Queen of the Jungle

     Sometimes I do strange things in my sleep. Exhibit "A" dreaming about learning to apply make up and woke up looking like this.

     Apparently someone thinks it is a good idea to hold conversations with me while I am half-asleep/half-awake despite knowledge that I can be quite unpredictable while I sleep. I personally think that is a risky business. 

     A dear friend of mine was preparing to attend the Barry Manilow concert. I had mentioned this to Justin nonchalantly. Whilst I was asleep the night before the concert, Justin discovered that the concert was to be cancelled. As tragic as this news was; I do not feel it warranted him trying to get a reaction out of me as I slept. I have no recollection of him trying to reveal this breaking news to me, but he was sure  to inform me first thing the next morning that I "roared" at him after he told me about dear Barry. I am quite sure I was just dreaming I was a large cat. 

     The other night Justin asked me to remind him to bring his burrito to work the next day. Before he left in the morning I vaguely recalled seeing him in a haze and uttering "I love you" and "burrito," (so romantic I'm well aware). I called him once I got up and moving around and asked if he was proud of me for remembering to inform him of the tortilla filled with goodness lurking in the fridge. He claimed that I only barked unintelligible roars at him and that I must have been dreaming about telling him to remember the burrito (more realistically I was probably dreaming about large cats). I thought he was trying to play a dirty trick on me; owing to the relentless mocking I have endured since the Barry Manilow incident... But much to my surprise the burrito was still in my fridge. 

     I offered to bring the damn thing to him on my way to work. I, on a mission to prove my sanity, kept thinking so long as he is wearing a gray shirt then I had in fact told him "burrito," since I had a faint image in my mind's eye of him standing over me in the early morning before his departure. When I pulled into his work he came outside wearing none other than his gray shirt! I victoriously explained my logic to him, and that I must not be crazy after all. While he admitted certain defeat he still refused to believe that there was any way to discern what I had roared at him (my opinion someone needs to learn how to speak lion if they want to try to talk to me in my sleep). He kindly asked for his burrito and then I realized I had forgotten it. *sigh* 

     I sure do hope that there is never a fire or some kind of emergency while I am asleep. I am pretty confident that I would persist to roar to whoever was trying to save me, then they would have to call animal control or something. 

Electric Shock Therapy

     So this weekend was electrifying... literally. I am not good with electronics or machines of any kind. I used to be terrified of the oven. In fact, I even once caught the oven on fire and then decided to search the Internet for "what to do if my oven is on fire." Fortunately the only damage that was done was to the melted pizza pan, the cinnamon and sugar tortilla chips and my pride. I tried to convince my ex significant other that I was baking for Jaws from 007 but he refused to believe me. Probably because we used to play Golden Eye for Nintendo 64 and he always lost. 

     The very next week I caught the microwave on fire from trying to nuke one of those aluminum bags that Olive Garden puts your left over breadsticks in (I was pre-vegan). If you ask me they were setting me up for failure because how the hell else are you supposed to reheat those things if you are grounded from the oven? Sadly, I no longer own a microwave (unrelated to that incident I swear). 

     Then there was that time I was trying to do a crossword puzzle online and I somehow managed to get this gay man porography video virus that would play the same scene on a loop. No matter how many times I clicked the 'X' it kept going. After being tormented by this for a few moments with my jaw dropped and head cocked (pun intended) to the side I had the keyboard ripped from my hands and my ex significant other persisted to try to yell at me about the penises while trying to fix the damn thing. Meanwhile I tried to remain serious, because I am much like a twelve year old in that I can't keep a straight face when someone is screaming buttholes and penises at me every other word. 

     If I am completely honest I often develop irrational fears that my truck is going to spontaneously combust whenever it makes an unfamiliar noise. There may be a few of you out there that recall the handful of times when, in the passenger seat of your car,I abandoned ship at random stop lights or stop signs if the car made a weird noise and persisted to run away at top speed... only coming back to the vehicle after I watched from a safe distance (usually peering around a building) for several minutes. And yes, I am sure the one person in particular still is out there who could not coerce me back into their vehicle so I walked about six and a half miles home... Throughout the years I have gotten much better. 

     This weekend I had a setback. I innocently was handling an extension cord with three outlets on it. I had a fan, powered off, on one side and my iPhone wall attachment on the other. I was only trying to jam the USB cord into the hole in the square iPhone thing when suddenly I felt the fan shock me. It forced my hand to clamp closed around the plug and I couldn't let go. Somehow the fan plug came loose from its outlet thingy and the damn thing stopped being able to try to kill me. I saw my life flash before my eyes, except not really. I did however think for a long time that my heart was going to stop working. Or maybe that my arm was going to fall of since it wouldn't stop tingling. I think I will ground myself from extension cords. Perhaps I should just re-evaluate which of the electronics in my life are worth putting my life on the line for because clearly they all have some kind of vendetta against me. I am currently eyeing my lap top; wishing I had the balls to plug it into the wall. But that would take big balls like those men had in that porno and that is just gross. 

