Archive for category Day in the Life of Erin
After a beautiful day yesterday, I was promptly in bed and sound asleep by 11:00 pm last night. It was positively perfect, and I would have been happy as a clam had a guy on his motorcycle not awakened me from a dead sleep at 3 this morning. Apparently his battery died, and he was jumping it with his friend’s car in an attempt to get it started. This required lots and lots of revving and exceptionally bright headlights shining right into my bedroom window. It was delightful.
Also delightful? The video of the whole situation that I shot with my iPhone immediately upon waking up. Apparently, in my grogginess, I thought it would be good to have a video of all the noise to accompany my story. Unfortunately, as soon as I turned the camera on the noise quieted down, and now, instead of a fascinating inside look at the midnight world of motorcycle repair, I have a video of my blinds (because I wasn’t awake enough to actually move the blinds out of the way) that is crazily narrated by a half-asleep Erin. The Honey Badger guy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg) has nothing on me.
The motorcyclist has since left, but I’m still wide awake, so I thought I’d upload some pictures from my perfect Friday.
I decided to take myself on an afternoon movie date at the Magnolia to see Woody Allen’s new movie A Midnight in Paris.
I went to the 1:30 showing, and the theater was absolutely packed. I guess everyone had the same idea that I did! After drinking about 6 glasses of iced tea at lunch and a coke at the movie, I was dying to go to the bathroom after the show. The Magnolia is a fairly upscale theater, and you generally don’t find graffiti on the bathroom stalls. Today, however, I randomly chose the one stall with bathroom graffiti. It spoke to me, so, of course, I took a picture.
I’ve never really understood graffiti (for example, why do people have long conversations/arguments with each other on the bathroom stall? Do people really go back to the same icky gas station bathroom stall just to check the status of their argument? I suppose so since I was once in a bathroom that said something like “Janet & Tom Together Forever!” This was then crossed out with a note that said “Not anymore.” Either Janet came back to the stall to set the record straight or else another bathroom patron took it upon herself to make the correction. Either way, I just don’t get it), but I thought these were good words to live by as far as bathroom messages go.
After the movie, I was driving home when all of a sudden I came across the most beautiful park. I don’t know how I didn’t know that it existed before, but I’m glad that I discovered it today. I immediately parked my car and got out for a spontaneous walk. Along the way I took pictures, and I thought I’d post a handful here. Be aware–this post is exceptionally photo heavy!
After my most wonderful walk, I came home and got ready for a fun dinner with a great friend. We had a great time, and it was the perfect cap to my day.
It’s 6:00 am now, and I’m finally tired, so I think I’ll go try to squeeze in a short nap before the adventures I have planned for today. Night!
I need to stop watching infomercials.
Until a few months ago, I never really worried about myself. Wait, let me restate that–I never really worried about myself when it came to infomercials. I constantly worry about myself when it comes to…well, anything else.
For 30+ years, I could watch infomercials (though I generally changed the channel as soon as one came on the tv) and laugh at the cheesiness of the actors or the ridiculousness of the product. Sure, some of the products seemed innovative and some even piqued my interest. Watching them, though, I often wondered who would fall for the line “if you call in the next ten minutes you will not only receive Product X but also a ten day supply of Product Y!” I mean, really, they play the same infomercials over and over again, so I’m pretty sure if I wanted Product Y I could call within the next 532 hours and still get it for free.
Not to mention the fact that as a psychologist, I’d sit smugly back and balk at the infomercial’s attempts to pull one over on me. I’m keenly aware of the research indicating that the way information is presented influences whether one subscribes to it or not.
Yes, for the last 30+ years, I’d never worried that I’d fall prey to the subtle charm of the informercial.
Until a few months ago when I saw this:
Oh dear lord. It took all the willpower I had not to buy this grass. I’m not even kidding. The grass just looks so lush and soft and plentiful. I just want to take off my shoes, lie down, and make grass angels. ”But Erin,” you say, “you live in an apartment and don’t even have a yard.” Oh, I know, dear reader, I know. But. The grass. It’s so luscious.
