random annoyance #372

someone I work with has flip flop shoe noise.

every day.

all day.

all year.

so loud....

(have I mentioned how I have a thing for noises?)

I love Jesus... but I drink a little.

Oh Gladys. I miss you and your funny ventures that reflect my life. I joked with some loverly friends last week that perhaps I'd change the name of my blog to that. I'm going to say TBD on that one... and you can think it in your mind until all persons have voted. (PS. That is a joke as no one is voting.)

So I have been at my job for one year and 10 days. At the one year marker you can start contributing to your retirement fund (or something like that... there is the death fund too... you know, where all of my royalties will go to my husband, unless he is also deceased and then will all go to my sister.) Anywho... I am not economically minded--nor mathematically minded--and realized (with use of my calculator on my computer today) that it will be 2044 when I'm 65 and of retirement age. HOLY GEEBUS!! I was hoping I could retire in like... a year or something a lot sooner than 2044. (ps. spell check asked if it was GEE BUS...wtf is that? and who says it?)

How overwhelming. After one week of real life slamming me in the face--I'm tired of dealing with it. Why can't I come up with some amazing venture that people want to read about and then make me oodles of money while I'm able to travel around and visit friends and family and always be well rested.

I'm tired of having events every night--which means I haven't grocery shopped in over a week and it makes me feel icky to eat out so much. Oh, and I need to run 5. 8 million miles but don't have time because I'm tired.

So while, I yield high returns on my life for the next 35 years, I'm sure I'll be able to buy a bunch of shoes when I retire. Then again, I'm probably never going to look back and wish I worked more...

Why? little creature?

I know I've mentioned the roly poly epidemic of 2009. They are everywhere in Austin in my office bathroom. Ok, I think more than just that because I've also noticed them at my house by our flower pots. I do not recall seeing so many of them before (except when I was a vile little child who played with them.)

Anyway, so I go to the bathroom and there is one devoted roly poly hanging out... stuck. on his (or her) back. 500 little legs in the air. SEriously, you are created to be ROLY why can't you roll in a ball and roll over. I help them with a little piece of toilet paper. latch on little roly poly, latch on. I save their lievs at least 3 times a day.

Which makes me wonder... are they part of the centipede family? Which then made me think about when I lived with Amy and I was home alone. I turned on the garbage disposal and a centipede FLEW UP INTO THE AIR. After I shit my pants screamed at the top of my lungs--seriously, loud enough for the next door neighbor who was in love with Amy and would give her expensive bottles of wine and ask her out 3x a week the entire time she lived there, would hear me and come to my rescue. (He didn't.)

Which then made me think... if I screamed at our house would my neighbors come? No shoes neighbor? hispanic neighbor? creepy guy living with hispanic neighbor? crazy eyes and no shoes neighbor? lady who works out 80 times a day?

Then I wondered about the roly poly... i hear your screams little friend. I will rescue you.

Friends.

So, yesterday I woke to my dad calling. No, I woke up at 5:15 and then went to run and then came home and showered and then heard the phone in the other room.
1. My dad rarely calls me (I talk to my mom like 3x a day so there's no need because she relays all information.)
2. If he calls. I answer. (I don't ever think, oh, I'll just call him later. Because, back to point A, he doesn't call often--except when he accidently calls me which did happen frequently for a while, but that wasn't his fault it was because his phone was messed up and when he tried to check his voicemail it called me.)
3. He's worried about my mom and thinks she may have had a small stroke.
4. Panic.
5. Panic.
6. Panic. Calling sister. She doesn't answer. Call her again. No Answer. Call her husband. Call her back.
7. Mess of tears and stress because I can't be there.
8. Spend most of the morning convincing my mom to go to the ER for tests. She doesn't want to miss any work so she stays until lunch time so she can only take a 1/2 day.
9. Complain about how this is ridiculous.
10. She goes. Tests run. Could be a TIA stroke in which there is no evidence. On a heightened state of alert and panic.
11. Drink wine and eat cheese for dinner with friends from out of town.

