Today the Associated Press has a story all over the Netz about how, surprisingly, consumer confidence rose in November.
Um. That would be me. Sorry. I couldn't pass up all those great pre-Black Friday sales. Add to this, someone showed me how to google "coupon code" and use these little treats for online shopping.
Since I'm one of like 3 people with a job left in Michigan, I feel it is my duty.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Homework
Be sure to check your kid's homework before they turn it in.
In this case, Mommy works at Home Depot and here she is selling a shovel.
Friday, November 14, 2008
For My Friend Karen
Dear Karen,
Thank you for talking me in to getting a Kindle. Today alone made it worth the 300 bucks I spent on it. As you know, I got called back to the hospital for more glamour shots of my thyroid.
I have to tell you, the Image Center at that hospital is chock full of blue hair patients. They have no problem asking you "what are you here for?". No need to look mortified. I just buried my nose in my Kindle and ignored them all. I think there was a discussion about Cloris Leachman but I can't be sure, I tuned them out. One little lady was kind enough to offer me a butterscotch candy from her purse though. The lint was a bonus.
They left me sitting in the scan room afterwards until the radiologist felt like coming back from lunch to tell me they had everything they needed. Did I notice? Not so much. I whipped my Kindle out of my tote and Edgar Sawtelle kept me company. Not once did a 'what the hell' enter my mind. Which is a miracle because 'what the hell' is my motto these days.
Except, there is something to be said for sitting in the corner shaking like a nervous dog. I scored a coupon for a free icecream from the nurse. I must look 12 years old because she told me that I could get my icecream *after* I was done, and tousled my hair.
Ok, thanks.
I was thinking about keeping the identification bracelet on they gave me. This thing could come in handy for my 3 o'clock meeting with clients. Over the top?
By the way, you need to get these people on board with the latest hospital shoe fashion. They are still hung up on their Crocs (oi vey). I think a strongly worded email is in order with some links to the Keen website. Get a clue, people.
How much longer should I let Mr. Right sweat before I call him and tell him I'm ok? I've already gotten a dozen roses and a mixed boquet out of this deal, should I go for the Michael Kors Austin Cross Body bag, in black? You're right, that would be too mean. I do want that bag bad though...
See, you don't even have to answer me back. I can answer for you.
Hugs,
Me
Thank you for talking me in to getting a Kindle. Today alone made it worth the 300 bucks I spent on it. As you know, I got called back to the hospital for more glamour shots of my thyroid.
I have to tell you, the Image Center at that hospital is chock full of blue hair patients. They have no problem asking you "what are you here for?". No need to look mortified. I just buried my nose in my Kindle and ignored them all. I think there was a discussion about Cloris Leachman but I can't be sure, I tuned them out. One little lady was kind enough to offer me a butterscotch candy from her purse though. The lint was a bonus.
They left me sitting in the scan room afterwards until the radiologist felt like coming back from lunch to tell me they had everything they needed. Did I notice? Not so much. I whipped my Kindle out of my tote and Edgar Sawtelle kept me company. Not once did a 'what the hell' enter my mind. Which is a miracle because 'what the hell' is my motto these days.
Except, there is something to be said for sitting in the corner shaking like a nervous dog. I scored a coupon for a free icecream from the nurse. I must look 12 years old because she told me that I could get my icecream *after* I was done, and tousled my hair.
Ok, thanks.
I was thinking about keeping the identification bracelet on they gave me. This thing could come in handy for my 3 o'clock meeting with clients. Over the top?
By the way, you need to get these people on board with the latest hospital shoe fashion. They are still hung up on their Crocs (oi vey). I think a strongly worded email is in order with some links to the Keen website. Get a clue, people.
How much longer should I let Mr. Right sweat before I call him and tell him I'm ok? I've already gotten a dozen roses and a mixed boquet out of this deal, should I go for the Michael Kors Austin Cross Body bag, in black? You're right, that would be too mean. I do want that bag bad though...
See, you don't even have to answer me back. I can answer for you.
