Fudge Coma

We are here in Florence on vacation and it is taking a toll on my six pack otherwise known as my delusional six pack. A fudge coma occurs with one simple step: eat an amount of fudge equivalent to one’s body mass.  After you are done indulging to your heart’s content, the coma is only but seconds away. Your belly starts to ache due to the overwhelming amount of condensed milk in one’s system and then you delve into a deep, dark unconsciousness. You are unable to move as if you’re in fudge-induced paralysis. You lose all feeling in your limbs and the midsection becomes numb. The next day you are not hungry for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. But alas, the fudge cravings peak at their highest around 5:00pm and then the vicious cycle repeats itself once more. I have been in this comatose state for the last three days. Although they have been the best days of my life, I am never eating fudge again. Still waiting to regain movement in my limbs. Pray for me and my addiction. Thank you. 

Physical Therapist Trance

One day, I had the rare pleasure of accompany my mother to her occasional physical therapist appointment. No worries, she just experiences hip pain from time to time probably due to the last giant infant she gave birth to 12 years ago, my brother. The appointment was scheduled to be 45 minutes long and I was destined to wait that 45 minutes—luckily, I was equipped with my “Dating For Dummies” book (which is also clever advertising for one’s marital status).  However, I did not need to depend on my book for mere entertainment that afternoon for the waiting room proved to be a gold mine for people watching. Eugene truly has weirdos in every corner of its city, even physical therapist waiting rooms.  As I sat there engrossed in the third chapter of my book entitled, “Playing Hard to Get,” I felt a pair of eyes ogling me.  I looked up, hesitantly, to meet them and regretted that decision immediately.

 What I saw that day in that modest waiting room will haunt me forevermore, like when my father strolls around in his revealing whitey-tighties. A bearded man, with the hygienic appearance of a hippy, was hunched over in the fetal position, hands over his knees, and his eyes were focused on me and my innocent book. He began to gyrate his knees with his hands in a circular motion, which is fine, but all the while, he was STILL staring at me. Naturally, averted my eyes so as to not fall into this hypnotic knee-trance. But it was too mesmerizing and I could not look away, so I held my book in front of my face and each time I took it down a smidge to peek, he was still gyrating and STARING. This lasted for what seemed forever. Definitely the longest two minutes of my life. The stare was so intense and so focused I was afraid he was going to notice the book I was reading and have me touch his very loose knees. But, alas, he finally disappeared after the sixth time I peeked from hiding.  I will never forget the bearded man with the gyrating knees and have added that hypnotic move to my dancing repertoire.  Thank you.

A Lie Forever Regretted 11/15/2011

My body cringes with pain as I try to recall the events of last night. Cringes of regret. My muscles cry with pain at every movement, my lower back feels as if I tried to lift my little brother, and my dignity not tarnished. I literally probably ran for no more than 15 minutes total last night.I foolishly decided to partake in an indoor soccer game last night against girls my size: against little highschoolers. We were about to leave after my little sister's game when all of a sudden I hear a vested older lady, with nothing but hope in her eyes, pleaing for subs to play in her impending game. I approached the woman and said, "I hear you're looking for players." "Yes, you wanna play? You have to be in highschool," she said as she scrutinzed my womanly figure."Perfect, I'm a Junior," I quickly reported, lying through my teeth...."Suit up. You're in, in 5 minutes." Little did I know I would be undergoing the worst physical pain my body has ever endured in my entire life. Nothing is more humbling than getting schooled by highschoolers. Nothing.

Wisdom Teeth-Part Two

The time has come upon me. The time when the rest of my precious wisdom teeth are to be removed. Extracted. Operated. Void of my mouth. To be honest, it’s rather lonely without them in there, waiting to be a part of their crunching counterparts. I’ve grown up with these pearly whites my entire life and now, they are no longer to be a part of my life. But they shall be, in the form of a necklace. Kidding. I am not on bath salts (LSD) and will not be anytime soon. However, my teeth would look sexy draped around my neck…in a cannibalistic way. 

I already knew the drill (no pun intended) for I have already had my left side extracted and called the dental assistant a “seeing-eye dog but who smelt better.”  I entered the operating room, sat in the operating chair, and waited…waited…and waited…. for thirty minutes before any action regarding my mouth occurred, and I don’t mean kissing. My mouth would have found quicker action in a bar. I started playing with the heart rate machine to see how fast and slow I could make my heart beat just to defeat the boredom.

