Friday, February 27, 2009

Fright Night

I must admit that i have psychotic thoughts and visions when alone. I lock the bathroom door when i shower, thinking to myself that when i open my eyes after washing the shampoo out of my hair that I'll become a replay of the movie Psycho. In the rare occasions I'm home alone for the night, i analyze every single little noise i hear, check the closet before bed, and to some extreme will even look under the bed. I have been known to double check the guest bedroom as well, and also get into bed and realize i didn't check the closet in the garage and run downstairs quick. I have always been terrified of being alone, thinking someone is lurking in the shadows ready to get me. Sometimes when i go to the bathroom or walk by a window with a reflection i do a double take expecting to look up and see someone behind me in my reflection. It really is all a bit quite ridiculous, and i know nothing like that would ever happen, but it's just one of those things that run through my mind. Maybe that's what feeds my love for the scariest movies i can find! I'm sure I'm not alone in these thought processes.

Tonight all of these frightening allegations have become a permanent resident in my mind. While sitting at the kitchen table, innocently doing my math homework (no thanks to Seriously Carla not doing her assigned section AGAIN), i happened to feel a presence, as i sometimes do. To my dismay, i literally lifted my head and SAW A FREAKING PERSON IN A SKI MASK smack dab through the window at my front door. I about peed myself while seriously thinking i may go into cardiac arrest. Who goes around wearing a ski mask, let alone wearing them at my very own front door? Serial Killers? Probably. Mass Murderers? I'm sure. Rapists? Definitely.

Seriously though, who wears a ski mask? Apparently our grounds keepers from the association of our town homes do, because it was just a friendly dude coming to shovel the foot of snow off of our steps from the dumping on of winter we got today.

I'm almost 100% positive i will have nightmares of ski mask terror tonight. Maybe I'll double up on the ambien, just to be sure I don't :)

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Pot Roast Pooper

This is a story that is too good not to share. I'm going to keep the real identity of the Pot Roast Pooper (subsequently referred to as PRP) anonymous, and that doesn't mean this is about me. Trust me when i say i would never ever admit to anything of the sorts that i am about to unravel in the event that said events happened to me.

First of all, I'm going to Quentin Tarantino this story and start with the best part of the story, which is the end. This story ends with the PRP pooping in her hands. Yes. Her hands. Yes, I said poop. Imagine taking a big ole crapper right in the palm of your very own hands. Maybe it's my sick sense of humor that finds this unbelievably hilarious, but the events leading up to it explain the hilariousness of it all.

"SHIT! I think i just did something really bad!" These are words one can expect to hear from someone who lacks a garbage disposal and for whatever reason felt throwing it in the garbage wasn't an option. Yes, we all know of people who dump soup down the toilet. I've never been one of them because I've always lived with a garbage disposal. Soup is explainable. Too chunky for the sink, yet too runny for the garbage. But i ask you this... What about a Pot Roast? The PRP will defend herself and say she was distracted while talking on the phone with her mom, subconsciously following the motions of dumping soup down the toilet. Except this time it was a pot roast. So obviously, the words "SHIT! I think i just did something really bad," came out during the swirling of the flushing mechanism once chunks of potatoes, carrots, and pot roast flushed down the pipes, making the most ugliest gurgling sound one could probably only imagine.

What happens next probably isn't a surprise. The toilet broke. What does this mean when you live in a one bedroom one bathroom apartment and your toilet is broke? You can't go to the bathroom. Luckily for the PRP, she works all day and can relieve herself at work.... Or can she? Nobody likes to poop in public, let alone at work where you're doomed to have one of your fellow office mates walk in mid splash and notice your very distinguishable Keen sandals and identify you as the culprit of the sudden stench occupying the bathroom.

Four days later is when the story gets even better.

