One girl, One cup

Guys seem to have it easier in every respect when it comes to the doctor’s office. They only have to suffer from the awkward “Now, turn your head and cough,” moment. Girls, we have this whole experience called the gyno; I will leave that topic alone for now.

But really, even the trips to the normal doctor’s office are easier for guys.


For example, this morning I had to go into the doctor’s office for a shot. The first thing I had to do when I go there was pee in a cup.


Let me just go through the reasons why this is such a pain:


1. If I weren’t a girl, chances are I wouldn’t have to be peeing in a cup in the first place. I am not expert, but I would assume guys only have to pee in cups when they are checking for certain ailments that effect the urinary system. Girls, have to pee in cups for EVERYTHING. Why? The doctors assume that just because you say you haven’t gotten any action in 6 months – doesn’t mean you are not really a whore. Meaning, you could be preggers.


2. Even though you haven’t gotten any action in 6 months, YOU aren’t even sure you aren’t really a whore and the whole time you are waiting you are wonder if you just. might. be. preggers.


3. Although I have to pee every hour at work, my bladder seems to think that it would be fun to shut down when I actually am required to go.


4. The female anatomy, unlike the male anatomy, is not really conducive for accuracy. Come on people, it is 8:00 in the morning and I am not a trained marksman.


Plus, it is just awkward to put a cup of your pee in that little door in the bathroom. It just seems weird to know that someone is waiting on the other side to play with it.

 On that note, I am going to wash my hands again.

Things I am thankful for.

1.  The warranty on my windshield wiper motor. You don't realize how nice windshield wipers are until they won't shut off and you spend the next 20 minutes on the highway listening to pfffffffffffttt eeerrrrrrrkkkkkkk screeeecchhhhh pfffffffffffffffffffffttt because the rain stopped.

2. My job. I spent an hour of my day working on this hand-turkey for a coloring contest we're having. Don't tell me that's not a winner.

3. iPhones. Remember when you had to read the shampoo bottle if you were bored on the toilet?

4. Kim Kardashian. Every girl now seems a little more sane.

5. The NBA shut out. Because really, who gives a shit. It has already been a bad enough year for Ohio sports.

6. Stumble Upon. No one wants to put effort into wasting time on the internet

7. Facebook. After looking at everyone else's lives, I am just happy that made it this long without getting pregnant, divorced or tattooed. 

8. Spell check. Saving me at least 5 hand-to-face moments everyday.

9. Leggings. Pants suck. Enough said.

10. You, because you just wasted another three minutes of your life reading my blog. No, you can't have those three minutes back.

It's All In the Name

I am pissed at Apple - and I can’t even blame this one on Steve Jobs, but only because he is dying of cancer.



I have been waiting since before the iPhone4 was released to upgrade my phone. If you know me well, you know what a feat this has been for me.


I am a phone snob.


I trade in my phones more than I trade in boyfriends.


But as a sign of my growing maturity, which is so obviously displayed in all of my blogs, I decided that my 3GS was in decent condition and that it could last through one more generation of the iPhone. If I could just hold out through the 4 then I would FINALLY be current (at least for about 6 months).


No more “S” version. No more cut-rate upgraded version. No more telling people I couldn’t face-time and more asking people why they couldn’t teleport with their phone. Ok, so that’s a stretch but with Apple you never know.


Then what happens.


iPhone4S….REALLY …….4S. FML.

I know that most of the improved technology is what people were expecting form the 5, but who really wants to say they have the iPhone4S.

And now I am at the point where my phone is such a piece that I can’t afford to wait another 6 months until they really do unveil the 5. I guess it will be another 2 years of dissapointment for me.

But do you want to know the biggest disappoint about this whole 4S thing: How will people know I am better than them if the phone looks exactly the same.

First World Problems

Right now at work our server is down. This means no email, no templates, no access to documents saved on the drives, no printers, no communication, sheer pandemonium, PANIC OF THE MASSES.

 ..or it just means we have to do things “the old fashioned way”....and by old fashioned I mean from the perspective of a 23-year-old.

