month and a half. For putting up with my spaciness, last-minute plan cancelling, late night emails, early departures, and (most of all) total lack of posting.

Updates are coming. Now that I have my life back, I'll have some fun and interesting things to say, I'm sure.

It's Preakness Day!

First Thing: Happy Anniversary S&A!!!! I'm sad to admit that I don't quite remember the exact date, but I'll always remember that you were married on Preakness Saturday two years ago!! ;) You guys are an amazing couple, and wonderful friends. Here's wishing you another two years (and more!) of happiness and health. Love you both!!!

While I'm not at the race, I'm still excited about it. I can't help it. I've been watching the Derby, the Preakness, and most of the Belmonts (I skipped a few years when the first two jewels weren't won by the same horse) my entire life. My parents raised me to understand and appreciate horse racing, and I had the awesome pleasure of taking in the race from the infield last year. Here's the link to last year's story.

I've learned since then that I'm a bit too old to take on the infield in future years, but it's still fun.

Next year I'll be back. I'll be in a super-cute hat (I picked up some great tips on making a hat on WBAL this morning) and a super-cute dress, in a seat that actually will allow me to keep my outfit nice.

In the meantime, GO STREET SENSE!!

UPDATE: About 4:30 this afternoon, in the 10th Race, two horses threw their jockeys. One was Robbie Albarado, who's supposed to be riding Curlin this afternoon. Right as that happened, dark clouds descended over Baltimore. What are the odds?

Albarado The other jockey barely missed the railing (they were running on the turf and he sailed through the gaps into the the other side. He didn't get up right away, and considering that he's already had one head injury, that wasn't a good sign. Albarado's horse, Einstein, took off without him after leaping over Mending Fences. Albarado actually ran over to the other guy, so he was ok. Mending Fences doesn't look good after his fall and roll. Albarado's been cleared to run this afternoon. That's a good sign. So, hopefully Curlin will have a good race.

And it's raining now. Man, I'm glad I'm not in the infield today.

UPDATE #2: Curlin won!!! That was definitely a race that I was glad I didn't have to wait three hours to see on the 11:00 news. At first, I didn't think Street Sense was going to live up to his hype. Then he came out of nowhere, took the lead, and I got all excited. Then, Curlin got him at the last little bit. Literally. Photo freaking finish. That's awesome.

Just another Friday night in Baltimore

It is a truth universally certain that when you have reached your fourth decade, the last place that you should be found on a Friday night is a bathroom stall in a Baltimore bar with your panties in the trash and your shorts in one of the sinks.

Completely. Passed. Out.

The problem of course, is that is exactly where we found the woman at Tysons Pub on Friday night. This, you may remember, is the place that my friend's boyfriend (ok, my friend too) was looking to buy. As they were coming down to meet us, they happened to notice that it was open, so we thought we'd check it out for a drink and possibly get the information that Aaron had been looking for.

Oh, it was open, all right. Turns out that the new owners were celebrating their opening night with a bit of a bang. Not in the good way, of course, the place was pretty dead. Just like we initially suspected the girl in the bathroom to be.

Becca went in first. She noticed the girl and her two drunk friends. She alerted the owners. They told her that they already knew. Nice. Then, I went in, determined that 911 needed to be called, actually called 911, played 20 questions (Heart conditions? Nope. Diabetes? Nope - though I suspected Type 2. Age? I was about to say 21 when her friend goes, "42" -- WTF! Oh, and she had three kids), and advised the women that their friend probably should have her pants on when the cops arrive so that she could avoid an indecency charge. I'm telling you, those wild days at Bar Baltimore trained me well.

All the while, the owner is trying to convince me that it's not a good idea to actually call 911. He can take her to his house. Yeah, that's a good idea. So now, instead of her passing out and dying in the bar, she can pass out and die at the home of someone who will undoubtedly return to the bar upon depositing her on the couch, bed or floor. Considering that she had soiled herself (seriously, can it GET any worse?), my guess was leaning towards the floor.

