Rash decision that hopefully won't backfire.

I'm not an impulsive person. From time to time, however, I make some ridiculous decision without thinking it through. Actually, there's proof of that right here. Yesterday was one of those times when I made a decision without any thinking and I panicked for a while afterwards. I made a rather costly purchase (for my budget, anyway). I bought Phatty and myself a "Spa Package" that includes things like a massage, a facial, a manicure, etc. How did I come to make such a decision? Well... it all started yesterday after lunch while I was at work.
I was sitting there minding my own business, pretending like I was accomplishing some arduous task (while really watching YouTube videos or something equally important) when a dazzling set of freakishly straight and abnormally white teeth walked in through the door.

Julia, squinting: Well hello there outrageously perfect teeth, what can I do for you today?
Teeth: Hello, I'm from Fancy Pants Salon and we have a promotion we are offering to those in the medical field.
Julia, thinking this only applies to the docs/assistants, anyway: Well... this is a dental office, does that count? *hoping he says no so I can shoo him away*
Teeth: Oh yes, that includes you guys! We have a package deal for all of our services for 80% off. That includes massage, facial, foils, manicure, blablabla... all for $42
Julia, blinking away the tears induced by the brightness of his teeth: Err... I don't really need any of that stuff. I do my own nails and I have a fantastic stylist. I know it doesn't translate because I look like this (pointing at myself and my scraggly hair) but she's really great.
Teeth: Well you could always get it as a gift for someone.

Oh you. coy. bastard. You'd love that, wouldn't you?

Julia: Actually, my sister's birthday is next month and she might actually love this. She's a mom of three who works full time and doesn't have time to wipe her butt.*

*Ok, she wipes her butt, but her skin is practically peeling off because she's not even making time to put lotion on. I told her to keep the lotion by the toilet so she can apply it while she poops but she forgets :/ She's that busy.

Julia (cont'd): Can I get back to you?
Teeth: Well, I only have 5 more coupons on me so it's sort of "now or never" It's a great deal, *rattles off the content again* it's a $400 value which right now you'd get for $42.
Julia, hesitant, but slowly falling for the trap: Hmmm... I don't know... Well, what if I got two? Is there a possibility for us both to go together and have a girly day?
Teeth,devilishly: Oh yes, that'd be perfect. Just call and make the appointments and you can go and have whatever you guys want done.
Julia, seriously considering making an impulsive purchase: ... Hmmm

By then I had the coupon in my hand and I was finally able to look past the teeth and notice that he's was actually a guy, not just a floating set of veneers. He had great skin and well groomed hair. He's a great spokesperson but I'd probably recommend he doesn't smile so much. Seriously, I think his teeth damaged my corneas.
Unless that's part of the plan...? Maybe he dazzles unsuspecting customers with his unnaturally white teeth and before you know it you've purchased 2 spa days for you and your sister and you don't even know what hit you? OH SHIZZ! What's this? OH NO! I did buy two spa days for my sister and me! How did that happen? You sneaky, smooth-skinned, crisp-shirted, perfectly groomed persuader... you're sick!
At any rate. There was no turning back but having reverted to my usual non-impulsive self I was now panicking. "What did I just do!?!" Seeking validation for my lack of thinking, I informed some online friends (yeah, I have online friends, wanna do something about it?) about my purchase. Everyone seemed to think it was a great deal, great present, great purchase, etc. Then a couple mentioned that there would probably be some sort of aggressive sales pitch when I got there and to be prepared. That's not as exciting and then someone said the inevitable:
"What if the guy isn't even from the salon?"
...
*tires squealing*HOoooooooOOooooolllldddd the phone. WHAT? *Julia craps her pants* "I didn't even think of that" *Surge of adrenaline as I panic* "What if I just wasted $84 on a scam!?!??"
Aw crap. At any rate, I swallowed the lump in my throat and called the salon.

Girl: Fancy Pants Salon, how may I help you?
Julia, nearly in tears and shaking: Hi, I just had a guy walk in claiming to be from Fancy Pants Salon offering a deal for your services...
Girl: *sighs* yes... about that...
Julia, freaking the hell out because I think the girl's about to tell me it's a scam: I was wondering if it's for real?
Girl: Yes, it IS real. It's a legitimate offer. We've had several calls about it.
Julia, getting dizzy from the huge sigh of relief: Oh good, because I just purchased two of those packets so I'm glad I didn't waste my money.

At any rate, apparently one should check on those things before making rash decisions. Obviously plenty of others are more cautions than me. Curse me and my trusting nature!
I'm glad I didn't waste my money, but hopefully I'll think twice next time I give some dashing set of teeth a large lump of money.

The times when I lose hope.