You know, stopping by people’s offices. Making phone calls. Faxing. Ok, so I’M not faxing but I know for a fact someone faxed something this morning
Earlier I went to talk to my co-workers office and asked him what he was doing. He just looked at me with dismay and said “Nothing. The email is down. I was going to organize and get stuff together but I can’t even print anything because the server is down.”

First world problems, we all have them.

So what does this mean for me today? I guess it means I might actually use those note taking and communication skills I learned in college. It also means I should probably brush my teeth again after all that coffee so I don’t kill someone with my dragon breath.

Maybe just it means I am just writing a blog instead of doing any of those things.

It’s amazing the convenience of certain technologies and how lost we feel without them.

Good thing the internet still works, because seriously, I can only take so much actual face time before I need to go back to hiding behind my computer and staying in touch with people on Facebook.

Words with Frenemies

It's only called Words with Friends until I lose. Then we aren't friends anymore.

Going HAM

It is rare that I post anything that could even disguise itself as a serious post, today I do the same. While the intention of my post is truly heartfelt and has sad undertones, the way I see it, Adam Hamilton was a clown. So I would not be doing justice to his memory writing that way.

Today I write to you to say I am a WAY cooler person these days, a better person - I know you must be thinking "How could you really get any cooler?" But alas, I am.

 For someone reason, I had this thought it my head that because college was over I had to be an old and lame adult. Life as I knew it was over. I could just see my future heading towards long hours at the office and puking babies (puking babies being way way WAY in the future of course).


This was my routine: Go to work, workout, eat, sleep, and repeat AKA the routine of a 40-year-old mom.


(Sorry to all of you REALLY old, lame adults out there and moms).


I can honestly say that I don’t think I have gotten out of the house more after work than these last few weeks, which may be contributing to the extra-large drool stain on my desk at work; just don’t tell my boss.


I have spent more time with my old friends, new friends and random people. I have laughed more, cried more and drank a hell of a lot more.


I showed the world my dougie, kicked some serious ass in a dance off (you know who you are) and fell of the stage a glory days – but that part is normal.


I have lost some weight (thank you stress diet), gained some bruises (see line about drinking more) and have created a well-thought out plan for how to ghetto stomp someone if the cut me off again on the highway (inspired by the Adam Scooby-Doo-stomp at the Kent/Ravenna Pep Rally).


Normal people would start to be concerned at this point….


“So, what you are saying is you drink more, stay out late, party, clown around, hangout with strangers, fall off things? Can we say intervention?”


But I say screw it. I’m living.


And I can thank Adam for reminding me to do so.

You are a hero and you will be missed, but your memory lives on in us each day

.

We all have our excuses:

What? It was one big snail:

Thanks to Katie for the video!

My letter to the Myspace help team.

Dear Tech Guys,

I know that you are mad that your website has gone down the toliet, because lets be honest, last time using Myspace was cool the following was true:  I had an email account on msn.com, I used this address to secretly sign up for things, most of the time I was lying about being 18 and my screen name was OurLadyPeace08. Does MSN even still have email? Well, thats a moot point...anyways....

Since the days of MSN, I moved on to AOL, GMAIL, @ohio.edu and now @wyseadv. You can tell a lot about where you are in your life by your email. So I guess you can tell it has been quite some time since my Myspace days.

In this time span, I have tried multiple times to delete this account. However, the only way to cancel your account is by clicking a link sent to your email. Either you are trying to trap people on your site or you really just didn't think of allowing people to attach a new email address to their profile. I guess I could have tried a million different combination of bad words, family pets, numbers and ex-crushes to log-on to that msn account and retrieve that email...but naaww Ill pass thanks.

So I did the next best thing and removed everything from my profile and moved on. Well FINALLY you caught up with the times. On a whim the other day I check the site and voila I was able to attach a new email to my Myspace and get rid of this sucker once and for all. In the spirit of the times when Myspace was cool, I let out a little "BOOYAH."

Sadly though, that booyah was wasted. I think I went through the process where you sent me an email and I clicked a link to delete my account at least 7 times. I wasn't ever really sure where to go after that, but I figured that was enough. 

Until today, when you sent me a nice update email on whats new with Myspace.