So, then the firefighters show up and, shortly thereafter, the rescue squad. They agree with my assessment that Patty needs to go to hospital. Not to jail; not to the house. Hospital. They load her up on the stretcher and attempt to wheel her out the front door. But no, the owner still doesn't think it's good for business that this completely irresponsible person is wheeled out the front door. He tries to get them to go through the back -- limited alley access, I believe. Ok, how about a side-door? Still not happening...the stretcher can't make the turn.

So out the front she goes. And her friends STICK AROUND THE BAR. No one's going with her to answer the questions, hold her hand, or protect her from the embarrassment that's sure to come when the doctors figured out that not only was she not wearing clean underwear (mama always said*), she wasn't wearing anything at all. Nope, they've bellied up and ordered another. Oh, and started complaining that it was a waste of the taxpayers money for both the fire department and the ambulance to show up. Definitely weird, but then we get those two final details:

1) she was an employee
2) they had a provisional liquor license. If the cops had figured out that the staff was getting snockered on the first night, they would have been reduced to serving O'Doules and Diet Sodas.

With friends like these....

Can I just say right here and now that I'm grateful for the friends I have? Some of whom also left me on Friday night. However, it was much later and in the company of a perfect gentleman. Who, because it's one of the perils of giving away your blog address too soon, is asking for his very own alias. Problem being that the one he suggested ("Mike") won't really work for various and sundry reasons. So, Shakespeare -- possibly -- Berger -- though, frankly, I'm not sure I can support using the name of a man who breaks up with a girl on a post-it -- is going to be surprised by whatever I finally come up with.

Anyway, as I said, nice guy who claimed to have been intimidated by Cassie. He needn't be, she's very nice and confidential to Christopher Marlowe, SHE WAS JOKING!!! Though, I'm pretty sure you'll never forget her name again.

I have noticed a bit of a disturbing trend already. Both times I've seen him (at Max's and then on Friday), he'll walk away for a moment (drink, lav, back to friends...) which seems to invite a new "friend" to appear at my side and not leave me alone to the point that I'm actually uncomfortable. The first time, it was a Baltimore City police officer who, despite the fact that he kept complimenting me on the fact that he was pleasantly surprised I could write in a bar, wouldn't actually let me do it. Friday, it was this guy who felt the need to share that the reason he was out drinking in a bar is because his wife slapped him. He (bitch-slap) then brought over his friends and they just took over the table like they belonged there. By the time He-Who-Has-Yet-To-Be-Named returned, there were like five rednecks and a Gretchen Wilson wannabe hanging over the table. They provided quite a bit of amusement, and conversation fodder. Not that we needed it. Now, I'm not saying this is a problem that I can't handle, but if it happens again, I may have no choice but to assume that he's actually sending these weirdos over in an attempt to make himself look even better. If he is, I do have to commend him on an interesting tactic. I'll keep you guys posted. ;)

* About the underwear thing. Not that this matters, but there's this guy I went to HS with who is actually a doctor at Hopkins' ER. Really, I'm thinking that the last person who needs to see me in laundry-panties is Dr. McBeachy; after all, he'll talk to Dr. McDoggie (he's a vet from our class) who'll talk to his mom, who'll talk to my mom (they're librarians together) who will talk to me about the sage advice of always having clean undies in case you have to go to hospital and the fact that I didn't follow it on the day that I happened to have been doing laundry and falling down the stairs in my home. Then, I'll be all upset because while the undies will most definitely have been clean, they wouldn't have been cute and my drug-addled brain (assuming painkillers here) won't have any clue where in the telephone-chain screwed up the order and that's not really something you can call up anyone and go "Did you say I wasn't wearing clean undies when McBeachy saved my life? Because I totally was." So yeah, I'm just saying that if I'm ever in a situation where one of you is having to take charge of me after an accident at home, could you make sure that I'm wearing cute undies before the ambulance comes to take me to the ER? It sounds weird, I know, but it would really help my recovery. Thanks.

Is anyone really suprised by this?

You Are 72% Girly

You're a pretty girly chick, and you're not ashamed to admit it (or wear pink). But you're also practical. You can hang with the guys, as long as they're not too gross!

