Drawing Quizes and Dinosaure Pictures

I have been out of commission lately due to a concussion I received on Tuesday (which I will, of course, write all about shortly). As a result of my concussion I was not allowed to do anything for three days, after which I have slowly been recuperating. Not doing anything includes no watching TV, no reading.... no homework.

As a result I was unable to do the reading required for the pop quiz in my upper division American Literature class. My professor decided that since I had a doctor approved excuse I could draw a picture of my accident for quiz points.



Notice I passed AND got an awesome dinosaur sticker to prove it!

This professor may possibly be one of the most awesome college professors out there.

Jewel Movement

Doctor's offices have all sorts of weird phrases and words. My favorite from my visit yesterday is "Jewel Movement Sphygmomanometer". When I'm sitting waiting for the doctor to come in my mind catches on these things as I try to entertain myself while sitting on an examination table.

I began wondering what "Jewel Movement Sphygmomanometer" would look like. This is what I pictured:


I began to picture spider like jewels crawling around the office. They were actually kind of creepy so I decided to move on to the next word. I never really figured out how that word could plausibly transfer into a real life object. I did however finally memorize how to spell the word, that's how bored I was.



After my visit the doctor gave me a Onetouch Ultra Mini Blood Glucose Meter. It didn't sound too intimidating. He said it was really self explanatory and the instructions would tell me everything I'd need to know in order to check my blood sugar levels. Plus it was pink. Pink things seem sissy, not intimidating. That was, until I opened it and read the instructions.

They (whoever "they" are) talk about how doctors should have good bedside manner. Well what about the contraptions they give you? Shouldn't they be user friendly too? Instead I think the instruction manual writers were intentionally trying to freak out all the first time users.

For those who don't know, glucose meters require you to prick your finger and then test the blood that you draw yourself. Rather than trying to calm people like me down about the idea of purposefully mutilating myself, they give the contraptions names like "the lancer" and "the lancets". I'm told to "load the lancets into the lancer, choose the puncture depth and cock the lancer" then I'm supposed to push the release button into my finger.

By this time I'm feeling worried.



I'm imagining little tiny men preparing to throw lances into my hands.

I have the lancer cocked and am prepared to shoot myself with the needle and I can't look at myself. I close my eyes, turn away and push the button.

I feel a little pinch and that's it. It doesn't even hurt at all afterward.

After all that? Really?

It's no wonder the trust in medical devices is going down hill.

Beware of Trees

As I got ready yesterday morning to walk over to my sick and dying boyfriend's house (ok, so not really dying, but he has a cold. Basically the same thing), I realized that I was dressed like a mismatched, overly colored Dr. Suess character. I only have two winter coats; one is black and no longer zips and the other is red and still zips. The problem with only having one brightly colored functional coat is that it often clashes with whatever else you are wearing.



After realizing this I decided that it didn't matter because I didn't want to change and I needed something warm to wear. Besides, my boyfriend will love me anyways, even if I look like Little Cindy Lou Who.

I am about half way to his house when I am attacked by a giant tree.




Do you see how it is cleverly leaning out over the road just waiting for unsuspecting passersby? It is a cunning tree. Right when I think I'm safe it grabs a chunk of my hair and pulls. An epic battle ensued. Thankfully I am a strong fighter and I take the tree down.




Unfortunately, the tree left it's mark.



Now I was not only dressed like a Who, but I had Who hair.

Still, I am half way to his house. I carry on with the very important mission of delivering Airborne®.

I think by now I am out of harms way. I have just been attacked by a supposedly immobile being. What else can go wrong?

Apparently little mutant enemy dogs.




I am getting closer and closer to his house, and have nearly reached the dirt trail leading into his neighborhood, when a little white dog starts chasing me, growling and barring its teeth. It's owners are right there. Right there! They just continue to rake leaves. Ignoring my plight.

I wouldn't be surprised if they are the dogs brainwashed slaves.

To save my self I go running into the brush ahead, which is well above a tiny dogs head. He cannot follow! I have won!



I walk the rest of the way to my boyfriend's house, which is pretty close by this point. I arrive a sweating, panting, Who haired, Who clothed mass.

Thankfully he is too sick to notice.

Mission accomplished!

Impending doom

One of my classes is held on a very very tall third floor of a building. Today my teacher found it necessary to point out a snow flurry taking place outside the window five minutes before class got out. There was a mass swirl of confusion and emotional uproar as people declared their differing views as to whether snow was a good thing or not. I'm pretty sure a fist fight or two broke out. People are very up tight about their weather here.

See, snow in Spokane never disappears. Two years ago we had a heavy winter and the roofs were collapsing under the snow. This last year we had a light winter and it still snowed in June. Snow here is no laughing matter.

This is what I was picturing.


Finally, after weeks of snow, this is what my campus will look like.


I was about to go into a comatose state having seen the little white tomb building blocks falling from the sky.

Oddly enough, when my class ended five minutes later, the snow was miraculously gone. There was no sign of the white fluffy doom anywhere to be seen.

I guess that's what I get for living in Spokane.

Harry Potter and other wonders.

Today I fell up the stairs at the movie theatre. That's right, up the stairs. In my defense it was way past my bed time, but still, is there ever really an excuse for falling up?

I went to the Harry Potter premier and managed to get a good seat with out waiting in line for any longer than two hours. In retrospect, I'm not really sure why ALL those people got there so early and stood out in cold for hours and hours, the theatre wasn't even full.

Granted, the left over seats were the crappy ones at the front where you have to crane your neck obnoxiously just to see the screen, but still. Some people stood outside in below freezing weather from 7pm to 11pm just to get a good seat at a movie.

