Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

The life and times of a girl named Swishy.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The extent of my exciting life

So last week my lower back starts getting really tight, which I attribute (as usual) to not really getting into a consistent workout routine again since I've moved. I'm complaining (of course) at work, and say I'm going to the gym later, where hopefully working out will loosen up my back a little. My friend shakes his head. "Nooo," he says, "I don't think that sounds like a very good idea."

Trust me, I say. I know what I'm doing. No way, he says. Don't do it.

Well. Fast forward to an hour later. I'm bending over to tie my shoes, when OW OW OW OWWWWWWWW, SOMEONE JUST PLUNGED 37 KNIVES INTO MY BACK, NOW I KNOW WHAT DYING FEELS LIKE. It takes 20 minutes to get off the floor. Later that night, it takes me 15 minutes just to pee. This lasts for like three days. I have never experienced anything like it, and my back is STILL sore.

So, my October: death flu and back spasms. Translation: more excitement than a bucket full of firecrackers.

This IS exciting, though: My friend Allee is coming to visit this weekend. This is very, very, very, VERY SUPER EXCITING news, actually, and leads me into the real point of this post. A couple of months ago, Allee sent me an email with this link, which is basically a challenge to do something out of the ordinary every month. Allee said we should do that too, take some kind of risk each month. And I was like, TOTALLY! We totally should! It'll be so great! So empowering! So we agreed we'd do it.

Two months later ... um, did I mention the back spasms and the death flu?

But! With Allee coming, this is the perfect time to renew our commitment to new, exciting, risk-taking lives. Since my idea of exciting these days is plopping onto the opposite end of the couch (everything looks totally different from there!), I need your help. What should I do? Finally run a 5K? Drag myself to the lady-parts doctor? Track down the CIA guy? WHAT? If either of us does one of your suggestions, you're totally getting a prize. And, of course, there's safety in numbers, if you want to pick something to do, too :)

(P.S. I just tried another--yes, another--hairdresser and it was both risky AND thrilling. We have a winner! So that one is covered.)

Friday, October 16, 2009

Overheard in the office

Coworker A to Coworker B, about me: "I can’t tell if it’s her silly laugh or her real laugh."
Coworker B: "It’s her silly laugh. Her tired laugh. Which means we’re about 8 minutes from cranky."
(Eight minutes and 3 seconds later.)
Coworker B: "See? What did I tell you?"


Coworker B, on comments that he's been complaining a lot lately: "I don’t complain. I point out situations."


I get a little annoyed about something.
Coworker 1, to the person sitting next to him: "Swishy has a very large doghouse that she puts people in. And it's not decorated as well as you'd think."


Coworker B to no one in particular, prompted by nothing in particular: "What has Canada given us except circular bacon?"


Me, complaining about writing a self-evaluation for work: "I hate writing these. I hate being like, I did this, I did that. It just makes me uncomfortable."
Coworker A (in a high-pitched voice): "Slash YOU LOVE IT!"


Coworker 1 starts playing this song ("Take Me Home Tonight" by the great Eddie Money).
Coworker 2: "Really? THIS song? REALLY?"
Coworker 1: "Hold on. It’s been on for a minute and 14 seconds and you’re just now saying that?"
Coworker 2: "You suck all of the fun out of my day. (Pause.) I hate everybody. I hate the world."

Thursday, October 08, 2009

A mess of random

* Death flu update: On DAY EIGHT, I finally have my voice back, no more squeaky laughing or hacking in the middle of a sentence. And I re-weighed myself and was down five pounds instead of up four, which is great news and naturally means I just spent the last five minutes eating mini Chips Ahoy cookies.

* OK, so the answer to the multiple-choice question was a very lame none of the above. I did, however, read all about the Khloe Kardashian wedding, get stuck behind a very angry little man who drove 15 mph and very nearly caused me to lose my mind and sort of START catching up on the DVR (I mostly caught up while I was sick, and of course I'm already falling behind again). I am LOVING Modern Family, you have to watch it. And I do like FlashForward--some of the dialogue is a little corny, but I like it.

