Note To Self:

Do NOT, ever, put more mushrooms and lettuce on your turkey-mustard sandwich, than turkey and mustard.

Otherwise, the sandwich tastes like rubbery mushrooms (from the moisture of the lettuce and turkey, I assume) and gritty ass gross lettuce (which I thought was clean).

It was so horrible that I couldn't finish it and I'm starving with nothing to eat and no real motivation to get anything for fear it might be as nasty as what I just tried to eat.

Ugh.

Never again.

Ever.

Welp,

I start school again tomorrow.

Even though it cost me roughly $3000 (tuition fees, a week's worth of lost wages, plus migraine meds) I'm sort of glad that last migraine episode compelled me to re-evaluate school and work. I'm in a considerably better place now, even with getting in trouble last week for the inaccuracy of my salaried time card.


(hah! I have episodes now. I'm one of those women)

I am taking a course on Training and Development, something I know nothing about and honestly something I could use. I have very little patience for training anyone on anything, unless there's a reward for me somewhere along the way. And no, in case you are wondering if teaching people aspects of my job is reward enough, it's not. Anyway, the good new is that my class will end up giving me some silly certificate in Human Resources, not that I want to be in that area anymore, but at least it's something I might use to my advantage later.

The bad news? It's another dull and pointless HR class where questions inevitably lead to more questions, where case studies are too generic to accurately describe a situation, and where I have to read some boring book that I don't find remotely practical.

Maybe this time I will at least understand the point of the class unlike my Negotiations class where I never understood what the hell we were learning and apparently got something like a 'D' on my final paper, bringing my overall grade to a B! I asked my teacher what was wrong with it because I thought it was fine, and he has yet to get back to me, which leads me to believe that basically nothing was wrong with it and he just screwed up somehow.

I mean, I'm not THAT lousy a writer, especially when I try. Sheeit.

Farscape

Shout out to Derek and Brody, to guys who really know their sci-fi. We just started watching Farscape last night, but so far I'm intrigued and it's a lot of fun. It's visually very entertaining with all the different aliens, and the characters are pretty funny.

I dig it. Thanks guys.

Friendly Neighbor Guy

If you've ever been to my fortress of an apartment building, you know it's impossible to negotiate your way around without the right set of keys. It is mandatory for one to carry keys for simple tasks such as: taking out the garbage, doing laundry, getting the mail, or even just going to the atrium to talk on the phone.

Today, as I was running to change the laundry, I had a dryer sheet in one hand, and quarters in the other hand. Just milliseconds before I heard the click-bang of my building door closing, I realized I was going to get locked out.

I froze, momentarily contemplating my options. I was locked outside in the atrium-thing where the first building connects to the second. To get to the front of my apartment complex I would have to go through the secret gate to the street. This plan involved systematically calling everyone on the call box to explain myself and hope they would buzz me in. There was also the chance that rather than come down and really help me, my non-neighbors would *only* buzz me in, giving me access to the front building (garbage, laundry and mail), but not the back building (my apartment) A last resort kind of plan, I decided.

Our apartment manager has a day job, in San Francisco, so she was useless to me at this point, and the only neighbors I know are the two hotties who live above me, blare loud music, and stomp a lot. So far though, they are pretty cool.

Then I thought about breakfast and how I'd yet to have some and I really *did* want some Grapenuts and honey. I was sort of mad about this because who knows how long it would be until someone let me in the building.

I walked to the corner of the atrium-thing and tried to spot someone having a lovely breakfast on their balcony, since that's what I was going to do after I changed the laundry, but nobody was there.

And then I saw the Yukon that meant my neighborly boys were home! Hallelujah! I ran to the back door (by the stairs) to meet him. He not only let me in, but he was gracious and nice about the whole thing. He did not judge my bed-head that I haven't looked at since last night after my shower. He didn't care that I was holding a limp, useless dryer sheet in one hand and twenty dollars in quarters in the other. He just let me in.

Hip Hip Hooray for my friendly neighbor guy whose name I still don't know. I'd make him a pie or something if that was my thing. As it is, I think he deserves a six pack of beer - or a Starbucks card since he was drinking a Frappucino.

My Nectarine

Today, I carefully transported a perfect nectarine from my house to work.
I lovingly picked it up out of the fruit bowl, I meticulously inspected it for bruises, and found none.
I put it inside a baggy in case it got smushed by the rest of my lunch, and loaded it into my lunch bag with love.
I walked slowly so as to guard my perfectly ripe necatarine from bruising.
I got to work, unloaded my beautiful red and yellow nectarine from its ziploc bag, and gingerly set it on the breakroom table to eat in an hour or so.

I just went back to fetch my wonderful piece of fruit. Fruit that I have been longing for since 6:00am when I proceeded to pick it out and pack it up.

It's gone!