Luckily, I was able to conquer my impulse and refrain from calling the 1-800-lusciousgrassthatIdon’tneed number. It was at this moment, though, that I began to question my infomercial defenses. To yearn so deeply for something that I could not even use worried me.
“You’re just tired,” I told myself. But then, just a few days ago, dang if my heart didn’t start beating faster when I saw this:
Can’t you just imagine seeing your spices so neatly organized and in HD?! Admit it–you’re a little intrigued yourself after watching those videos.
I’m being completely honest when I tell you that I really, really want these things. I’m also being completely honest when I tell you that really, really wanting these things makes me deeply concerned about myself. In fact, I discussed my newly-emerging-infomercial-vulnerability to a friend of mine just this weekend.
It wasn’t until tonight, however, when I saw the following that I realized it was time for me to check myself into infomercial rehab:
Oh, Erin. There are so many reasons why getting excited about that infomercial concerns me:
1. I don’t have a baby.
2. The acting is beyond terrible and not persuasive in the least.
3. Going to a baby shower at which something like that actually happened would make me want to claw my eyes out.
4. I don’t have a baby.
But, ooh, I want a Baby Bullet after watching that. Also? I love the drunk grandma.
And so, as a person who’s on the verge of making some terrible shopping decisions, I ask you to please help me in my fight against the smooth-talking infomercial announcers.
Well, my summer is off to a great, albeit uneventful, start.
As always, I had visions of myself updating my blog regularly all summer long, but as you can see, I’m two weeks in and no update. I recently read that some bloggers are doing a “day in the life of” or a “month in the life of” series of blog posts, so I thought that I’d try to jump on that bandwagon for the month of June. We all know my history of updating on a regular basis, so we’ll see how it goes. The part of the plan that I find most enticing is that there’s no pressure to be interesting–just a picture or three with your iphone, a brief description of your day, and that’s it!
While I won’t start my (hopefully) daily mini-updates until tomorrow, I thought I’d share a few pictures of my summer thus far. No crazy adventures (yet!), just a lot of organizing, reading, and relaxing. Oh, and Criminal Minds. Lots and lots of Criminal Minds. It couldn’t have been a more perfect start to my summer after one of the most hectic years of my life.
As soon as I was completely finished with school this semester, I decided to attack my bedroom closet. I had pretty much neglected it since I moved in, and, to be honest, it was a complete disaster. It had been driving me crazy for the last four months, but I didn’t feel right about spending time organizing my closet when I should be studying. So, it continued to get worse and worse. I wish I had a true before picture, but I didn’t think about it until I had emptied most of it out. Still, I think you can get the picture:
I managed to get 5 black trashbags full to donate to goodwill (even though I retained a ridiculous number of t-shirts). Yay! And, because, I was bored today, you get pictures of that too!
Energized and excited by the progress I made on my bedroom closet, I decided to tackle my pantry next. Living in an apartment allows me little room for pantry/laundry storage, so I had to make due with what I have. While it’s not the most beautiful redo ever, I still think it looks pretty good!
Though I still have big plans to organize my office and my guest room closet, I lost a little of my organization enthusiasm after these two closets. As a result, the last few days have been filled with nothing but this:
For those of you who managed to make it through my post about closets without falling asleep, I commend you. I hope (for both your sake and mine) that the rest of my summer will be just as relaxing but a little more exhilarating. For now, though, a new (to me) episode of Criminal Minds is calling my name.
On this sixth day until Christmas, I currently have:
6 boxes of contacts that need to be picked up from the eye doctor.
5 (times 12) final exams left to grade.
4 people left for whom I need to buy presents.
3 friends IMing me on facebook.
2 socks soaking up all the water in my cat’s water bowl (thanks to her odd sock habit).
1 toilet that won’t stop running no matter what I try.