I admitted to some friends that I'd like to call this an "episode." You know, because that's what old people call things when they try to pretend that nothing serious is happening even though it is and it re-occurs. Case in point. Remember the Friends when Joey wore Thanksgiving Pants?, "We were on a break!," Chandler having a 3rd nipple, when Pheobe got married, when Rachel ran all crazy in the park like Pheobe....etc etc etc. They re-run. I watch them. They changed worlds.

Much like this "episode" will change things.

My dad called againt his morning while I was getting dressed for work--Instant panic. Answer. Not a scary phone call. THANK YOU TOM CRUISE.

Still really stressed. Lets all practice a little self care, why don't we.

update from yesterday

I did not take a preg test because I ACTUALLY believed myself to be so... just because I enjoy spending money and being paranoid.

SO I went to the dermatologist. He was a character--to say the least. He talks about 500 miles per hour. He also talked into a recorder IN THE ROOM WITH ME. I didn't know where to look or if I were to make eye contact. At first I did, but then it got awkward.

He also told me that no one needs moisturizer and unless I'm spending a day in the sun to go ahead and skip the sunscreen.

We'll see what happens. I have new creams that, so far, have not made me break out in a rash like last time. Fingers crossed this continues to not happen.

Doctor, Doctor give me the news...

I'm a paranoid person. I mean, not really, but I worry things are wrong with me. Not in a way that I sit around obsessing, but in a way that I just think about it and then I start reading webmd and it takes me to countless items to consider... and by items I mean rare illnesses. I hope somewhere there is someone tracking the amount of crazy that is looked up on webmd. I think I'll go fashion my tin foil into a hat now.

Anyway, so I have an appointment next week at the dermatologist. However, I woke up today with crazy (aforementioned) breakout. I call and dramatically tell the front desk person that I really need to get in today. I really can't wait until next week and that I look like one of those people you kind of feel sorry for that you see at the grocery store because their complexion is so bad. I'm going at 2:30.

So, I'm asking my friends why why why.....and one responds, oh woman of wisdom, remember that you got your ENTIRE face threaded? Oh yah... that could possibly have something to do with it. I wasn't going to tell the Dr. this, but I suppose I have to now? I'll leave out the part that (even though it's physically impossible for me to be pregs) I went to walgreens before work and bought a pregnancy test and fiberone poptarts. Yes, I feel this is probably best kept to myself and my 10 loyal readers.

Fiber One poptarts=amazing. Seriously, you should try them. I have also recently purchased fiber one muffin mix (delish) and fiber one pancake mix (it's ok...alright, it's actually pretty good, but there was some user error in making said pancakes. It said to grease the pan/spray pam, but I thought with my fancy calphalon skillet I could forgo pam. Because NOTHING sticks to these pans except fiber one pancakes.)

Oh Miley ray Cyrus...

Yes. I realize that isn't her name.
No. I will not stop calling her Miley Ray.

So I have previously written of my random breakouts. Usually they are linked to my random high school girl mentality (I'm convinced.) Like, when I was having a love affair with the Twilight series or when I had the need for a pair of Uggs. Or when I wore Nike tempos to the mall--kidding that never happened. I put leggings under them and wore them with uggs. Kidding again. I wore a mini-skirt, tank top, uggs and a scarf in 75 degree weather. no. Ok, so just the twilight series and the need for text assurance.

Well, I've been buffing up on my Josh Radin, loving some Colbie Calliet, and I love me some James Taylor. SO why is my face breaking out as if I'm going to have Aunt Flo visit for the FIRST TIME EVER. I've never had my skin look like this. It's rough, and gross, and narsty.

I blame the impending birthday. Maybe my skin feels like this is it's last hoorah before adulthood? I mean, if so, give me lines and sagging jowls. I can't take this anymore.

This weekend I returned to a face system that I used all through grad school with no problems. Why did I stop? I get bored. Hence the ever changing hair styles. I'm hoping for a miraculous turn around that takes until approximately tomorrow. I do have an appointment with the dermatologist for a full body scan (and discussion of my ever failing skin) in a week. I pray for promises, friendship bracelets, and maybe a zima with a jolly rancher in it.