Politics?

Ever notice some of the weird shit Rick Perry says?

oh.my.god.

I don't think I have ever been this excited to see a movie.

coffee.

I drink coffee every single day.  It is an integral part of my morning, and people who are close to me know it is not a pretty sight when I spend more than an hour in wakefulness without having my coffee.

About a month ago, my coffeemaker broke.  It had started showing signs of weakness earlier than that, but being the optimist that I am, I believed the old chap could pull though and regain full functionality.  It did not.  It died.  I almost died with it, too.  However, riding a wave of guilt from recent boredom induced online shopping binges, I decided this was not an item that needed replacement.  I convinced myself a life without a coffeemaker was still a good life to live.  I believed there were ways to have my coffee, sans the maker.  

What it really came down to was a shoddy technique of boiling water on the stove in a pot, then slowly pouring it over the coffee in the filter of the broken coffeemaker.  It was just bad.  The coffee was weaker (which in itself is an atrocity), and it wouldn’t stay hot because the heating plate no longer worked, AND it was a time consuming pain in the ass.

So after stubbornly sticking to this method for a month, I decided to go to Bed Bath and Beyond, armed with my 20% off coupon, and buy a damn coffeemaker.  Once there, I was instantly drawn to a lovely Krups machine.  It had bells, it had whistles, and it had an “on” button that actually worked.  It also had a higher price tag than I was hoping for, but what the hell – that just meant my 20% off saved me more dollars than had I purchased a cheaper product.

When I got home, I eagerly unwrapped my new lifesaver and proceeded to set it up.  The first thing I must do, I tell myself, is wash that carafe! 

In my mind, I am being a responsible adult, washing before first use. (Go, me!)  In reality, I am being a fool because the first thing I do is forcibly break off the fucking lid off the carafe.  Plastic bits go flying.  My eyeballs pop out of my face.  I am sad.  I curse my old coffee maker for having a detachable, washable lid, and myself for assuming all coffeemakers are made the same.  But then, behold! Some of the tiny parts are captured in the carafe itself!  My mind excitedly takes me to a happy place where I superglue the pieces back together into one functional, amazing lid.  So I turn the carafe upside down to empty these tiny plastic pieces into my hand, and down they tumble, ricocheting away, out of the carafe, bouncing out onto my hopeful hand, and continuing on their way, down the drain of the sink.

So I stood there for a few minutes, my mouth hanging open, eyeballs on the counter, in disbelief of my own stupidity.  Finally, I pulled myself together and repositioned the broken lid onto the carafe.  It sits on there just swell, although it’s not secure anymore, so what can you do.   At least I can still make my darn coffee in the morning. 

A Delightful Find in the New Nabe

I was exploring my neighborhood this afternoon when I discovered a most darling little vegetable garden growing right along a stretch of sidewalk.  At first I didn't realize what it was and commented to myself on the odd foliage growing on the side of the road.  But then I found this informative sign, and decided to look for some treasures.

After a little digging around I settled on taking these guys with me.  Perhaps a petite fried green tomato is in my future!

In other news, wtf is this and why does it exist?

Nevermind why I'm subscribed to a magazine that places ads with a target audience for this lifelike baby monkey doll.  Can we just talk about why any sort of demographic for a lifelike baby monkey doll exists in the first place?  Now you know I love monkeys, and baby anything is usually pretty cool, but spending $140 on this doll is totally bananas. If you or someone you know has this doll, please contact me immediately, because I have so many questions. 

Contemplations of the Q-tip

I’ve had something on my mind lately, and it has been driving me crazy.

Q-tips, the loveable go-to instrument for the cleansing of the ear hole, explicitly states on their packaging that a Q-tip is not to be used in the ear canal.  

Then, to make an even more ludicrous declaration on it’s label, it goes on to suggest what you can use a Q-tip for instead. 

A variety of uses!!