Hugs,
Me
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Exposed
I consider myself a reckless person. There isn't much I'm afraid of. I'm not even afraid of the current economy. I get motion sickness when flying but in reality I'm not afraid of it.
However, I do have a phobia. I can't say it outloud, but this isn't really outloud so here goes.
Doctors. Otherwise known as Latriphobia. Ok, I am self diagnosed but I have no fear that I am wrong.
There I said it. I am acutely afraid of doctors, hospitals, anything related to the medical field. I purposely got into computer science to avoid that nightmare. I would rather go to jail for a night than a hospital. Real gangster jail, not that work release country club shit.
The only time I have ever had surgery in my life is when I had my tonsils out when I was 5 years old. My parents packed my little Holly Hobbie overnight case, stocked up on popsicles, and set off to the hospital with me in the backseat thinking I was going to Sesame Street.
In 1969, they sent parents home for the night.
That mistake may have been rectified immediately after my visit.
Don't think I didn't put on my pink fuzzy slippers and try to escape. You'd also think a 5 year old curly red mop top in Burt 'n Ernie pj's would be a dead give away. Turns out, I made it all the way to the main entrance. I had a taxi in my sights and my kool-aid sale money in my sock. Nurse Ratchet caught me and confined me to a bed that looked like a cage. The next morning, it took 6 nurses to hold me down for a sedative injection to the glutious. In 1969, nurses could kick your ass for realz. They wore white caps, starched white dresses, and white support hose. I do believe they were convent rejects, traveled to work on a broom, and gave enimas just for the fun of it. I lived, but I was scarred for life mentally.
Then I used to watch TV shows like Emergency, then later General Hospital, then even later Grey's Anatomy like people watch horror movies (oh man they are giving her 800 cc's of lactated ringers, stat, what are they going to do with that needle, what the hell).
Anyway. Cut to 2008. Imagine my surprise when I felt something strange about my neck last month. In true Latriphobia fashion, I went to see my kinder gentler holistic doctor.
Who requested a thyroid ultrasound at the hospital.
Shit.
My sister the endocrinologist assistant told me "maybe they will do a needle biopsy to rule out thyroid cancer". What the hell? "uh yeah I gotta go to a meeting or something bye" then assumed the fetal position under my desk in my cubicle.
So yesterday I dragged myself to the hospital, let them check me in, read my Kindle while I waited, then let the technician lead me to her little ultrasound dark room. I thought my joke "is that the heartbeat" was funny but I guess not so much. After about a minute in to the ultrasound, she got up and said she had to "go get someone else to look at this". Before I could crap my pants, 3 doctors stormed the room, there was alot of whispering ("there are 3 over there, 2 over there, be sure to get that, and that"). Hello! I'm right here! I can hear you!
This.is.not.happening.
The smartest looking doctor walked me out. Actually handed me her card. Said "your doctor will be calling you in a few days, if he doesn't, get ahold of me at that number". And "we got some really good pictures".
I was too afraid to ask.
This morning already, as I'm getting ready for work, the hospital calls my house. The lady on the other end said "the radiologist took a look at your ultrasound and would like you to come back to the hospital, can you come today?". Not my doctor, this was the hospital on the phone. For all I know this person's full name was Shit The Hospital.
My best attempt to deal with my fear was to get cocky "you caught me off guard, I'm not sure about today, how about Friday?". She said that "should" be ok.
Again. I was too afraid to ask. Haven't picked up the phone to call anyone. When they say "come back to the hospital"... in my head I hear things like "so we can give you an upper and lower GI, at the same time", and "the needle we will stick in your neck is only 9 inches long", and my all time favorite "catheters only hurt when they are going in".
Why would I think a gastrointestinal exam would be involved? I don't know, it's my phobia, leave me alone.
I will check back in with you on Friday, if they can get me out from under my bed.
However, I do have a phobia. I can't say it outloud, but this isn't really outloud so here goes.
Doctors. Otherwise known as Latriphobia. Ok, I am self diagnosed but I have no fear that I am wrong.