Fresh off a one night stand where there were fireworks, the PRP found herself in a new relationship. New relationships are great, especially the time in your relationship where you can't even fathom farting in front of him, let alone excusing yourself to politely take a dump with him waiting in the other room. Making his first official weekend stay, the PRP nervously was ignoring the persistent cramps from going 4 days sans bowel movement. According to her, the maintenance guy had came to check things out, said he needed a part of some kind, and was still working on it. With her not wanting to fess up to her pot roast flushing mistake, he wasn't really sure what the problem was. She had needed to poop for 4 days now, but just could not bear to do it in public. So one can only imagine where the moment of holding it in meets the moment where you lose all bowel containing abilities. Which brings me to the first part of our story, where the PRP undeniably pooped into her hands.

Let me present to you other options besides pooping in your hands:
1- You could....Poop in the trash.
2- You could....Run to the store and use a public restroom.. god forbid..
3- You could....Run through a list of all other possible options and execute them, whatever it is, rather than pooping in your hands.

Let me illustrate this fine conversation when i questioned her with the questions that are probably plaguing your thoughts right now at this point during this not so mother goose story:

Me: Why didn't you just poop in the trash?!?!"
PRP: I thought about that, but then i realized I'd have to walk the trash out past him.
Me: So, you could just say you were taking the trash out!
PRP: But i had just changed the trash.
Me: (sarcastically) So your obvious choice then was to poop into your hands?
PRP: I grabbed a Chinese takeout box. I figured I'd put the poop in there, and then walk it out to the garbage.
Me: So you'd walk a small take out box full of shit past him but you won't take the garbage out in front of him? WTF!
PRP: I felt as though the take out box was less conspicious.
Me: Why not just poop right into the takeout box then?
PRP: What if i missed or it got on the edges?
Me: So why not poop into a plastic bag and put the plastic bag into the takeout box?

Silence.... Apparently she didn't think of this.

And the best part, is that after she pooped into her hands she realized she needed a free hand to grab toilet paper and wipe. She didn't narrate this portion of the story, and I'm glad, because even had she, i doubt I'd blog about it.

Someday, if i'm lucky enough, i'll have a follow up blog where maybe i can enlist her as a guest blogger to retell her story in the first person narrative, as the way she tells this story is H.I.L.A.R.I.O.U.S.!

I Love my friends :)

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Inspired By Kittens

I've never enjoyed cats. I quite honestly think that they are pointless. Most of the ones i have had the chance to interact with don't want any interaction with me in the first place, and they are just down right mean creatures. Don't dare pick them up or they will claw your eyes out, make any motion towards them and they will jet in the cornor and stay there permanently until you leave. What is really the point to having a cat? To just feed and water it and let it shed all over your house? I am obviously a dog person. I love the return of affection and the interaction a dog gives you.

This however, made my day this morning and may have for at least momentarily, changed my views on cats. This is just my humor. Completely stupid. (Make sure your volume is on!)

And if this wasn't entertaining enough, check this dude out who mocked this poor little girl, the original creator of Kittins, Inspired By Kittens. Without further ado.. I give you Cats, Inspired By Kittens, Inspired By Kittins.

Hope you share the laughs. I know i get a kick out of it!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Physics Revealed

I have officially unlocked the secret to this conundrum that i call Physics. All i had to do was try to be an underachiever and my anxiety over passing would be gone entirely.

This Armenian physics professor has quite undoubtedly become my Nemesis.

I knew going into the first real test that i would fail. Not because I'm stupid. Not because i can't learn it. More so because this professor is crazy and it's just impossible to either understand him or interpret what he is trying to teach or even expect from us. One could say you can self teach yourself out of the book, but he doesn't quite follow the book to be able to do that. Either way it leaves you screwed. The one thing i was banking on was the retake. How does it make sense that you would be better off failing the first test, and retaking it for a better grade? Here are my reasons for purposely planning on being an underachiever and failing the test:

1-Not only does he cut the questions in half on the retake, but he also eliminates all of the "harder" questions.
2-Also, during said retake, you are allowed to take it whenever you want, wherever you want, for as long as you want. So never mind that hour and twenty minutes you had in a closed classroom void of all learning materials the first time around. The retake grants you the opportunity to take it at home, or in the library, with all of your resources in front of you, and the most valuable resources of all. Wait for it.

