When you call my mom’s voicemail it starts with, “Caller you’re on the air …” and I think it’s hilarious.  Even though my great mother eats crazy for breakfast, she’s friggin brilliantly funny sometimes.

So I’m laying in bed and need a beverage.  I have nothing but water cause I’ve been gone for what seems like forever and the only other thing I have is beer.  So I’m in my pajamas at 5pm EST with a Corona and MorningStar Farms Artichoke Spinach bites.

Holy shit 2009 fucking rocks!

“…Only if she’s 5′3″! thank you Sir Mix-a-Lot

Two weekends ago I attended the beloved Macy*s 2-day sale.  Ya know, Macys has a sale about every 11th hour why in god’s name do they keep mailing out coupons and flyers and whatnot screaming FINAL SALE!  LAST CHANCE!  TWO DAYS LEFT!!!  THIS.IS.THE.LAST.SALE.OF.YOUR.LIFE and if you don’t go YOU’LL.DIE.A.HORRIFIC.DEATH!  I mean, seriously Macy*s, chill the fuck out.

Anywhoodle, I dragged myself to Macys to enjoy the LAST.CHANCE.SALE because this lady was in desperate … and I mean DESPERATE need of some bras.  For some odd reason although 1/2 my wardrobe is black, I only own one black bra.  I know, it’s a sin against nature.  About a month ago I looked down to adjust (read: admire) my rack and realized in what pathetic shape my black bra was.  That poor thing had seen better days but I loooooved it so much.  I loved the fabric and the support and the feel and everything about it.  But dear god in heaven it was tearing in all kinds of wrong places and no self-respecting woman can claim her “favorite bra” was that abused.  So off I went.

I had every intention of just replacing said black bra with an identical one.  I mean, that would be simple and easy so we aaaallll know that’s not what actually happened.  Not even close.  I made no less than 7 trips into the dressing room with handfuls of bras.  This is more far more painful and time consuming than bathing suit AND jean shopping rolled up into one little piggy in a blanket.  I have realized that our two bra style options are these: 1. slutty and lacey only to be worn pre-coitus and 2. so padded it could be used as a flotation device.

So I walked around the store touching EVERY.SINGLE.BRA (feeling like a pervert) for texture and comfort and fabric and to gauge whether an entire mattress was shoved into those things or not.  I tried one on, then put my shirt back on.  Nope, not that one.  Next.  Too small.  Too binding.  Odd-shaped cups.  Pointy Madonna boobs under a sweater.  WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT?

I asked the lovely dressing room attendant to size me.  Hmm, what a concept!  There I stood in a 36-C.  She sized me at a 34-B.  I looked at her, looked down at the tag hanging from my left boob with the size proudly stated in bold text, and looked back and her.

“Well, it all depends on how the bra is made” she said.

“Riiight.  So why get measured?”

I thanked her and sent her on her merry way.  After 2 hours, TWO BLOODY HOURS in the lingerie section, I finally found two bras that I am in love with.  Yeah, totally and completely in love.  The old favorite bra had NOTHIN on these two.  One is a C and one is a D so g’head and try to make sense of that.  I have NEVER IN MY LIFE been a D and those who know my boobs well *ahem* will attest they’re no D.  Sized as a B, come home with a C and a D.  Whatever.

Ladies, if you’re in the market for bras, holy shit don’t wait until the next LAST.SALE.OF.THE.NEW.MILLENNIUM at Macy*s … go get yourself a Luleh wire-free bra NOW!  Yeah WIRE FREE!!  It’s life changing, I promise.

In fact, I love this bra so much the first day I wore it I took a picture of my amazing boobs.  For no real reason in particular.  I just picked up my iPhone and snapped away.  Later that evening (you know where this is going), I was sitting in the chair, getting my hair did and my stylist who is a male and STRAIGHT and GORGEOUS starts asking about my iPhone.  So I turn it on and somehow ended up in the pictures.  The FIRST THING to pop up was the picture of my cleavage.  I could die, could you die!!!!  So um, apparently my hot ass stylist thinks the bra is great too.

I know you’re ALL going to think I’m insane but I WANT IT TO SNOW RIGHT THIS GOD DAMN MINUTE!!!  It’s currently 33 degrees, “feels like 20″ with the windchill and it’s TOO.COLD.TO.SNOW!!  It has snowed in EVERY city in this damn country including oddities like Las Vegas and New Orleans and everyone seems to be basking (or shut-in) in the winter wonderland!  The Nation’s Capital … America’s Taint?  Oh no, not a damn flake to speak of.  Yes, I am probably the only Californian to ever live here and pray for snow but I do.  I LOVE the silence of snow.  I love turning a corner down a quiet street and seeing the golden flakes under the street lamps, no footprints, no tire marks, just fresh snow.

Every year it snows here I rush outside with my camera and get every last snow-covered branch on film.  Today is officially the first day of winter and I got nothin.  Nothin!

