Dedicated to anyone who checks their email more than 5 times daily.
It is funny how emailing becomes a part of your day when you are at your desk staring at your computer for hours at a time. As a matter of fact when I don't get a "I'll be in a meeting" or "leaving for lunch, catch you in a bit" email I find myself worrying. After a matter of hours of not hearing from my friend i sent her this:
" Excuse me officer, can you help me make a missing persons report? My friend is missing. She is about 5'6', dancers body, cute pixie cut, 50 watt smile, contagious laugh, a purse big enough to nap in, more than likely wearing something designer, probably wearing flats and no mascara because it is a work day. Have you seen her? Could we put her on a milk carton?"
I used to be able to go a whole week or maybe even two without checking my email, but now I find myself refreshing my email screen every time my mind wanders from the report I am writing. Oh, what would life be like without cyberspace? Slow and out of touch I suppose. So open up your trusty hotmail account and crack a smile cuz baby...you've got mail!!!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
WHY DO BAD MOODS EXIST? THEY ARE ABOUT AS USEFUL AS GNATS AND MOSQUITOS.
Dedicated to anyone who has ever said "I would suggest that you step away from me right now."
Don't you hate those days when you wake up and as soon as your eyes pop open you know that it would have been a better idea not to? And guys, I don't want you reading this and thinking, "you know, my girlfriend is just like that," because you have your days too. I tell you what, the phrase "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" just doesn't even cover it. When I was a kid and woke up in poor spirits and dragged myself to the kitchen, my nana would always ask me, "did you eat tiger meat for breakfast?" Now that I look back on it, its kinda cute and honestly, I will probably say it one day, but back then I would want to shout, "no nana, I did not have tiger meat for breakfast. I am just now making it to the table because after I woke up my foot got caught in my sheet, I fell out of bed, hit my head on my closet and caught myself by grabbing the shirt I was gonna wear today and ripped it on the way down. " Isn't that just the way it goes? Everytime I'm in a bad mood it is like the spirits are aligned to mess with me. My dog, whom I love with all my heart, who is always good, will take thirty minutes to go to the bathroom. (you can always tell when I am in a bad mood because she goes from being called Gigi to "dog")I am definitely gonna spill coffee or jam on my shirt at breakfast and ketchup at lunch. I will slam my finger or foot in the door or hit my head. I will trip and almost fall, and sometimes do, along with the handful of stuff I am carrying. I will bite my cheek or tongue for no apparent reason and my hair will not do what I want it to. I think that doctors needs to look into this- I personally think society would be a lot nicer without bad moods. Let's stop focusing on this common cold stuff and focus on a "bad mood reliever" sort of the Tylenol of bad moods. Personally I think it would make millions and the divorce rate would be cut in half!
Don't you hate those days when you wake up and as soon as your eyes pop open you know that it would have been a better idea not to? And guys, I don't want you reading this and thinking, "you know, my girlfriend is just like that," because you have your days too. I tell you what, the phrase "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" just doesn't even cover it. When I was a kid and woke up in poor spirits and dragged myself to the kitchen, my nana would always ask me, "did you eat tiger meat for breakfast?" Now that I look back on it, its kinda cute and honestly, I will probably say it one day, but back then I would want to shout, "no nana, I did not have tiger meat for breakfast. I am just now making it to the table because after I woke up my foot got caught in my sheet, I fell out of bed, hit my head on my closet and caught myself by grabbing the shirt I was gonna wear today and ripped it on the way down. " Isn't that just the way it goes? Everytime I'm in a bad mood it is like the spirits are aligned to mess with me. My dog, whom I love with all my heart, who is always good, will take thirty minutes to go to the bathroom. (you can always tell when I am in a bad mood because she goes from being called Gigi to "dog")I am definitely gonna spill coffee or jam on my shirt at breakfast and ketchup at lunch. I will slam my finger or foot in the door or hit my head. I will trip and almost fall, and sometimes do, along with the handful of stuff I am carrying. I will bite my cheek or tongue for no apparent reason and my hair will not do what I want it to. I think that doctors needs to look into this- I personally think society would be a lot nicer without bad moods. Let's stop focusing on this common cold stuff and focus on a "bad mood reliever" sort of the Tylenol of bad moods. Personally I think it would make millions and the divorce rate would be cut in half!
SAY CHEESE!