Where is the physics in this? How does this even make sense. Granted he does average the two, but you would have to be an idiot to not get 100% on the retake, and even if you failed with say a 50% on the first one that still gives you an overall of 75%.. Reach for the stars, i know. But at this point all i need is a 70% to pass the class and move on to next semester where i will meet my Armenian doom yet again in Radiologic Physics. I'm not so scared of that though, because it narrows in on one specific physics category, versus this general crap that has us learning stuff that is just beyond me, obviously, given the current situation and my grade.

So without further ado, i shall reveal my first in class physics test score.....62%.. ARE YOU KIDDING ME! 62%.. Had i just been 2% more stupider, i would have been allowed to take the retake, but because i got over a 60% i can't. Where is the justice in this? I can honestly say this was the first time i got a test back and was mad that i didn't do worse.

I guess in the end I'm not worried. I know I'll pull through, i always do. So far being the overzealous student that i am this time around, i am running straight A's down the board, with the exception of physics. In my defense, that first section was the hardest section, so says the Armenian professor. And i did skip ahead and there are no more advanced algebraic or calculus equations that I'll need to learn, considering i'm still in short bus math with Seriously Carla?. Now we'll straight up be getting into what i call the fun physics, the periodical table, elements, atoms, matter, big bang theory and all that fun stuff that made me love physics to begin with.

I really do love physics, and have always loved physics. I have also been good at physics. So I'm just going to take this first section and shelve it, and know with the material that is yet to come i should be able to at least pull a B for a final grade. Or at least i hope so, because i have to take a total of 3 physics class. General Physics, Radiologic Physics, and Radiobiology Physics. Bring it bitches, no Armenian is going to take me down!

I was going to wrap this up and bring a point to it all, but my thought process was interrupted slightly.. What if i changed one of my correct answers and just pointed it out to the professor and were to be confused about which one was wrong or right.. Then it would be wrong and there's my 60% retake heaven! I am seriously going to try it come Tuesday when i come face to face with my nemesis yet again.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Art of the Peace Offering

Fighting has become an art form for Jon and I. The most enjoyable part of fighting is where you start to come down, when things have been resolved but feelings are still hurt, where home field advantage turns into disadvantage and all is fair in who's right and wrong.

The funny thing about the end of an argument is that for me anyways, there is that awkward three days before life can return back to normalcy. You can most certainly forget make up BLEEP, because I'm still bitter, and will be bitter for 2-3 days. I do however take little steps throughout the course of the fight aftermath to make an attempt at resuming our normal lives.

I like to make my peace offerings in sutler harsh ways.

Instead of getting from me: "Honey, i made you some Delicious Spanish rice, would you like to have some?"
He gets (in a Hitler like tone) from me: "I made food, do you want some or not."

Nice enough gesture on my end.. I could have eaten it all myself, but that would have been very rude. Food around here is legal tender when it comes to fighting. I will purposely go out and buy a foot long sub from subway knowing we have no food in the house and he is starving, just to eat it in front of him and be like maybe if you weren't such an a**, then 6 inches of this could be yours! (I'm still waiting for the counter attack from him when he says well maybe if YOU weren't such a b*tch then this 6 inches could be yours. haha) It sounds so mean, but i will always cave. He got that last 6 inches, of course i felt bad and put it in the fridge for him.

Food does become peace offerings around here though. It turns into him saying thanks with his tail between his legs, and me being like whatever, i was hungry and had to cook something anyways. But we both know, the flood gates are now open for rehealing.

Then eventually he should say something of the sorts: "My heavenly domesticated goddess, what a wonderfully blissful job you have done on the house."
What i get from him, as he's frothing at his Spanish rice since he hasn't eaten is: "House looks nice."

[Quick fact- I power clean when i'm irate]

Baby steps people.. Baby steps..

