So someone needs to please explain the metaphor. Because I'm not getting it.

Recently I discovered the song, "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice. It is a hauntingly beautiful song that I can listen to over and over. Well, I didn't really understand what the song was actually about - I knew the song had symbolism and several layers of meanings. I decided that the song was about the torment of moving on from a relationship and the inner struggle of guilt and not being able to let go. I had a fantastic idea to pull up the music video for the song, because generally an artist will have the music video show the audience the meaning behind the song. So, I did that.

And apparently the song is about a guy that has a chick's head floating like a balloon that sings to him.

That cleared that right up.

So - I'm confused.

So the other day I had a close call while cooking dinner. This isn't very surprising, because, well let's face it - even making toast is like a near death experience when I'm involved.

Whenever I see smoke coming from whatever appliance I'm using (toaster, stove, vacuum, disposal, etc) I start thinking about what I would do if things really did catch on fire.

So I've discovered that I have a fire extinguisher right outside my front door. (I think someone in my family called the apartments and forewarned them before I moved in).

Here's the thing. The fire extinguisher is covered in GLASS. Who's bright idea was this? So someone is supposed to shatter the glass in the heat of the moment with their . . . . hand? head? small child? While in the process probably injuring themselves so badly they would be incapable of actually operating the fire extinguisher. You have to decide to either lose a thumb or save your home. It's like Sophie's Choice!

Knowing how I tend to injure myself while doing normal things like standing or sneezing, I probably wouldn't risk breaking through the glass with my hand. I'd probably try to crack it with rocks. I could just see myself now . . . standing 5 feet away from the fire extinguisher throwing pebbles at the case while the entire apartment complex goes up in flames around me.

Typical.

So this week is a week to be thankful. Even though it doesn't seem like it.

• This week I am thankful to my sister Jarica who (is it whom? I never know . . . ) shared her cold with me. Without which I would have not have remembered how nice it is to be able to breathe in and out completely, and would not have pondered how long a nose can run without running out of reserves.
• This week I am thankful to Costco for providing me with Kleenex. Well, they didn't really provide it because I had to pay . . . more like I'm thankful they forced me to stock up on enough Kleenex to keep me prepared until I am 75, or through a bad cold - whichever comes first.
• I'm thankful to vicodin for keeping me from scratching out my eyeballs when the WORST migraine ever hit Monday night . . . .right before I was getting ready to sleep.
• I'm thankful that I do not have any roommates so I didn't have to apologize for loudly throwing up at 2am Wednesday night from what was apparently food poisoning. That's what I get for cooking for myself.
• I'm thankful that on Thursday people at work don't automatically jump to the conclusion that I'm going through withdrawals when they see me alternating between shivering and sweating at work, while I continually ran fevers. (I'm told that withdrawals was at least 3rd on the list of possible explanations. Followed closely by The Plague.)
• I'm NOT thankful for my Flinstones vitamins. Because I eat at least 15 of those things a day and I'm still sick. Rip-off.

So I should maybe pay attention more . . .

So I caught 'The Patriot' on TV today. I wasn't really a fan of it in the past because the first (and only) other time I saw it, I thought the movie was pretty disturbing. Not because of the deaths and war violence, but because I thought Mel Gibson's character fell for his sister. Incest isn't cute in my book, people. However, I may not have been paying very close attention to the movie, but I just assumed it was his sister because all the kids called her 'aunt'. This time around I figured out it was his sister-in-law. That small detail changes everything.

It's kinda like how all growing up I thought the second verse of the song 'I am a Child of God' started as, "I am a Child of God, and so my knees are grey," which led to several daydreams during primary where I imagined why someone's knees would be grey. Were they dirty? Was it because she was wearing tights? Was she playing with markers? Hence, I was never able to remember the rest of that verse because I was too busy wondering why someone would color their knees grey. Several years later I figured out the song is actually, "I am a Child of God, and so my needs are great."

I wonder how many movies I need to re-watch to make sure I actually hate them.

So, I'm abnormal. And now the people at work know.

Seriously it seems like embarrassing moments and a messed up body are like the themes of my life. And normally, those two will coincide with each other. Like yesterday.

So, at work I've been moved to Lead a brand spanking new team. It's a team of 16 individuals that do not know me at all, so we had a meeting scheduled yesterday where I would introduce myself. Well, I've already moved my desk so that I sit with them, so they are getting to know me by observing me, which is a little freaky. Especially lately.

I've been feeling more cruddy then normal and have some rogue infection which I have to take drugs for. Except for these drugs are a liquid that I have to hold in my mouth for about a minute. And I have to do it at work, because I have to take them like 72 (ok, 3) times a day. The thing with these drops are . . . they are what evil must taste like. And it burns. I feel like I'm holding nuclear waste in my mouth and then swallowing it. And I have a difficult time disguising my facial expressions, so when I take these drops, it is uber apparent to the world that I have nuclear waste in my mouth. It isn't pleasant.

