FML

I am moving to a new apartment this month! It has two bedrooms so Kyle and I will have more space for our growing possessions.
Also, we like the idea of having an extra "surprise room".
Mainly because I am the worst at taking my birth control on time and we both know it!
Why is it only my responsibility to keep us fetus free until after college?
Men.
Maybe I am careless or maybe I am excited to expand my family someday without the addition having whiskers or fins.
But I forget.
Is that weird?
Anyhow...this new place has carpet instead of the hardwood in our current apartment.
Goldmark wants us to get our cat declawed...which is painful and demeaning I feel.
Especially since my cat is house trained not to claw and never has.
So today I had the lovely task of attempting to put caps on my cat's claws.

Ouch.

One foot at a time I struggled to get a single cap on.
Finally I released Molly and she immediately took a dump on the livingroom floor.
As if to say, "Good Luck--Try again later bitch' and promptly galloped under the bed.

Pea Green Sofa Machine-$150

I am always trying to reinvent myself.
Some people grow bored of their hair color...
Some people grow bored of their job...
I grow bored of...me.
Sometimes I am set off by a season like fall.
Often times I am set off by an inspiring movie or an act of courage.
Very seldom, but at times in my life, I am set off by a song.
In this rare event I fell in love with "All I Want Is You" by Barry Louis Polisar.
As I delve into the harmonic melodies of dear Barry, I wanted to change.
So I...

• dyed my hair auburn
• purchased clothing in earth tones
• rescued a kitten
• painted my apartment cress green and burnt orange
• read several novels on elephant psychology
• became a monthly donor of PETA and WWF
• quit eating ALL meat
• watched documentaries/films on earth preservation
• weaved a basket out of bark
• bought organic rosemary lemon soap
• got a peace sign tattooed on my left hand
• added a pea green sofa to my furniture collection     

This last part is of most importance...I am now realizing that just because I want to be a less evil part of my whole world and community...doesn't mean I need to change everything about myself. Especially not my taste in furniture.
So if you are feeling like a tree huger today...buy my recycled pea green sofa machine for one-fifty obo.

A Quote Tailored For Muah

“I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.”-A.Hepburn

[sigh]

Is this semester over yet?
I am so burnt out.
Maybe it's just math...or my job...but I need a breath of fresh air!
Nah Mean?

Flat Line-Another Day, Another Dollar

1 pm. Thursday March 17, 2011.
My wreathing back receives shock waves of heat and torment as I struggle to breathe. Sharp as knifes the pain punches up my esophagus from somewhere deep within my tummy. Beads of sweat excrete from every pore on my body. I can't take this pain anymore!
"HELP", I cry out in pure anguish!
I rip my shirt, exposing my bright red bra and unbutton my pants between the violent tremors. Kyle unrolls all of the windows in our 1997 Nissan Pathfinder LE. I don't care that my husband is screeching down the overpopulated University district, going seventy miles an hour with me half naked...just as long as we get to the emergency room ASAP!
Unrecognizable screams jolt from my craned neck. Am I going to die!? Is this what a heart attack feels like!?
I go through the symptoms, but only a few seem to fit:
Tingly limbs
Profuse perspiration
Chest pain
Stomach discomfort/Nassau
Temperature spikes
Back Pain
Vomiting
I can't think anymore, I have reached my threshold.
The car slams to a halt at the doors of urgent care at Altru.
Without thinking I scramble for the door, I crash land into the registration window, and muster out my allergies.
I collapse in terror...the waiting room is full of wide eyes.
Kyle enters the room and pulls my t-shirt on as a set of nurses pulls me up into a wheelchair. I scream out in agony, DON'T TOUCH ME! HELP! Everything hurts.
The embarrassed desk clerk wheels me behind the counter and begins her usual daily questioning...
Social Security Number? DOB? Any medications you are currently taking? Address? Telephone Number?
For God's sake why do you need my telephone number? I'm right here! She informs me that this is for billing purposes and I want to smash my fist into her crooked nose. WTF!
Too late for inhibitions, I defiantly thrash in my wheelchair and beg for sedation. I scream until my throat numbs and Kyle grabs my face in attention. He has had enough too. With a few choice words...involving chest pain and my sloppy medical history she finally rushes me to my own room.
Before I can blink I am naked under a thin blue gown covered in pokes and jelly.
A bald ultrasound technician massaging my stomach searching for an answer in my gallbladder, ovaries or appendix.
Another fellow got a urine sample and a rather attractive paramedic gave me an IV full of saline and morphine.
Morphine, like a cooling flame flooded my veins. I felt nothing more as in surged through my back, legs, and finally my head.

7pm Same Day.
Dr.Jeffrey Geddes explains that my stomach produced a build up of excess acid, it was burning my intestines, stomach, and esophagus. I force down water and spit the vomit out into the sink of the bathroom. My mouth tastes like copper. Like blood.
Pills rattling in my purse I make it home.
My mother seems hardly enthused as she listens over the receiver. No sympathy here. Not for my pain or my three thousand dollar bill.

