Real Life Conversations…Part Two, or Someone Gets Whacked

  • Posted on July 25, 2009 at 4:21 pm

 Today we were on our way to our favorite (24 hour!) Korean BBQ restaurant, Yechon. We had almost arrived when we were stopped by a police baracade. We pulled up to the Fairfax County police officer and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Do you know if the restaurant is still open?

Policeman: Yes, I believe so–you just have to go around the block.

Me: What happened here? Is there a power line down?

Policeman: No. Someone got whacked.

Me: Oh…..

Real Conversations From My Life

  • Posted on July 24, 2009 at 7:23 am

Me: Isn’t Graceland in Nashville?

Coworker: No, Graceland is in Memphis.

Me: Oh. So where is Never Neverland?

Coworker: You’re thinking of Neverland. Never Neverland is the second star on the right and straight on ’til morning.

I Need to Stop Judging People’s Hair

  • Posted on May 20, 2009 at 9:39 pm

It seems that every time I make a comment about someone’s hair I make an ass out of myself.

Yesterday at work I was sitting in a meeting next to a team member, and I happened to look over and see a single gray hair poking out of her black hair, in that way that wiry gray hairs bend and poke. I made a comment to M. about her gray hair “M.! You have a gray hair!” or something like that–and she had no idea it was there. She was heartbroken. She made me pull it out. She’s only 23. I felt like I aged her 30 years in my single little comment.

And then today, I was in the elevator and a woman stepped on with a cute short bob.

Her: “I love your skirt–I noticed it in the meeting this morning.”

Me: “Why thank you!” (curtsying). “And I was noticing your hair–it’s so sleek and smooth! And the highlights are perfect! What’s your secret?”

Her: “Actually, it’s a wig. I used to be a cosmetologist.”

Me: (gulpohshit) “I never would have guessed! I was going to ask you what hair products you use! It looks so nice, maybe I need to rethink my entire hair strategy and try some wigs!”

Just listen to that idocracy. I need to just stop talking about hair in general. Starting now.

How Two Moles Will Lead to a Total Body Makeover

  • Posted on April 10, 2009 at 4:29 pm

I went to the, ahem, plastic surgeon yesterday. There’s nothing like a plastic surgeon to make you feel completely insecure and ugly.

My visit was a consultation about two moles I want removed. Two little itty-bitty moles that really aren’t that big a deal.

When the doctor entered the examination room, and asked me what I was there for,  I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought I was there for. Perhaps he scanned me as he entered the room, and sized me up. What is this woman here for? Nose job? Lipo? Boob job? Chin implant? Eyelid lift? When I explained to him that I was there on the recommendation of my dermatologist about getting a mole removed, and I showed him the mole, he smirked. I imagined he was chuckling because he was thinking “that’s all?” CUE THE INSECURITIES!

Then, THEN, he asked if there were any other moles I wanted removed. CUE THE SELF-DOUBT AND SHAME! I flustered, and started poking around my face for other unsightly growths for the doctor to carve out of my flesh. “Uh, maybe this one under my nose? Or this one on my chin? Would the insurance cover those too?” I pointed out my large raisin-shaped mole on my chest, and the doctor said “I was hoping you would mention that one. I immediately noticed it when I walked in the room.” SEE?! He was looking for flaws to fix. We finally settled on two moles–the one on my face and the one on my chest–with a plan to remove to others later.

Plastic surgeons are in a great position to up-sell you services when you have a consultation. What other kinds of doctors could do this? Oncologist: “I’m going to remove your cancerous ovary. Can I interest you in a hysterectomy while I’m down there?”  Allergist: your test results were negative, but would you like to come to my office every week for allergy shots anyway?” Plastic surgeons really could get away with saying “yes, of course I can take that mole off. And right now, I have a promotion going on–buy one mole removal and get a nose job for half price.” If a plastic surgeon even suggested that I think about a nose job, that would convince me that there is something WRONG with my nose. Something wrong enough to merit surgery to fix it. I’d be mortified.

Luckily, no such offers or suggestions were made yesterday. Perhaps they’ll get me at the next visit? And how will I be able to say no?