Dedicated to all of you who had your eyes closed in your yearbook picture.
As if prepubesent life and then the dramatic change all to quickly (even if it seems to take forever) to an adolesence isn't embarassing enough it has to be documented every year. Yes, I am talking about picture day. Why is it that the school insists upon putting our faces on the the matte- glossy pages of the $35 diary of shame that they like to call a "yearbook." It really is sad that when we look back on these pages we can look at our hairstyle (was it nessisary for me to have those winnie cooper bangs) or our teeth, (pre-braces of course.) It is truly sad that we can look back at the pictures and remember the squeaking of our voices, the first blemishes (which of course popped up on picture day right on our forehead), the first time aunt flo came to visit, our first heartbreak (he looks goofy too, at least), and the never forgotten style of the times. Is that a pants/jumper im wearing? And in purple to boot? Are those sam and libbys? I bet they are worth something now. And no, girls I haven't forgotten about the side ponytail that our moms thought was so "adorable." Not adorable now. I am embarrased that these are the things that we have to look back on when someone says she went to your elementary school. Do you remember her? We go to our trusty yearbooks and go back and tell them, oh yes, I remember her, she had great style.
As if prepubesent life and then the dramatic change all to quickly (even if it seems to take forever) to an adolesence isn't embarassing enough it has to be documented every year. Yes, I am talking about picture day. Why is it that the school insists upon putting our faces on the the matte- glossy pages of the $35 diary of shame that they like to call a "yearbook." It really is sad that when we look back on these pages we can look at our hairstyle (was it nessisary for me to have those winnie cooper bangs) or our teeth, (pre-braces of course.) It is truly sad that we can look back at the pictures and remember the squeaking of our voices, the first blemishes (which of course popped up on picture day right on our forehead), the first time aunt flo came to visit, our first heartbreak (he looks goofy too, at least), and the never forgotten style of the times. Is that a pants/jumper im wearing? And in purple to boot? Are those sam and libbys? I bet they are worth something now. And no, girls I haven't forgotten about the side ponytail that our moms thought was so "adorable." Not adorable now. I am embarrased that these are the things that we have to look back on when someone says she went to your elementary school. Do you remember her? We go to our trusty yearbooks and go back and tell them, oh yes, I remember her, she had great style.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I WISH PEOPLE WOULD QUIT WATCHING DR. PHIL AND THINK THEY KNOW IT ALL. ONE EPISODE DOES NOT A THERAPIST MAKE.
Dedicated to anyone who is tired of hearing peoples advice who dont know squat:
I was once told a story about an old lady who was always diagnosing her friends. One of her friends, who when she first met her future husband fell off the face of the earth, she didn't return phone calls sometimes for DAYS, never replied to emails or forwards that she would have previously replied to with a "HAHA! Loved it" now recieved none of the attention they truly deserved. So the lady daignosed her with "detachment disorder." Everyone around the bridge table agreed, oooh... yes definately... shen never comes around...Let me share with you the definition of detachment disorder- wait, there is no such thing...
Or how bout the time the friend of hers who decided to go off of her antidepressants and had a time dealing with the sadness. Some days she would be in a happy-go lucky mood and others she would find it hard to get out of bed. So once again the old lady dished out her diagnosis, right there on that bridge table on one of those days that the friend just didn't feel like coming. She definately has dissasociative disorder. Ooooh... Yes, that it. She doesn't even associate with us anymore. Let me again share with you a definition, this time of dissociative diorder, right out of the pages of Wikipedia: Dissociative Identity Disorder ( DID ), as defined by the American Psychiatric Association 's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities , each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. [1] The diagnosis requires that at least two personalities routinely take control of the individual's behavior with an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness; in addition, symptoms cannot be due to substance abuse or medical condition. Yep, definately sounds like what her friend has. I am so glad the old lady was there to identify her problems, now she can get the help that she needs.