* I got a really good review at work. I forgot to tell my mom so I am telling you.

* I have had this totally insatiable appetite for ridiculous music the last couple of days, which I blame on Miley Cyrus and that ubiquitious, completely catchy song of hers that comes on every single time I get in the car. So what am I doing right now? I'll tell you what I'm doing, and then we'll never talk about it again. I am actually sitting here listening to a Hannah Montana song on YouTube. HANNAH MONTANA. Let me reiterate that I am not the mother of an 8-year-old girl, nor am I the aunt, older sister, guardian or next-door neighbor of one. And yet here I am, belting this thing out like I'm auditioning for American Idol. My friend's daughters used to sing this song all the time, and it would totally get stuck in my head and then I'd botch the lyrics and they'd get totally exasperated with me, because I am clearly not as cool (see every sentence of this paragraph) as I pretend to be. (By the way, between that and stuff like this, I am experiencing severe sixth-grade nostalgia. It is just way too fun and angsty to be a girl sometimes.)

* Anyway, so that song? It's called "If We Were a Movie," which reminds me of a story I was going to tell. So I stumbled across this guy's blog a few weeks ago, super randomly, and he was all, Friday Night Lights is so great, (500) Days of Summer is so great and I was like, hello! Been there, done that, let's see what else he loves that I love. So I scroll down, and there are pictures of him and I'm like, hold on one hot little second, I KNOW THIS GUY. And sure enough, I scroll down a little more, and it turns out we went to the same college.

So THEN I jump on Facebook and put in his name (since it's all over his blog) and would you look at that, four common friends. OBVIOUSLY we took a class together or lived in the same dorm or majored in the same thing or something, but I cannot figure it out and it's driving me nuts, so instead of obsessing about it or being all stalky about it on his blog, I decide to send him a note.

Me: So. Hi. I stumbled across your blog a little while ago, I don't remember how (maybe because we share an appreciation for the greatest TV show ever created), and then I was like, wait, do I know this person? I think I vaguely know this person. And it is sort of driving me a little bit nuts trying to figure it out.

(And then I ask him if he lived in the same dorm that I did.)

He replies that he didn't live there, but he did live on the same floor freshman year as a guy we're both friends with. I say, oh, I knew him at the end of college and then we took jobs in the same city, so that can't be it, and then I ask him if he majored in communications. He says no, he majored in English. I say, well, I would be a horrible Law and Order detective, wouldn't I?

This is the part of the story where he makes some joke back and then we're like, OK, well, let's be friends anyway even if we can't figure it out because we both live fairly near each other in cities TWO THOUSAND MILES from where we both went to college, we know some of the same people, why not be friends? And then maybe we decide to meet for lunch at some cute cafe one crisp fall afternoon, and he decides to bring his newly single, ready to mingle roommate with him (because falling in love with the first guy would be a little too tidy of an ending, and we're trying to avoid cliche storylines here) and Other Guy has never met a girl like me in his entire life. And who knows, maybe I turn into Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan and he turns into Richard Gere or Tom Hanks and we go on to earn $100 million at the box office thanks to legions of girls like me.

But NO. No, that did not happen, because MY LIFE IS NOT A MOVIE, unless you count one in which there are plenty of spiders and possibly a strain of a rare, life-threatening disease. That was where it ended, with me making a Law and Order joke. IS THAT NOT THE LAMEST THING EVER? I didn't even find out how I KNOW the guy!

I totally wish I could script life. It would be SO AWESOME. Even if the soundtrack WAS sort of cheesy.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

If I ever give birth, we're all in trouble

If I had written my last post today, there would be another option: G) Spent the last several days staring into the jaws of death/suffered through my first bad cold in a very, very long time. I rarely get sick, which means I am a horrible sick person. A pathetic one. A whiny, achy, mopey, "I can't breathe" one, as evidenced in my "diary" of the last week.

Monday afternoon

Me, to my coworker: "I feel weird. I feel like I have something in my lungs."
He glances up. "Um ... air?"

Monday night

I get home late from work, decide I'm going to sit on the couch juuuuust for a second before I go to the gym, and pass out. For, like, three hours.