America You Are Too Much!

Is anyone else omega impressed my the size of the Minneapolis' Mall of America?
Or am I the most juvenile twenty-year-old EVER?>(don't answer that)
Not only is the parking garage the biggest cluster-clot I've ever had the pleasure of being trapped in, but the mall itself was enormous.

Before I get ahead of myself...I wasn't even admitted into the Mall of America on first attempt.
I had decided that I would leave my wallet in my car because my husband had his in case we wanted to purchase anything and despite popular belief not all women enjoy carrying around huge purses everywhere they go while simultaneously trying to look through stores. Try fitting through an isle in a packed clothing store without knocking something or someone over...ugh.
The first thing the entrance security guard asked me for of course was my wallet/ID in accordance with the Minnesota State 4pm curfew.
Maybe in a few decades this will all be flattering but if I seriously look 16 years old...shoot me now!
In a desperate attempt to avoid the four story parking garage to fetch my wallet, I tried to convince her I was much older with no luck.
"Look at my tattoo! Look at my two-carat diamond ring! My husband's ID proves he is over eighteen...can he be my guardian?"
Too bad.
So after another twenty minutes of power walking in search for my vehicle in thirteen degree weather I was finally allowed to go inside.
Naturally when my red face arrived back I rammed my ID in the women's face as said,
"Is that all? Or do you need my social too?!"
She shot back at me, "About time!"
Honestly I do realize she was just doing her part to keep the children in her city safe but come on! Even the waiter at Olive garden gives me wine samples! And after the full body pat downs and body scans and demeaning luggage searches of the airport...I was done with security.
The real question is how many times did I get lost in the Mall of America?
Don't ask.
Let's just say I didn't leave at nine pm on purpose.
On the bright side:
Wow America you are too much! Looking over the indoor amusement park/shopping center/aquarium/movie theater/food court/ballroom from atop the Dorah the Explorer ferris wheel...an overwhelming sense of pride and inspiration overcame me.
The imagination and preparation and time it must have taken to design, build, and accommodate such a place astounds me.
From face painting, to five dollar all day locker rentals...from sharks, to forty-foot-tall Lego helicopters..
From Thai noodle bowls, to sequin underwear...Mall of America YOU ROCK! >well minus your security guards...
 

Not to Cast Stones...but Good Lord!

I try my hardest not to be judgmental...especially since the touchy topic of this blog entry is weight...but GOOD LORD! I am overweight, or as my Hispanic friend puts it, "a curvy chica".
I have consistently gained and lost wight my entire life. Usually this is sparked by emotional hazard.
When I am sad I can't eat a measly carrot stick. I cry and puke and wallow.
When I am in love however, or just satisfied in general, I tend to plump up like a spring chicken!
My bad.
But in my defense, I have been a vegetarian for well over four years now and I exercise regularly.
My main diet consists of nuts/granola, berries, dried fruits, vegetable/herb purees, tofu, legumes and my personal favorite...cheese and sesame wheat crackers.
I work in at least a 30 minute cardio most days on top of working twenty-five hours a week and taking ten credits at the community college. (I have lazy days too)
Oh and don't forget being married, a full-time position!(not in a nasty way- I just get overloaded) :)

TO THE POINT...

Despite my efforts I cannot seem to lose any of my "lovely lady lumps". I actually have gained five pounds since actively attempting to slim down a bit.
So today when I pop into Sam's Club to pick up some groceries and find a women just a little larger than me and her boyfriend who was quite a bit larger than both of us combined...it kind of pissed me off that their cart was full of Rice Krispy Treats, two boxes of bulk Pixie Stix, Ritz crackers, Fudge ice cream and of course Cheetos.
Why do I work my ass off to not work any of my literal ass off?
Ugh...she wasn't much larger than I and I wanted her to be enormous.
They aren't even trying to be a little healthy and I feel bashed knowing I am her size...I look like I eat Cheetos and Pixie Stix.
For example, my darling step-sister Alex is ninety pounds sopping wet and only and inch shorter than I...but she eats two cheeseburgers and a liter of regular Dr.Pepper all to herself in one sitting- ALL THE TIME.
Not fair.
What's the point...I feel like you should look the way you eat.
Then my husband would look like Fat Albert and I would be Jessica Alba...size wise anyways!
He is much more handsome than I could ever hope to be! (I guess my luck isn't completely mute)

Itchin' and a Twitchin' Feet

Spring break is just around corner and every part of me, right down to my grumbling toes, wants to runaway!
I need a break from Grand Forks, North Dakota in a bad way.
Somewhere warm, breezy and sweet.
My pocket book says otherwise...so for now I will just head to Duluth, Minnesota for a relaxing weekend with Kyle.
Better than nothing! Plus he always ends up surprising me with something catchy.
Wish me luck!
: D