Let’s see.. applying ointments and cream – maybe.  And that’s more of a maaaaaaaybe than a maybe.  Or I don’t know, am I the only one who puts Neosporin on with my finger?  Hm, cleaning my keyboard –  nope, I don’t think I would buy a box of 500 hundred Q-tips for my bi-annual precision dusting of my laptop’s keyboard. And finally, household cleaning, demonstrated by a Q-tip enlarged 10x relative to its surroundings, lingering over some dirty bathroom grout.  Really, Q-tips?  Is this your attempt at humor?  No one in the history of this world has ever scrubbed a dirty bathroom with a freaking Q-tip.  This is just laughable.  I estimate the usable surface area of a Q-tip is about 15mm².  And I estimate the cleanable surface area of a bathroom is at least 2m², or 2,000,000mm².  So you see, Q-tips, it does not make sense to use a Q-tip to clean something 133,333 times its size.

COME ON, Q-TIPS. I know you know people are buying you because they clean their ears with you. All these silly excuses for alternate uses of the Q-tip is obviously a front.  You remind me of the mafia-owned coffee shop next door to where I used to work.  It was clearly not an establishment for purchasing coffee and pastry delights.  Yet still, I once made the mistake of dropping in for coffee, which was microwaved and handed to me.  And there I sat, for the longest 5 minutes of my life, awkwardly drinking my coffee.  The girl at the counter glared at me.  Large Italian men kept walking into the shop, and they would glare at me and disappear into a mysterious back room.  It was like a clown car, but instead of clowns, dudes in the mafia, and instead of a car, a dingy back office.  I felt unwanted there.

And now here I am 4 years later and I feel like I’m back at square one.  Q-tips, you make me feel unwanted.  I buy you for your one forbidden purpose.  I feel so conflicted.

GTFO

I think it’s hilarious what my requirements for a potential man friend have become lately.  I mean, from an objective point of view, it really is a little ridiculous.  Allergic to cats?  Get the fuck out.  No literally, GTFO.  You have no business being around me or my cat hair laden attire.  Don’t like cats?  Why are you even talking to me?  Do you think I would ever trade the most beautimous Minnie for your sake?  Just leave.  However, if you like cats, this is a whole different ballgame.  If you like cats, step a little closer please. Have a kitty of your own? Think this white cat hair on my pant leg would nicely complement your lapel?  Fancy the Fancy Feast for your feline?  Ah, it's a glorious thing.

But seriously, it’s not because I’m some sort of psycho cat lady (enter: Intervention?).  I have realized that having a cat, or any sort of pet, is much like having a child: the people in your life have to be open to this other being in your life.  And vice versa.  I once broke up with a guy because he was mean to Minnie.  He shoved a burrito in her face.  Picture some dude forcing a gigantic burrito up her petite and gorgeous little nostril just because she had been curious to see what we were eating.  He took that paper wrapped goodness from Benito’s and rubbed that shit in her face and guffawed.  GTFO.  That was the last time I ever saw him.

Obviously, liking cats is not my one and only requirement for potential gentlemen friends; it is only one aspect of my life that happens to conflict somewhat frequently with other peoples’ lives. Education, aspirations, propensity for eating delicious (junk?) foods – these are all also vitally important features of a mate that must be screened for immediately.   And it’s tough, too.  I mean, what are you supposed to do with a guy that seems to have it all except in one department? What if he is great in every way, except he never wants kids, or has an imaginary friend, or is scared of dentists? You then have to decide if these are traits you can tolerate for X amount of time in the future.  And the hard part is, you never really know what the value of X is going to be.

Sigh, dating can be so confusing.  

This Just Seems Cruel

I understand this is meant to be "art," but it seems more like they are just rubbing it in the poor piglet's face. "Hey Piggy, I believe your only purpose on this earth is to be eaten. I will make a mockery of this and reconstruct you using your cured body parts.  Yes, this is what you lost your life for."

Pig, from Sophie H Powell

I mean, are they at least planning on eating it afterwards? Because then it wouldn't be SO bad.

So The Adventures Begin..

Well, I’m single again.  Hey all you girls in relationships, remember what that’s like? Hanging out with your girlfriends all the time, calling your mom every day, dressing up and going out every weekend?  It feels young, but sadly I am feeling older.  While being single is fun and makes you an awesome independent lady, it’s also a little scary.  Dating again? Getting to know someone, both the good and the bad? Risking more heartache?  Ach, the thought of it makes me nauseous. Seriously, I am actually nauseous right now because I made myself think about that.  It is all horribly daunting, but I guess it is part of what life is all about – taking risks in hopes of finding something great. 