Disappeared. I've searched everywhere for my piece of perfect fruit and I can't find it.

I think someone ate it to make me cry.

To top it off I was going to make a cup of organic black cherry tea, but being so distraught about losing my nectarine, I tore open the tea bag wrong and spilled all the tea on the floor.

:(

Minor Point

I guess Sam is back ... or something.

He sent me a random semi-apology the other day. Something like, "I'm very sorry I've treated such an old friend so poorly", which is nice I guess...

Except that apologies don't change behavior, so really, what's the point?

The 450 Sutter Bathroom

The 450 Sutter Building is funny.

It's very hoity-toity, yet the bathrooms are located inside the creepy stairwell.

It's creepy.

And, they smell like the Bikram Studio at Funky Door Yoga.

Damn that stench.

New Jobs

So I've been forcing myself to apply to new jobs lately, mainly for interviewing practice and to feel like I'm actually DOING something related to my future career that doesn't involve graduate school.

As a result I have my first interview today for a job I don't really want. It's basically doing what I do right now except the hours are better (8:30-5:00 Monday through Thursday) in a fancier office where I might have more than 10 inches between me and my co-worker.

Also, no Stinky would be a plus, but still. I don't want to BE in this field, much less try to advance myself in it. I mean, what happens if I get stuck and it becomes like quicksand where the more you struggle the more you sink?

Eek! Anyway, I'm going regardless to hone some interview skills and get some information that I could possibly use to my advantage in my next negotiation for a reduction of hours and increase in pay.

Here we go...

Old Ladies and Their Perfume

Has anyone else noticed the overwhelming stench of a lady past the age of say, sixty-five?

Last Friday at work we had a patient who's perfume was so strong and malodorous it threatened to awaken the peacefully sleeping Klaus. It made me so nauseaus that I could barely process her questions, much less reply.

Then I went to the bathroom in the hopes of escaping the stench, but to my dismay there was ANOTHER lady with horrible perfume sense hogging the claustrophic quarters known as the 450 Sutter Bathroom in the Stairway.

Truly a scary phenomenon.

Ladies, relax with the 'fume - nobody wants to feel cholorformed at work.

Bikram Yoga

Bikram yoga is one of the most challenging, difficult, and mentally rewarding workouts I've ever participated in. For those of you who don't know what I

It's also one of the most strenuous and uncomfortable. The deeper you get into each pose, the better the workout, hence the more sore you are. In addition, the more you push yourself, the more you massage weird glands and organs, like your parathyroid, and your transverse colon.

During the pose it feels mildly uncomfortable - sort of like you can't catch your breath or like you have a funny pressure in a weird part of your body.

In the event you don't sweat out all your toxins during class, you are pretty much guaranteed to release them within the next few days. So far, this is my least favorite part of yoga. I always feel crummy for a few days, in addition to the fatigue and soreness of my muscles, and I tend to get a little bit sick.

I'm hoping that with regular practice I will be more toxin-free and will feel less cruddy afterward.

Regardless, this is something you should try if you have any amount of athleticism or strength of mind. It will push your limits mentally and physically and that's always a plus for me.

Here's a picture of eagle pose, which I can't do at all, but maren is actually pretty good at:




I am, however very good at camel pose, which is shown below, just ask maren.

Woah

Stinky totally just volunteered to work for a friend at a different office on her day off!!

For Free.

woah.

The Office...

I guess it's about time, I mean, we have been living here for over 3 months, and that room is still a disaster, but seriously, Evan wants us to work on The Office on a Wednesday night!

On a Wednesday fricken night!!

I was hoping we could cuddle up on the couch, eat some chicken stir-fry, and maybe watch This is Spinal Tap, or The Good Girl. But no, cleaning the office is what we are doing, at least for one hour. That's all I could promise him.

And, I only gave in because he let me put if off for so long when I know it's secretly been driving him mad. (Which is because I've been secretly hoping he'd do it himself and I wouldn't have to help)

>:)

Hobbit Eating Habits.

It's true. I eat just like a hobbit. Food is extremely important to me. I am mean without second dinner.

Here is my schedule:

Breakfast
Elevensies (Although sometimes I have second breakfast *and* elevensies)
Lunch
Snack
Supper/Dinner
Second Dinner

I had oatmeal this morning at 8ish, and I still really want second breakfast, but I have no time to get a snack.

People think it's weird, I think, that I eat so much. But I can't help it. I have an obsessive relationship with food. When I say obsessive I mean that I think about my next meal in advance. Not like an hour in advance, more like several meals in advance, or sometimes several days in advance.

I'm already wondering (and have already asked Evan, Nick and Maren) what's for my dinner on Saturday night.

Would a hobbit do the same thing?

I admit

I'm a little bit in love with Michael Phelps after watching him swim the 200 fly last night.

