This morning, I cooked my tradtitional omlet to borderline perfection making sure it was tender in all the right spots. You know it's gonna be a good omlet when you don't flip it out of the pan ;) I require a man who can cook an omlet equally as satisfying or who knows how to cook the shit out of a pan in a different way. Whatever comes out of that pan better be frickin' mouth-watering. My future Indian husband will be able to cook an egg any way I please while dancing to his Bollywood beats. He will also be smelling like a dead-sexy Sutlan. "Sultan of the Egg" I shall call him. But I knew while devouring this breakfast-for- champions that today was indeed going to be a good day. And it was.
Today, July 29th at 3:40, is a day I shall never forget.
I made it to the bus without burning my feet and was fortunate enough to have a familiar face sit next to me. His name is Colton, he will be freshmen at the U of O, and has a beard fit for a caveman. Sweet kid but he needs to be introduced to a shaver. asap
As we were talking, waiting to depart from the friendly Eugene bus station, a female security guard about the size of a defensive linemen made an appearance aboard the little Veneta bus. I was intrigued and just stared. I was just waiting for her to sit down and pull out a doughnut, twinkie, or something similar that she'd inhale with great pleasure. But no. This large mass of authority was not to be reckoned with and I didn't feel like getting eaten. She stomped down the ailse creating a mini earthquake that could not be ignored and I continued to watch this scene enfold. She was on a mission.
Security Officer Butch approached an elderly, questionable- looking woman at the back of the bus and demanded that she'd come with her so as to answer a few "questions." I feared for the elderly woman's safety but soon realized she was a twig old lady and that no one would waste calories on eatin' that. Phew.
The two of them marched outside and Officer Butch just began to yell at this poor woman. Us passengers did not have the slightest clue what she could have done. We all took guesses: shoplifting, jay-walking, drunk, crack-cocaine? But alas, none of us were even close as to why Butch wrote her a ticket.
I had to find out. So as soon as little old woman came back on the bus holding her newly won ticket-fine, I eased-dropped on the conversation she had with a nearby passenger. The dialogue went something like this,
Passenger: What the hell was that all about? Are you ok? What happened?
Old Woman: Well, funny story you see. I kind of did something I wasn't suppose to. I couldn't help it though. It just happened and I had no control. I had a little accident on a bench over there. A poop accident. And I left it. They had to bag it [shit] up and apparently it's illegal to do stuff like that...on a bench.
Passenger: Oh....so you pooped on a bench? And they wrote you a ticket?
Old Woman: Yes. I just had an accident on a bench. That's all.
I was in shock and so was the man next to her because he stood up and decided to sit at the front of the bus far, far away from the out-of-control-pooping lady.
This old woman just shitted on a bench and just left it. A little, "harmless" present for all to treasure. I could not believe it.
How did she do that?! Did she have a little flap on her ass she could unbutton so she could just "drop a hott one" anytime she pleased? Where can I get one? Was anybody sitting next to her on this unfortunate bench?
I know it's a huge fine if you just leave your dog shit on public property so I can't even imagine how much that woman's own shit cost her. A shit-load. That's how much. ha. She should of at least had the decency to bag it up and throw that away in the nearest trash recepticle. That's why you always should keep a zip-loc on ya ;) Question: can one recycle one's shit? In Eugene, I would say so.
I have never encountered shit of any kind (with the exception of birdshit) on a bench and I realize now how lucky I am for this. I warn all my "many" readers that please look before you sit because it could be very well be shit.
Today was definitely the best day of my life.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life's Sweet Lessons
I try at all costs to avoid inflicting pain upon myself but yesterday I was something similar to a dumb-ass.
It all started with a wonderful afternoon which consisted of me trying to kill zombies on my friend's Wii (Resident Evil) and dying. Continuously. After five minutes I decided I had, had enough of this crap and tried to perserve whatever dignity I had left by playing Mario Cart racing. The results of this game were even worse. I have come to the conclusion that I can't play video games worth shit. But I decided to walk out of that house with my head held high until I discovered that I could be late for the beloved bus back to ole' good Veneta.