How Girly Are You?

Yeah, I'm really not either...

A Word from the Hokie Nation

Virginia Tech family members across the country have united to declare this Friday, April 20th, an "Orange and Maroon Effect" day to honor those killed in the tragic events on campus Monday, and to show support for Virginia Tech students, faculty, administrators, staff, alumni, and friends. "Orange and Maroon Effect" was born several years ago as an invitation to Tech fans to wear orange and maroon to Virginia Tech athletic events. We invite everyone from all over the country to be a part of the Virginia Tech family this Friday, to wear orange and maroon to support the families of those who were lost, and to support the school and community we all love so much.

Also, many young Engineering Professionals around the country are taking their Professional Certification exam this Friday. Many are young VT Graduates who have lost professors and friends in these awful events. As Certified Engineers will tell you, studying for this exam has consumed their lives for the last several months. To have this happen in the home stretch is simply not what they need. If you could please take some time on Friday to send some warm thoughts and good luck their way, I'm sure it will help and be appreciated.

The Dawg Pound ♥'s Hokie Nation!

One of the benefits of being kicked out of your office for a week (the contractors showed up the first day of Spring Break to find the Ladies' Room ripped out and workmen applying power saws to the walls outside our cubes) is getting to watch a LOT of CourtTV. So far this week, I've caught the Maury-style reveal of Baby Dannielynn's father, the North Carolina AG throwing Mike Nifong under a bus, and this crazy-ass case out of New Jersey where this woman is accused of shooting her husband, chopping him up, and tossing the pieces in *matching luggage* into the Chesapeake Bay. No, don't put him in the crappy bags from your college days, put him in the easily tracable matching set. Sure, that's smart.

Of the three, it's the New Jersey case that has both fascinated and disturbed me most. Sure, Anna Nicole is good entertainment, and Nifong deserved to be disbarred the moment he started running his mouth and hiding evidence, but that case out of New Jersey is just really really strange. First off, she's adorable. No prison blues and oranges for her, she's always in these innocent little dresses and sweater sets. And you know, nothing says "innocent" like a sweater set. Actually, wasn't there an entire sitcom episode (possibly Murphy Brown) based on the innocence of sweater sets?

Ok, moving on. The second point is that she's got plenty of people lined up as character witnesses. The weird thing (which, of course, I've learned from CourtTV) is that the character witnesses comprise pretty much her entire defense. Instead of relying on alibis and evidence that distinctly say that the defendant DIDN'T do it, they're using these character witnesses to claim that the defendant COULDN'T have done it because, as they put it, "She's just not that kind of person." According to CourtTV, these are the types of people who are usually pulled out during the penalty phase, after conviction, when the court is trying to decide between ten years and life. Not good.

The third problem with the case is the fact that, despite her innocent attire and the parade of character witnesses extolling her virtues to the American public, she looks like a psycho!! Now, my poker face isn't that great, and my old boss used to send me notes to "smile" during meetings when our client started berating us for meeting old requirements when we were supposed to have read his mind and adjusted our deliverables to meet the psychic requirements, but this woman is out of control. Any prosecution witness that wasn't there thanks to a supeona was given a look that could freeze the Dead Sea. Seriously, if she was trying to convince the jury that she was sweet and innocent, it simply wasn't working. I haven't seen a face that evil since I ran screaming out of a Sunday school viewing of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (the cartoon version, not the live-action one that came out a few years ago).

They're in the middle of the defense right now, and I believe that they'll be wrapping up next week sometime. If I had to make a call, I'd say she was going up river. Oh wait, that was her husband....

Viva...Atlantic City

I'm heading up to Atlantic City in two weeks ($50, private bus, let me know if you're interested in going because we have a few seats left), and I've been thinking about the different "activities" that should be keeping me busy during the day. When I go out to Vegas, I usually go with slots because they're so mindless that I can keep playing without losing too much cash, and the casino staff keeps bringing me drinks. It's almost like I'm making money.