So I guess I am “dating” again.  Well, I’m not really dating anybody in particular, but I’m open to the idea of dating, rather.  I have been on one date, with a most memorable gentleman.  The date commenced with taking shots of vodka at a local douchebag eatery and ended with the gentleman peeing in front of me and a family gathered in front of their TV.  What a scene! I am thrilled that this event has kick started my fabulous and glamorous new dating lifestyle.

True story.

The good news is that perhaps now this blog can return to its underlying theme of the past: adventures in dating, now in a new city!  Let’s see how Boston does. Gentlemen...

The Papilla Monster

I was told I have a large papilla today.

I was running through the clinic, trying to find my instructor before the mad rush of PM appointments.  As I passed an older faculty member (with whom I've had very little interaction), he called to me. 

“Hi!” He said.

I stopped in my tracks and pivoted on my heel towards him, unsure of what to expect of this impending encounter.

“Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles,” I answered, even though I knew that wasn’t what he meant.  He was Persian.  I had been identified as a fellow Persian.  He gave me a frown-y glance, so I gave in and said, “I’m Persian.  Half.  My dad is from Tehran.”

“I could tell.  You know how I could tell?  It’s your eyes.”

“Oh.. thank you?”

“Yes, it’s your eyes.  You have a large papilla.” He attempted to demonstrate with his hands, curling his index finger and thumb together to form a quarter sized void.

My papilla is… what?  How do I respond to such an unusual statement?  He was not giving me a compliment. He was not trying to be funny.  He was simply telling me I was identifiable as member of the Persian community because my papilla was apparently the size of a quarter.

So I gave him the most polite awkward laugh I could manage and thanked him.  I tried to think what a normal person would say next in a conversation like this, but, at a loss for words, I ended up just poking at my giant papilla while standing there staring at him blankly.  “So…” 

Finally he excused me to run off to wherever I was running earlier.

As I was hurrying off I heard him call to me, “Tell your father I say hi!”

Persians.

RIP Marmalade

You were the coolest cat I knew.  I'll miss you.

Happy Friday!

I'm taking Bolt Bus to New York for the weekend, and I'm stoked. I left my computer at home, packed a few dresses and got on the bus. It's great, sitting by the window, amply spacing out, and watching the world pass by while listening to some good music (currently: Washed Out. Girls, I'm gonna DB it for you when I get back.) The awesome thing about looking out the window on the bus is that you literally don't have to do anything - you don't have to watch the road or follow any kind of plot line (does this mean I'm lazy? ...yes.); you just sit and enjoy the constantly changing scenery. You can let your mind take you where it wants to go.

My favorite thing to do while riding the bus between New York and Boston is looking for Bigfoot in the dense forests we pass. I haven't spotted him yet, and maybe he is supposed to live in the northwest, but if I ever do see him, I'll be sure to take a blurry picture on my iPhone and post it on this blog as proof.

Anyway, typing this out on my phone sucks and my toes feel like they are going to freeze off, so I'm going to cut this short. I hope everyone had a good weekend! :)

Sent from my iPhone

Bad Kitty-Karma

I think I've recently come into some bad Kitty-Karma.  Yesterday, I was being silly and complained to my subletter about Minnie.  I know what you're thinking - how could you ever have any sort of negative thoughts about such an angel? I don't... But it's just this new habit she's developed.

I keep a bowl of water for her in my bedroom.  She refuses to drink the water by her food bowl, so now there's a bowl in my bedroom.  When I first introduced the bedroom bowl of water to her, she drank from it like a cat normally would.  You know, she'd walk up to it, sit down for a drink, and then leave.

Apparently that got too boring for her.  One day she decided to tip her bowl over.  I was sitting a few feet away when she did it, and when I went to investigate the sound I had heard, I discovered her sitting in the puddle, looking confused and confounded at me. She then pathetically tried to drink out of her empty water bowl, checking back to make sure I was taking note of this pitiful display.  So like the good mommy I am, I cleaned up the mess and give her more water.