     Alas, I fear I must wrap this blog up which I have typed entirely on my cell phone since my lap top is dead. 

PS please forgive any typos as I am not sure how to work spell check on this thing. 

Fashionable Friday...?

I should have known to stay in bed today after the morning I had.

Yesterday I searched various “bun” styles on pintrest. I was surprised at how easy they all seemed and made a mental note of the three to five “simple” steps that it took to complete the chic styles I had selected. Well this morning was a race against time. I couldn’t help but to think about what a perfect coincidence it was that I had put in the effort to learn such fashionable hair styles the night before. The universe was in my corner for once. Well fifteen minutes and eight tries later this is what I ended up with. 

I know my face resembles Gollum... or perhaps Mad Eye Moody from Harry Potter. I need to learn how to work Instagram to my favor. It looked a little less harsh in black and white. Anyway I am not one for self-portraits so who cares.

This is what it was supposed to be.. I am reminded of the pinterest fail websites I have seen *sigh

I’m not sure what wrong turn I took with this damn hair style but apparently I spruced it up a bit and gave myself some bangs. As much as I would have loved to step into work adorned in this attractive piece of craftsmanship I’m pretty sure they would have sent me packing. 

After that debacle I kept thinking about how sore my feet were. I rarely have worn the shoes that I had selected to wear today, since they have slightly pointed toes. I just can't rock pointed toed shoes like some girls can (you know like witches... and Carrie Bradshaw from "Sex and the City"). Then halfway through my work day I realized something else was amiss.

Wrong damn feet... Doesn't look like it too much; hence why I was so confused. Or maybe it is obvious???

Much better!

After today I have come to the conclusion that I never learned how to dress and groom myself properly. I'm also pretty sure that I am never going to look at pinterest again because it makes me feel like a fool, I couldn't even make a bun... The End! : ) 

Simple Pleasures and Hidden Treasures

Once upon a time I ordered a used copy of book three of The Harry Potter series from an online book chain. While reading it, I thought it was odd that the cover art was different than the other books I had purchased in the series. Also, absent were the illustrations that typically accompanied the beginning of each chapter. Lastly I noticed there were some blatant typos within the text. I did some research and realized that what I held in my hot little hand was no ordinary Harry Potter book… It was a first edition Canadian issue. While I would venture to guess that it is worth well over the $1.99 + shipping I paid for it; I doubt I will ever sell it owing to my love of everything associated with the dark arts and He Who Must Not Be Named (just kidding). 

            This summer I have been busy re-reading the series. I am nearly done with book two and in order to preserve the little treasure that is my book three, I went on a hunt today looking for a used copy book three. I searched online for used book stores in the area before venturing out into the heat. I had the pleasure of visiting Rainbow Books and Hyde Park Bookstore. While I was unable to find the Harry Potter book I needed, I was able to bask in the all too familiar smell of old pages. I spent a lot of time perusing the shelves; especially the classics section. While I did not walk away with any purchases today, I definitely am looking forward to returning when I have some more time. I can completely envision how perfect it would be on a rainy fall Saturday morning, coffee in hand (pumpkin spice latte?), to plop down and explore the seemingly endless shelves full of old tattered books.  

Does not even begin to encompass what I saw today

My new favorite kind of bug

Unicorns do exist. You see there simply must be some kind of bug out there that carries the rare unicorn gene. If it bites you in precisely the right place, you will grow a unicorn horn. Just ask my boyfriend; he should have one any day now. 

I don't wanna work I just wanna bang on this drum all day...

I was at work today running around like a chicken with its head cut off as per usual. I kept catching this man picking his fingernails, toenails, and nose while he was waiting to see the attorney. I was quite disgusted but persisted on with my job anyway. This required several trips back and forth across the office in front of him. I could not help but notice that his eyes were transfixed on my ass each time I would walk by him. I chalked it up to him being one of those creeps and went on with completing my tasks. After he got pulled in with the attorney I decided to check out my ass because it must have looked extra sexy today. Turns out I had a conglomeration of crumpled up sticky notes on my ass. My dress was black, and the sticky notes were lime green. Awesome. Sorry Mr. Picker; you have been forgiven and I no longer find you creepy... 

This is not really a post... I should forewarn you to read at your own risk... In fact that is probably a good rule of thumb for this page period.