I swear to God if it snows and I miss it while I’m in California, I am going to kick and scream and become a total nutbag.  I LOVE THE SNOW and must see it fall gracefully with my own eyes.

America’s taint, you suck!

Since mid-August I have spent every Monday and Wednesday evening in Anatomy & Physiology II and every Tuesday & Thursday in Microbiology.  This is completely useless to all of you but I am merely setting the stage for my Finals Preparation: FAIL story.

Last week I was feeling like real poo about my finals and was totally overwhelmed with it all.  (Shocking to feel overwhelmed in December, I know.)  But as this weekend approached, I thought, “Meh, we’ll see how it goes.”  I had a fabulously productive weekend (read: sleeping at MPs all weekend and made Spanakopita) AND did plenty of studying.

I feel fairly confident about my Micro final and my A&P II final is open book.  Sounds do-able, right?  Right.

So I spent my entire day today at an AMAZING conference for work which necessitated my getting up at 5am.  Um, yeah.  That’s like 4 hours earlier than I usually get up.  This is a sin against G-O-D.  So I got up, walked in the rain, took the train and a bus and a hot air balloon and a donkey to this conference.  Much to my delight the free coffee and snacks were YUM!  Then I got to listen to all these public health gurus talk about saving the world and I just wanted to light a candle and pass it around and hug my neighbor.  Then the greatest thing of all time happened.  I actually read the 400 page program they gave us and read that MAYA ANGELOU was speaking!!  Holy shitballs exciting, right?  (She’s the most amazing writer on the planet and I just used the word ’shitballs’.  I disgust myself).  So Ms. Angelou is so fabulous there are not words to describe the fabulousness of that woman.  This is the second time I have heard her speak AND I saw her at a restaurant in DC last year and almost poo’d in my pants right there.  Ok, I love this woman, it’s clear!

So I conferenced all day.  Got all up in my public health bidness.  Was feeling all invigorated and passionate and yada, yada, yada.  THEN I had a 2 hour mtg AFTER the already-insanely-long day, came home, fixed Indian food for dinner and quickly fell in to a catatonic state.  I must study for my finals.  I must.  Simply.  Must.

So I devised a plan:  Tomorrow is Wednesday.  I have my Micro final (*please reference aforementioned schedule).  As I was brushing my teeth I made a plan.  I’m too much of a zombie to study now, I thought.  I will head to the conference tomorrow for part of the day and cram before the test.  Micro is no big deal.  I should be ok. Brusha brush brusha my teeth.  Tomorrow is Wednesday.  WAIT.A.MINUTE!  Wait a GAWD DAMN MINUTE!  Tomorrow is Wednesday.  I have ANATOMY TOMORROW!! NOT MICRO!!

IDIOT.  SUCH an idiot.  This Finals Preparation: FAIL story is only a minor fail.  It would have been an all-out assault on my intelligence if I had actually gone to my OPEN BOOK ANATOMY FINAL, with my Microbiology notes in hand.  Talk about utter stupidity.  I guess I should feel relieved that I actually remembered this while brusha brusha brushing my teeth.  *phew*

