Tuesday, August 27, 2002

Boobs, Week Six

27 treatments down, 6 to go. Whee! I decided to try going bra-less yesterday, and wore the softest t-shirt I own, instead. It happens to be a shirt that says HANG LOOSE - HAWAII. I am not making this up. Anyway, it was worth a shot, but didn't really help anything.

It's kind of funny when I show up too early or they are behind schedule at the radiaition oncologist. When they call me back, everyone else in the waiting room gets a really stunned look on their face, as if they expected me to show up there to wait for someone... or perhaps just for fun? The thing is, I am pretty young to be having radiation, and look a bit younger than I actually am (thanks mother nature!) so people get wiggy. Yesterday, there was an elderly man in a wheelchair who was talking to everyone else in the waiting room. He stared at me for a little bit, and then said, "You ain't seeing no doctah!" Then they called me back. I'm not sure if that experience made him feel better or worse about his own situation. I mean, sure, I'm going through this awfully early in life. But on the other hand, younger people are obviously much better-equipped to handle treatments that are a little tough on the body. Either way, I just enjoy shocking the hell out of people.

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

Must Be Our Lucky Day

Sign posted in the restaurant we ate at today:

Due to water restrictions in Cary, we are only able to serve water one time per week. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

We cautiously ordered water with our lunches, and got it without any problem. We're thinking about going back tomorrow, just to see what happens.

Monday, August 19, 2002

Boobs, Week Five

Dr. Hottie informs me that the extra-red, extra-itchy portions of Lefty are due to perspiration. In the meantime, it's fry-your-hands-on-the-steering-wheel hot here in North Carolina, and he kept me waiting half an hour in the office with broken air conditioning.

Thursday, August 15, 2002

Telemarketers Are Invading My Voicemail

I have received numerous carpet cleaning advertisements in my home voicemail. They are fairly generic, and to me just mean that I don't actually have to tell someone no in person, all I have to do is push the delete button. If my mailbox were full of these, I would have to hunt them down and shoot them, of course.

At work, I have gotten a very disturbing voicemail telemarketer, twice. She says (paraphrased since it's already deleted):

Sam? This is Lisa. I think this message needs to go to the manager of the loan officers. Anyway, the reason I'm calling is... um... we've had hundreds of people log on to our website to find out about refinancing their mortgage, and I think that you should try to contact them. Please give me a call at 1-800....

OK. First of all, my outgoing message identifies me as Jennifer [last name] at [company name]. Secondly, leave me alone.

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

What the...

This cartoon is disturbing. I get the concept, but what the heck is going on in the second scenario, there? Looks dirty to me. Bad Lore.

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

At the Sushi Restaurant

Sometimes, the easiest jokes to make are the funniest.

Me: I mean, they have an inherently misogynistic culture...

Him: They give massages?!?!??

Monday, August 12, 2002

Boobs, Week 4

I itch and I can't scratch. Perfect. The growing... er, swelling... seems to be under control, which squelches my hope for a city-devouring body part. I guess my boob can do without the extra attention. After all, I have three whole doctors who are only focused on that one part of mine. That's a whole lot of people on my boob. No wonder it's swelling up, it's feeling all self-important and stuff.

Wednesday, August 07, 2002

On the Orange Juice Carton

"Enjoy as often as you like"

Wow, thanks orange juice people. I smell a law suit.

Friday, August 02, 2002

Revisions to the Military Alphabet

We work with someone who just got called up to active duty and will be shipped off somewhere, he can't say. Somewhere with turbans, we suspect. At any rate, he called the other day and repeated a number using "niner niner" at the end (military speak for 99). That made us wonder if he was going to start using the military alphabet to spell things, too. Just in case, we looked up what they would be. (A is Alpha, B is Bravo...) All told, there are two dances (Foxtrot and Tango), two literary characters (Romeo and Juliet), but only two that we really think exemplify the "typical" GI's world - Whisky and Kilo. Therefore, we believe that a new system should be instituted:(invaluable assistance by KelRocks...)

A = Alcohol

B = Beer

C = Condom

D = Drugs

E = Ecstacy


G = Grenade

H = Hazing

I = Indecency

J = Jarhead

K = Kilo (we'll leave that one)

L = Lap dance

M = Minors

N = Naked

O = Opium

P = Pawn shop

Q = Quarantine

R = Roofies

S = Sex

T = Tattoo

U = Underage

V = Veneral disease

W = Whiskey

X = X-rated

Y = Yo

Z = ZZZZZZ.... (what the hell starts with Z???)