This is day 2 of fight. Day 3 usually continues with a lighter heartier part of the rehealing process. Usually laundry related to initiate conversation. One or the other gives in and asks, "any laundry you'd like done?".. And as much as I'd like to say NO, BUT THERE'S SOME LAUNDRY I'D LIKE TO PACK, I refrain from it. (yes, Dane Cook reference!) Usually sometime along in the sorting process, 2 piece conversations start to take place, a sort of fill in of the last two days events and what they've missed. Then no sooner do you know it you're both gossiping like silly school folk and although there is still thin ice, you proceed, caution or no caution ahead.

And then finally day 4. BREATH! It has passed, life can resume as normal and you spend your time as if you had been away from each other those past 3 or 4 days and catch up on watching all of your missed recorded shows, because no matter how mad you are at the other deep down you know it would be wrong to watch without the other one. So as we're finally warily cuddling on the couch watching back to back recordings of American Idol, we start to comment as if we're music critics, starting little wagers on who will win or who will get kicked off.

Around that time is when i go into the kitchen and scoop out a bowl of ice cream, the official no words peace offering, and life is now able to resume as it was before. I set the bowl down in front of him, he eats his and i eat mine, and we sit there and just enjoy our ice cream and have weathered the storm.

The peace is in the food.. The peace is in the food..

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Seriously Carla?

Who would have thought watching American Idol would teach me life lessons. During Hollywood week one very polite girl was attacked during the group song, and when asked why she never fought back and just took it she said that her mom taught her that "Loose lips sink ships." It was ever so appropriate on about 15 different levels for me and the trouble my impuslive mouth gets me into, and i will always think of that as i am about to become a loose cannon, which i have been known to do.

Lets take a look at exhibit A: The story of Seriously Carla?
I have been having a bit of trouble with my online math class and the weekly team portion. And when i say trouble i mean i feel as though i am the only one stepping up, doing the 1 or 2 people per week's problems that don't get done, and feel as though i am babysitting my team. Consequentially, i was caught in a bad moment and opened my mouth when i should have kept it shut, fueling an online math feud with what is probably some 18 year old. There is no better way to tell it than to flat out copy and paste the dialogue from the discussion board!

Hey team, does anyone mind stepping up and doing number 70 and 76? I noticed that everyone has 7 to 8 problems while I was assigned 12... Thank you to anyone that can help out.

Seriously Carla? It is just two additional questions, you can do the stepping up and finish your assigned section instead of asking everyone else who have already completed and submitted their sections do them for you over something as trivial as a difference of two questions.It will take you an additional 5 minutes, not to mention you got the first section which is always the easiest in the chapters. Kayla- Since you are team leader next week can you make sure to remember to assign Carla the least problems than the rest of the group?

So..... Maybe i took it a step further than i needed when i added the part about assigning her the least problems the next week. But seriously... SERIOUSLY. I stand firm that it was a bit ridiculous she was complaining about two extra problems. Mind you, this is MA096 (yes, i placed into short bus math). Those two extra problems consisted of turning decimals into percentages. It's not like we're working physics problems [see 77% in my take home quiz]. So naturally, Carla fired back.

Let's get something clear, I asked a question... If no one wanted to do it then it is what it is. For the record Heather DO NOT EVER SPEAK TO ME IN THAT FORMAT AGAIN.

I love technology and the emphasis of angry with Caps Lock :) Taking what i thought would be the higher road, i attempted to squash the situation.

I apologize if my message came across in a bad way, i meant it in more of a sarcastic tone than demeaning. I just felt it was all a bit unnecessary to ask if someone else could do two additional problems.

Probably a bit unnecessary that i had to throw that last dig in, but still. It continued on, except i learned to just shut my trap and hopefully she'll get over it. The thought did occur to me had i not said anything, either someone else would have, or it would have blown over and she would have just did her two extra problems and nothing would have even been noticed.

I can't help that I'm a bit of a firecracker at times. I say what is on my mind, and i try to contain myself. Containment is key, coming from a girl who went through anger management in college. I do now love the saying loose lips sink ships. Someday I'll learn to just keep it shut, but until then i can't help but say "Seriously Carla?"