Excuse me? How did I go from deleting my account to being excited about what new profile features you have to offer?

I hope Mark Zuckerburg buys you out and makes all of you program his latte machine.

Have a nice night.

If you can't appreciate this post, it probably means you have a life.

I go through phases in which I watch a specific show almost every day. When TLC was cool, I remember really liking Trading Spaces. And this past summer while in my post-college slump, I chose to watch the three hours of Wife Swap on Lifetime from 1-4 each day.


However, most of the time I trend towards crime shows. Currently: Criminal Minds.


It’s become a problem. Here are some of the reasons why:

• I know what unsub means
• I am convinced that some of my neighbors are criminals because I profiled them based on when they pick up their newspaper, if the stutter when we speak, how fast they drive their car and what verb they use to describe the weather.
• I wonder if people know where I am/what I was wearing when I leave just in case I go missing
• And I am aware of EVERYTHING. And by aware I mean scared. And by everything I mean the little old man on the bike path out for his afternoon exercise because I know all too well that he might have a strapping, young, not-so-smart son waiting behind a tree to do the heavy lifting.

Plus, I am completely in love with this guy:

S.A. Sandi Hensel, Signing off.

This is Why My Tweets are Only About Charlie Sheen

I am not a writer. This is how I know its true:

I can only write when something really inspires me or annoys me.

I can't write when something annoys me so much it is the only thing I can think about.

For example, there has been a particular topic that has been nagging at my insides for about a week now. While trying to look for people doing dumb things to share with the world, this particular topic kept stifling my creativity.

So, yesterday I wrote a blog about it titled "The Twitter Star." Which I did not post.

Why, you may ask?

I had clearly let this one fester for a little to long - it was very mean spirited and way too targeted at a particular person. And because I didn't post it, I have yet to express my excessive hatred, leaving me
still roadblocked and left only to write about writing and to tweet only about Charlie Sheen.

So, in hopes to diffuse some of the tension in my soul, here is the last line of my last blog post:


"You don't even have a verified account, doosh."


Maybe I should consider talking to someone.

Do You Really Want the World to Know You're a Cat Lady?

I'm not going to lie, I judge people with bumper stickers.

I hate them - the bumper sticks, not the people (actually, that's debatable).

There is nothing worse than trying to peacefully drive home after a long day’s work, only to be berated by someone’s political agenda, religion or lack there-of, music choice, world views, vacation destination or their child’s recent school success - all via an annoy little sticker on their car.

I don't think I am alone in saying I.DON'T.CARE. Nothing will be important enough for you to tell me as I am driving 60 MPH down the highway trying to avoid rush hour traffic and get home before I parish from starvation.

 

I also don't care how many people and pets are in your family. It is not necessary to have a decal stick figure representation of each one of them. I saw this van once that I could have sworn belonged to the Duggars: 19 Stick Figures and Counting.

In my opinion, the only acceptable things to advertise on your car is the following: 1. A school which you attend/are an alumni of, by means of window cling or license plate decor only. No, I don't mean a vanity plate. 2. Your kids school which they attend/are an alumni of..

...I suppose if you like a sports team a window cling for them is acceptable as well - but only in season.

That's it.

If you really feel the urge to share your political view - write your local paper. If you have a witty one-liner you absolutely need to share with a large group of people who don't care - use Twitter

There are always better options than a bumper sticker.

Otherwise, that one sticker gets you spinning down a slippery slope.

Case in point:

Photo courtesy of Jessie. She uses this as daily motivation not end up alone in life.

The Every Other Rule.

Men, it is not just you who abide by the rules when it comes to bathroom etiquette. While you pride yourselves on knowing that you are to leave at LEAST one urinal between you and your bathroom acquaintances, us women also have some unspoken but widely followed rules as well. This includes the every other (in our case) stall rule.

Because really, who wants to crowd someone who is trying to use the bathroom if there is a stall a little farther away that can serve you just as well. I mean, it is already hard enough to get that first shy stream going while the two of you awkwardly sit in silence trying to break the seal.