I didn't think much of this, until it happened again. And then again.  And then several more times after that.   Why, Minnie?  Why must you knock over your lovely bowl of water every day? And what is your obsession with water bowls?  Last year, she would "booby trap" my closed bedroom door while I was sleeping - she would drag her water bowl directly in front of where the door opens, so I would almost step in it every morning.  Why you do these things, cat?

So I dared to complain about all the spills to my subletting roommate, and while I was doing so I could feel Minnie's eyes projecting lasers in the back of my head.  Ever since then, I have had bad Kitty Karma.  I have been spilling water non stop - knocking glasses over left and right.  Most recently, I knocked over a large and stout, completely full jar of water on my nightstand.  It went everywhere, bathing my iPhone, 1/3 of my bedroom floor, into my drawers and over my books.   And you know what?  Minnie was sitting there looking smug and watching me frantically trying to shake the water out of my phone and soak up the spillage.

This is what happens when Minnie gets mad.  Don't make Minnie mad.

Perhaps this is just the price I have to pay to stop her bad habit, but I'm afraid to see the next scheme she concocts.

Things I Like.

Do you know me?

If you answered "yes," "sorta," or "I'm not sure" to this question, then you are aware that I enjoy stickers.  Stickers make everything better.  Boring computer screen? STICKER.  Bland looking framed picture of a pillow? Googly eye stickers to the rescue.  Can't tell which lighter is yours?  Pig sticker (which doubles as both and identifier and adorable! What a bargain.)  If Minnie didn't shed so much, she'd probably have some googly eye stickers on the tip of her lil tail. I mean, how cute would that be?! I strongly encourage you, get on that sticker bandwagon.

Meet Pill-ojo*. 

I always liked stickers.  I suppose most kids did, and perhaps some day they eventually grow out of it.  But me? No.  I covered my dressers in stickers as far up as my arm could reach when I was a kid, and these days I'm pretty much doing the same thing.

A couple of years ago, I discovered Sticker Planet at the Farmers Market on 3rd and Fairfax in Los Angeles.  Let me just say.. I hope heaven is on Sticker Planet.  I mean, I could only it imagine it would be.  Just think of the possibilities!  Anyway, Sticker Planet really sealed the deal with my sticker obsession, and now every time I visit LA, I always make a stop in this outrageously delightful store.  (Remember when I took you there, Kyle? Number 1 Los Angeles destination, indeed.)

Great story, right?  Well, this is where the story line takes a turn.  I live in Boston now.  Sticker stores, where art thou!? This forces me to do my sticker perusing online, and let me tell you, the internet is a scary place sometimes.  You never know what you're going to find.  I googled "funny stickers," hoping to come across some bears wearing pajamas in sticker form, or googly eye glasses (Are you taking notes, sticker stores? These ideas are golden.)  But alas, this is not what I found.

But this brings me to my point... the whole point of this post, I guess.  I found this sticker online today and it tickled my fancy.

Hehe.. they said diarrhea.

Woah! Buy 6 and save 10%!? Deal alert, you guys!

Also, since we are on the topic of poo now, this:

Incredible.

*In my favorite movie (omg, you get to learn so much about me today!), the main character spots a framed picture of corn. Why not put pictures of things you love in picture frames?

Tiny Terrors

I hate to admit it, but I've been living with a situation.  Lots of gross, little situations... cockroaches.  We first noticed them about a year ago.  My first sighting was the eerie shadow of one trapped in the light fixture above the couch in the living room.  I noticed the outline of its long antennae and nasty body one day, and tried to convince myself that it had been there forever, I just hadn't noticed it before.  Then one appeared in my bedroom late one night while I was home alone, forcing me to douse it in Lysol until it died while trying to keep Minnie at bay.

It was disgusting.  I really can't think of anything that grosses me out more than cockroaches.  Every time I would see one, it would send me into a panic.  I mean, I had this to fear. (Spoiler alert: cockroach enters woman's intestines through the back door.)  It's bad enough worrying about a cockroach walking around on your face while you sleep, so how is anyone expected to sleep ever again if those little buggers can squeeze into places you never thought possible?