Sometimes people say and do things that make me wonder. I'll just illustrate my point with this conversation:

Next patient of the day who's due in ten minutes (Next patient, for short): Hi, this is New Patient, I have an appointment at 11 and I wanted to let you know that I'm running late. Is that ok?
Me, irritated but willing to deal with it: Yes it should be ok (No, it's not, but what am I supposed to d0?) how late are you running?
Next patient: Probably a few minutes. I had a family emergency.

Now let me add that I believe that excuse is bullshit. He just sounds like the kind of guy that would abuse the idea of his grandmother getting carried away by a velociraptor* in order to get away with stopping at Starbucks before his dentist appointment. Regardless of that, I NEVER care about patients' excuses (unless they try to make me feel bad about their grandma getting carried about by a velociraptor- then I think they are total douches). Realistically speaking, the reason why they are running late/not coming doesn't matter to me because whether their Grandma got carried away by a velociraptor, or they just slept in, or they were in Africa feeding starving children and were delayed by a layover in China where zombies were attacking all the pilots doesn't change the fact that now my schedule is messed up, my boss is going to turn into a royal bitch, and Doctor is going to go off on a rant about people's idiocy with a tone of superiority.


Me: Well if it's just a few minutes that should be ok.
Next patient: Yeah, well I'm just now leaving Town That's at Least 45 Minutes Away. So yea... Will you still see me?
Me, thinking "Are you an idiot?": .... If you are just now leaving Town That's at Least 45 Minutes Away there's not way you're going to make your 11 O'clock appointment as that's in 10 minutes and you're 45 minutes away.
Next patient, confused: So can I still be seen today? I'll just be late by a little bit.
Me, thinking "You ARE an idiot": ... No. At this rate you're going to be late by an hour.
Next Patient, with what is probably a blank stare: So, can't I still be seen?

Bitch Boss overheard me at this point and did that obnoxious thing where she starts barking orders in an angry tone about how I need to reschedule the patient and how the patient is a "f**cking idiot." Because apparently she can't tell from what I'm saying that's it's obvious I'm telling this jerk off that we won't see him today, so she feels the need to make it clear.

Me, thinking "Not only are you an idiot, but you're also deaf": No. We are going to have to reschedule you.
Next Patient, now shocked and appalled: FOR REALS?! Like... you can't still see me? I'm just running a little bit late.
Me, thinking "How fast do you think you can drive? Moron.": No, you're not. You're running late by at least 45 minutes. There's another patient after you and if we see you then we'll be late for the next patient. We will not see you today.
Next Patient: ...oh. So I can't be seen?

I sure hope this guy doesn't have kids. I proceeded to reschedule his appointment and hopefully his grandpa won't be eaten by rabid goats next week.

EFF!!! And of course now Bitch Boss is being a bitch cursing and moaning about what a "F**ked day" this is. I hate this place. Sometimes I wish I was free to tell people just how idiotic they are.

*Why doesn't Spellcheck recognize the word velociraptor? And why does it want me to replace it with "velocipede"? WTF is a velocipede? Oh.. apparently a velocipede is " any human-powered land vehicle with one or more wheels' so basically a bike. WTF? That's not evel close to a dinosaur.

Mandatory Sex Parties

It's a well known fact that I'm incredibly awesome. Really, it's true. What? I can't help it. I was just born this way. As admittedly awesome as I may be I am also well aware that there are those out there who are far, far awesomer than even me. Take Allie, for example. I discovered her blog last week while I debated whether it'd be more painful to staple my tongue to my lip or to stab my calf with a letter opener at work. Allie is tremendously awesome.
As I made my way through her old posts I came across her bit about the Mandatory Sex Parties, unbeknown to her, a term created in an erratic need for an outrageous statement. When she realized that no one had ever used that term before she decided she'd start a campaign to get the phrase popularized.
This post is partly to spread the word, but it's also reflective. I started to think about mandatory sex parties and wondered what exactly they would entail. Sex as a requirement, for one, that's obvious. Or is it? Is the sex mandatory or is attendance mandatory? If so, what would one do if invited but unwilling to participate? Would the invitation come with an RSVP card with only a "Yes, I will be attending" box? How exactly would the rule be enforced, though? Would these be a new social requirement? "You must attend a MSP at least once every 6 years."
Would admittance to these parties be invitational only? Is it some raunchy free for all where all are welcome so long as they are prepared to get down dirty with their private parts? What kind of sexual activities would one be required to partake in? Does masturbation count as sex? Could one show up to one of these parties and sit in the corner and spank it while others got freaky with each other?
Are these house parties or would the take place at one of those orgy houses (that's what I call them anyway) where people pay to get in and then have sex with strangers? I would think this would need to be more of an organized event than just "Hey Tommy, you're invited to my Mandatory Sex Party. Bring your own condoms! I really hope to see you there from 6:30 to 9:30 on Friday night. There will be refreshments and comfortable pillows." There should be consent forms, health checks, and the department of sanitation would definitely need to be involved.
In retrospect, I hope this term never takes off. I'd be very afraid of some creep eventually taking the joke way too seriously and trying to actually have a mandatory sex party. And what if people like them? I would dread checking my mail every day. I'd shiver every time I saw an invitation envelope. I'd tremble every time a friend approached me with a piece of paper in hand. Checking my e-mail would be a nightmare what with evites being just a click away. Oh the horror! The horror!!

