The School of the Gifted

Dr. SOB is brilliant. He will tell you differently, but those of you who know him know he is a freaking genius. All great minds are limited in some way however, and sometimes dear Dr. lacks commons sense in such a way that it boggles the mind. Here are just two examples from the last 24 hours.

We recently put a lock on our bedroom door to keep the cats out. We have two, and one of them is hell bent on suffocating me. Because our building is so old, most of the door latches have been painted over to the point where the doors either don’t latch at all or are very inconsistent. The cats have discovered that if they throw all of their body weight against our bedroom door, they can open it and try to kill me. So last night we went to bed, but Dr. couldn’t sleep. He got up and went to the living room to read for awhile. About an hour and a half later, I am soundly snoozing when the phone, which is right next to my head, starts going crazy. I ignored it because a) I was sleeping and b) Dr. was up, he can get it. Well, it continued to ring for several minutes, and so I finally sat up, took out my right ear plug, and answered then damn phone. It was Dr. asking me to let him in the bedroom because he locked himself out. First of all, the lock is on the inside of the room, so there is no possible way for him to lock it once he’s left the room. The door had actually latched this time, but he was trying to just push the door open. If he had tried turning the knob, this predicament, and me having to get out of bed, could have been avoided.

Which leads us to this morning. Every day I pack a lunch of some sort for myself. Lately because of the summertime, I’ve been having blueberries in my lunch. At the beginning of the week, I take the carton and portion out the berries into individual bags for ease later. I actually weigh the berries, because I have been a faithful Weight Watchers devotee for two years now, so I know exactly how many ounces of blueberries are in each bag. This morning, my bag of blueberries was nearly half empty. So I asked the good Dr. if he ate any of my berries. I know he doesn’t like blueberries, so naturally he replied ‘No.’ For 45 minutes I pondered the whereabouts of approximately 1.5 ounces of blueberries. Did they somehow enter the 4th dimension? Did we have a berry burglar? As I was walking out the door, however, Dr. SOB said ‘Oh, by the way, I spilled about half of your blueberries last night and had to put them down the garbage disposal.’ I know, technically, I asked him if he had eaten the berries, and technically his answer was correct. Most folks, however, might have had the sense of mind to mention any berry mishaps that may have occurred while we were having the initial fucking berry conversation!

God, I love this man!

Michael Bolton Update

The true identity of one Michael Bolton was discovered last night at about 8:30pm. I apologize to those who got their answers in after this point, but suck it suckas! The $5 stays in my pocket!

Things my Husband Sculpted out of Silly Putty Last Night

1. A petit palmier
2. A Pinocchio nose
3. A cock ring

After assessing the floppy nature of the Pinocchio nose, we determined that the cock ring would be completely ineffective.

Bridal Carnage

Last night, my friend Carrie had a surprise bridal shower which I did not attend. I feel bad because the plans we had for last night fell through pretty abruptly, but I didn’t want to crash after I had RSVP’d that I wasn’t coming. Secretly, another reason I didn’t go is because I can think of two things in this world that Carrie hates supremely: 1) The sound of two pieces of Styrofoam rubbing together. 2) Surprise parties of all kinds. I was worried that when she came in and saw me there, she would be pissed I didn’t tip her off! Fear the wrath of Carrie!

(Kidding! She’s super nice and hasn’t an ounce of wrath in her tiny little body!)

Contest!

$5 to the first person who can correctly identify Michael Bolton. I will figure you out even if I have to cheat!

Q: Why does Penn Maid cottage cheese taste like ass when Breakstone cottage cheese tastes like creamy wonderful deliciousness? I'm not sure how 2 seemingly identical products can be so different. $5 to anyone who can figure that one out, too. What the hell, $5 for everyone!

Last night, the good Dr. and I went to a presentation about our financial future, brought to you by American Express. The only reason we went was the promise of free food and drinks, followed by a brief 30 minute presentation and then more drinking and carousing. Well, the 30 minute presentation ended up being an hour and 40 minutes, during which they continued to serve drinks. Dear Dr. got a bit tipsy, and began writing notes on napkins, putting them in empty beer bottles, and then asking the waitresses to throw them into the river so that maybe someone would find it and come rescue us. Once all the lecturing was over, he then proceeded to inform the presenters that they were too long-winded. Repeatedly. I kept poking him in the kidney, but he just didn’t get it. Finally, I managed to get him out of there and the rest of the evening was uneventful.