The big surgery is set for June. Don’t worry though, it’s an outpatient procedure and I’ll be able to drive myself home.  Cross your fingers that I don’t blow my 401K on a new nose.

How Did an Octopus Get in My Head?

  • Posted on February 19, 2009 at 10:06 pm

Lately, my ear has felt clogged and congested, a symptom I just can’t seem to shake from when I jumped from cold to flu and back to cold. I finally made an appointment with an Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor.  I went to the appointment, and thirty minutes later I had a referral for a CT Scan of my sinuses. All I wanted was some antibiotics to make my ear better, but instead I got a doom and gloom diagnosis of  possible sinusitis and a deviated septum.

I had the CT scan yesterday, and thank GOD they gave me the CD with the images on it to take with me. Thanks to google, Dr. House and Jeopardy, I was able to make my own diagnosis. According to the pictures, I have:

  • A giant face-eating tumor
  • A baby octopus living inside my head
  • A severely cracked and dented skull

It’s not multiple choice. I’ve got all three. See?

tumor

And:

baby octopus

Also:

my-fractured-skull1

I’m going to say it right now: I refuse to leave the house with a face bandage on. I just won’t do it.

Quirky, Me?

  • Posted on January 31, 2009 at 1:19 pm

People are always telling me that I’m quirky. And by “people”, I specifically mean my father and my husband. My father is always saying “oh, you and your quirks.” And my husband told me recently I have too many hang-ups with food, and I am a picky eater–totally news to me. I thought I was an adventurous eater.

So this got me to thinking–am I really quirky? Really? Or am I just… normal? Doesn’t everyone have little things that bother them? Maybe mine are just weirder than most….

1. I hate pulp in orange juice.

2. I hate meatloaf. I have ever since I was a child and my mom tried to trick  me by  putting carrots in it.

3. I hate celery, carrots (see #2 above), bananas, turnips, parsnips, and beets.

Bananas Suck Go to hell, beets

4. I can’t stand socks. Especially dirty socks lying on the floor. I can’t touch them.

5. I hate ice–I will not drink anything with ice in it without a straw. Ice cannot touch my teeth. And I’ll shudder if ice touches my fingernails.

Ice: booooooo

6. I don’t  like stews, goulashes, beef burgundy, or anything that’s too “meaty”. I can trace this quirk back to my childhood as well, when I was eating beef stew at my aunt’s house, and the meat was so overdone that I kept chewing and chewing and chewing, unable to swallow the dry meat, but too embarrassed to spit it out in front of my family.

7. I hate loud chewing.

8. I hate the word “huh?”

9. I have an eye phobia–I can’t stand the thought of anything touching my eyes, including fingers, contacts, medical instruments, needles, etc. I can trace this phobia back to fifth grade, when I saw a movie in school about Ellis Island, and the immigrants had to flip their eyelids back for the immigration officials. I had never seen this done before and thought it was the grossest thing ever (I am throwing up a little bit in my mouth right now just thinking about it.) A boy in my fifth grade class named Tim Stapula thought it was awesome and he would flip his eyelids and chase me around the playground. Thank you, Tim, for scarring me for life.

eyeballs make me vomit

So what do you think: am I quirky? Normal? Just to the left of normal?

Dad, Larry: did I forget anything?

Santa is Real, I Swear

  • Posted on December 11, 2008 at 9:56 pm

Somehow, he seems more evil than he ever did when I was a kid. Something about the eyebrows.

Somehow, he seems more evil than he ever did when I was a kid. Something about the eyebrows.

I am going to admit something embarrassing.

I believed in Santa until I was in the fourth grade. Yes, that’s right. I was nine years old. All of my friends knew the truth. In fact, it was my friend Macy and her mom who finally told me that Santa wasn’t real one December evening as we sat eating dinner at the Frisch’s Big Boy in Union Lake, Michigan. And I distinctly remember where I was when I learned the truth because it was so traumatic for me.

I just wanted to believe so badly. I loved the magic of Christmas, and I ate up all of the fantasy and excitement. I was a smart little whippersnapper, but I somehow managed to rationalize Santa’s existence. “Santa HAS to be real, because I only told Santa that I wanted a bike, and I am sure that I never told Mom and Dad.” And the old “I am SURE that when Mom and Dad went to bed there were no presents out. There has to be a Santa because I woke up before Mom and Dad and there were presents! Who else could have put them there?”