And that, my friends, is the lamest attempt at a last minute blog post ever made. But hey, at least I got it done, right?!
Better stories coming tomorrow. For now, though, I’m off to bed.
The other day I was having a conversation with a friend about pick up lines/conversation starters. In a dating world where most guys can’t do better than something along the lines of the cheesy “Is heaven missing an angel?,” it’s refreshing when you hear something original and unexpected.
This conversation got me thinking—do I have a go-to conversation starter? My first inclination was to say no, but then tonight I signed onto match (yes, I’m still on that thing–stories to come) and, after reading an e-mail from a nice man, realized that I do indeed have a go-to line of sorts: my beer drinking camels.
You see, I come from quite the eccentric family, and among our various claims to fame is the fact that we own beer drinking camels. Yes, our pet camel lives right smack in the middle of southwestern Oklahoma. While it’s not common for me to blurt this fact out upon meeting someone, I have found that it proves to be a great conversation starter whenever a great conversation starter is needed (whether it’s during a date, meeting new friends, or telling stories with old friends).
When I was filling out my match profile back in July, I absolutely could not bring myself to create the prototypical profile with things like, “Hi, I’m Erin. I’m a super genius. I have a body that’s comparable to a Victoria’s Secret’s model. I make oodles of money at my incredibly impressive job. When it comes to homemaking, I’m a perfect mix between Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker. In my free time, I like to build houses for the homeless while nursing orphaned baby birds back to health.” Because, you know, even though those statements are all completely accurate (haha), I don’t like to be a braggart.
Instead, I opted for a “10 Random Things About Erin” kind of profile in which I tell them 10 things that, while telling them nothing of great significance about me, allow them to get a glimpse into my personality. Of the 10 things, #3′s “I’ve got two beer drinking camels” gets the most responses by far. I knew that this would be a good thing to include, of course, because in my “real” life, anytime I bring up my camels, it always brings about a fairly good conversation. What I didn’t realize was just how much this statement would spark other match-ers curiosity. (Incidentally, my number #8 random fact involving the way I prefer my toilet paper roll to hang brings in the second highest number of comments, followed closely by my # 6 love of math.)
Just to provide a sampling of the kinds of comments my camels inspire, I’ve copied the camel part of the five most recent e-mails that I’ve received:
I must say I found your list of ten things rather intriguing. I couldn’t help but chuckle about your #8 (this is my toilet paper comment). That’s always been a pet peeve of mine, too! Your #3, of course, obviously begs for follow-up questions, so I guess my first ones are – how in the world did you come about having two camels, and how did you find out they like drinking beer??
Your profile was a very fun read. The 10 random facts was a refreshing read and provides more insight than the usual hollow information from most everybody. At the risk of sounding somewhat gullible, do you really have two camels? I figure the camels are a euphemism for large dogs or some such thing.
Say what? Camels? That’s a hell of a thing to only make #3 on your list. Definitely did a double take on that one. Can you ride them? I guess they have to be sober for that.
Can camels get beer bellies? Do they live with you?
Interesting 10 random things about me list, especially the 2 beer drinking camels.
This last line is the one that came from tonight’s e-mail. After reading these e-mails, and responding to many of them, I thought it might be time to introduce my camels to the blogosphere. It breaks my heart to tell you that Curly, our one-hump camel, recently died due to a broken leg and infection (turns out there’s not a lot of vets who specialize in camel infections). We now only have Clyde, our two-hump camel (he’s been with us the longest), but they’re both so dear to my heart. Even though Curly’s gone, I want to share pictures and introduce them both.
Without further ado, here’s Curly:
And here’s Clyde (you’ll have to excuse these pictures–they were taken more than 10 years ago!):
That’s my arm holding onto Clyde, by the way. I would have left the picture uncropped, but I was afraid I’d break the computer.
Anyway, those are my camels! They’re somewhat famous around these parts. In fact, they’ve been featured on E!’s show Wildest Weddings.
