The best thing to happen in weeks...

The dye injected into my veins for the chest CT made me feel all warm and cozy. It felt just like a big shot of whiskey without the alcohol or burning in the throat. It was almost like Ben Gay for the insides. The sensation started at the back of my throat and worked it's way down to my lower torso. Actually it felt like I wet myself (which DID NOT happen, btw.) Of course the sensation dissipated after a few seconds and I'm cold on the inside again.

After the procedure was over, the nurse expressed hope that I wouldn't have a brused inner arm, due to all the bloodletting of the past few days, to which I replied "Oh, I'm not vain about my veins." It's shit like that, uncontrolable stupid sentences that bypass the normal speech pattern filter in my brain.

Of course, it all gets worse...

As of yesterday I will soon be parting company with my place of employment. I don't want to get into details, suffice to say it's all really shitty, coming at a truly bad moment in my life, 50% my own fault, and everything is getting really shaky (not really financially but mostly emotional.)

On the upside, I'm feeling strangely calm (maybe reality hasn't set in yet) and dare I say it, almost happy. I also surprised myself yesterday with a coherent verbal outburst at a person of authority (which probably didn't help matters in the first place.)

I'm now one of the overeducated huddled masses looking for a gig at a bookstore while finishing graduate school. How typical.

I think I'm long overdue for something good in my life, hmmm?

I wonder what this development will look like on the chest CT?

The cherry on top of my crap sundae...

As if things couldn't get worse for me, yesterday happened. I was working, minding my own business when I started getting stabbing chest pains on the heart side of my chest and throbbing pain in my left armpit (heartside as well.) Not leaving anything to chance, I left work early and went to Beaumont's ER (yes, I have a Beaumont Doctor.) After EKGs, x-rays, urineanlysis, blood draws, IVs, and sitting on a gurney in a revealing gown for almost six hours, it was initially determined that I somehow "sprained my chest." I didn't quite realize that was possible.

After being given that diagnosis, the ER doctor said my primary care physician had been contacted and wanted to see me on Thursday (today) so I left work early (again) and had blood drawn (again) and didn't quite get the clean bill of health I was hoping for...I need to get a chest CT scan ASAP, STAT, whatever acronym works, so that means that bright (not really) and early (6:30 AM) on Monday, I'll be getting dye injected in my veins and sent to hang out in the big machine. As a further added bonus, I need to pump additional asthma medication for 13 hours prior to the procedure because the dye has been known to cause problems in the pulminarily challenged.

Heartbreak Kid...

Welcome back to reality.

Details...

Ago, Julie, anyone else with an inquiring mind, here's more info: yes, the fact that he is still married is bothering me, but not as much as I initially thought it would. He never says "my wife," it's always "my ex-wife" and a lawyer has been contacted but nothing official has been done yet; plans are in the works. I'm also quite certain that there is no chance for reconciliation; he said he'll never trust her again. Of course, we didn't only hang around and talk about his dead marriage all weekend.

He was the perfect gentleman all weekend: he opened the car door for me, as well as doors to the restaurant, his house, etc. He paid for dinner, drinks, entertainment and everything else. I had a great time. The only major problem(s): he lives 150 miles away, which in a way is a good thing. I have the problem of getting sick and tired of guys (dull, boring, dead-end ones mostly.) I dated some guys who were ALWAYS hanging around, never giving me space and it started really getting on my nerves pronto. If I see him a few times a month, it could work, yet it could turn into another long-distance casualty. I've personally killed several relationships with the long-distance issue, but usually the relationship is in a terminal state by then. Another problem: the Army. Before meeting him I would hear about reservists getting called up for active duty every night on the news; I really didn't pay too much attention. Now I'm hearing about it and have more of an interest, and I'm getting scared.

This is all so brand new; I'm not even sure if he's interested in me. He probably is, but one can never really tell this early. I don't wish to get my heart demolished yet again, so I'm absolutely not getting my hopes up, but that's easy to say. I've experienced ten years' worth of lying, cheating, lazy bastards already so it's about time for someone good to venture into my life, but I am undeniably the rebound girl, and he is bitter with serious baggage.

Anyone who knows me and who knows him, PLEASE don't tell him about this. I just need to vent and get my feelings off my chest.

Just a hopeless guilt-ridden gal...

I had a very interesting, disturbing weekend in Grand Rapids. I'll elaborate further, tomorrow maybe once everything sinks in. Just a hint: I'm now embroiled in a morally questionable relationship with Mr. ITAEIT (It Will All End In Tears) and now I'm feeling very, very confused, and yet very happy and excited. He is perfect for me, except for everything that is so completely, horribly wrong.

And to add a further facet of weirdness to the equation: I am strangely turned-on by army fatigues and dress uniforms. I am so messed up.

