Hugs Not Drugs

I could never be a heroin addict or do any type of drug that requires me (or someone else) to inject it into myself via needle. Not because drugs are bad or could ruin my life or like in those after school specials where the drug addict loses their family, friends, homes and get so high they jump out a window (because they think they’re a bird and can fly) and die. No, it’s because I just really, REALLY don’t like needles. Just to clarify, I’m not the type that if I have to get blood drawn at the doctors office I go into a full on panic attack or burst into tears. I just squeeze my eyes shut and death grip whatever I’m holding in my other hand until the horrible experience is over.

Another thing I can’t do is watching other people getting blood drawn or being stuck with needles. A few months ago my dear mom had to have foot surgery and I stayed with her while the nurses prepped her. As I was sitting there I briefly zoned out (it was at the ass crack of dawn and I’m not much of a morning person) when all the sudden the nurse stuck mom with the needle for her IV in HER HAND. So, mom thinks this is hilarious, since she knows I’m not a fan of needles, and starts waving her hand around, needle wobbling about while she laughed and I nearly passed out. No, she wasn’t even drugged at this point.

A few days ago I had a follow-up doctor appointment (not for the recent Nerf gun attack to my eye) and they had to draw some blood and make sure my blood stuff are at the levels they’re suppose to be. There’s also something about my thyroid possibly being an asshole, I wasn’t entirely listening; just wishing this whole stab me with a needle thing would hurry up and end. The nurse inspected my left arm and explained that she’s really good at finding veins. So good, in fact, she could do it with her eyes closed. (She totally tried it too). She then inspected my right arm when leftie was all ha-ha can’t find my veins! Rightie copied leftie and the poor nurse had to accept defeat and debated about sticking me in the vein along my forearm or hand, meanwhile telling me she doesn’t like that stick people there and hasn’t done it in a really, really long time. Fear overcame her and she decided a different nurse should do this procedure.

At this point I was hoping they would ask me to come back later but nurse Ratchet was more than happy to accept the challenge. She inspected both arms, forearms and the top of both hands. She then told me stories about how sometimes she has to stick people in their feet and laughed when my already pale face became even paler.  She also told me stories about her days as an EMT and how they would do a procedure (mostly on babies and oldies) where they would draw blood by corkscrewing the needle into the victim  patients bone just to draw blood. She then decided the vein on the top of my hand was suffice and told me to squeeze the mini football in my hand while she jabbed my hand with the needle. She also had to keep reminding me to breathe because she didn’t want me to pass out. After about an eternity she told me she was finished and I swear it felt like she dug the needle deeper into my hand. I asked her why she didn’t take the it out because it still hurt and she laughed and said she took it out. I could feel her moving the cotton ball on my hand and with all the courage I could muster I peeked with one eye and noticed she did indeed take out the needle. Even though I told her it still felt like a needle was being stabbed into my hand, she kept pressing the cotton ball onto my hand while she put a bandaid on my tiny but painful wound.

I didn’t even get a lollipop.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Dreams have always been something that interested me. You close your eyes and fall into this magical wonder land where you can sprout wings and fly, become a super hero with the ability to change into anything, or if you’re like me you just have that falling dream that results in random and spastic arm and leg twitches. Then there’s “Sean” and his most recent dream.

He started the conversation by saying, “You won’t believe this dream I had.” I, naturally assumed the next few words out of his mouth would be that it was funny or strange. Nope, instead he told me that he had a dream that he switched cell phone carriers. Yes, my dear interweb friends, you have read that correctly, just an ordinary dream where he switched from Sprint to Verizon. This was quickly followed by a “What?” and a stare of “You got to be kitten me, meow.” He then went on to say that in order for him to successfully change companies he would have to fight (mortal combat style) the worlds toughest 10 men. Apparently, dream “Sean” was bad ass enough to complete the task.

This is also the same guy who had a dream that his first born would also be the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. According to THAT dream, the world is only allowed to have so many human beings living on it that when it reaches a certain number a toxin is released and turns everyone into zombies. So when the zombie apocalypse starts we can all blame “Sean” and his first born. Also, this first born is apparently the cure for the apocalypse. I can’t remember how this child saves humanity (something about the salvia I think?) so for now we’ll all just roll our eyes in disbelief and hold our breath for the day this child dooms us all.