Anyway, eventually the cockroaches ceased (I am knocking on wood as I type this).  Maybe they were finally scared off after Kyle (unintentionally?) smashed a cockroach with a shoe and somehow, magically, all the proper forces were in order and the stars aligned and the cockroach's juicy guts went soaring through the air, only to land in the mouth of a poor spectator. (Sorry Nick.) So maybe the other cockroaches saw that and it grossed them out too and they ran away.  Whatever the reason, I haven't seen any sign of a cockroach for quite some time now...

Until....

this:

That's a cockroach leg.  Found in between my fingers.  The nasty little hairs on it were clinging to my finger.  I think they're taunting me.  I think it's a sign that they are coming back for revenge, and I am terrified.

A Message From the Universe, Brought to You by Roxy

I always read about people finding signs from the Universe or God or what have you in their everyday life.  This may be in the form of an unexplainable coincidence, like winning the lottery, or finding Jesus in a Cheeto. (Have you met Cheesus?)  I was always skeptical about this form of communication... until it happened to me.

Yes, it's true, the Universe has attempted to make contact with me.

But in my case, the Universe has chosen to send my message in a more cryptic form.  It's a message that leaves me confused.  I was not aware that the Universe used this a mode of communication.  How many other similar messages have I been missing in all these years?  Is this now going to be my Universe Message Inbox?  How often do I have to check it?  Furthermore, Universe (I know you're reading this), this message does not give me very much confidence.
(photo and more after the jump)

Inspiration.

I think we should all try to be a little more like the Crazy Nastyass Honey Badger.  And possibly Randall.

The Challenge in Studying for Boards

Really, the only challenge is...

how am I supposed to study with this animal all over my desk?

The Decks' Deceit

So I've been studying for boards lately, and I've been using Dental Decks, a set of pre-fab flashcards, to do so.  Now these decks aren't cheap, mind you.  They charge $245 for the set of them, and while I agree that they are helpful and I must say I didn't pay for my set (thanks, sister!), I am still a little irked by the apparent laziness I've found embedded in the decks.

I usually like to supplement or cross check information while I'm studying with the ever so fabulous internet.  This usually takes me to Wikipedia, where many of my questions can be answered.  So while reading a flashcard about the way a nephron works, I sought out to find some good images to accompany my studies, and ended up on this Wikipedia entry.

And then I noticed...

hmm.. this description sounds oddly familiar..

YOU COPIED FROM WIKIPEDIA!?

How many cards have I studied that are copy-and-pasted from Wikipedia?  Doesn't everyone say to use Wikipedia cautiously since its entries can be edited by anybody?  Does Dental Decks know this? Do they care?  Do they like charging us pathetic dental students hundreds of dollars for Wikipedia entries chopped up into conveniently sized blocks of hell?  Thanks a lot, Dental Decks. I guess at least this eliminates my need to read Wikipedia entries to compare descriptions of biochemical and physiologic processes.

The Minnie Update.

So as we know, Minnie's big day was today.  A couple days before her surgery, I was instructed by the vet to administer Clindamycin (Dr. Ganda's favorite!) twice a day for two and half days.  That cat may seem small and sweet, but she is strong and does NOT have a taste for medicine.  My solo struggles in squirting 1mL of Clinda down my cat's throat was sorta funny to me, so I thought I'd record one of my efforts for all to see.  

Anyway.  So I dropped Minnie off this morning, and then an hour and a half later, I get a call from the vet. I panicked because I wasn't supposed to pick her up until 3:30, and it was only 10:00, and I had signed a little thing on the release form saying that if something went wrong, I wanted them to call me ASAP.  So I freaked.  Then the nice hippie vet doctor man informed me that my dear Minnie's teeth were all barely hanging on by a thread.  We're talking loosey goosey, kind of just chilling on the alveolar crest, waiting for a good moment to jump into the back of Minnie's throat.  And they were sore.  Really sore.  So sore, when she was under general anesthesia, if you touched any of her teeth, they would automatically chatter.  Since she was in such bad shape, all of her teeth but the canines had been extracted.