My parents endured ENDLESS questions about the existence of Santa, and never spoiled it for me, even though I’m sure they were dying to tell me the truth just to shut me up. They kept telling me that if I didn’t believe, then Santa wouldn’t come. I wanted presents, so I believed, goddamnit!

I am so excited to make Santa real again with Stella. I may not believe in the baby Jesus, but I believe in the magic of Christmas. I can’t wait to tell her all the little details that my parents and grandparents told me to make it so real, like looking for Santa’s sleigh in the starry sky on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait to put boot prints next to the fireplace and take bites out of cookies left out for Santa. I can’t wait to put out a little elf in the house and tell her that the elf is watching her and reporting back to Santa. Just like my parents did. In fact, sometimes the little elf STILL shows up mysteriously in my house. And he doesn’t even have legs anymore.

Bryan and Romana, Sittin’ In a Tree…

  • Posted on September 22, 2008 at 9:37 pm

Bryan and Romana got married on Saturday, and we drove all the way to Cleveland (ROCKS) Ohio to celebrate with them. Stella did surprisingly well in the car–she slept most of the way, and when she wasn’t sleeping, she was playing. Stella Wins the Best Baby Award!

It was so fun to see my family. However, I no longer have the stamina to party all night like the rest of them. Perhaps it’s because Stella gets up between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. everyday, and I get tired. Perhaps it’s because my body is a machine, producing milk for my baby, and I need my rest. Perhaps it’s just that I’m getting older. But by 10:30 p.m., I was BEAT. When did I get so lame? I guess I have a good excuse.

In other news, Stella has a cough. She’s had it for over a week now, and with my tendancy to overreact, I took her to the doctor last week. The doctor said…she has a cough. It will go away. When I pick her up from daycare, the teachers just give me this pathetic look, like I’m a terrible mother for not curing her or something. They tell me she doesn’t feel good and she’s coughing a lot. But when I get her home, she acts just fine. So I don’t know what to do. Anyone have any suggestions for curing a little baby’s cough? Don’t even think about saying “Robitussen” or “Brandy”.

pretty spinning bride

pretty spinning bride

Me, Stella and Larry

Me, Stella and Larry

Not Related to Stephen King

  • Posted on August 31, 2008 at 9:49 pm

I have always loved to read. My college degree is in Comparative Literature and French, and I spent my formative years in school reading Camus, Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Zola, Homer, Dickens, Flaubert, Chekhov, Joyce, Eliot, Hugo, Goethe, Machiavelli, Dostoevsky and Chaucer, to name a few.

So is it so wrong that I love Stephen King? My snobby literature half scoffs at such mainstream fluff, such mass market, bestselling junk. But he is just so good.

I spent the past three years reading the Dark Tower series, and I was blown away. I read non-Dark Tower books in between each of the seven novels just so I could draw out the experience. When I finished the last book, I think I actually went through a period of mourning, I was so sad that it was over. And yes, maybe the ending was a little…eh (I won’t ruin it for those that haven’t read it), but I miss that entire world that King created, the plot intricacies, the characters, and especially all the references and connections to his other works.

I read many of King’s other books when I was in middle school, and I think I’m going to go back and read them again. Starting with The Stand.

You know what? I think maybe Stephen King is the Charles Dickens of the modern era. I believe that it will be one hundred years before he is truly appreciated as a writer of literature, and not just mass market, crowd-pleasing, money-making author.

I am not ashamed to admit that Stephen King is my favorite author. So there. Take that, hoity-toity literature professors.

Introducing: Stella Moxie King

  • Posted on April 20, 2008 at 8:57 am

We are so excited to announce the arrival of Stella Moxie King, born April 16th, 2008. She weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 15oz and 21 3/4 inches long. She has a head of long reddish-brown hair and big blue eyes like her daddy.

After an unexpected C-section both mommy and baby are doing fine.
Stella Moxie King

Here is a link to some additional pictures.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bethanyking/sets/72157604585766692/