Tuesday, January 25, 2011

No way!

While I often reference the "excel spreadsheet" portion of my job, my responsibilities are actually quite vast. Like right now, I am in charge of yelling at people. Why does that sound so appealing?

My "yelling" is generally through email unless you refuse to cooperate...then I get you on the horn. I tell you (in a friendly Christian University sorta way) you are missing paperwork that will consequently keep you from getting what you want...your units (not that kinda unit calm yourself), your clinical hours and thus your degree.

I won't go into details, but will just say that most of my paper world is health related. We gotta know you aren't gonna be giving others in the community the Swine Flu and things of that nature.

While yelling is fun, I find connecting and relating to people much more exhilarating...I know, you totally wish we were besties, or maybe friendly neighbors. With the confidential information I see daily, I could find ways to get my connection on with these students real good...

"No way! You get hives from Penicillin? ME TOO!!!"
"Man, isn't having Tuberculosis the absolute worst?! I hated that."

If I had it my way, we'd be talkin' migraines and rashes all day long...maybe some day.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Bar Method

Oh The Bar Method.
I'm not referring to my old "method" of trying to be cool. While some have already misunderstood...
"The girls and I went to Bar Method tonight. Probably won't even be able to walk tomorrow."
Paraphrase: Wow Baby, what a Tuesday. Ya never know what swank you girls will end up in. (See how quotes are not permitted on BSS if it isn't indeed a quote...we're better than that)

Before I explain that The Bar Method is a hip new workout class (my friends and I try to stay on the pulse, no biggy) I feel the need to explain that just because we celebrate birthdays at venues with exotic one-syllable-word names (that some deem "swanky") does not mean we do it on weeknights...unless of course one of our births lands on a weeknight...neither here nor there.

So The Bar Method, in my uncool exerciser opinion, is a cross between Pilates (which I loooooathe) and a ballet class. Bar as in ballet bar, are you learning new things? While I love that I am sore today, and almost "not able to walk," I hate, with everything inside me that the class forces me to manipulate my body into folded, unnatural positions, under florescent lighting, half a foot away from a floor (to ceiling) length mirror, next to a Bar Method Addict named Alison. Look, Al-Pal, we all get it. You have socks with the studio's logo on them and look fit enough to rock capri's and ankle socks without looking like a circus midget, excuse me circus little person...who's most likely pigeon-toed. Did I mention that my friend Ally also happens to be twice my size vertically!? Shocker I know. There is only one tall gal that doesn't intimidate me, I think you know who you are.
I do feel that every time I attempt the hopefully slimming and toning routine, I get just a teeny tiny bit stronger. Instead of giving up after 2 reps, I wait until 4. It's kind of a big deal.

Oh 2011, see what new things I'm trying for you.
-The Wannabe

Friday, January 7, 2011


I guess...at times...I can be a little offensive.

In the lounge at the end of the hallway, in my "place of employment" is a very loud (and African American; normally I'd say black, I'm trying here) man yucking it up all over the place. He has the entire room (of other African Americans) just bustin a gut. When I casually referred to him as Tyler Perry...I may have been offensive.

In a conversation with my coworker about the Chinese plates her mother-in-law gave her for Christmas, I commented on how she must be "REALLY Chinese." I dunno.

The racial theme ends here.

I got my Broccoli on right before the roomie's D-to the-ate came over to pick her up. There may have been some comments about the offensive odor. Just trying to get in some zero-point foods that's all. Leafy greens are totally where it's at.

The boo's very sweet madre really did it up with the Navidad gifts for Sarita. In addition to my freakishly soft Lands End fleece (that I've pretty much lived in since December 25th) I opened up a Nordstrom box o' slippers. Any shopper in their right mind would have thought the same thing, "What will I exchange these for...?" If you're the logical (and frugal) gal that I am, you know Nordi's is the BOMB when it comes to return policies...and the answer to that question is a pair of tights and thirty extra bucks in my wallet. Being oblivious, as I may or may not have been called before, I openly shared this joyous event. Oops. Offensive. I attempted a rebuttal after my stern talking to: When is your mom EVER gonna see me in (or not in, in this case) slippers?! Camon!

I might have attempted some neighbor-bonding with a rant or two:
"Man, who's Oldsmobile is taking up one of our parking spaces?! That thing never leaves. They need to tow the P.O.S!"
"Oh. That's my husband's. He gets really sensitive when I bring up getting it fixed...and it's a Buick."
Welp see ya later.

We try our best. That's all anyone can ask of us.


Monday, January 3, 2011


2011 Resolutions:
More food, TV and debt. Less exercise and reading. What?
Okay really...2011 means quite the opposite (except the TV and reading thing, those may prove to be true, how am I to predict how many Spring series are going to rock my world)

The 10 pound boyfriend rule is infuriatingly true and not okay. Losing 4 pounds upstairs barely made a dent on my 5'3" frame. Lame. Although I didn't consider January as actually beginning until the first Monday in January (two extra days of grazing on red and green Hershey's kisses from the festive basket on my coffee table and drinking beer) today I have successfully grocery shopped based on a conglomeration of various diets; points, south beach; lemon vinegar cleanse...things of that nature.

We're all the same aren't we? Who really comes up with something that unique on the first of the year? No one. I take that back...I've got some pretty big plans for honing my scrap booking skills resoluting, watch out.

Here's to a healthy and happy OT eleven kids.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

I'm just not ready for this

This is a big step for us.
Am I ready for all that this entails? I'm just not sure.
When approached with the idea, it sounded exciting.
"Let's just try this..."
"I really think it's best."

So I decided I'd give it a shot.

It does seem like a good deal. Obviously this moment is what we've been preparing for over the last year. Now it's just figuring out if this particular one fits me.
I've finally arrived at the place I've been anticipating for months...
Victoria Secret.

Salesgirl Stephanie's enthusiasm was enough to reel me in. She even handed me an entire box of the luxurious undergarments that would fit my new size. Best sellers in fact. I was like a kid in a candy store...or like myself in a candy store even, it was overwhelming. Trying on ones with lace and cups smaller than my head was exhilarating. I turned sideways, put my cotton tee back on and checked out the perif view. Glory.

Go time. Make a decision. I'm already invested (enough of an investment that Steph has seen the new goods) and I should be ready to embark on this phase, according to experts.

Except that we're not ready-yes, we. Sure the current wireless and seamless isn't all that attractive, but we've got a bond going on. We've spent two months together, proceeding the month of my ex-surgical sports bra of course.

And so, I hung my head, and slowly exited the velvet dressing (more like undressing) room.
"I'm sorry. I'm just not ready for this. Good bye."