Suddenly, the surgeon appears in a sweaty hustle, as if he just manually yanked out his last victim’s teeth. It was the least bit relieving to see him in such a frantic state. He apologized for being tardy and claimed he dropped his “bag” midway as he was riding his bike to the office. Grand. I could tell he wanted these teeth out in a hurry. Next thing I know, they stuck me with the anesthetic, I leaned my head back, and woke up with two less teeth.

For the past two days, I have been “recovering” by watching new releases from beloved Ray’s, Celebrity Ghost Stories, and the Food Network. Life has been wonderful. Lots of mouthwash, but wonderful

Asian Invasion

What better way to return to my precious CockTalk than by talking about my experiences Christmas shopping. One downfall about shopping is how exhausting it can be. Dressing rooms are apart of this exhaustion. You walk in with a wad of clothes not knowing whether or not they will fit and hope for the best. The other day I was at Forever 21 trying to find some fly Christmas sweaters and decided to take the plunge and try them on in the beloved dressing room. As I was checking out my slowly-forming six pack in the mirror, I suddenly hear the "curtain" to my dressing room open. I make eye contact with a small Asian girl and her face contorts into complete mortification. She backed up out of there as if she had been shot. "I so sowwey I so sowwey," was all I heard for the next ten minutes. I chased her out of the dressing room and kept saying, "No worries, no worries" in an attempt to restore her lost honor. But it was to no avail. She simply ran out of the store in her flashy Forever 21 New Year's attire, never to be seen again.

Exploding Birds

Unfortunately, due to my extroverted nature, I have no qualms bout singing out loud in my working environment aka the library. But, apparently, various patrons do have minor issues with my outbursts.
The event took place March23rd, around 1:20 pm on the 4th floor of the Knight library. I was singing to the sweet sounds of Chris Brown (as usual) and my coworker could not help but comment on my performance.
"Rachelle," she started, as shelved away her book down the RA aisle.
"When you sing, you remind me of that princess in Shrek who sings and then birds explode."
After I heard this, I almost dropped the book I was shelving. I had no idea how to respond to this tidbit of news. I was about to continue belting in hopes my coworker would explode but was suddenly interrupted by a male patron who approached me saying,
"Hey, it's not your fault girl. It's your parents' fault. Blame your parents for your voice. Or lack of it."
I was completely appalled and could not believe what I was hearing. My coworker implied my impersonation of Chris Brown caused animals to explode and a nearby listener essentially agreed and tried to reassure me it wasn't my fault. I was simply born this way. It is in my genetic makeup and I cannot do anything to change it.
As the patron left, I was still too shocked/dismayed to say anything in rebuttal so I just simply stood there, dumbfounded, book in hand with thoughts of throwing it.
Even though this lil episode shattered much of my confidence in my singing abilities, no one will ever stop me from singing my Chris Brown. Even if it does make them explode :p

Dilated Disaster Part II

The Thailand eye assistant proceeded to explain in great detail what Glaucoma was and my nausea worsened with every word.
"Glaucoma like you have a balloon and sink. It like put balloon over sink and fill with water and expand. Eye like balloon and fill with fluid. To fix eye, eye must be drained."
That was it. I was gone. The last thing I remember was a Thailand accent in the distance. I'm not sure if it was the the numbing ointment, the glaucoma story, or the accent that sent me unconscious but I was out cold.
Next thing I remember is waking up to an unfamiliar face with the most concerned expression.
"What happened!?" I gasped.
I was so utterly confused and had no idea where I was. I thought perhaps I fell asleep during my eye appointment, got into a car accident, and I lost my legs or something to that extent.
Then, I heard it. That beloved, unforgettable Thailand accent. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh Rachel, are you ok?!" I look down to see my legs being held above my head by this Asian woman who apparently possessed some massive biceps. It takes real strength to lift these calves of mine. I was impressed and developed a new found respect for this woman. I learned later she hit the gym every now and then and the purpose of lifting my legs was to get the blood back to my heart.
The unfamiliar face was a nurse who ran in as soon as I fainted and kept putting cold packs on my forehead. She claimed I underwent a little faint-like spell because my body was unfamiliar with what it was experiencing and essentially "shut-down."
Horror stories about Glaucoma are definitely something my body is unfamiliar with.
"I thought you died!" My darling little sister exclaimed. "You started twitching and everything like you were possessed! Definitely thought you were a goner," she continued. My little sister always knows how to reassure me in my times of despair.
All I know is that I survived my first fainting episode and what brought me back to the surface was the unforgettable sound of a Thailand accent.
"Rachel, I never tell you story about Glaucoma again."
Amen sista. Amen.