I’d tell you that story now, but a big pile of gen psych exams is calling my name, so I’m going to get to grading and save that story (as well as the details of my camels) for tomorrow’s post.
Happy 9th Day Before Christmas, Everyone!
When I was little, I had a friend who had a big sister who would often promise to do things with us. ”Sure, I’d love to take you to the movies next week!” ”The zoo? Why of course! We’ll have the best time when we get to visit all the animals.” Then, without fail, every time we’d get our hopes up, the day would come , and she’d suddenly become busy and wouldn’t deliver on her promises. It always annoyed me, and I swore I would never be like that. I generally like to think that I’m good for my word, but then I woke up this morning and realized that when it comes to blogging, I’ve turned into the sister full of empty promises.
This revelation causes me great cognitive dissonance, so I’m going to try to rectify the situation by not promising to post a certain number of postings each week anymore and by also delivering on any future promise that I do make. With that being said (and oh, I will redeem myself), I’m committed to posting every day until Christmas. Consider me your own personal advent calendar. Maybe advent is already half over and maybe I don’t provide tiny morsels of chocolate when you punch in my doors, but I’m counting down to Christmas nonetheless.
On this tenth day before Christmas, I’m currently in the throes of finals week. 2 down, 1 left to give. I have piles and piles of grading sitting on my desk, but knowing that in three days I’ll be free from whiny students for a month makes the task of grading seem a little more tolerable. My poor students seem positively exhausted, but they’ve all been in good spirits during their final and have been great sports with my requests for class pictures. Yes, I’ve made each of my classes gather together for a end-of-the-semester-picture. I think it’s a fun tradition to start, and I know that I’ll truly enjoy looking back at my past classes in years to come. Overall, I’ve received good feedback from my students, and, as nerdy as this may be, I’m starting to feel the beginning pangs of post-semester depression. I always get a little sad when the semester’s over, my classes end, and my students leave. As crazy as they drive me, I really enjoy my students and the relationships we build over the course of a semester. Hopefully I’ll be able to remember this feeling when I get into the middle of next semester, and I’m ready to strangle my students again.
On a completely different note, I had a doctor’s appointment earlier this week, and while there, I realized that there are times when I really should come equipped with a muzzle. I don’t know what it is about doctors’ offices, but something about the visits makes me nervous, and nervous Erin = blabber mouth Erin (see my previous post about my recent ob/gyn visit for another example). It’s like I feel like I have to say something, but then whatever comes out sounds strange, so, in an attempt to explain my strange comment, I just keep talking until I’ve made an odd comment seem downright crazy. If I could just learn to stop talking, I might be able to maintain the appearance that I’m practically normal.
Anyway, I’ve been having trouble with my hips, so I went to the doctor hoping to figure out what was wrong. While there, my doctor ordered a pelvic x-ray for me down the hall. The nurse brought me a gown and instructed me to take off my pants and put the gown on. In my Monday morning rush, I hadn’t exactly planned on traipsing around the waiting rooms in nothing but a micro-mini hospital gown and socks, so my already pale legs were looking dry, slightly unshaven, and dressed in knee high purple argyle socks. I realize that no one probably paid me much attention as people walking around in hospital gowns is a common sight in hospitals, but it still made me feel uneasy. Whenever I feel uncomfortable in this manner, I have the irresistible urge to tell everyone within hearing distance why I’m dressed/acting/whatever the way I am (e.g. after I fell on my face in Rome and came back to the states with a huge healing wound on my nose, I told literally every single person that I came into contact with that it wasn’t a monster zit or a some weird disease, but that I’m a klutz and had fallen on my face. The looks on their faces told me this was not something that the local grocers or postal workers needed nor wanted to know, yet I continued to tell everyone until my nose completely healed).
But back to Monday. As I sat waiting for my turn, I informed all those sitting next to me that I was waiting to get an x-ray (because, you know, the fact that I was sitting outside of the x-ray room in a gown didn’t clue them in). I continued to tell them why I was there and the duration of my hip issues. I’m certain they enjoyed the play-by-play of my recurring pain.