Within the last half-hour...

I listened to a co-worker describe the usage of a Tax Management Portfolio (515-2nd as anyone actually cares.) as being "hot and heavy." She used this phrase at least ten times. Thank God it was a phone conversation, because I was trying not to crack up. Tax Management Portfolios are very dry, very specialized, and are a bitch to update, so the phrase "hot and heavy" does not automatically leap to mind when dealing with this product. This particular portfolio also deals with divorce and separation. Come to think of it, the phrase "hot and heavy" doesn't describe anything in my library at all.

I received an email requesting pages from the aforementioned portfolio. Strangely enough, the email was started with a "Dear Jennifer" instead of just launching into a demand. This type of letter-writing greeting etiquette is rarely observed in a legal setting and I was strangely moved by it. It seemed sincere. At the same time, in my brain I added "Dear Jennifer, how are you? I am fine," and had a bit of a laugh.

The American Bar Association called my number asking for Marie. The following conversation resulted:
ME: Hello, this is Jennifer.
ABA: Can I please speak to Marie?
ME: There is no Marie at the number. This is a business.
ABA: Oh. Can you please transfer me to the library?
ME: This is the library.
ABA: Oh. Can I please speak with Marie?
ME: (getting impatient) There is no Marie in the library.
ABA: Well, a Marie just called inquiring on an order.
ME: I just called about an hour ago.
ABA: So, you're Marie? I have the name written down as Marie.
ME: No, I'm Jennifer.

Librarian fetish?

I have just recently (within a few hours) discovered that my new Mr "It-Will-All-End-In-Tears" has a thing for the stereotypical "sexy librarian" look. You know the one: hair up in a loose bun, buttoned-up blouse, stockings, high heels, nerdy glasses. I'm sure a fantasy scenario may go something like this: gorgeous, yet unaware of it librarian drops a book, bends over to pick up said book, glasses fall off, top button pops off blouse, hair conveniently falls out of loose bun and the librarian metamorphs into a super sex kitten.

REAL WORLD: Un-gorgeous and plenty aware of it, I drop a book, probably unlady-likely squat to pick it up, lose my footing and fall on my ass, magically a book falls off the shelf onto my head, knocks my nerdy glasses off my face, I stand up, step on and crush my glasses and begin swearing like a sailor, probably in front of a shareholder.

This cracks me up...

This is from today's edition of The Onion.


Bush Followed Everywhere By Line Of Baby Ducks

Oh, this is not very good at all...

This weekend I went to a really great party at my friend Becky's house in Clare. In the course of 12 hours, I drank at least 10 glasses of green keg beer (and spilled just as many,) danced like a completely crazy person to an assortment of wonderful tunes from Neil Diamond and NKOTB and the always crowd-pleasing "We Are The World," learned how to play the card/drinking game "asshole"...and I also met a very nice guy who seems interested in me and I in him...and of course it will not work out for any/all of the following reasons:

1. He is technically married (will be divorced in a few months)
2. His marriage ended badly after less than a year
3. He is an army reservist and could be called up for active duty any day now
4. He lives in Grand Rapids, which is over 150 miles away

So, of course I've landed myself in a very bad situation. To make matters worse, he's interested in seeing me this weekend. It will all end in tears (I say as I swoon dramatically.)

Too many unpleasant thoughts...

Yesterday I finished compiling the list of 100 things I need to accomplish my the time I turn thrity, and now I'm completely depressed. Nearly everything on the list is completely do-able, but I'm not sure I'll actually be able to do everything. It's probably that lovely time of the year again. I need to get another physical. There's something wrong with me, I can just tell.

I realize that this is nothing to take lightly and this time I'm not being a complete drama queen. If there is something wrong with me, and if that something wrong is cancer, I think it will be in the lymphoma family. I hate to say this, but I've been reading up on survival statistics and the pharmaceuticals portion of the situation recently. I'm also trying to stay upbeat, but there's something nagging me all the time. I'm having unpleasant dreams, I'm always anxiety-ridden, I don't care about my class anymore, I just really need some answers. Yesterday I had a run-of-the-mill sinus headache, but it got me thinking about what's going on/growing in my brain. Especially in the back of my head. I need to escape work for an afternoon for a top-to-bottom checkup.

Greeting from the Black Lodge...

Well, I have finished the first episode of Twin Peaks (not the pilot, just the first one-hour episode.) I have a feeling that something may be missing. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a bit rusty after an almost fifteen year break from the show, but I'm discovering that I don't remember as much about the show as I used to. Granted, this was just the first episode and the show didn't fall into a truly goofy groove until a few episodes in. I remember all the giant/midget/Bob stuff, but the beginning episode mainly involved boring James Hurley and Donna and Laura Palmer's screaming mother. The winning line "there was a fish in the percolator" was uttered in this ep. along with some other Cooper-related gems "Damn fine coffee." I can't believe I was just a goofy eighth grader when the show first aired. Yet, I still can't get me enough Coop!