My POOR baby.  So I cried and said thank you to the doctor man, and waitied patiently for the next five and a half hours to go by so I could go get her already.

When I finally went to pick her up, she was awake and seemed okay.  The vet gave me some before and after pictures, we had a little chat, and they sent us on our merry way.

Minnie's mouth right before surgery

Minnie's mouth post-surgery.

Salad anyone?

Matt had a "salad" for dinner tonight.  I guess salad is code for nachos now? (He claims everything below the toppings and above the chips is lettuce.)

somewhere there is lettuce. 

PS - this would be a great addition to the menu at Hidden Fats.

New Ketchup, WHERE ARE YOU?

It has been over a year now since I heard rumors about a new and magical ketchup packet - one that facilitates both dipping and squeezing (that's what she said?).  At the time, I couldn't have been more excited.  All of my wildest dreams were coming true - the way I fast food dined was about to be revolutionized!

So I waited. I perused local fast food joints.  In-n-Out? Nope. Still the ketchup pump + tiny paper cup disaster over the trash cans.  McDonalds? Nope. Still stingy with their sloppy "fancy" 1/2 oz ketchup packets.  And since we are on the topic, where do they get off calling these things fancy?

not fancy.

They are the lowest form of ketchup.  Nobody likes little ketchup packets - they are for ketchup beggars, people at McDonalds trying to douse their fries with another form of sodium, while the cashiers withhold it from us and get a God complex out of the whole ordeal.  You want fancy ketchup?

THIS. is the fanciest ketchup.

yes fancy.

Just so we're on the same page here.  Tiny, glass bottled, single serving ketchup.  FANCY.

Anyway.  I continued to search.  My active search became more passive as months passed, and after a little while, I had almost forgot about this new ketchup completely.

But sometimes every now and then, something will remind me - a french fry, a difficult to open "fancy," a large chicken nugget, and I suddenly feel alone and misled.

Please. If anyone finds the new ketchup, please fill me in on the whereabouts (so I can stock up).

What If You Were Attacked..

with POO?

Ok, now imagine you are wearing your favorite outfit, just hanging out on the street corner, and some dude, some old nasty dude with nothing better to do with his time than to look for innocent victims to shower with some filthy, smelly, stanky POO, comes up to you and throws

frozen cubes

of POO,

all over you?

Because, my friend, that is what happened in Norway to some poor, innocent cars.

The horror!

http://ejoh.se/fs/the-poo-poo-terrorist.html

The Sad Story of Gorgeous Minnie

Minnie, pictured below in her Corey Hart phase, has always been admired by the public for her beauty and her graceful interactions with her fans.

Recently however, some sad news has come to our attention.

Minnie's oral health is in Jeopardy.

She now has to undergo some pretty intense dental work (scaling and extractions) due to what the vet called "bad genes." I'm sorry? Minnie is still the pinnacle of perfection, she just had some bad LUCK. Genes, still perfect. So anyway, she seems to have severe gingivitis and a condition called FORL (feline oral resorptive lesions), meaning the roots of all her itty bitty lil teeth are being resorbed, meaning I need to kick it up a few notches and start brushing her teeth and contributing to her success in oral health.

So while Minnie may lose a few teeth over over this heartbreaking ordeal, she will hopefully feel much better overall and will be back soon to pleasing all her fans world wide. Please contact me personally for inquiries as to where to send her flowers and gifts.

A Call for Change

Well, hello again. People have been asking me about this blog recently, and I decided maybe I should change my blogitude and get back to it.

Anyway, I just needed to vent. I like Boston and all. I actually get to liking it more and more as time goes on. However, there is one bone I really must pick.

WHAT. Is with all the used tampons on the sidewalks?

And NO, I'm not talking about this guy.

Seriously, there are so many "discarded" tampons all over the sidewalks of Boston. Ok, it's not like there's an inch thick coating of tampons lining the streets, or more than one tampon per square yard (mile?), but I have seen WAAAY too many used tampons in this city, and ONLY this city, way more than I would like to see in a lifetime.

Ladies of Boston, please. Can't you just... NOT do that?

PS: Learn from my mistakes. You should probably never Google Image Search "used tampons," no matter how brave you think you may be.