There I said it. I am acutely afraid of doctors, hospitals, anything related to the medical field. I purposely got into computer science to avoid that nightmare. I would rather go to jail for a night than a hospital. Real gangster jail, not that work release country club shit.
The only time I have ever had surgery in my life is when I had my tonsils out when I was 5 years old. My parents packed my little Holly Hobbie overnight case, stocked up on popsicles, and set off to the hospital with me in the backseat thinking I was going to Sesame Street.
In 1969, they sent parents home for the night.
That mistake may have been rectified immediately after my visit.
Don't think I didn't put on my pink fuzzy slippers and try to escape. You'd also think a 5 year old curly red mop top in Burt 'n Ernie pj's would be a dead give away. Turns out, I made it all the way to the main entrance. I had a taxi in my sights and my kool-aid sale money in my sock. Nurse Ratchet caught me and confined me to a bed that looked like a cage. The next morning, it took 6 nurses to hold me down for a sedative injection to the glutious. In 1969, nurses could kick your ass for realz. They wore white caps, starched white dresses, and white support hose. I do believe they were convent rejects, traveled to work on a broom, and gave enimas just for the fun of it. I lived, but I was scarred for life mentally.
Then I used to watch TV shows like Emergency, then later General Hospital, then even later Grey's Anatomy like people watch horror movies (oh man they are giving her 800 cc's of lactated ringers, stat, what are they going to do with that needle, what the hell).
Anyway. Cut to 2008. Imagine my surprise when I felt something strange about my neck last month. In true Latriphobia fashion, I went to see my kinder gentler holistic doctor.
Who requested a thyroid ultrasound at the hospital.
Shit.
My sister the endocrinologist assistant told me "maybe they will do a needle biopsy to rule out thyroid cancer". What the hell? "uh yeah I gotta go to a meeting or something bye" then assumed the fetal position under my desk in my cubicle.
So yesterday I dragged myself to the hospital, let them check me in, read my Kindle while I waited, then let the technician lead me to her little ultrasound dark room. I thought my joke "is that the heartbeat" was funny but I guess not so much. After about a minute in to the ultrasound, she got up and said she had to "go get someone else to look at this". Before I could crap my pants, 3 doctors stormed the room, there was alot of whispering ("there are 3 over there, 2 over there, be sure to get that, and that"). Hello! I'm right here! I can hear you!
This.is.not.happening.
The smartest looking doctor walked me out. Actually handed me her card. Said "your doctor will be calling you in a few days, if he doesn't, get ahold of me at that number". And "we got some really good pictures".
I was too afraid to ask.
This morning already, as I'm getting ready for work, the hospital calls my house. The lady on the other end said "the radiologist took a look at your ultrasound and would like you to come back to the hospital, can you come today?". Not my doctor, this was the hospital on the phone. For all I know this person's full name was Shit The Hospital.
My best attempt to deal with my fear was to get cocky "you caught me off guard, I'm not sure about today, how about Friday?". She said that "should" be ok.
Again. I was too afraid to ask. Haven't picked up the phone to call anyone. When they say "come back to the hospital"... in my head I hear things like "so we can give you an upper and lower GI, at the same time", and "the needle we will stick in your neck is only 9 inches long", and my all time favorite "catheters only hurt when they are going in".
Why would I think a gastrointestinal exam would be involved? I don't know, it's my phobia, leave me alone.
I will check back in with you on Friday, if they can get me out from under my bed.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Happy Birthday Oliver, today you are 4
Oliver, I know your vote was for Malia and Sasha to get a kitty, not so much a puppy.
Turns out you won't be joining the 53% of us who are singing in the streets.
Sorry dude, maybe next time.
On the bright side, Happy Birthday! My gift to you is socialism. You are going to enjoy it, I promise.
Second Opinions
Princess saw an orthopedic doctor today, who said that her knee is not fractured. She has some condition that I can't pronounce (and it takes a while for me to give up) which is related to growing pains.
To hear Mr. Right explain it to her, it is swollen because she talks too much.
To hear Mr. Right explain it to her, it is swollen because she talks too much.
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