I don't know about you, but I have also noticed recently that there is somewhat of an avoid all contact with said person in the bathroom rule. For the most part, guys are at the urinal so there is no way to avoid human interaction; however, for ladies the stalls provide an anonymous shield to hide behind - and they use it. And its not an easy feat, you have to have perfect timing.

As soon as the person in the stall hears someone else walk in, the automatically reach for the toilet paper. It almost seems like they are pulling it off as loudly as possible to let new arrival know that they are finishing up. Then, when the new arrival goes into the stall (2 down of course) they quickly dash for the sink (hopefully) and make their exit before having to actually come face-to-face with this real live human being.

Despite their effort to remain anonymous, the shoes always give it away.

I suppose the last, and sometimes the most important, rule I want to talk about is what I like to call the "first floor" rule. This is the secret bathroom that girls have where they can take care of the real dirty work. While most people know what it is used for, it is not to be discussed. "The-bathroom-that-shall-not-be-named." In college, it was the girls bathroom on the first floor - hence the name of the rule. However, feel free to dub this rule whatever you want it. Because girls.... and guys, we all know you have one. At work, school or even the bathroom at your house you use when guests are over.

I write this post because everyone knows it's true, and because, in the great words of Taro Gomi "Everybody Poops."



So Enjoy! (the video I mean) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsLqKAvKiQM

Today, I am the Butthead?

My mom sent me an email today. She wanted to let me know that she enjoyed reading my blog, however, she was hesitant to pass it along to friends and family because in one of the blogs I used the word “asshole.”


For those who may have missed it, in the blog she was referring to I was discussing one of my many commuting adventures. On this particular trip, I was the one who was being a bad driver. Thus, I called myself an asshole.


Besides the obvious: I am 23 so I feel like I am old enough to cuss, PG13 movies and television shows use the word ass and on a daily basis I use much more foul language - I just think that the story would have lost its spark if I have chosen say….Butthead, instead.


My posts would start to read like one of those Orbit Commercials.

“Yep, today I am the nincompoop”
“Yep, today I am the cotton-headed ninnymuggin.”
"Yep, today I am the bad, bad girl"

Whoa, that last one sounded a little dirty....

I don’t know, maybe my mom was right. I should probably watch my langauge a little more. I probably was acting like a huge….Ninnymuggin.

I Was Scammed in Elementary School

Elementary school was supposed to prepare you for middle school. Do you remember how they always told you about sharing a building with big,scary and probably hairy 8th graders? I was petrified. This is all despite the fact that realistically I was throwing rocks at much older kids on the playground in kindergarten.

Then middle school scared/prepared you for high school, which prepared you for college, so you could get an entry-level job, and climb the corporate ladder, to one day rule the world……


Or you could do it like Mark Zuckerburg: Drop out of college and start your own world, but they forgot to mention that to me.


They also forgot to mention that I would never need cursive, except when signing my life away for a new pair of boots. Or that I could realistically avoid any form of geometry or math higher than algebra if I became a journalism major (thank god for that!). Nor did anyone tell me that learning the basics of your job doesn’t require knowledge of International Advertising.


Seriously, I must have missed the lecture on how to properly feed the label paper into the printer. Why does it always print horizontally when the labels are going vertically? Heck if I know – hence the reason we may be spending a little more on mailing this year.


But in all honesty (and pardon me for getting a little Nicholas Sparks on you today), despite all the trickery and deceit, our teachers really knew what they were doing.


Beyond reading, writing and ‘rithmatic – they taught us that learning doesn’t have to just come from a book.


Perfect example: I am including a link to vote for a project by students from Kent Roosevelt High School – Yes, I am a proud alumna. With some knowledge, creativity and a little help from their teacher, they are currently one of only ten schools to be picked as national finalists as part of Samsung’s Solve for Tomorrow project.


Read more about it here: http://recordpub.com/news/article/4970647

AND VOTE HERE: https://pages.samsung.com/us/sft/video/index.jsp


These kids deserve some serious credit, because I was too busy figuring out which door I could sneak back in at lunch to do something this cool (Sorry Sidoti). So let's help them out.