My name was finally called, and a young (as in too young for me) male x-ray technician got me situated on the table. As he was setting up the machine, he asked me if there was any chance that I was pregnant. That seemingly innocent question spurred the following conversation:
Erin: Oh no, definitely not pregnant.
Technician (sort of smirking at my emphasis): Definitely not, huh?
E: Nope, definitely not! (This is the point where I should have stopped talking. But no, I kept right on going…)
E: Unfortunately. Well, not unfortunately that I’m not pregnant, because though I one day want kids, I don’t want them right now. More unfortunately because it’s sort of a sad state of affairs that I know for certain that there’s absolutely no chance I’m pregnant because, you know, I’m alone and not dating anyone. But not that I can’t get a date, I can, it’s just that I’m picky and busy, and well, yeah.
Cue a blank incredulous stare from the technician.
Though embarrassing, I’m grateful he gave me a look that told me I was acting insane or else I might have kept going.
I like to believe that moments like this will be embarrassing enough to stop me from doing similar things in the future, but given that I’ve had many, many of these moments in the past, I’m starting to think I might be a lost cause.
Unfortunately, my humiliation didn’t end there. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a rule following people pleaser, so when someone tells me to do something, I do it and do it well. The technician needed a total of four x-rays, and before the first one he instructed me to lay with my toes facing inward towards each other. I did as I was told, and he took the first picture. He took out the x-ray and went back to the little side room and started doing his thing for the next 4-5 minutes.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve had the opportunity to lay on your back and hold your feet inwards so your big toes touch, but after about a minute, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep that pose. He hadn’t told me to release my pose, so when he came back for picture number two, there I lay: a 30-year-old woman in a super short hospital gown and knee-high socks, toes locked together, and thigh muscles slightly shaking due to the fatigue of holding the pose for so long. He literally laughed at me and said, “um, you can relax when I’m not taking a picture.” Thankfully, the rest of the time flew by, and I was able to leave with what remained of my dignity.
The good news is that the x-rays didn’t reveal anything unusual. The bad news is that I’m probably going to have to find a new doctor again because I don’t think I can handle facing X-ray Technician ever again.
I sometimes have to wonder how a girl who can be so successful in some parts of her life can be so spastic in others. It’s just one of life’s mysteries, I suppose.
Hope your tenth day before Christmas is providing you with fun times and good stories! Thanks to those of you who regularly check my blog even though I’ve been erratic in my posting–it means a lot!
How is it already December? I have no idea what happened to the last three weeks; November absolutely flew by. The end of the semester is always so busy, and I’ve been running around like a crazy woman trying to get everything wrapped up before Christmas break. That being said, I’ve pushed my blog down to the bottom of my priority list. I’ll work on that…
I’m working on my lecture for tomorrow’s class, so I don’t have much time for a “real” post, but I wanted to post something so that those of you who are still checking my little blog know that I’m still alive and still posting. I’ll work on getting a longer post up later this week.
In the mean time, I’ll leave with you a mini story from yesterday:
I am in the bad habit of taking my clean clothes out of the dryer and laying them neatly on my couch until I have time to fold them. When things are calm, I can be quite on top of things, folding and putting away the laundry almost immediately. When life gets busy, however, my pile of clean clothes can stack up quite a bit. Given that I live alone, it’s not that big of a deal, though I definitely prefer when I get it done right away. That being said, it drives my friend Diego crazy. For the last couple of years, he’s been on my case about putting my laundry up as soon as I take it out of the dryer. He’s an impressive immediate folder-and-put-awayer himself, so he just doesn’t understand how I can leave my clean laundry piled (neatly) up. He gets on my case about it a lot, but I tend to just blow him off and happily go about my life.
Well, (and it pains me to write this), it turns out I should have listened to Diego.