Just a quick update on Project Pretend to be a Skinny Blonde with a Duck Face on Craigslist, so I’m still getting messages from these fellows stating they saw Duck Face at Wal-mart. Normally, I delete them but I felt this urge to share the latest gem that fell into my inbox.

“Hey…it’s me…Love to meet you ! I can be generous and you will love it. Very versatile and experienced…Massages, money for shopping, dine out at fancy restaurants…Holla back honey boo!”

He had me at Honey boo…*swoooooooooooon*

What about your dreams? Anything zombie related or having to switch phone carriers?

The Craigslist Experiment

I’m not sure about you guys but sometimes when I’m bored I like to peruse the almighty Craigslist. My absolute favorite section is Missed Connections. This is the section where someone makes two second eye contact with someone else and then wishes they had the courage to have said Hi! Usually it’s something along the lines of “Oh my gosh! I totally saw you at red light and you were like in a red Camaro and I was like all smiley and stuff. I totally saw our future together when you made eye contact with me and then the light turned green and you zoomed out of my life! E-mail me and tell me what color the dream catcher hanging off my mirror was!” Sometimes they attach a picture of themselves, other times it’s just a crap ton of smiley faces.

Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to post to a fake missed connection ad on Craigslist. Just to see what kind of responses, and although it’s only been two days I’m incredibly surprised that I have not gotten one wang picture. That’s surprise not disappointment you sickos. To really make sure I got some responses I found a picture (that I found on Google) of a random blonde chick sporting the oh so adorable duck face.

(Click on the link below to see the fake add)

 http://lawton.craigslist.org/mis/3432581035.html

As you can see, she may not be the brightest but at least she’s pretty. Ignore the random bobby pin in her hair; she was busy perfecting the subtle duck face to notice it. Let’s also ignore that she points out this mystery man was also with another woman, she still seems like a sweet heart who loves ! and smiley faces (and the occasional sad face).

So, on to our results! In a span of two days our little friend got 14 replies. Out of those 14 we got 6 replied with pictures, 9 that said he was the guy and provided a color of the flower headband (blue was the most popular color, followed by pink and red), 4 admitted they weren’t the guy but wished they were and 1 one was from out of state but was more than willing to visit. And NONE  of them acknowledged they were with another woman. Here are some memorable quotes from this little experiment.

“Hey cutie, I’m not the dude but I’m a hot dude from Colorado that can go to Wallmart.”

(That’s not a typo…that’s how he spelled Wal-mart) 

“I don’t remember the color but I remember that you can text me.”

(He then provided his phone number)

“Hey there, how r u hit me baq if u wanna chat.”

(Can I hit you back with a dictionary?)

“Blue”

(Yep, that was the whole message. Also, the answer was incorrect. The correct answer was non-existent)

“Could swear I saw u there babe not sure I’m the guy u saw but I’m better.”

(No, no you’re not. Also, I’m not much a grammar Nazi but holy Jesus, use some punctuation)

“U wanna chat?”

 

Then one guy proceeded to tell me his stats (age, weight, height) and that even though he was born with two different eye colors he can still see perfectly with them.

In conclusion, this may have been an experiment in Craigslist but considering these lovely bachelors reside in this area I think I’m going to remain single for a long time.

The Cheater

So, before this story begins we have to agree (again) to not spill the beans about the location of where this story took place. Did we all pinky promise? Make sure you didn’t cross any of your fingers (and don’t pull that elementary school crap where you cross your feet or legs). Also, I have it on good authority some of you didn’t even make the promise. Fail.

Anywho, this story takes place at the some undisclosed location as the previous story, so shut your pie hole if you know where it is. Several of us decided since it would be a slow night to play some games (also shoot each other with Nerf Guns, don’t worry guys I wore eye protection…I’M FINE BY THE WAY). One game that made the cut was called Headbands. Players wear a headband (that’s where the name came from in case you didn't know) with a card on it. The player then has to ask yes or no questions in order to figure out what word is on their card. When you guess correctly you toss away one of your chips and the player at the end of game without chips is the winner. For the record, none of were winners.