I wasn't sure how much time I had but I knew I had to be quick about the trip to the bus stop. In order to make it on time, I believed that taking off my sandals, that protected me from the scorching pavement, would give me the gift of flight. I definitely did fly on that pavement. After of course, I realized my feet were melting. They were the eggs in a frying pan and I was a dumb shit because I ended up being 15 minutes early for my bus.
My fried tootsies have never been in so much pain in my entire life. They could pretty much be classified as "cooked sausages." I could barely walk. Times like these, I wish I knew how to walk on my hands or even somersault perhaps in a straight line.
I almost contemplated calling in sick for work today on account of being cripple but I decided to man-up. I thought about calling in again after I couldn't locate my little brother's wheelie-chair-scooter-contraption. But I eventually put on the fuzziest pair of socks I own, my chewed-up loafers, and I shelved every book like it was my last. I was asked several times by my co-workers why I was walking like I had a stick up my ass or as they so cleverly put it, a book. Fantastic.
Good news is though, my feet have made a full recovery 24 hours later. I can now walk, run, and skip like a growing child. It's a miracle. I shall never, ever again travel anywhere in this world barefoot. I'd rather walk home than burn my feet trying to catch that freaking bus.
It all started with a wonderful afternoon which consisted of me trying to kill zombies on my friend's Wii (Resident Evil) and dying. Continuously. After five minutes I decided I had, had enough of this crap and tried to perserve whatever dignity I had left by playing Mario Cart racing. The results of this game were even worse. I have come to the conclusion that I can't play video games worth shit. But I decided to walk out of that house with my head held high until I discovered that I could be late for the beloved bus back to ole' good Veneta.
I wasn't sure how much time I had but I knew I had to be quick about the trip to the bus stop. In order to make it on time, I believed that taking off my sandals, that protected me from the scorching pavement, would give me the gift of flight. I definitely did fly on that pavement. After of course, I realized my feet were melting. They were the eggs in a frying pan and I was a dumb shit because I ended up being 15 minutes early for my bus.
My fried tootsies have never been in so much pain in my entire life. They could pretty much be classified as "cooked sausages." I could barely walk. Times like these, I wish I knew how to walk on my hands or even somersault perhaps in a straight line.
I almost contemplated calling in sick for work today on account of being cripple but I decided to man-up. I thought about calling in again after I couldn't locate my little brother's wheelie-chair-scooter-contraption. But I eventually put on the fuzziest pair of socks I own, my chewed-up loafers, and I shelved every book like it was my last. I was asked several times by my co-workers why I was walking like I had a stick up my ass or as they so cleverly put it, a book. Fantastic.
Good news is though, my feet have made a full recovery 24 hours later. I can now walk, run, and skip like a growing child. It's a miracle. I shall never, ever again travel anywhere in this world barefoot. I'd rather walk home than burn my feet trying to catch that freaking bus.
Monday, July 26, 2010
BollyWood Obsession
Last night, I invited myself to the most phenomenal party I have ever attended in my entire life. It was a graduation party for one of my little sister's friends and it was Bollywood themed. I was in love from the moment I walked in the door and heard all the adorable little Indian accents. I danced the entire time and ate chicken. Four chickens to be exact. The spice on them was unbelievable and I believe cocaine had something to do with it.
I added some new moves to my repetoire and am excited to display it this fall. I am definitely making sure we have a bollywood-themed dance for Pi-Phi...if we're allowed any fun this year, that is.
But my biggest concern is how I am going to have a Bollywood-themed wedding without looking too stupid. I think the only way to get away with it is to marry an Indian which is definitely possible. Every Indian I've ever met smells like a dead-sexy Sultan. Pretty sure I saw Jasmin's dad last night too by the way. Except his mustache had way more curl. The best thing about last night though was not one time did I feel like I'd be stoned for my actions which could otherwise be considered in appropriate. My dancing was definitely something they've never witnessed...that's why I was dancing alone more than half the time. The other half were dance lessons from the DJ himself. He said I had potential. Sweet guy.