As I said at the beginning of this post, the last few weeks have been busy. I can hardly see myself coming or going, and I’ve let many things, including my laundry, sort of slide to the wayside. As a result, I have huge pile of clean laundry (some folded, some neatly stacked) sitting on a chair in my living room–the same chair that I often unload my bags onto when I get home from work. This system of taking what I need from the chair when I need them has been working for me, and I’ve been in no hurry to put the clothes away.
That is, I was in no hurry to put the clothes away until yesterday.
You see, yesterday, for the first time in a couple of weeks, I popped out of bed in the morning and really felt like I had it together. I got up a little earlier than usual, I made breakfast, picked up my living room, graded some papers, and ran an errand all before work. In addition, I was having a “cute” day, and I was feeling pretty smart.
I grabbed my bags, left my apartment, waved hello to the lawn care people, smiled at a teenage kid walking by, and said hi to a neighbor. I ran my errand, drove to work, and parked my car. As I was sauntering up to my office, I was feeling pretty with it. This was going to be a good day, I thought to myself. It was at the exact moment that this thought was running through my head that I caught sight of something unusual on my bag. I looked down only to discover that I had been walking around all morning with a pair of clean underwear stuck to the outside of my bag.
Thankfully, I found it before I actually made it into my office or walked in view of any students. Unfortunately, I had been out and about waving and smiling at random strangers all morning. I suppose that might explain the look the teenage kid gave me or the big goofy smile I received from one of the lawn care guys.
Feeling humiliated, I told Diego about the situation, and instead of the sweet compassion I was looking for, he just said that maybe if I would put away my laundry immediately, I wouldn’t have to worry about these kinds of situations happening. I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that I flaunted my panties to the world or the fact that I gave Diego the satisfaction of saying “I told you so.”
Stupid static cling.
I’ve since put the clothes away and promised myself that all future departures from my apartment will include a thorough check for any and all stray panties.
Anyway, hope you all are having a good week! Check back soon for another new post.
*I’d like to note that Diego may know best about the folding laundry timeline, but I refuse to make a public proclamation that he knows best about anything else.
Okay, so many of you have already heard this story, as it’s one of my favorite stories to tell, and I’ve posted it before on a different blog a few years ago. I don’t want to get in the habit of reposting stories, but I just remembered another highlight of my last few days, and this story provides the background.
Between my junior and senior years of college, I got a job working as a summer camp counselor for the YMCA. I was actually labeled the “Co-director” for the off-site camp, so I worked with about 30 kids aged 5-13 every day. It was one of my more interesting jobs, as these were all under-privileged kids and some of them were pretty rough. Anyway, one of my little five year olds was named Imunique. Yes, you read correctly–Imunique (oh, parents). She was a sweet little girl, and I became quite fond of her.
On Mondays-Thursdays, we stayed at our little off-site camp, never really interacting with the other campers or counselors who were stationed at the YMCA. On Fridays, though, we always joined the others at Lake LETRA, a little lake at Fort Sill. Even though we were with everyone else, we still sort of stayed within our own little group, as we didn’t know the names of the other campers, and they didn’t know us.
One day when we were out at LETRA, it was time to pack up, and I was trying to round up all of our campers. I looked out and saw a few of my kiddos, including Imunique, playing over by the slide in the water. I also happened to notice a very cute camp counselor standing right next to me. As I said, I didn’t know him (he worked at the other site), and he didn’t know anything about me. Anyway, needing to get my kids to come in for the day, I stepped out to the water’s edge (right next to him) and yelled:
I will never forget the face he gave me as I turned around. It was a face that practically shouted, “you are unique. And weird–yelling ‘I’m Unique!’ to the whole world.”
Needless to say, he didn’t ask for my number.