Then, today right before I was getting ready to leave for the meeting, I got a bloody nose. Now, for a normal person this is just an inconvenience. (Ok, so I hate the word blood, and it sounds uber gross, so for this story I'm going to refer to the blood as Kool-Aid. Cool? Cool.) Except, my Kool-Aid noses aren't normal Kool-Aid noses. (Because apparently nothing about me is normal.) Mine are like I cut an artery. It is a LOT of Kool-Aid and fast and doesn't go away for a LONG time. So I had to run and tell the leader I support that I'll be late for the meeting, while I was stopping the Mt. Vesuvius that was my face. So I ran to the restroom and tried unsuccessfully to try and stop the Kool-Aid for 20 minutes. I decided I needed ice which meant I had to go to the nurse's office.

When I finally get to the nurses office (after passing at least 100 people that were rather alarmed by my Kool-Aid mess of a face - no wonder I don't get embarrassed easily) the nurse kept telling me to lean back and that'll stop the Kool-Aid. Yeah - that doesn't work for me. It basically forces all the Kool-Aid to go the other direction and I start choking. Yummy. When she finally saw how much Kool-Aid my nose was producing, she looked a little frightened and ran and got another nurse. That nurse came in, took one look and left to get someone else. (I'm not even kidding). That nurse then came in and sat in a chair and WATCHED me have a bloody nose. Honestly, that was all she did. And I'm pretty honest, especially with doctors, so I kept saying stuff like,

"I'll be okay. No, seriously, this is totally normal . . . . . All I needed was some ice. It's gonna be awhile, don't you have something else you'd like to do? . . . . . Well, this is awkward. . . . . Well, I'm gonna try to wash all this (kool-aid) off my face now, it's pretty gross, so you really don't need to watch. Unless, you know, I guess you want to watch. . . . . . . And apparently you do."

So I was basically performing a monologue while holding a dixie cup to my nose to catch all the Koo-Aid (because kleenex doesn't cut it, folks) and also trying to hold the world's largest ice pack to my nose. And then - when I finally got the grossness to stop, she wouldn't leave until she could inspect it herself. Seriously.

THEN - I went to the store later that day and I was wondering why this older woman that was an employee kept asking me if I was ok. I couldn't figure out why, because I was totally fine.

Then I got home and saw why. Apparently when I washed my face I forgot that I was wearing mascara (I rarely do) and because I haven't been feeling well, I've been sleeping worse than normal, which makes my eyes more bloodshot than normal. The result was someone that looked incredibly strung out/insane. Lovely.

So sleep is apparently necessary. Who knew?

So I've been having some super exciting (note:sarcasm) events which have been causing me to completely lose my sanity lately. So far, none of my co-workers or friends have noticed a difference . . . . which apparently means I'm always this crazy. Anyway . . . so I've been going to lots of dr appts lately and getting tests and stuff (because it's what the cool kids do). And this week my Dr told me I needed to get a blood test at 10 am today and I can't have any drugs in my system when I take it cuz it can throw the results off, which are important, apparently. So for most people this isn't a big deal, but for me it kinda screws things up. I'm super unique and apparently need an elephant size tranquilizer before my body decides to even consider the idea of sleeping. Every night I have to convince my brain that sleep is necessary and if it doesn't give the heck up already I'll be in major pain the next day. Sometimes this tactic works. And then sometimes my brain just says, "Screw you, I'll do what I want. So WHAT if I want to watch a Lifetime movie marathon? You're not the boss of me!" (My brain can be very rude sometimes.)

If I don't take any drugs to help me sleep it will be 72 hours before my body surrenders. Trust me, I've tried it and it's not pretty. So I knew that I didn't really have a chance of falling asleep last night. But I still tried. I kept coming up with the most boring activities that have put me to sleep in the past. I pulled out a book I could never finish because it was SO. BORING. - - -I ended up finishing the book. So that failed. Then I decided to watch something REALLY boring so that I would fall asleep. So I pulled out my trusty Netflix online and went to Discovery Channel and clicked on "Shark Week" because, well, I've never had any desire to watch it before and so now I'm sure I will be put to sleep with the sweet sounds of . . . . sharks eating their prey. So the dang thing backfired (go figure) and it was like really interesting. Did you know that you can like put a shark to sleep by touching their nose? You should try it sometime. It seems easy enough.

ANYWAY, so I went to work today at 5 am - this after a night of no sleep. I went and got my blood test done, and had to stay at work until 4pm . . . . so basically an 11 hour shift with no sleep. Good times. And I thought I was hiding it pretty well until just now when I told a colleague that I thought Netti Pots were for flowering your pants. Yeah, that's not at all what I meant, but that's how my dreadfully tired brain translated it.

So, that's the end of my story. I'm sure tomorrow I won't even remember or understand this post.

P.S. Doesn't the shark pic above look oddly similiar to a chin face? You know what I'm talking about? When you hang upside down and draw a face like this:

Admit it. It's eerily similiar.

So I'm surrounded by idiots

So last night I was at the airport picking up my parents at the airport. While I was waiting for my parents to land and get their luggage, I went to the "Cell Phone Lot". This is a very convenient parking area in the middle of nowhere that people can wait for their people to land. As I was sitting there contemplating my existence, (ok, so I was watching 'The Soup' on my phone) I noticed something ironic. There was an entire row of handicap parking spaces in the cell phone lot. There is nowhere for people to go - unless they want to walk around the runways . . . .but there is even a sign that says, "Do Not Leave Your Vehicle". So even if there was a handicap driver . . . why do you need a space? I can tell there was a lot of thought put into this parking lot.