I was laid up this summer. For a LONG time. Days were monotonous. I don't watch television and my collection of movies got very old, very quickly. I was pretty much bed ridden so I always was looking for forms of entertainment. 

I have this thing where I will only drink bottled water. Really, I think it is a temperature thing; I need my water COLD (Yes i know how terrible bottled water is for me and the planet but with the 1000s of animals I will inevitably save throughout the course of my life from being vegan I'm allowed to drink bottled water). The bottles of water were piling up on my nightstand and even in my bed. With nothing else in arm's reach who wouldn't start playing with the bottle caps? 

Justin (boyfriend) fell victim first. 

He was laying in bed next to me one day with his shirt off and thought it might be fun to put the round bottle caps on his round nipples. I think I must have been reverting back to my childhood here... you remember those toys dear where you match up the various shaped pegs into the corresponding peg-holes. Oh what fun. 

Nipple bottle cap placement became a new sort of inside joke game between us. We would try to get them on each other without the other person noticing. Ahhh the simple things in life. Feel free to stop reading. Well one day I guess Justin's nipples were out of reach so I put a cap (down my shirt and bra) on my own nipple.  I was quite distracted in doing this and ended up leaving the house to get a snow cone. I remember thinking how weird my boob looked but for whatever reason, despite the 100s of times I had put bottle caps on nipples, I didn't put two and two together. 

Long story short... It wasn't until I got home that Justin told me I had a bottle cap over my nipple. I don't know how many people witnessed this atrocity but maybe they just thought I had some kind of strange nipple disease. Or that one nipple was extremely cold from consuming my snow cone. Either way... Pretty lame. But lesson learned nevertheless; even though it may seem fun to put things together that match... Those things might bite you in the ass. Or at the very least they may just feel like a fool.

Superhero, Cape and All

This summer has been quite trying for me.

A week ago I discovered a lump in my breast. For the duration of every single one of the days leading up to a few moments ago, I incessantly argued with myself in my head about the reasons I can or cannot have breast cancer. I awoke this morning after a series of nightmares which seemed to encapsulate every fear that I was facing in anticipation of today. I mundanely dressed after my shower and despite the sweltering temperatures outside, neglected to put on deodorant per the breast center’s instructions. I left my apartment, passing my hermit neighbor and forcing out a high-pitched hello to which he responded with his typical staring at the floor as if it were about to rip open and suck him into some fiery chasm. I felt like smacking the glasses right off his face, because damn it I needed that friendly hello back today.

I entered my car and began to drive to what I felt was my imminent demise. It must have been quite a sight to the neighboring cars as I alternated between drying my eyes and armpits with the stack of old napkins I had in my center console. I composed myself in the parking lot as I sat staring at the sign hovering over the spot I had parked in “breast care patient only.” I felt as though everyone who witnessed my choice in parking would judge me…labeling me as part of a statistic. I felt as though my individuality was slowly slipping away; but really what would it be to add one more medical problem to the laundry list I have collected throughout this life?

Once I was in the examination room I was told to undress from the waist up and put on the garment. I got undressed and glanced at my breasts in the mirror. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was an evil glint in my nipples’s eyes as they seemed to be gazing up at me with a ‘we can kill you, you know’ look on their face. I unfolded my provided garment which appeared to be a sort of cape. There were no sleeves, just a button snap at the neck.

To spare you the dirty details I will skip over the part where I was man-handled by a bunch of different women and machines feeling up my breasts, all the while making strange noises which are WAY too easy to read into whist waiting to hear test results. I mean we all know just how vivid my imagination is. At last the fondling was over and I was left to be with my thoughts while the doctor reviewed the ultrasound photos.

Moments passed in my clockless examination room as I sat there staring at the “Peace Dove” portrait hanging on the wall. In came the doctor with a look on his face that seemed terrible (hindsight he probably either had gas, or it was me projecting my fear into him).
             
            Doc: “Malina, is it?”
            Me: “yes”
            Doc: “I’m Dr. X (omitting name for privacy) what you are feeling in your breast is a
            benign cyst.”

I am not sure what he said next… All I know is fireworks were going off in my mind’s eye and I was ecstatic. I wondered if he could detect the utter and total euphoric feelings that were exploding within me. His speech was quick. The nurse told me I was free to go and closed the door behind me. I immediately stood up proudly in my cape and raised both arms in triumph. I even took a victory lap in the examination room and watched as I passed the mirror as the cape was flying after me. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I felt like a superhero at that instant.   

I can only hope that every single other women that crosses the threshold of that breast care center today had as good of results as I did. And to the women I know that have faced their battles and triumphantly are on the other side of cancer; congratulations. I now know what it feels like to be on the cusp of something earth shattering. I was fortunate to slip away unscathed.