The Truth is Stranger than Fiction

The good Dr. snores. A lot. So we employ several devices to help me sleep soundly including breath-right strips for him and ear plug for me. The ear plugs are made of a soft silicone wax and are very effective. Last night I popped in a new pair and drifted off to sleep. Around 3:30am, I woke, however to the sound of snoring. Now occasionally, his snoring will be loud enough to wake me despite the ear plugs, but on this occasion, my right ear plug had just fallen out. I felt around in the bed for it, worried that it might be lodged in my hair, but found nothing. I got a new ear plug and decided that I might as well pee since I was up. As I was peeing, I was kind of feeling my pj’s and hair again to make sure the errant ear plug wasn’t somewhere on my body when I realized something very disturbing. THE EAR PLUG WAS IN MY MOUTH! I am not kidding. I have no idea how this might have happened, as I am not an open-mouthed sleeper. As far as I can imagine, I must have put it in my mouth in a sleep induced state of insanity. It was tucked in between my cheek and gums like a piece of juicy fruit! When I got up for real, I thought to myself ‘Wow. What a weird dream!’ Until I went into the bathroom and saw, in the trash can, my discarded ear plug with an impression of my molars in it!

Pokey Parts and Soft Parts

Pokey part goes in, pokey part comes out. Repeat approximately 3,000 times. This is what I do all day at work. I do not, however, work in the porn industry. The company I work for manufactures rubber products (not the stuff used in the porn industry, either…though this would be interesting!) I have spent the last 3 months measuring how hard it is to poke this plastic thingy into some rubber, and then how hard it is to pull it out. Oh my god, do I hate it! At this point I can do it in my sleep. In fact, I have freaking dreams about pokey parts! Save me from the pokey parts! The good news is that the project will be finishing up by the end of the month, so I will, in fact, be saved.

Dr. SOB had a really rough night. He was on call in the surgical ICU and someone who came in for elective surgery coded 3 times. He’s really been under a lot of stress in this unit, and also because of the impending “Important Career Decisions.” Also, being chief resident and having 73 people per day complaining to you about their schedule, which you ABSOLUTELY NO CONTROL OVER, probably adds to his stress level. Can you tell this annoys me? Every fucking day when I get home, there are billions of emails from whiny people who don’t want to work very much, and expect the other people in the program to pick up their slack. Oh and they want their vacations the week of Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and Memorial Day and they are not going to stop bitching until they get exactly what they want! I hate 30% of you people at Dr. SOB’s work! Leave him alone!

Whew…I feel much better!

Internal Struggle

So maybe the three people who read this blog are wondering about the pregnancy test I mentioned on Tuesday. I’ve been having this dialogue in my head ever since I wrote that about whether or not I would share the results of that test here on my blog. For the time being, I’ve decided I’m going to keep the information to myself for the following reasons: 1) It’s my blog and I’ll do what I want, damn-it! 2) Do I really want the world at large to know if I’m on my menses? 3) I am a twee bit neurotic, and if and when the time comes that I do get a positive result, I think I’m going to wait that requisite 12 weeks before I tell anyone, besides Dr. SOB, of course. Please don’t be mad! I still love you, internet. I’m just not ready to take our relationship to the next level.

Shall I bore you with some minutiae now? Great! First today we are going to see Batman Begins. Both the good Dr. and I are big Batman fans, so we’re really excited. I am also excited about the prospect of hot, British Christian Bale in latex! Then tonight we are hanging out in the city with Giuseppe and Doerta, our very international friends. You see, we are très chic and hip because we have friends from other countries, at least that’s what my mother thinks! I think it’s because growing up in rural southwestern Pennsylvania, the only “foreigners” we ever saw were family friends from Canada. God bless her!

Happy Birthday Tiffany! (the edited version)

Wonderful, beautiful friend Tiffany joins my age catergory today. She lives in Portland and I hope she has some delightful plans for her special day! This is Tiffany and me on a night of french fun!


A bunch of my relatives' and friends' birthday's are clumped into three separate times of the year. Five folks have birthdays in early June, six have birthdays in late August and six have birthdays in late January. It's a really weird thing.

Pants Update

FYI, there was no ruination of pants yesterday, thank god!

My dear sweet darling cousin Laura Elizabeth is coming to visit soon! I can hardly wait to see her!

This is me and Laura Lew last Thanksgiving. She is moving here to Philly in December, which is great but tragic because I will be leaving Philly next June! You see Dr. SOB will be finishing his residency in June of 2006 and we will be moving to where ever he gets a fellowship. Possibilities include San Jose, CA, Pittsburgh, PA, Atlanta, GA, Gainesville, FL and maybe Raleigh-Durham, NC. So this is a big year coming up. I am game for about 3/4 of those possibilities. So he'll be interviewing a lot over the summer and making some decisions by the fall.

Sorry this wasn't really a funny post. Maybe I'll throw a little toliet humor in here at the end for a cheap laugh...crap...pee pee...poop!

God Save My Pants!