I love Bollywood Music. In fact, I am listening to it right now and loving it. Bum Bum Dole Salaam Eckshel. ya, ya. Time to dance ;)
I added some new moves to my repetoire and am excited to display it this fall. I am definitely making sure we have a bollywood-themed dance for Pi-Phi...if we're allowed any fun this year, that is.
But my biggest concern is how I am going to have a Bollywood-themed wedding without looking too stupid. I think the only way to get away with it is to marry an Indian which is definitely possible. Every Indian I've ever met smells like a dead-sexy Sultan. Pretty sure I saw Jasmin's dad last night too by the way. Except his mustache had way more curl. The best thing about last night though was not one time did I feel like I'd be stoned for my actions which could otherwise be considered in appropriate. My dancing was definitely something they've never witnessed...that's why I was dancing alone more than half the time. The other half were dance lessons from the DJ himself. He said I had potential. Sweet guy.
I love Bollywood Music. In fact, I am listening to it right now and loving it. Bum Bum Dole Salaam Eckshel. ya, ya. Time to dance ;)
My New Friend
Last Friday, something magical happened. I made a new friend and she says her friends call her Linda, the queen bitch. You can only imagine my excitement when I heard such insightful information.
It all happened by chance. As usual, I took the bus at seven thirty for work but this time, it was different. Only Linda was on the bus. Maybe the usual riders were wary of this tid-bit about Linda and refused to ride that day or maybe I was destined to face this woman alone. Destined to befriend the beast.
Usually, I just sit in my seat in the third row, pop in my head phones, and pretend I am socially inept. Linda knew better though.
I called in to work informing them I'd be late but was so excited to shelve ( I make this call every morning due to the slow pace of the bus) and Linda overheard me. She asked where I worked, I told her, and then the life-story began. I don't know what I said that could have possibly been interpreted as an invitation for such a conversation but out it came.
I asked her where she rides the bus to every morning and all she responded with was, "treatment." Hopefully dental treatment I thought. The woman was missing a good three front teeth. Bet she can whistle real well though them gaps though ;)
Linda is 33 and is only carded when purchasing alcohol when she wears make-up she said. This is also one of her pet-peeves so she rarely puts on make-up. Nice.
She has five kids and go in this order, girl-boy-girl-boy-boy. One child is a red-head and has the usual spit-fire/hot-headed temper that comes along with having the dreaded red hair. The red-head is the one who tells Linda not to smoke or else. She is 12 I believe. The last child's father is a multiple choice question for Linda. I am sure all of the children's daddy's are....oh dear.
Her current boyfriend is in jail but will be out in a few months. He's been locked up for two years for some federal crime Linda said mysteriously. I refrained from asking what crime he committed...this was a long bus ride.
Linda said she got her nickname from some friends. The nickname, Linda-Queen-Bitch that is. She tells people straight-up how she feels at all times no matter how mean or bitch-like. I had no problem visualizing this.
The most special thing about Linda though is that she is able to read auras. I asked her about mine and she said I was bubbly and charming. This was a special moment in time, for I knew I had made a new friend. Charming Rachelle and Linda-Queen-Bitch BFF's forever. The bus is indeed a magical place. Can't wait for tomorrow's new adventure.
It all happened by chance. As usual, I took the bus at seven thirty for work but this time, it was different. Only Linda was on the bus. Maybe the usual riders were wary of this tid-bit about Linda and refused to ride that day or maybe I was destined to face this woman alone. Destined to befriend the beast.
Usually, I just sit in my seat in the third row, pop in my head phones, and pretend I am socially inept. Linda knew better though.
I called in to work informing them I'd be late but was so excited to shelve ( I make this call every morning due to the slow pace of the bus) and Linda overheard me. She asked where I worked, I told her, and then the life-story began. I don't know what I said that could have possibly been interpreted as an invitation for such a conversation but out it came.
I asked her where she rides the bus to every morning and all she responded with was, "treatment." Hopefully dental treatment I thought. The woman was missing a good three front teeth. Bet she can whistle real well though them gaps though ;)
Linda is 33 and is only carded when purchasing alcohol when she wears make-up she said. This is also one of her pet-peeves so she rarely puts on make-up. Nice.