How bout the time that one of her friends brought her 8 yr old little boy with her to the bridge game? Well, let see.. here are his symptoms, he hopped around on one foot alot, tended to jump from one subject to the other when talking to the ladies, and when he went outside his favorite pastime was to chase the cat around until it ran up a tree and then he would stand under it barking. Sometimes he would sneak into the kitchen and climb up on the counter to reach the cookies on top of the fridge. At the next bridge game when they weren't there she diagnosed him with autism. This time the ladies agreed a little more hesitantly thinking of example of autism that they were familiar with (think Rainman ) . "hmmm.. yeah, I guess that could be it" they said, talking themselves into the idea. Here is the definition: Autism is a brain development disorder that impairs social interaction and communication and causes restricted and repetitive behavior, all starting before a child is three years old. Autism is one of the five pervasive developmental disorders (PDD), which are characterized by widespread abnormalities of social interactions and communication, and severely restricted interests and highly repetitive behavior. Many children with autism engage in repetitive movements such as rocking and twirling, or in self-abusive behavior such as biting or head-banging. I Think this is definately what the little boy has- once again good thing that the old lady was there to tell everyone!
After doing a little research her friends found out that the first friend; turns out she had a case of getting bit by the love bug with a touch of couldn't get out of bed (if you know what I mean.) The second friend had a case of "I'm sick-o-yo-sh#+." And the child, had to pee, hence the hopping, a hint of hyperactivity, see the subject jumping, and alot of boy will be boys, aka chasing the cat up a tree and stealing cookies.
The Bridge group got together to confront the old lady, feeling a little upset that she had shamed these people and made them think that all of their friends had psychiatric disorders. And to their accusations she said "what would I know, I'm a florist."
I was once told a story about an old lady who was always diagnosing her friends. One of her friends, who when she first met her future husband fell off the face of the earth, she didn't return phone calls sometimes for DAYS, never replied to emails or forwards that she would have previously replied to with a "HAHA! Loved it" now recieved none of the attention they truly deserved. So the lady daignosed her with "detachment disorder." Everyone around the bridge table agreed, oooh... yes definately... shen never comes around...Let me share with you the definition of detachment disorder- wait, there is no such thing...
Or how bout the time the friend of hers who decided to go off of her antidepressants and had a time dealing with the sadness. Some days she would be in a happy-go lucky mood and others she would find it hard to get out of bed. So once again the old lady dished out her diagnosis, right there on that bridge table on one of those days that the friend just didn't feel like coming. She definately has dissasociative disorder. Ooooh... Yes, that it. She doesn't even associate with us anymore. Let me again share with you a definition, this time of dissociative diorder, right out of the pages of Wikipedia: Dissociative Identity Disorder ( DID ), as defined by the American Psychiatric Association 's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities , each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. [1] The diagnosis requires that at least two personalities routinely take control of the individual's behavior with an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness; in addition, symptoms cannot be due to substance abuse or medical condition. Yep, definately sounds like what her friend has. I am so glad the old lady was there to identify her problems, now she can get the help that she needs.
How bout the time that one of her friends brought her 8 yr old little boy with her to the bridge game? Well, let see.. here are his symptoms, he hopped around on one foot alot, tended to jump from one subject to the other when talking to the ladies, and when he went outside his favorite pastime was to chase the cat around until it ran up a tree and then he would stand under it barking. Sometimes he would sneak into the kitchen and climb up on the counter to reach the cookies on top of the fridge. At the next bridge game when they weren't there she diagnosed him with autism. This time the ladies agreed a little more hesitantly thinking of example of autism that they were familiar with (think Rainman ) . "hmmm.. yeah, I guess that could be it" they said, talking themselves into the idea. Here is the definition: Autism is a brain development disorder that impairs social interaction and communication and causes restricted and repetitive behavior, all starting before a child is three years old. Autism is one of the five pervasive developmental disorders (PDD), which are characterized by widespread abnormalities of social interactions and communication, and severely restricted interests and highly repetitive behavior. Many children with autism engage in repetitive movements such as rocking and twirling, or in self-abusive behavior such as biting or head-banging. I Think this is definately what the little boy has- once again good thing that the old lady was there to tell everyone!
After doing a little research her friends found out that the first friend; turns out she had a case of getting bit by the love bug with a touch of couldn't get out of bed (if you know what I mean.) The second friend had a case of "I'm sick-o-yo-sh#+." And the child, had to pee, hence the hopping, a hint of hyperactivity, see the subject jumping, and alot of boy will be boys, aka chasing the cat up a tree and stealing cookies.
The Bridge group got together to confront the old lady, feeling a little upset that she had shamed these people and made them think that all of their friends had psychiatric disorders. And to their accusations she said "what would I know, I'm a florist."
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