In just a few tiny minutes, a stranger is coming to my house to play guitar and I am scared. I am not scared because he is a stranger, but because while he plays guitar, I will have to sing and when I sing in front of an individual or small group, I spontaneously shit my pants. I am singing at my friends’ Carrie (of the recent birthday) and Marcello’s wedding in August and I am rehearsing with their friend Pete who will accompany me. (Carrie and Marcello please do not worry. I will not shit my pants or dress even at your wedding as there will be hundreds of people there and they will mostly be paying attention to the two of you.) We are rehearsing so early for two reasons:1) I am a crazy person and when I have to ‘perform’ I become neurotic and develop an annoying habit of demanding perfection of myself, and 2) Pete is moving to Chicago this weekend and therefore is incredibly lucky that he won’t have to endure much of me in my #1 phase. So if you don’t hear from me again, either stranger Pete chopped me up and ate me or I died from embarrassment from shitting my pants in front of a total stranger.

Random fun fact of the day time! Brendan and I were discussing the Garden State soundtrack the other day. If you haven’t given it a listen yet, I suggest you do. If you’re white and in your 20’s, I think it might be required by law, actually. Anyway, one of the featured artists is a band called Frou Frou, which Brendan informed me is a French onomatopoeia for the sound of two pieces of silk rubbing together. So there you go!

One of many reasons I kind of blow

So I decided to change the name of this blog. Why, you ask? Well, my friend Brendan (hi Brendan) asked me if I had a clever and witty blog name and I realized, as I gave him the lengthy explanation of the name to him, that I HATED it. I figure that if I was embarassed to tell the name of the blog to him (and he's pretty funny) then it might suck. A lot. Then later I told Dr. SOB about it and he had the exact same reaction. Hence, the new name. SOB wanted me to inclue either the word 'tampon' or 'plenty' in the title. He's pretty weird. Also, the new name has no real signifigance (except for the fact that I love cheese and a cheese party is my idea of heaven), so if there are any suggestions I'm open to them.

Jesus Christ Almighty

Can you believe that Michael Jackson is not guilty on all counts??? I’m not sure how I feel about that. Hopefully now he can just disappear into obscurity and we can all remember him as the cute young dancin’ man from the Beat It video.

So I haven’t told Dr. SOB yet that I started this blog. I can’t decide if he’d think it was cool or if he’d think it was lame. I actually discussed the name of this blog with him without being clear what it was for. I think I’m worried that he might try and put the kibosh on some things (his crazy family) I would like to write about, a la Suburban Bliss. Like how his grandmother has expired coupons under her table cloth and she won’t let anyone throw them away. Or how his father won’t speak to him on his second wife’s instructions. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll talk about how there is a bench warrant out on his little brother! I’ll probably tell him eventually, but I guess I’m waiting to see how serious I get about this.

I think I’m going to cave and take a pregnancy test tomorrow morning. I promised myself I would wait until Wednesday, but I am a weak, weak woman…I’ll keep you all posted.

Many Hours Later...

So about 8 hours after I began this blog, I am still playing around with some things. I really should be doing the 87 loads of laundry laying about my apartment. I did take a break from playing here to go to the gym and visit my friend Carrie for her birthday. Happy Birthday, Carrie!

Something that I’ve already figured out is that I like every other blog I’ve seen more than mine. Oh well. Time to fold socks!

Me enjoying my favorite pre-pre-conception activity
(note the purple teeth)

Post Numero Uno

Welcome to my blog. Does it suck yet? I've been toying with idea of starting one of these here things for a bit now. The reason I decided that now was the time is that my husband Dr. SOB (those are his initials, and only partially reflect any feelings I might have about his mother) and I are trying to start a family. You know, by me getting knocked up, not by purchasing a dog or black market baby. I thought it might be interesting (at least for me) to chronicle this period in my life. Both of our families live about 300 miles away, and depending on which direction I take this blog, I may invite them to read about my pregnancy once it begins.

A bit about me. I am 26 and I live in Philadelphia. I am not a writer, so any grammatical errors I make need not be pointed out. I work as a chemist for a pharmaceutical company and Dr. SOB, as you might have imagined, is a doctor. More accurately, he is a third year anesthesiology resident at a teaching hospital in town. This means he works every mother-loving day and gets paid very little. He’s working right now, in fact. We both grew up on the other side of the Keystone State. If you’ve never been there, let me assure you that it’s called Pennsyltuckey for a reason. My high school had a rodeo team. Enough said. We’ve lived in Philly since 1998. We have 2 cats, Simon and Tim, who are currently the darlings of my life. Once the offspring arrives, though, they’ll probably be reduced to mobile tripping hazard status. Poor kitties! We both come from large extended families who like to have cage matches occasionally. It’s really quite entertaining!

Dr. SOB and I met in high school. I will now pause for a moment so you can go barf…Feeling better? Good. We’ve been married for 3 magnificent years. I hate to brag, but we’re really quite fond of each other. So we figured that it’s high time we created a small creature on which to lavish some of our attention. I almost ended that sentence with a preposition, but the voice of my 10th grade English teacher just popped into my head and made me fix it. Thanks Mrs. Morris!

I’ll probably be posting a lot over the next few days until the novelty of this thing wears off. Also, I’ll be finding out if I am pregnant soon, so I’m sure all that anxiety will fuel some rambling here. At least I don’t have to worry about drunk posting!