New Low in Humiliation

Ok, no woman is thrilled to have to endure the rigors of the annual "exam." It is a nerve-wracking, humiliating, uncomfortable and generally sucky experience.
That being said here are a couple of tips to make it slightly less so.

1) DO NOT eat a bulb of roasted garlic 12 hours before your exam. Not only do your farts smell EXACTLY like garlic but, your garlic-y essence has a way of filling up any small space you may inhabit - Be that a small exam room, an entire bus or an astrodome.
2) When you have been "bumped" by your regular Dr. (how Late Show of them) Make sure you ask some relevant questions about your fill-in Dr. Namely, is the DR, who is going to be going where VERY few have gone before, hot?

Dr fill-in walks in and I think, If I weren't married and this guy wasn't eminently going to be looking at my gingham, would this be an appropriate time to ask someone out? He was young, slim, from the India region (yes I am also a secret curry queen - I just likes men from the whole Asian area), nicely dressed, and beautiful heavy lashed eyes. He was really handsome. As if I wasn't already anxious and nervous... the dr is in and he is HOT. I mean not like conventionally hot but, very kristen hot.

I had my little list of items to address with the dr as usually the second I walk in somewhere vaguely medical I shut-down. So much more in this case.

Why is it the jonny thing they give you have to be so unbelievably awkward? I want dr hot to look at a skin tag on my back that keeps getting snagged by my bra and bleeding. Bleeding mole = skin cancer. While dr hot is trying so hard to keep my modesty intact, my boobs are everywhere, it was like they were a school of dolphins popping up for air. No matter how he tried to drape the jonny it wasn't enough to keep my mammoth mammaries from making themselves known. He listening to my heart and he is telling me to take deep breathes and my boobs are vying for attention, "look at me, pay attention to me!"

kristen nervous = copious amounts of sweat. After the dreaded breast exam that goes on and on because I had discovered an anomaly last week. Apparently I have a cyst. He is like "OK, ready for the pelvic? just scoot your bottom right here" Sounds easy right? Humiliating but easy. Somehow the jonny has ridden up under me and my ass and sweaty thighs have turned the protective paper below me into some kind of papery butt plug / wedgie that there is no way to disengage gracefully. UGH. I can imagine while he is down under there are bits of white paper caught in all my crevices. We both have a laugh at my expense.

I have another disease called, "I think everyone is in love with me-itis." Dr hot is either fumbly or really he was in love with me because he kept dropping things. He dropped two, yes TWO speculums, the light thing that looks in you eyes and ears, and his pen several times. He spazes out trying to get the stirrups out from under the exam table. And while my legs where akimbo in the stirrups he gets his stethoscope caught on the snakey light they use for the "close-up" and almost gets jerked literally, into a big hair pie, I can safely say that is the only time I have laughed while having a pap smear.

Finally, it is over and dr hot says, "ok i will be right back" So I get dressed. He returns with my real dr. Who I was told was on vacation?!?! Apparently dr hot wants a second opinion re: the weird cyst thing that has set up camp in my right breast. I take off my shirt (huge armpit stains) and my bra that has seen cleaner days. Somehow when you are in the jonny, you are anticipating the indignity that goes with being a patient. In your street clothes it is just wrong, like your street clothes betrayed you. So I am back on the exam table, naked from the waist up, while I get my second breast exam in 15 minutes, she also giving dr hot pointers on how various techniques used for large breasted women. Dr chang was trying to work the cyst out like she was a shiatszu masseur fighting a pesky knot. Now I have never had a cyst before, but it is tender and a little achey especially after the onslaught it has endured. The she tells me to keep an eye on it and because it moves and it smooth, she goes on and on about how invasive biopsies are and in woman my age it is almost normal blah blah blah. So dr chang goes to shake my hand and leaves. Mind-you I have been topless this whole time. She whips open the door and it must have been the moment when everyone in the secondary waiting room was looking at the door, because I flashed no less than four people who just happen to be looking at the right place at the right time. Then I had to get dressed IN FRONT of dr hot.

I have to have some retail therapy to erase the horror of the exam. I go to try on some earrings, and by try on I mean hold next to my head. I have lately taken to drawing in my scandalously light eyebrows, and it is duly noted that I am still experimenting with the right "look" for my brows. Apparently I had gone for the shocked and appalled look this day.

It is a wonder I still leave my house...

Fringes

I am thinking of cutting bangs into my hair.
anybody have an opinion?