Like I said, I love this story, and it makes me laugh every time I tell it, because I can still clearly see the camp counselor’s face in my mind. This makes my shopping find this weekend stand out as one of the highlights of my week. My mom and my aunt were in town visiting, and we spent a lot of time shopping. One of our stops was at the local Kohl’s. As I was browsing the store’s inventory, my eyes immediately stopped on this:
Does it get any better? Obviously I had no choice but to buy this shirt. Too fun.
When I started this blog three weeks ago, I swore to myself that I would update at least four times a week. One week and three posts later, I decided that maybe I should lower my criterion to twice a week. After over a week of no posts, however, I think that maybe I should start promising a post a week and then build from there (though, really, my goal is still to get 4 posts a week).
This is the time of the semester when everything gets crazy, and the last two weeks have been filled with endless grading, student meetings, and long-distance dissertating. By the time I get home and put aside my work for the day, I’m ready to veg out and/or sleep. As a result, I’ve been neglecting my blog.
To be honest, it’s not just my crazy schedule that has kept me from updating (though that’s definitely the primary reason). I’ve been wanting to update, but I began to worry that I had nothing interesting to say. It worried me that if I wrote something that was too boring or mundane, then people might not want to read my blog. But then I realized that (a) some of my favorite bloggers write about their everyday experiences, and (b) writing something boring might run off a few readers, but writing nothing at all will run off all of them. Plus, I reminded myself that I started this blog because it’s a good stress-release for me, it’s fun to keep my family and friends updated with my life, and it’s nice to have a written account of some of my thoughts and stories–whether or not they’re entertaining. Anyway, I decided that I needed to just get over myself and post something instead of worrying and not posting.
So, here’s my post with no point. I figure it can only get better from here.
Before I hit publish, though, I thought I’d share the highlights of my day.
* My beloved Conan O’Brien is back on the air. I’ve been a fan of Conan since his early Late Night days, and he’s been a staple in my nightly routine for at least the last 10 years. Needless to say, these last 9 Coco-free months have been rough. As a gawky Irish Catholic girl who’s tall and pale, Conan’s sort of my hero. We’re practically twins.
As if the fact that he’s back on the air and back in my bedroom wasn’t exciting enough, his comeback brings with it my Conan O’Brien shirt prediction game. This, my friends, is the highlight of my week.
You see, every night, right before Conan first appears on stage, I guess what color shirt he’ll be wearing. I’m not sure when I started doing this exactly, but it has to have been at least 6 years ago, as I can remember doing it when I was still teaching in Lawton. Anyway, I have about 85% accuracy overall, and it brings me the silliest feeling of pride whenever I correctly anticipate his shirt color. Given that over 90% of the time he wears either a white or a blue shirt, it’s not that hard to guess correctly. This fact doesn’t deter my excitement, however. No, I still get giddy every time I’m correct in my prediction. I recognize that this is just another indication that I need to get a life, but I’ve really missed this nightly tradition. Luckily, Conan’s back (and better than ever), and I can recommence my game. As it stands tonight, I’m 2 for 2. I dare anyone to try and do better.
*I love my blog’s “site stats.” Wordpress tells you how many views you have per day, what links people click to get to your page, and what words people type in search engines to find your blog. While I don’t know who’s reading my blog, I can see that people continue to check my blog regularly, and I genuinely appreciate that. It’s always fun to see how many people click on my blog per day–it definitely provides motivation for me to keep posting!
I haven’t had time to log onto my blog the last few days, so tonight when I got on, I checked the stats for the past couple of days. When I clicked on yesterday’s stats page, I saw that someone typed “pale is awesome” into a search engine to find my blog. I can’t tell you what a bang I get out of this. I don’t know why exactly, but this search makes me laugh. I don’t know if it was someone who was actually trying to find my blog or if it was just a random person who wanted to find other super-fans of paleness, but whoever this person is, he or she made my night.
*I bought some pears this weekend at the farmer’s market, and they are the most flavorful pears I’ve ever eaten. I don’t really have anything exciting to say about them except that I can’t get enough of them. Delicious.