The Butthole Blog.

Let's give it up, already. Truth is, Butthole is mostly my life. At least the part of my life worth talking about. I hardly talk about him to anyone but him so I need to let it out. I've been driving him crazy lately telling him just how amazing he is.
"You're starting to act like my mother" he said. A-hole.
Point is, he IS awesome. Really, not just as my boyfriend. He's a great boyfriend but really, he's just great. I seriously feel more fulfilled in my life just by knowing him. He's a good person. His good qualities are so overabundant it's almost sickening.
I still remember the time I asked him why he donated blood. He didn't actually have an answer. It was a matter of "Why not?" He did it because he's a kind, generous person who doesn't need to gain in order to give.
He's incredibly patient. Every time I complain about pretty much anyone (usually Boss Lady) he doesn't know what to say. You know why? Because things just don't get to him. He tells me "Just be amused by it. Why are you getting mad?" I have no idea how he does it.
He's the only kid I've ever me who actually feels guilty if he doesn't do what his parents ask of him. He is so grateful for what they've done for him that he doesn't hesitate to repay them for their hard work.
We're talking about a guy who manages to balance a full time school work load (while remaining in the honors program), working at a lab, a steady friendship with guys he's known since the 7Th grade, a good relationship with his family, all while keeping his psychotic girlfriend happy. He's like a super hero without the tights. He's seriously giving Chuck Norris a run for his money.
I highly recommend, if you haven't met him yet, that you seek him out. He will enrich your life in ways you never knew possible.

Here I am, minus a pint of blood!

I did it! I donated blood for the first time! I did it and I didn't pass out or puke or die or anything!
I went in on Friday, signed the check-in sheet and got taken behind of the little private booths to answer all the questions about my health. The guy who did it was very nice and very patient with me in spite of my many chants of "I'm soooo nervous" and excessive giggling. He promised he knew how to make sure the finger prick to check iron levels didn't hurt and I was unbelieving. By golly, he wasn't lying, though! "Ring finger to the side: The least amount of nerve endings." Once I made it through the screening they set me up the chair and I had to wait for all the equipment to get set up which took forever.
The guy who actually drew my blood was cool. He kept cracking jokes which I found both oddly comforting and mortifying. "I'm just a guy with a needle," he said. He prepped my arm with rubbing alcohol and put a band around the top of my arm and tightened it. He made me squeeze a ball several times, apparently, to find a vein. Then came the prick. It was definitely uncomfortable but not excruciating. I was instructed to squeeze the ball every 3-4 seconds. It was pretty uncomfortable as my arm felt all tingly but it wasn't awful. He said I had a good flow due to good hydration (I better had! I drank like a gallon of water that day!). It was over pretty quickly. Then he removed the needle and told me to go have a snack and hang around for about 15 minutes.
All in all I was fine. I needed a lot of water for the remainder of the day (sooo thirsty!) but I felt fine, though a little tired.
I'll be doing it again, though I won't promise I won't break out into a cold sweat from nerves again next time.

"At least now you'll have a story to tell"

A story to tell I have, indeed. It's April... Flowers are a-bloomin'... Sun's a-shinin'... and that means... PICNICS!! Yesterday, for Easter Sunday, Butthole decided (I KNOW!!) we were going to have a picnic. Surprisingly, his parents were on board with the idea, and in fact, they wanted to come along. He picked me up and we stopped by the grocery store to get some food.
We arrived at his house and layed everything out on the kitchen table in order to prepare said food. In my expert picnicker opinion it's best to take all sandwich building material with one to the picnic destination and prepare said sandwiches on sight. Unfortunately it's was a 4 to 1 on the amateurs' side who wanted to assemble the sandwiches prior to departure. I can give you plenty of reasons why sandwiches should be prepared AT the picnic sight:

1. Picnics are ALL about making the sandwiches while sitting on a blanket and fighting the bugs off your mayo.

2. A perfect excuse to buy the mayo in the squeeze bottle

3. No chance for the tomato to soak through the bread as ingestion is immediate following assembly.

4. How do you know how hungry you'll be when you get there? What if you don't make enough? What if you make too much? Then you're stuck with a pile of soggy sandwiches no one wants to eat.