This is where The Cheater steps in. To be fair we don’t think “Sheniqua” was intentionally cheating. The first incident occurred when she wanted to take a picture of herself and show everyone on Twitter how adorable she looked with this card stuck on her forehead. It wasn’t until after the picture was taken and “Chris” and “Chanel Pearl” gave her the shifty eyes that “Sheniqua” realized she read her card.

The second incident occurred when she went downstairs to pick up the food her family dropped off (and I had to snack on left over vegetables and crackers left from the previous group of people *sad eyes at mom*). Her nephew, who is learning how to read, attempted to sound out the word on her card but her sister is the one who spouted out PICKLE! The next few cheating incidents occurred when “Sheniqua” went to the bathroom and read her card in the mirror as she washed her hands and when the card “fell off” as she bent over to plug in her phone charger. Yeah, we didn’t buy it either.

She also had this habit of hinting to other players what their card said. Case in point, mine said Walt Disney and “Sheniqua” offered such gems like, “My son would know him!” and “He’s really old and cartoons!” Let’s just ignore that with the help of “Chris” humming the theme to Sleeping Beauty I still couldn’t figure out what my card said.

“Sheniqua” is no longer allowed to play games.

Happy Thanksgiving from "Chris" and Autocorrect

Nerf Gun Etiquette

So, before I tell you the story of how I almost lost my eye, we all need to agree to ignore the fact that this incident occurred at a place that it should not have. Ok, so now that we have all made the unbreakable vow (or for you Muggles out there, a pinky promise) to ignore where this took place. May God have mercy on your soul if you had your fingers crossed.

Ok, so back to the story of how I almost lost my eye. “Chris” and I decided to bring our Nerf Guns to this undisclosed location where we spend 8 hours a day together, 5 days a week. Today, we decided to play with our toys…and by play I mean shoot each other with the foam bullets. Most shots were aimed towards areas that wouldn’t hurt (you know boobs and stomach) and laughs were had. Until it happened.

“Chris” was cowering behind his dry erase board like a coward, gun aimed straight towards me but his eyes hidden behind his make shift shield. There was a click of the trigger, the *poof* sound of air as the foam bullet shot out from the gun and headed towards me and BAM! Foam bullet to my EYE! MY EYE!

The next few seconds were silent. Silent and painful as I covered my right eye with my hand, tears streaming down just the right side of my face as I yelled “YOU SHOT MY EYE!” Another brief silent seconds, although in that pain it might as well have been HOURS, and did he come to my side? No, instead he burst into a fit of giggles. Now, don’t judge him too harshly because that in turn made me burst into a fit of giggles.

I’m doing well but don’t be too worried if you see me tomorrow, on Thanksgiving, with an eye patch, crutches and a neck brace. I’m fine, really.

Staring

I'm currently working on my billionth semester trying to get my degree in Elementary Education and some of my education related assingments require that I complete 10 hours of observation in an elementary school in my area. A few weeks after the semester began I was finally given my assignment and the school I would be observing. I felt a little bit nervous as I walked into the classroom with my pen and notebook and about 20 pairds of eyes turned to watch me as I awkwardly and slowly made my way across the classroom.

About an hour or so into the observation the teacher had to make a trip to the office and asked if I would keep an eye on the students. They were quietly working on an assignment and she stated that they would just keep to themselves as they worked. Sounded easy enough. A few minutes after she left I was checking the email on my phone when I had this eery feeling that I was being watched. After working in jobs where cell phone use was a big no-no that eery feeling was starting to make me feel a tad bit paranoid.

I tucked my cell phone and slowly looked around the classroom and that's when I saw him. This little 4 grade boy just staring so intently at me with no emotion on his face. I felt confused and slightly worried. Why was this kid just staring at me? Then it happened. His hand began to slowly rise to his face and then formed into this tiny, little fist with his index finger sticking out. His finger slid slowly up his nostril and then right back out, a giant booger attached to the tip of his finger. And just as quickly, he ate the booger and turned around to work on his assignment, as if nothing happened.

As I sat in there, still trying to figure out what just happened the teacher walked back in. She asked if everything happened, I said no and went back to writing my notes. As I was leaving for the day the booger eater turned and waved good-bye.