Dang.

Dear Ben Affleck,

I have to say that on behalf of your most recent film, Paycheck, I refuse to listen to what other people say.

I kind of dug it.

It was cool.

Not amazing or anything, but certainly much better than Gigli. I'm so glad you dumped that trashy hooker J-Lo.

Sincerely,

Jocelyn

Getting caught on the Internet

So ... it seems that people are actually interested in me (and Evan) enough to search for us and then come here to read about the things I write.

Which is hilarious to me, because most of what I write is silly, useless, fluff, or heavy, difficult-to-read, emotional vomit. But hey, to each his own, right?

Anyway, turns out that I've put some slanderous things on my blog here and there, and Evan's ex saw the pictures and the stuff about the wine and was naturally upset about the whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Before I tackle the specifics of that situation I'll simply say that yes it was mean of me to put that stuff up there, and yes, I'm sure it hurt her feelings regardless of how she actually feels about me. I'd be shocked and appalled if I found something like that up on the Internet. It would sort of make me feel like this giant monolith (metaphorically speaking) that people came to stare at and make fun of.

Except that to my knowledge not that many people actually read this trivial nonsense, so what do I care?

She doesn't know that though, so Jen, while I'm not trying to mitigate your anger or apologize, you should know this is not a site that many people visit. Just a few very close friends and probably some randoms looking for stuff on me and Evan, like yourself, or looking for recipe information.

Don't worry, it won't spread across the United States. Not a fricken chance.

It's probably very wrong of me to delve into the rest of the situation knowing that Evan is really the one who will get in trouble for it. I still might do it anyway, and he pretty much gives me free license on this blog - I mean, it's mine, but still I do respect him and I know that regardless of their relationship now, he really used to love her.

Chocolate Eggs

Twice in the last week I've had this very strange idea for chocolate eggs. No, not like Cadbury Creme Eggs, as those are disgusting to me, but real chocolate eggs.

I even dreamt about them last night. (Granted, Klaus is back, that might have something to do with it)

The chocolate eggs in my dream were a fancy-schmancy dessert at a restaurant. They came on a plate and basically it was like you went in there and ordered breakfast but then they sent you everything as dessert.

So for Chocolate Eggs you would get them over medium, that's the only way they came because of the chocolate. They only looked like eggs as far as the shape went. It was like taking regular fried eggs and literally making them out of chocolate since that's what they were. The part that would normally be the yolk was a very rich, creamy, delicate chocolate that sort of melted down you tongue. It was awesome. The outside, or the egg-white, was a more bittersweet chocolate and the texture was a little bit weird. Not slimy like an egg, but not brittle either. Sort of in between hard chocolate and soft.

Very weird.

And then, instead of having homestyle fries with your breakfast, you would get an apple-cinnamon-brown sugar loveliness to munch on.

It was so good it makes me want to open my own dessert only restaurant.

Yum Yum.

Charlie Horse in my Butt

Oh my god!!

My sphincter keeps on cramping tonight - for the past fifteen minutes!!!

Help!!!


How does one relax their spincter? And no tight-ass jokes, please.

Unless it's an emergency

please don't call me! And when I ask you to call me, don't abuse it, because I probably mean for you to call me when Evan is here so he can play telephone.

Seriously - it hurts.

And just because Klaus is kicking my ass right now does not mean that once I am well I won't be kicking yours for calling without an excellent reason.

Thank you.

Klaus, the guy behind my eye(s).

There is a gnarled old man who lives in my brain, right behind my eyes. He is grumpy, this gnarled old man. And, lucky for him he owns some very sharp tools, his favorite of which is a pick-axe.

Klaus and I have a funny relationship. He's extremely sensitive to things normal people don't mind at all. And, he takes it out on me when I do something he disagrees with.

For instance, entering a room flooded with sunlight blinds him and makes him want to throw up. The morning alarm clock jars him from a peaceful sleep in ways that make his head spin and clang, like symbols are ringing in his ears. Standing up quickly is the equivalent of knocking on his head until he feels dizzy and wants to fall over.

So every time I commit (accidentally or otherwise) one of these acts, Klaus hammers at my skull with his pick-axe in an effort to reach some kind of mutual understanding. It's working, I'd say.

As of yesterday, I understood that his pain is my pain and vice-versa, so I've been trying to lull him to sleep with prescription drugs and dark, un-distracted places, where loud jarring noises do not occur. Although Vicodin makes both of us feel funny, and uncomfortable, and itchy as heck, it pretty much knocks poor Klaus right out. When he's sleeping he's not stomping around in my brain trying to hurt me, so I generally take a nap too.

This morning, he was bothering me so I ate an entire bowl of pasta and then took a whole vicodin. Now I am itching all over my face and ears. All the drapes are shut tight which feels really good. I'm thinking about a shower but I'm not sure I can stay awake and I've heard that shallow water deaths are the number one cause of death for people under 35, which is probably an urban myth, but who knows?