5. Balancing a paper plate on your lap while you try not to drop the bread mayo-side-down as you reach for the turkey is FUN *Bonus points if it's slightly breezy and the plate keeps trying to fly away with your piece of bread while you put mayo on the other piece.

But what do I know? It's not like I've been picnicking (YES I am making that into a verb) my whole life. *Back to the tangent-free time line* At first there was a debate on whether the bread should be toasted. Cue Butthole for a pronounced *SCOFF* "But of course it should be toasted!" As his mother rummaged in the cupboards for the toaster and argued with Butthole as to it's place of residence (they have like 3 toasters apparently... WTF?) I commenced slicing tomatoes while Peace Chick brought forth the necessary items out of the fridge. His mother (after finally finding the toaster)declared the necessity for an assembly line. She toasted the bread, Peace Chick spread the mayonnaise, I added tomato and lettuce, Butthole took care of the meat and cheese and his dad took care of the wrapping. As you know we aren't poor 3rd world 6 year olds assembling shoes for Nike in order to support our families of 6 so we weren't exactly efficient and there were plenty of traffic jams and duty-crossing. At any rate... We made an inordinate amount of sandwiches, gathered all of our snacks, and headed out. We got to the park, picked a shady spot, and set up. So far, so good.
After eating (not nearly half the sandwiches me made) and relaxing for a while Peace Chick and I decided I was going to learn how to long board. It's surprisingly easy. See?



Let it be noted that I was NOT wearing the appropriate attire for anything other than sitting still and looking pretty. Those aren't even my shoes, they're Peace Chick's (matching was unintentional) as I was wearing sandals and we figured it wouldn't be safe for me to try to skate in my sandals, adorable as they may be. Then Peace Chick encouraged me to go up the street and coast down the hill. Easy enough, right? WRONG. I should have seen that one coming.
The thing about Peace Chick is that she was a zen-like aura about her that makes you forget about the possibility of consequences. In all honesty, she should be selling used cars because anything she suggests automatically sounds like a good idea. She manages to make the words "You should go down the hill" make sense. Never mind that you're wearing an adorable new dress and sandals. When she suggests something there's a little voice inside your head that suddenly perks up and whispers: "Nothing could possibly go wrong, after all, this is the first time you've ever tried this."
As I stood there preparing for take off a bunch of kids zoomed by as if to say "Come on, Julia, look how easy we make it look, this is a totally good idea, you should totally try to do it!" Well the subliminal messaging sunk in and I took off. As Peace Chick narrated "And this is the part where she starts screaming" I felt myself gaining speed. I, did, indeed start screaming, much to Peace Chick's amusement. The world was becoming a blur as I panicked on wheels. Peace Chick was screaming "Don't jump! Don't jump off!!" And then... I was flying! No, really, I flew all across the pavement. I still can't say with certainty whether I panicked and jumped off or if I just lost my balance. Either way I did considerable damage to my body, my clothing, and my ego. I landed right on my hip (which is now twice as big, thank you very much), scraped my left elbow, my knee, my right forearm (WTF?), my boob (WTF? X 2- those were covered!), my hand, and even chipped my toe-nail polish. I laid on the ground trying to make sense of it all and then the board rolled at me. People were running. Peace Chick was yelling/laughing/saying "OH DUDE!" Butthole was angrily screaming at me "What were you thinking!?!?" It was a blur. A painful, humiliating, bloody blur. Adrenaline was pumping through me. As every one's screams of "Is she ok?" reached my ears I became so high on the adrenaline that I could do nothing but laugh. Now I was the manic psycho bleeding everywhere and laughing about it.
His mom (OH GOSH! HIS MOM!!!) came running both with maternal AND doctor instinct. We drove back to Butthole's so that I could get cleaned up and bandaged up. His mom came along to clean me up. Now, I've gotta say, for a doctor, she was not well equipped for injuries of the magnitude I had induced upon myself. I guess that makes sense, though, considering in an ideal reality she no longer has small children who have no concept of cause and effect regarding the risky shenanigans they deem "fun." All she had was hydrogen peroxide (OUCH!!!) and band-aids. She patched me up and I apologized over and over for ruining the afternoon. Peace Chick laughed and apologized both for laughing and for encouraging me to pull such a thoughtless stunt. Butthole stood by holding my hand and shaking his head in disbelief at my stupidity. I noticed I ripped my (NEW) dress and had to safety-pin it to keep the strap in place. Good times... NOT.



So yes... Peace Chick apologized as she tried to contain her laughter, Butthole kissed the owie once he got over the a. shock and b. anger at my stupidity, and I sat pretty for the rest of the afternoon. Like Peace Chick said, at least now I have a story to tell, though I learned no matter how good her ideas seem, I should never, ever listen to her.