She has five kids and go in this order, girl-boy-girl-boy-boy. One child is a red-head and has the usual spit-fire/hot-headed temper that comes along with having the dreaded red hair. The red-head is the one who tells Linda not to smoke or else. She is 12 I believe. The last child's father is a multiple choice question for Linda. I am sure all of the children's daddy's are....oh dear.
Her current boyfriend is in jail but will be out in a few months. He's been locked up for two years for some federal crime Linda said mysteriously. I refrained from asking what crime he committed...this was a long bus ride.
Linda said she got her nickname from some friends. The nickname, Linda-Queen-Bitch that is. She tells people straight-up how she feels at all times no matter how mean or bitch-like. I had no problem visualizing this.
The most special thing about Linda though is that she is able to read auras. I asked her about mine and she said I was bubbly and charming. This was a special moment in time, for I knew I had made a new friend. Charming Rachelle and Linda-Queen-Bitch BFF's forever. The bus is indeed a magical place. Can't wait for tomorrow's new adventure.
Recovered at Last
It has been a week and two days since my life-changing surgery and I believe I am finally at full potential. I can suck threw a straw. The ache in my lower jaw is non-existant and I can now bend down with an ease...for when I shelve books, of course.
I must admit my jaw feels a little off-center with two teeth removed from the left side only. In order to compensate, I have to tilt my head to the right. It looks funny but feels so right. I am contemplating on making a cool necklace with the teeth. I have two so if anybody would like a matching one, let me know ;)
Cleaning the extraction site over the week has been a pain in the ass. Even though...I didn't really clean it as religiously as I should have...oh well.
Every day I was ordered to take two pills three times a day, rinse with mouth-burning mouthwash twice a day, and rinse with salt water after each meal. ugh.
The pills won't so bad at all. I swallowed em' like a champ. If pill-poppin' was a sport, pretty sure I'd win gold. I am wimp and have had so much practice over the years with beloved Tylenol. Oh yea, we go way back.
The prescribed mouthwash was revolting. It burned and was blue similar to that of toilet water. I felt as if my tongue was slug and the mouthwash was salt. Thank God I'm not a slug. When life gets you down, just think of that. You could always be slug :p
Rinsing with salt water is less that pleasant. I felt as if I was drowning in the ocean each time. Lucky there wasn't any slugs around. I have horrible accuracy while spitting. ha. But all is well for I have no infection in my mouth and it is not letting off any funky smell. I am in the clear.
My final advice on getting wisdom teeth removed: don't do it :)
I must admit my jaw feels a little off-center with two teeth removed from the left side only. In order to compensate, I have to tilt my head to the right. It looks funny but feels so right. I am contemplating on making a cool necklace with the teeth. I have two so if anybody would like a matching one, let me know ;)
Cleaning the extraction site over the week has been a pain in the ass. Even though...I didn't really clean it as religiously as I should have...oh well.
Every day I was ordered to take two pills three times a day, rinse with mouth-burning mouthwash twice a day, and rinse with salt water after each meal. ugh.
The pills won't so bad at all. I swallowed em' like a champ. If pill-poppin' was a sport, pretty sure I'd win gold. I am wimp and have had so much practice over the years with beloved Tylenol. Oh yea, we go way back.
The prescribed mouthwash was revolting. It burned and was blue similar to that of toilet water. I felt as if my tongue was slug and the mouthwash was salt. Thank God I'm not a slug. When life gets you down, just think of that. You could always be slug :p
Rinsing with salt water is less that pleasant. I felt as if I was drowning in the ocean each time. Lucky there wasn't any slugs around. I have horrible accuracy while spitting. ha. But all is well for I have no infection in my mouth and it is not letting off any funky smell. I am in the clear.
My final advice on getting wisdom teeth removed: don't do it :)
Sunday, July 25, 2010
July 22nd-- The Passion Unleashed: Improv
I have completed my first week of Improv and can fully say that I am in love with every fiber of my being. I have class from Mon to Thurs and all we do the entire time is play games that consist of running around outside, going on make-believe adventures, and yelling profanities at fellow improvisers. I look forward to it everyday and am already going through withdrawals. It is truly the only time I can bring out my inner child free of any censorship. In order to keep these withdrawals under control, I do the next best thing. To feel more like a child I just have my mother push me around in a shopping cart when we purchase various goods from Costco. That will have to keep me sane until Monday.