Well I got a job

I interviewed for possibly the most menial temp job in the world on Monday and I was in house working by Weds.
For all of you not familiar with SF. "The Tenderloin" is the "worst" area in the city. I will give you all one guess where my job was...yep.
I had to BE THERE at 7 this morning so it is really a wonder that I am still awake now. Here are some highlights from my day at the A-Hole hotel. I don't know why it is called a hotel when it is really a section 8 residence.

7:00 The lady from the graveyard shift was BLASTING Slick Rick the Rulers back. I instantly knew I was in the right place.

9:00 I took my first break. There were drunk dudes and drug dealers and crackheads out doing their respective things at fucking 9 am. I guess if you are hard core time is pretty irrelevant.

Some homeless, drug addict was rocking back and forth on the corner and he said, well you are a pretty girl. He didn't say it creepy. It was actually very nice, like it was a fact. So I said thank-you like a polite girl would. He looked at me and said like I accused him of stealing my crack, "I didn't do it!" I ran.

There is a bar in the Tenderloin called Aunt Charlie's no joke. It is the seediest dive I have ever seen. Their hours are 6am to 2am. FYI.

Pee Smelling Old Lady come up to my desk.
-well, you are new.
me - yes it is my first day.
PSOL - Happy Birthday!

Financial Turmoil

Wow
So I am freakin the fuck out.
I was entertaining this fantasy re: buying a house this year (and vacationing in Mexico if you must know).
Those who know me may ask, how praytell do you plan to buy a house when you haven't worked in 2 calendar years?
No there is no trust fund, no other sugar-daddy.
I just figured it would work out.

Then today being Monday I thought I would peruse the credit cards and bank account, you know bill-y stuff.

Reality slapped me over the face like a cold bass.

Somehow jon and myself have spent something over 4k in the last month. Now granted this includes Xmas, Our at home vacation, and a decadent eating tour of SF that started Jan 2 and ended, well, yesterday.

I have even been thusly inspired to send my resume out. Because really, if I was working there would be no question or really any worry about finances. The thing is that I am not qualified for anything. Am I destined to flit from one retail nightmare to another? I applied for all jobs, on Hotjobs, that sounded interesting. At the YMCA, Planned Parenthood, Pepsi, the San Francisco Academy of Art, Pepsi, Tiffany's, and a bunch of other stuff.

Ugh, get ready for rejection or worse, silence...

I'm at the top of the world and life's a pussy buffet. - R.Kelly (Wonderful)

Dreams

SO last night, or actually today, since I woke up at 2pm today, I blame by 100 years sleep on awesome dreams.
In Real Life (aka RL) jon and I watched an episode of sex in the city where the girls and big go to some wedding. Whatever. Big in a tux apparently left a lasting impression on me.
Because in Dream Life (aka DL) I was one of the girls and Carrie,Big, and myself got a hotel room. Carrie was my friend and I felt terrible betraying my friend but Christopher Noth (not North like I have thought my entire life until Mariel corrected me) was well so, sexy, and persuasive. He looked HOT in a tux. And I am usually not the girl falling for the dude in the tux. But so Big convinced me to run off and pork him in a public bathroom, very freshman year of me. Usually in my dreams the "sex" is just that, some vague implied notion of sex. Not in this one. Holy Shit. I was wearing this crazy sex in the city-ish red dress with miles of yardage so the skirt was quite poofy. It was hot stuff. I think I am in love with Big.
But crazily enough, I can't even have fun in my dreams with out being karmically punished. I knew my "friend" Carrie was in love with Big but I didn't care. Then there is all this commotion. It turned out that while I was with Big. Some piece of white trash had stolen Motu! Sex was easily forgotten, even hot amazing sex, in the face of theivery of my little dog. I had to rip him out of this lady's arm who was telling the cops that he was her dog and she's had him for years and I was the crazy one trying to steal her dog.
In RL, motu woke me up with many kisses because, well for fuck's sake, it was 2 in the afternoon, and even if I was dead he needed to pee!
So on our walk I took him to the groomer's and they trimmed his razor like dagger nails.

How to take a cup of instant coffee and turn it into a nervous break-down 3 hours in the making all before the first episode of Dawson's Creek.

One of my more embarrassing treats is French vanilla instant "coffee" mixed with fat-free French vanilla creamer. Although it isn't coffee and I am completely aware, it is a delicious creamy coffee-like treat. Unfortunately, after today I have a feeling I won't be able to enjoy that anymore.
Combine a 45 lb deaf cat, a huge mug of watery "coffee", and my new icy-white 600 thread count sheets.
I can't even rehash it again but, you all know predictably where this went.