I always thought

it would be fun to be a medical mystery, where you have some larger than life problem and no one can figure out what's wrong with you.

Sort of like my friend Ericka, except watching her try and self-diagnose her skin-thingy has been awful. I felt her legs last weekend and they were full of these little, hot, tight, itchy, red bumpies. It looked like her leg skin was actually tight in that I've-recently-had-a-face-lift way. It looked plain old ouchie.

Now, with my head, that remains untreated by the following drugs made for Migraine sufferers: Imitrex, Amerge, Relpax, Axert, Feverfew, etc., I find that I too, am somewhat of an anomaly.

It sucks. There's no mystery in losing about $600 to sit at home wanting to do homework to at least be semi-productive, but being unable too.

Yes, my doctor is confused. Yes, my head still hurts. Yes people, I know what the triggers are, and no, msg is not one of them - at least not for me.

But it's not like you can eliminate stress even when you want to. Attempting to control it is one thing, but eliminating it? I'm open to suggestion on this one, but I kind of think I need to move further from my family before I could really put a dent in any of it. Another 2 hours north or south should do it.

Ode to Jesse

Very few people know me well enough to understand that something is upsetting me without me telling them anything.

Jesse is one of those people.

Instead of thinking that my light-hearted and well spaced emails were because I was too busy, he realized something was bothering me.

Not that he had to go far to figure it out, but the fact that he knows just based on simple text without any reference to everything that's been going on lately is quite a feat.

It's not just that either - when he knew what was wrong he sent me one of the funniest E-Cards I've ever seen. Very cute, very funny, very Jess.

And that's why I love him.

:)

Thanks, sweet friend.

Vicodin can cure anything!

Well, not really, but it is most certainly helping my latest migraine since I am unable to take anymore naratriptans for a few more hours. I maxed out on them yesterday and they didn't even work.

Boo hoo.

It's becoming more and more evident to me that I am unable to handle everything I am assigning myself. My body should not have to shut down for me to catch up on sleep and I should not have to miss work (unpaid at this point) once a month in order to find time for me.

I need a magic solution. Today it is Dawson's Creek and Vicodin. Tomorrow it will be Bikram Yoga. Maybe I will even get another B in a class just so I can cut myself some slack.

Also, I need a haircut. It's still cute (thank you, Moni Rose) however it's too long for the current cut and as a result just sort of hangs funny in the mousy-brown way that it does.

At least it's soft.

The Saga Continues...

For fifteen blissful hours, I completely forgot that my family was in utter chaos. Then I came home to O-town.

Here's the latest from mom .... I'm out of it for now.



Jocelyn,
Our approach was obviously very wrong and the five of us reached a decision that has wreaked havoc. And yet to have gone to the source, as you put it, wouldn't have worked either and I think most of us agree with that. So, mistakes were made, but I will not take on the sole blame for these past severe reactions on their part. I also will not lie to anyone that I have concerns about Mike's anger issues and how he lashes out at Ashley when Sandra is not present to witness it. Yes, I could lie and it would make me look mighty good in their eyes, but I am not going to do it. I'm sorry, Jocelyn, but I believe Ashley when she says that Mike has made her feel horrible and scared when he is in these anger modes and it's not something she feels she can discuss with her parents, for whatever reasons, or she would have done it last year instead of coming to me, crying, telling me that he was treating her so mean when her mom wasn't around and that he keeps calling her a selfish bitch. Her words: "I fear Michael so much". So, wiping out 50% of her words and feelings, I maintain that the reamining 50% is true and valid.
We all expressed that Mike has some serious problems, even you. But now you have changed your mind and see Ashley's fears as invalid. That's fine, you have a right to your opinion. But I also have a right to mine. And, forgive me, but I do not agree with your comment that everything they do for Ashley is in her well-being. Mike's uncontrollable anger and name-calling, making her feel that he doesn't love her, even like her, instilling fear in her and accusing her of things she didn't do is NOT in her well-being. Ok, let's discard 50% for everyone's benefit. And the remaining 50?

I am sending these comments to you, and you alone. If I choose to let share them with someone else, that is my decision, I am asking that you respect my decision. But just so you know, if Sandra and Mike ask me why I was so concerned, I will tell them exactly what I have shared with you right now. I'm sorry if you feel that is the wrong thing to do. Anyway, in the meantime, they are stated to you in confidence.
You know that I love you very much. We disagree on some issues, but that doesn't change my love and respect for you. And it never will. You are still my "hijita guapita rosita chiquita" and always will be.
Try to get caught up on your home work and then do something that will take your mind off of all of this.
Please tell Evan hello.
Love you,
Mom