*I took this picture of my cat yesterday morning, and it just cracks me up. This was the first time (as far as I know) that she’s ever just hung out in my bathtub, but she took residence there as soon as I got out of the shower and continued to sit there for the entire time that I was getting ready for work. She just seemed so tiny and sweet, so I had to take a picture. (Please ignore my messy bathtub).
I guess that brings my post about nothing to an end. It’s late, and Craig Ferguson (one of my other late night staples) just started, so I think it’s time for me to head to bed. Hope you all have a happy hump day tomorrow!
This month is breast cancer awareness month. People everywhere are wearing their pink to show support for breast cancer survivers and sufferers, as well as to remind women to be proactive in their fight against breast cancer by engaging in regular self-examinations and mammograms. This is an incredibly important issue, and one that is dear to my heart, as my childhood best friend’s mother passed away five years ago from breast cancer. It’s an important concern, and I believe that everyone should support the cause any way they can.
That being said, I hold breast cancer awareness responsible for one of my most embarrassing moments of the last year (I have to qualify that, because I’ve had a lot of most embarrassing moments in my lifetime).
I can be a bit of a hypochondriac (thank you, Dad), and I am (and always have been) a hard and fast rule-follower. Taken separately, these characteristics can be amusing and somewhat obnoxious, but fairly easy to handle. Taken together, I turn slightly obsessive in my fight against all possible medical conditions. As a result, when I heard that women should perform self-examinations regularly, I took it to heart. I’ve always been a girl who likes to do well on her exams, but an exam that can lead to better physical health and to early detection? This is the kind of exam that I aim to ace.
And so, for the last several years, I did my part and engaged in self -examinations. Regularly. With great passion and enthusiasm. If there was a cancerous cell lurking in my body, I aimed to find it. Just like the ads and the doctors and the women in my life told me to do.
Not terribly long ago, it was time for my latest annual exam (sorry, guys, I know this post is a little lady-heavy). These appointments are the worst. I absolutely dread them, and they’re always just so awkward. For me, the worst part is the breast exam, because it’s the only part of the visit when you’re in a compromising position and actually have to look the doctor in the eye. This particular visit was the first time I had ever seen this doctor, so my discomfort level was alrady increased. Luckily for me, he had a great sense of humor (which I respond well too), so I felt a little more relaxed and settled back in my chair waiting for the exam to begin.
In the course of our conversation, he asked if I was married or single, and I said single, and we talked about the plight of the single girl. It finally came time for the breast exam, and as he was doing his thing, he asked me if I ever give myself self-exams, stating the importance of engaging in that behavior. Always aiming to please and pass my exams, I said with much enthusiasm, “Of course I do! Regularly!” Just like the ads instruct. I’m such a good woman.
“How often is regularly,” he asked me.
“Every morning when I take a shower,” I responded, feeling a little smug that I was such a go-getter and overachiever.
My smugness sooned turned into humiliation, however, as the doctor immediately stopped the examination, looked me in the eye and said, “Really? Every day?’ “Yep!” “Erin, you’re only supposed to do it once a month. Otherwise you aren’t always able to tell a difference. Promise me that from now on, you’ll stop examining yourself everyday.”
Oh the horror. I hope you never have to experience the mortification of having to hear your ob/gyn tell you to stop feeling yourself up on a daily basis. I can tell you from personal experience that it does some major damage to your self-coolness factor. My face turned bright red, and I made some lame joke about getting cheap thrills anyway you can (way to make it worse, Erin!), and then promised that I would limit myself to one time a month.
You’ll be proud to know that so far, I’ve be successful in this attempt.
While I have a few other stories related to breast exams up my sleeves, I can feel my parents and close friends cringing at the fact that I just posted a story about an ob/gyn visit and my zeal for self breast examinations, so I better save those for a different time.
In the meantime and in honor of breast cancer awareness month, I’d just like to take this opportunity to remind you ladies (and to tell you fellows to remind those ladies in your life) to be sure to check yourself regularly. Just not every day.