Tuesday night

It's master-of-the-obvious coworker's birthday, and his girlfriend has planned dinner at this restaurant at a casino. It's a good dinner full of lovely revelations, such as the fact that my friend was circumcised as a baby by Jackie Mason's cousin.

But in the car on the way home, I start whining that my throat itches. It's the cigarette smoke in the casino, they said, you're just not used to being around it. I agree, that makes perfect sense. So I drink some extra water when I get home, go to bed and dream of slot machines and Brad Pitt, just because.

Wednesday morning

I wake up before my alarm, which is never, ever a good sign, and my throat is on FIRE. I can't call in sick because ... actually, I can't remember now, that was three whole days ago and my brain has been drowning in mucus and phlegm since then, but there was some good reason why I had to go. So I do.

Me, to my coworker, about 2.1 seconds after I walk in the door: "So. I'm sick. Like, legitimately. My throat is killing me."
He glances up. "Maybe you have swine flu."

I Google swine flu symptoms. The checklist is very lame, it's like, you can't tell the difference between swine flu and regular flu, neither can the doctor without a lab test, blah blah blah. I skip down to the symptoms that require urgent medical attention.

Me: "Holy crap. Listen to this." (Pause.) "Are you listening?"
Him: "Yes, I'm listening."
Me: "What did I just say?"
Him: "You said are you listening."
Me: "OK, good. Thank you. So listen to this. It says confusion. It LITERALLY says confusion. CONFUSION! LISTEN TO ME. If I show ANY signs of confusion, you need to call the doctor, like, immediately."
He looks at me.
I wait.
He looks at me some more.
I wait.
Him: "Soooo ... I'm supposed to tell the difference between your normal confusion and your swine flu confusion how?"
Me: "I cannot believe I'm entrusting my life to you."

A few hours later.
Me: "Maybe I have strep instead."

A little while after that.
Me: "What about mono? I totally fell asleep the other night! Fatigue!"

This is all met by a lot of head-shaking.

Thursday morning, 3:30 a.m.

I wake up after an hour and a half and it feels like someone is stabbing me in the right side of my neck with one of those Ginsu knives. I cannot swallow at ALL, so I stand there in the dark and periodically spit into the bathroom sink. It's not melodramatic at all.


I happen to already be off these days, so ... lucky me! I get to die a thousand deaths on my couch without even taking time off work to do it!

Thursday afternoon.

My friend visits me on my deathbed to bring me some sustenance and some medicine. Also a National Enquirer.

Thursday night.

I summon all of the strength I can muster to witness a pop culture perfect storm: Jon Gosselin on one channel and David Letterman's affair admission on the other, with my laptop on my stomach set to people.com. All of the excitement wipes me out, though, and I spend the next 10 hours asleep on the couch.

Friday night.

I've officially knocked off 11 percent of the DVR. I'm now caught up on The Biggest Loser, Project Runway, Modern Family and The Amazing Race. Left to go: Glee, the first two episodes of FlashForward, and the entire last season of 24.

Saturday morning.

I weigh myself and am highly annoyed to find the scale up 4 pounds since Tuesday. I thought you were supposed to LOSE weight when you were sick! I chalk it up to water retention from the sodium in all of the soup I've been eating, and conveniently disregard the pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream I've eaten in the last two days.

I do, however, wash my hair for the first time since Tuesday night. I consider this major progress.

Saturday afternoon.

Apparently not enough progress. Snot is pouring out of my body, and I'm almost done coughing up my left lung. I disgust nearly everyone who crosses my path, and I get kicked out of work an hour early.

Saturday night.

I fall asleep for a couple of hours and wake up feeling like I've been hit between the eyes by the 7:27 p.m. Amtrak express. I turn to my last resort: Vick's Vapo Rub. I'm currently sitting on my couch, surrounded by a High School Musical tissue box, cherry cough drops and a very tall bottle of water, smelling like menthol, watching 27 Dresses. If anyone else is having a more glamorous Saturday night right now, I'd love to hear it.