But this time around, I'm not interested in slots. For starters, I'm going with a huge group who, if the "itinerary" for the day is any indication, will be plastered before we leave Maryland. Then, I'm auctioning off a bottle of Bombay Sapphire on behalf of a charity event that I'm helping with (because nothing goes together better than Catholic kids and booze, but that's another story), and I'm thinking of putting together a batch of Witches' Brew as my own personal contribution to the days' activities.

So, clearly, games of skill are out. I'd probably make a ton of stupid mistakes (19? Sure, go ahead and hit me!), and almost certainly get myself arrested by beaning some little old lady with a die , attempting to play craps. Roulette's a possibility, but spinning wheels and alcohol don't tend to go together real well either.

So that leaves...what? Texas hold 'em? I've played plenty of friendly games and online tourneys after a few glasses of wine. It's a distinct possibility I could hold my own. Plus, I've memorized most of the rules, if not the exact order of what beats what (two pair beats trips, right?). I could probably hold my own at a table if I found one with a small buy in.

But still, there has to be something else that I haven't yet thought of. Beyond, of course, wandering the boardwalk and pretending to be a Miss America contestant. Then again, the pageant hasn't been held in AC since 2005(?), and I haven't aspired to put a crown on my head since I was 17.

Right, so if there are any ideas, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just stick to slots (and the free drinks that come with them).

Big Day

Just wanted to wish my Jewish friends a very Happy Passover. In case you're not familiar with the story, here it is.

And just so the Gentiles don't feel left out, Happy Opening Day! Dare we dream that the O's can take it this year??

I have heard...

Two different versions of the same song within the same half hour this
morning. And it's not a new song at all, it's freaking "Always on My
Mind"!

Of the two, I think I prefer Willie Nelson's original recipe over the
Pet Shop Boys' "SVU edition."

Somehow, however, I think this must mean something. Trust me, I'm
looking into it....

This is why I love CNN.com

From the article about the search in NYC for guy who mugged the 101 Year
Old woman...

Meanwhile, New Yorkers struggled for the right words to describe the
attacker because expletives just don't seem adequate.

It just started snowing

And for some reason, there are tons of seagulls circling outside the house across the street.

Seriously, it's like The Birds out there. I feel like Tippi Hedren...

Random Thought

Does anyone else think that the bridge to Sophie B. Hawkins' "Damn, I wish I was Your Lover" sounds like it came straight out of a song from Labyrinth? I've thought that since the song came out; it's on the radio now, and I still think that.

Thoughts? Comments?

Sick

I hate being sick.

I hate the dizzy, swimmy feeling my head gets. I hate the fact that the cats don't want anything to do with me (until I have to throw up and then Minnie decides that THEN is the best possible time to crawl on top of me). I hate the idea of it being a beautiful day outside and I can't go play in it. I hate that I have to get a throat culture to rule out strep throat.

Which, of course I have.

I actually did my first throat culture in YEARS yesterday, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. Thanks to trauma from my childhood (where the Navy doctors held me down to jab a Q-tip in my throat), I haven't been able to do it since I was about six years old without screaming and crying. As far as I've been concerned, you can look, you can't touch, and you can give me the penicillin just in case. But yesterday, the PA seemed nice, and after I explained my irrational fears, I found myself agreeing to it. I sat in the chair, and this 5'2" woman towered over me with a Q-tip.

At which point, I began hyperventilating.

After five minutes, we decided to give up. She sat down on the stool, I hunched over, and she suggested that I call Sheppard Pratt.

Then, she said, "You know, we could try it like this," meaning the seated positions we were both in.

I agreed to try and she scootched the stool over. Now, she was below me and not towering over like Nurse Ratchet. I stuck my tongue out, she moved quick, and before I started fighting her, she had exactly what she needed. Which was brown and bloody, and not at all what a "healthy throat" is supposed to look like.

So now, for the first time in probably twenty years, I am being legitimately treated for strep throat. I know how to get a throat culture done in a way that works for me, and while I still hate being sick, I do have to say thank you to a very kind and patient woman named Leslie who helped me get through it!!!