As a final thought, I would like to point out that I would clearly DOMINATE Mavis Beacon at this point in my life – BOOOYAH 2nd grade teacher, who has the most WPM's now!

Short Blog, Huge Ego's

I would like to know if it is necessary that people take solo pictures of themselves EVERYTIME they go out. I am not sure how these girls have boyfriends that tolerate their narcissism. I would assume the guys they date would rather be infront of the camera than behind it taking pictures for their ladies - but what do I know.


Do these girls really think that:


1: Anyone cares enough about what they look like that each outfit must be documented and posted on Facebook.


2. Even if anyone cared, that they want to see that same picture in 300 slightly different poses.


I would include pictures of my favorites, but I don’t think there is enough memory space on this site to hold all that ego. There is barely enough room for mine.

Road Rage: Sometimes, You Are The Asshole

Driving home from Cleveland after a full day of work and a workout usually leaves me wishing I had brought a post-workout snack. By the time I get to Streetsboro, about 10 minutes from where I live, I am basically drooling as I pass the Chipotle. This means by the time I actually make it home, I am so hungry that I demolish dinner. Thus, I have successfully negated my workout and probably tacked on some additional calories.

This morning, however, I was running late. So, on the way out I grabbed a box of Special K and ate a few handfuls on the turnpike while driving to work.

Shift to hours later when I get back in my car to drive home and SCORE! Special K.

I didn't realize the joy that a simple box of cereal could bring. I was so happy to have a snack on for the ride home I couldn't help but think of the endless possibilities keeping something in my car could bring.

It might help curve my post-workout hunger, make me eat less when I got home and maybe I would actually see some results from all that damn cardio. I was realizing the possibilities!

.......What I didn't realize was that during this nice little day dream of mine I was:

1. Shoving cereal in my mouth, spilling it on the floor and probably not saving any calories.

2. Driving less than 55MPH on the highway. During rush hour. And probably getting flipped the bird as cars flew by on both sides.

Yep, today. I am, THE asshole.

The Strikers

Everything constantly reminds me that I am getting older. This past weekend I had my first Saturday night co-ed men's/woman's soccer league game.

Not intramural. Not club soccer. Not U-17............Men's and Women's. On a Saturday night.

Gross.

I must say it was weird running around NC in Hudson; these are the same soccer fields I spent 15 years of my life playing on. This time, however, instead of gracefully scoring goals, I was flailing around, awkward and out of shape .

Plus, I don't think a few years ago you could have yanked me off the field without protest. I wanted to be in on the action. Now, we sub ourselves out as often as possible to slow our racing hearts and to grab a quick brewski before we head back in.

Serving as an additional reminder that is not the same soccer I used to play in my glory days is the muscle soreness that hasn't subsided 4 days later.

The only thing that hasn't changed since the time of my first rec soccer team back in preschool, the team name.

We are, "The Strikers"

Thanks Grace, as if we didn't look dumb enough already.

Road Rage: The iPhone Alarm Excuse

ceoSteveJobs Steve Jobs (on Twitter 1/2/11) Apple Stores will open on a two-hour delay tomorrow to let employees sleep in. This is in no way related to the iPhone alarm clock glitch.

I think all businesses should take this approach, because obviously none of us can function without our iPhones. I can’t.

Which is why I would just like to thank my dad for being extra loud this morning. Even though I had heard about the iPhone alarm glitch on the news, for some reason I failed to proactively react the potential problem that this might pose for me. Instead, I just reset my alarms and went to bed. So no surprise my alarm(s) didn’t go off; alarms being plural because I have to set at least 4 due to my habitual snoozing.

I only woke up about a half hour late, but it seemed like I wasn’t the only one who was scurrying to make up for some lost time this morning. Traffic seemed a bit heavier in unusual spots. Like today, the school bus that always seems to fluster drivers caused a significantly larger traffic back-up than normal (you only get to experience this little frenzy if you aren’t on time to work because it picks the kids on SR43 up at 8am).

I am glad that I am not the only person who just happened to forget and/or ignore this little glitch. Next time I will just use my other alarm clock.

Happy New Year and 2 extra hours of sleep from Apple.