I also ruined yet another towel trying to get the coffee off of Otis's DRENCHED, taupe colored, undercarriage. It was an EXTREMELY fine line between holding Otis scruff to keep him from dripping coffee everywhere, and wringing his stupid fucking neck.

I hate my cat. I hate myself for being so stupid and creating two+ hours of laundry and cleaning. All my animals also hate me for my general ranting, raging, crying, and hair-pulling.

Honestly, it would only be funny if it wasn't true.

Then I fucking cut myself on an errant spring jutting out of the bed. And now I am sure I have tetanus. Then I wrenched my back out bringing the 400lbs of laundry back and forth across the street. Because I am too fucking stubborn to make multiple trips.

I feel trapped regardless of if I am in the apartment or outside the apt. I am just going to stay inside and play the sims2 and drop out completely until I can deal with myself.

Can anyone suggest a book they love? I am in dire need of inspiration.

I bought the cutest underwear yesterday at VS semi-annual sale. They make my ass look like a delicious butt-muffin. I am thinking of photographing it.

Question for poll. If your significant other was keeping a blog and you knew about it, would you read it? Should I be upset that 100lb man NEVER reads my blog? Cause I am, cause I am very high maintenance...

Would this unhinge a "normal"?

I guess I am subscribing to the theory that my dropping out of society has lent me to a certain mental illness called, can't-deal-itis.
Honestly, the slightest thing can set me into a downward spiral of anger, frustration, tears and severe pissedoffedness.

Today my day was a horror. I should have stayed home. All the homeless people were sitting in my area and the whole bus smelled like broccoli water (the water left over after you steam broccoli and you forget about it until the next day when you take off the lid and the stench nearly knocks you out).

Then I returned a bunch of ridiculous bath and body worked stuff that my mom had given me and now I have a $15 credit there. I didn't buy these silly space-age moccasin pink glitter leather boots. Because I had already bought white and blue boots this week. and though the pink sparkle really would have rounded out my silly color boot collection I have a feeling that I looked like a cracked out teletubby while wearing them. Although there is a certain glam that goes with the teletubbies, until my body stops resembling Po or Tinkie-winkie, I can't rock that shit.

Then I wait for the bus for like a half hour and they are all re-routing far away from the drop off point right outside my house. Does anyone tell me or put up a sign, or even offer any helpful advice from the 5 bus drivers I ask? well, no, that would be asking way way too much.

Then f*cking Safeway (the major grocery store out here) won't cash this stupid money order that jon's sister sent us. So I go to the bank and wait in line. But because the $ order is from a different bank they can't cash it. And because it was made out to Jon and myself, I couldn't deposit it since he hadn't signed it. So I make this big stink and literally start to cry in the f*cking grocery bank branch. This unbelievably nice man comes out and looks the other way while I forge Jon's signature and deposit it into our account. He practically had to hold my hand he was way nicer to me than he should have been. On top of which the only reason I went down there was to buy jon his monthly bus pass. Which of course they were sold out of.

Only to come out and miss the bus and the sign thing said that there wouldn't be another bus for 22 minutes. I live about an 8 minute walk away. However, In my attempt to feel less frumpy and glam I am wearing shoes that are killing my feet.

I think a normal would just deal with it and wnot even give it a second thought and not psychoanalyze why I am such a fucking loser and why EVERY LITTLE THING causes huge drama and just re-enforces my pathetic shut- in lifestyle. God I want to barf.

Maybe Sandra Bullock Ain't so Bad.

After all, she donated 1 million to the disaster relief. Hopefully that will encourage other celebrities to donate. Now I feel bad that I laughed at her cellulite {why isn't that word in spell check?} in a recent-ish Star magazine...

SO for my second wedding anniversary I got luxurious 600t.c. cotton sheets and a feather bed, I can't get out of bed! I love it, best anniversary ever!

jesus christ

this original post was really sweet and went on and on about our 2nd anniversary and stuff. then i somehow deleted the post 3x. I don't know what the fuck happened.

Mariel, you are the best. Your trip has affirmed my absolute affection for you. Thanks so much for helping jon out with my "bedroom surprise." I now have the most comfortable bed in the world, bar none, well maybe shaq's bed...

MW thanks for the anniversary call.

also gary danko really is that good of a resteraunt. I fell like I was a movie star.

anniversay nookie really is that good. yes, I stole that phrase from three's company.