Blackadder...

I just finished up my first cry of the new year. The first sob of 2005 was due to the last episode of "Blackadder Goes Forth." *Warning! I'm about to give away the ending of the fourth series.* I knew the sixth and final episode ended with the characters leaving the foxhole and meeting the German army (and getting killed,) but it was dealt with in such an honest manner, addressing the horrors of war, death, losing one's friends through the years, perverse humor and everything that has always gone through the minds of soldiers staitioned on the front line.

I've watched all four series (not counting the millenium series, which I'm not sure actually counts as an actual, official series) within the past several months. The first series had it's moments, but I wasn't instantly taken with it. The second series had Miranda Richandson as Queen Elizabeth and she was just batty enough to give the series that special something. The third series included Hugh Laurie (who I was acquainted with via 'Jeeves and Wooster' and who rocks) and by then the show really grew on me. The forth series completely engaged me, along with all the characters.

Rowan Atkinson was completely incredible in this series. He was totally Blackadder. No one could have possibly done better. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to watch Mr. Bean again, although that's in a separate league of it's own.

I can't believe I'm so emotional about an old TV series. This may have to do with my thoughts of joining the Air Force in the near future (although I'm probably getting a bit too old, but I have about five years left,) or the war in Iraq, or hormones, but I think the intelligence of the writing made all the difference in the end.

Sniff.

Ugh, gross!

I never wanted to write about this but I can't quite help it. I need to vent! Someone in my firm, someone perhaps working on the 7th floor is OTR (on the rag,) surfing the crimsom tide, having a visit from their Aunt Flo, what have you. How do I know this? Because my favorite stall in the ladies room looks like a fucking crime scene!!!!! Nasty!!! I don't know how someone could possibly imagine leaving behind a mess of this caliber!!! Ugh!!!

I need to read...

I've decided to give up Borders for Lent (a bit late, yes, but it still counts.) Actually, I'm also going to give up Barnes & Noble and Target's book section. I have way too many books in my bedroom waiting to be read, so for the next twenty four days I shall be faithful to my personal collection. Really I should forbid myself from entering the aforementioned establishments until I have finished the following books I already own:

1. Atlas Shrugged (finishing this is part of my "Countdown to 30")
2. Anna Karenina
3. Dr. Zhivago
4. The Brothers Karamazov
5. Moby Dick

One look at this list and someone might think I'm a Russophile. I'm not playing favorites; actually the authors just seem to find me. Maybe all this reading will start the creative juices flowing. Maybe then my lair will be a palace of productivity instead of a warren of writer's block.

Downtown wildlife...

This morning I saw a loon paddling along in the river. Just digging itself in the icy water. I've never actually seen one before. Maybe tonight I'll see a heron walking around Hart Plaza...it could happen!

My party: Be there and be square (and other thoughts)...

Here's proof positive that I'm a super dorky seventeen-year-old trapped in the body of a super dorky twenty seven-year-old: I'm having a Twin Peaks party this weekend. The folks will be visiting my sis in West Virginia and I'll have the house all to myself! Par-tay! Of course, since I'm very single and without friends and/or acquaintances, I'll be having the party with Bird and Mr. Turtle. Oh well, more pie for me. I'll be doing this party the right way: Black coffee, donuts and cherry pie. Since it's just me, I'll probably brew a pot, go to Tim Hortons for a donut or two and find a decent slice of pie at the supermarket. Maybe an individual 6 inch pie? Where can I get one of those?

In other news, I'm feeling out of sorts. The hem in my left pant leg fell, so I resorted to a desperation stapling. Although no one can see or really cares, I'm just walking around today with the knowledge that I have staples in my pants. I feel slightly trashy, although I'm also feeling slightly proud of my resourcefulness. I tried earlier with cloth book tape and clear packing tape (on other pants in the past) and this will definitely last for a wearing or two, but not much longer.

Also, the snow is getting me down. The drive into Detroit (via Mound) was actually quite beautiful today. It was the perfect snow consistency--the flakes landed on the bare tree branches in just such a wonderful way; it was almost a relaxing, peaceful drive...until I entered Detroit. I then noticed the black dirty snow and the stray dogs wandering the streets, trying not to freeze to death. Then I entered Hamtramck and saw children wearing completely inadequate footwear for walking in the snow. Then the remaing leg of my drive on I-75 and the crush of commuters sapped all the remaining joy from my existence. The fact that I ran out of wiper fluid certaintly didn't help matters much.

Hopefully some crocuses and daffodils will bloom soon. I'm not much of a flower girl, but I need to see some life!