Arriving in the movie theatre I promptly realized that I knew almost everyone there because it was as if my university had rented the place out for the night. I think there was one elderly man in the entire crowd representing every generation not between the ages of 18 and 22.

Of course, as soon as I realized that I knew everyone in the theatre and the attendant had just asked everyone to walk slowly, "Do. Not. Run." I ran. I was only trying to catch up with my friends who were dutifully climbing the stairs as told.

I then proceeded to catch the rubber front of the stair with my slippery slip-on shoes and fall face forward. Pretty much half the theatre chorused, "Nice job, _____!" It was great. Trust me. Lovely. My reputation as the most clumsy collegiate is spreading.

On the bright side, I still didn't look as silly as some of my friends who had dressed up via Hogwarts paraphernalia.

Things that scar

When I was in middle school a blonde boy named Ryan decided to harass me on my first band trip ever. That ended up being a serious mistake for both parties involved. I am normally a relatively peaceful person, but mess with me too much and I won’t simply sit back and take it.

Everyone was excited because we, having reached the grand stage of 7th grade, were not only taking a bus to another school but we were going to eat at a fast food restaurant as well! The only thing keeping my day from perfection was Ryan.

The harassment had been escalating all day. He had been following me around school while we waited for the bus, on the bus he sat behind me and teased me, at McDonald’s he began by spitting spit-balls at me from across the restaurant. I was starting to get pissed off. My first band trip ever and some punk-ass blonde kid, from orchestra no less, was making a fool of me. My blood was beginning to boil.

Ryan was cheerfully oblivious to the monstrosity awakening inside my chest and decided to jump it up a notch. Taking a salt packet from his table he casually walked over and dumped it in my hair. I was in shock for a moment, but then my well-bred side kicked in. “Please stop!” I don’t remember what he replied, but it must have been along the lines of “Why should I?” or “No” because a few minutes later he walked over again with yet another salt package.

I was seething as I shook the salt out of my hair. As the last grain fell to the floor I felt something hit me in the back of my head. I picked up yet another spit-ball and turned around to see Ryan grinning from ear to ear. I’d had enough. This was ending now.

I marched over to Ryan’s table. “Stop now or I’ll hurt you.”

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve got nails. Don’t underestimate what they can do.” Yeah, I was really mature in 7th grade. The poor, unsuspecting boy did, however, make that awful mistake. He didn’t believe me. He underestimated my anger.

“Go ahead! You won’t do anything.” At this he held out his arm, exposing the soft white underbelly of flesh.

I reached out and pinched him as hard as I could with my nails. His arm began to bleed. I wasn’t satisfied with his blood. I needed true compensation for a day of humiliation. As everyone around the table stood in shock, looking at the red ooze from his wound, I grabbed a salt package. Ripping the top off the package I then proceeded to dump the contents on his newly acquired cut.

“I told you I could hurt you.” I turned to walk, no flounce, away from my victim. It would have worked, too, had Ryan not been writhing in pain. Unfortunately, the teacher saw him.
The teacher came running and, unable to decipher the multitude of tiny voices, placed both Ryan and I at his table for the rest of the lunch period.

I was mortified. I was on display with my first nemesis. Not only did I have to sit with the teacher, but my entire middle school class filed by on their way to the garbage can and whispered, “You two make such a great couple!” and “Aww, how cute! You guys are perfect for each other!” as they passed. I still insist that had Ryan been willing to listen to me when I warned him, none of this would have happened.

***

Seven years later I met Ryan again. I was in a movie theater with a large group of my friend's friends. He was one of the various group members and sat down next to me. We looked at each other for a moment, bewildered. "I know you," he said after a moment.

I blushed, embarrassed for my twelve-year-old self. "Yeah... middle school."

Sudden recognition flashed across his eyes. "Oh! You're the girl who scarred me!" He stuck out the tender underbelly of his arm once again, to expose a small, puckered scar. "McDonalds."

I look slightly abashed. "It actually left a scar?" I laugh a little, not maliciously though, just incredulously.

"Yeah, you did." He laughs too.

Despite the fact that Ryan is a much different person now, I feel a swell of pride that I was able to leave such a permanent sign of retribution back in seventh grade. I can do anything.

Damn You Auto Correct!

I have come to the conclusion in my life that people love embarrassing stories. People are like vultures. They hear the word "embarrassing" and they flock. One of the first "ice breaker" games introduced includes people telling embarrassing stories or facts about themselves. So I thought, what better way to bond than tell my most recent embarrassing story?

Today I was sitting in my last class of the day, bored out of my mind. This professor gives mind-numbing lectures on a regular basis and on a regular basis I pay no attention what so ever. Rather I spend my time on facebook, Hyperbole and a Half, fml, and other various entertaining places that keep my mind preoccupied and safe from the impending black hole that is my professor's lecture.

My friend, we'll call her Em, sits next to me and goes through the same life preserving methods I do. Today she showed me a new link, http://damnyouautocorrect.com/. I am, of course, stupid enough to actually go to this site.

The stories and anecdotes are amusing but relatively run of the mill... at first. Suddenly I stumble across one that is unexpectedly funny. It is like stealth hilarity. They send a number of stories that are just kind of funny, they lure you into a false sense of complacency and safety. Then suddenly you run into one that forces belly aching laughs out of your abdomen. In class.

I couldn't stop laughing. It was awful. Em just laughed at me, but unlike me she had more control, she was silent. I was not. I was trying to hide my face and pretend that I had sneezed or something, but my whole body was shaking so I doubt it worked.

Later Em told me that everyone around me stared. I couldn't tell from the shame coating my eyeballs. Fortunately for me the professor wasn't even phased. He kept right on lecturing his black hole as if nothing in the world could be more interesting, not even a girl going into epileptic seizures in the back of his classroom.