Crisis averted

~~~~~

Phenomenal woman
That’s me

I sat in the hospital cafeteria avoiding the work I get paid for.  These tests have me down and it’s not enough that I study on the weekends and at night and on the bus and while masturbating (ok, that one was a joke) … but sometimes I study at work.  Yeah, sue me.  Yeah, so I don’t actually have the time at work to study but when push comes to shove I need to pass my classes.  Not to mention, I won’t be fired for powering through an extended lunch hour with my anatomy textbook c’mon.

I placed my magical iPhone headphones in my ears and selected some lovely mood music.  I can’t do songs with words cause I sing along to EVERYTHING.  And the last thing I need is a Madonna song peppered with mitochondria and DNA.  The Roots singing about cranial nerve III, no thanks.  I select some rain and thunder melodies and cracked open my book.  Chapter 28, the reproductive system.  Oy.  I hadn’t really thought that maybe I shouldn’t study the penis in the middle of a cafeteria.  Or wait.  Maybe I should!  Mwua ha ha ha ….

Testicles.  Scrotum.  Vas Deferens.  Blah blah blah.  Oh look an ovary!  Hi ovary.  I hate you bitches.  I really think you should die.  Every last one of you.  Wait shit, I shouldn’t say that.  One day I may need them.  Doubtful, but maybe.  Hi head of a sperm covered in a magical enzyme layer so you can penetrate the egg.  Hi little fella.

A lady sat down next to me with her lunch and opened her lunchtime reading.  A bible.  Awesome.  And aaawwkkwaaarrd!  I don’t think she noticed that I was busy intellectually dissecting the sperm but it automatically made me uncomfortable.  I mean sure, God “invented” all this stuff so maybe I shouldn’t be uncomfortable.  But *ahem* I was.  (Sidenote: This totally reminded me of the time my bookclub was reading The Happy Hooker.  Note to all:  Don’t read a book called The Happy Hooker on public transportation.)

So I go about my business and up walks a co-worker.

He is a really, really nice neurology resident who is so remarkably unpretentious that he seems neither like a doctor, nor a neurologist.  It had been a while since we had seen each other and it soon became apparent that he’s got the hots for me.  Um, not cause I’m all that …. shut your face.  Cause he’s short.  And it’s a rule that if you’re a short girl who doesn’t look like a mongrel then short men will like you.  So whatevs, he’s being friendly and we’re chatting about our patients and what have you.  As he asks what I’m studying, he looks down and sees this.  Staring him in the face:

Hi doctor who may or may not think I’m cute.  I know you’re a doctor but you’re also a devout Muslim and this is aaawwkkwaaarrd.  Clearly the man has seen a penis, HE IS A DOCTOR!  Not to mention, um … HE’S A MAN!  But it was weird, ok.  So he got all shifty in his stance, walked to buy food and came back with 4 oranges and 5 bottles of apple juice.  Clearly the lunch of champions.  He got paged and asked me to “watch over” his oranges and juice (g’head and make all the penis inferences you would like there).

So I get back to my studies, headphones in place.

Oh testicles, you’re such a funny little creature.  But wait … hello menstruation.  Aren’t you fun.  No you’re not …. DIE BITCH!

I look to my left, two seats down from me at the same table and what do I see?  A priest!  A GD PRIEST!

(Bless me father for I have sinned.  I am sorry I just typed ‘gd priest’ but I can’t think of any other way to truly convey how I feel.  You get it, right?  Ok thanks.  Yeah, 5 hail marys I promise.  Kiss Kiss G-O-D).

Now, this is not a religious hospital and never before had I seen a priest there before.  Why today?  At my table?  As I’m staring at a drawing of the vag?  *ahem* A vagina that he has most certainly never seen!  Sure there are people of faith here …. I mean, c’mon, it’s the chocolate city.  Bible reading on the lunch hour isn’t that strange of a thing.  But a priest?  … A white priest at a hospital where I am generally the ONLY non-African in attendance?  What in the Lord’s name is going on?

(Bless me father for I have sinned.  I am sorry I just said ‘In the Lord’s name’. 5 more hail marys.  Promise!)

~~~~~~~~

The test last night went great.  Thanks to the help of a muslim, a priest and a great set of testicles.

I had a wonderful post all worked out in my head tonight on the bus.  And then I got home and life hit me.  Square in the muther f*ckin’ face!

Things I am failing at:

Blogging

Creativity

Finding healthy stress-reducing activities

Ensuring that my trip home for the holidays doesn’t actually kill me

School

Adding another hospital to my long list of assignments at work

Emailing Moonspun to say, “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Emailing Sus to say, “I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TOO!!! Welcome Rocket!”

Emailing Hilary to say, “You kick ass!  Congrats on finishing school!”

Staying above water

~~~

I’m closing comments cause there’s nothing to say.  No words can help this next week speed by.  No words can ensure that I pass my classes.  No words can give more hours to my day.

I know, I know .. this too shall pass.  God willing

And so today ends a 30-day month where some of us made a promise to write everyday.  I would like the record to show that this is maybe only the second promise IN.MY.LIFE I have seen through to completion.  The first was that whole Meatless Month thing and after impressing myself with that, I vowed to complete NaBloPoMo for myself.  To say I was gonna do something and actually follow through with it.  Who the hell knew I could promise to the internets that I would live without meat AND promise to stranger friends that I would write every day and I did.  I actually did!  Surprisingly it was nowhere near as painful as I expected.  In October I felt I had to drag things out of me.  Days and days would pass without word from me.  Yet in November, my life grew horrifically boring and I still managed to write about it.  Lucky you.

These days I find myself having nothing of interest going on in my life.  No dates, no sex, no silly city-girl escapades.  Hell, not even any insect invaders in the ‘ol SFAH to report.  Such bore!  Sure there were weddings and Jews and friend drama but seriously folks, my life has hit an all-time low.  Booooring!

MP and I do this thing before bed where one of us whines to the other, “Tell me a story … Please.  Tell me a story …”  And for the last 13,286 times he has asked me this I reply, “I got nothin’ kid.  Nothin.”  At the end of my days he asks how my day was.  To which I reply, time and time again, “Good.  Busy, but good.  Nothin’ new.”  To which he begs me to tell him a sttoorryyyyy.  And in every one of these moments I reflect upon how fucking boring my life is.  I don’t know if it’s a mid-seasonal transition thing.  Where the red leaves have fallen and we’re waiting for winter to show up so we’re just doing this wait-and-see game with the seasons.  So we’re in the in-betweens.  Somewhere in a seasonal “taint” if you will …. waiting for some event to happen.  To talk about.  To share.

When that something happens, I promise you will be the first to know.