But in all seriousness, my main reason behind taking this Improv class is because I feel an inexplicable, unseen connection with Ryan Stiles, the god of improvising and one of the many loves in my life. I feel his presence as I act out every scene. I know if I keep up with this we will eventually meet, marry, and produce the biggest nosed children known to man. And I will love every flair their nostrils will have to offer.
But in all seriousness, my main reason behind taking this Improv class is because I feel an inexplicable, unseen connection with Ryan Stiles, the god of improvising and one of the many loves in my life. I feel his presence as I act out every scene. I know if I keep up with this we will eventually meet, marry, and produce the biggest nosed children known to man. And I will love every flair their nostrils will have to offer.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Pulling of the First Wisdom Teeth
Yesterday was possibly the most horrendous day of my life. I not only had my wisdom teeth pulled but my right shoulder is peeling in such a way that only leprosy comes to mind. Gross.
I didn't know whether or not yesterday would have been my last but somehow I survived. I went in that office full of courage and fear but knew I'd come out of there with two less teeth.
My mother insisted that I did not need them pulled. Ever. But my dentist suggested otherwise. I know better. I have seen the movie Cast Away. Obviously, my mother does not remember the horrific scene in that film. Tom Hanks prolonged his little dentist visit and learned the hard way. I, on the other hand, am never knocking my teeth out with a fucking rock. I prefered anesthesia to the fullest extent. If I should ever be stranded on an island, I shall be stranded with my wisdom teeth removed prior. Affirmative.
When I arrived at the clinic of horrors, I asked my questions and they gave me answers that comforted me only temporarily... until they came after me with the needle of doom. They strapped me down as if I was insane, injected me, asked me about Seaside, and then I was gone. I remember falling asleep to the Philipino Surgeon's words, "Were going to have to make an incision on your upper gum." The words echoed off in the distance and only drilling ensued.
I woke up to one of the surgeon's little helpers walking me around. Rude. I had no desire to be moving but we walked up and down the hallway. I was definitely sleepwalking and drooling simultaneously. They sat me back down and I woke up to the sound of drilling the 2nd time. I had, had enough and asked for my mommy. The helper grabbed my mother and we walked back up and down the hallway a 2nd time. I told the little helper she was like my own personal seeing-eye dog only she smelt better. ha. ha.
I was glad to be out of that place and to be drooling in the privacy of my own vehicle. I slept the entire way home and was excited to drink my cola and pop my Vicodin. We must treasure the little perks in life I say and Vicodin is definitely one of them. Two of my white pearls of wisdom are gone. Only two more to go. I'm stocking up on the Vicodin. If accounting doesn't work out for me I'm taking the easy way out and am hustlin' that shit. Rachelle Cochran--Vicodin Queen. Catchy, know.
I didn't know whether or not yesterday would have been my last but somehow I survived. I went in that office full of courage and fear but knew I'd come out of there with two less teeth.
My mother insisted that I did not need them pulled. Ever. But my dentist suggested otherwise. I know better. I have seen the movie Cast Away. Obviously, my mother does not remember the horrific scene in that film. Tom Hanks prolonged his little dentist visit and learned the hard way. I, on the other hand, am never knocking my teeth out with a fucking rock. I prefered anesthesia to the fullest extent. If I should ever be stranded on an island, I shall be stranded with my wisdom teeth removed prior. Affirmative.
When I arrived at the clinic of horrors, I asked my questions and they gave me answers that comforted me only temporarily... until they came after me with the needle of doom. They strapped me down as if I was insane, injected me, asked me about Seaside, and then I was gone. I remember falling asleep to the Philipino Surgeon's words, "Were going to have to make an incision on your upper gum." The words echoed off in the distance and only drilling ensued.
I woke up to one of the surgeon's little helpers walking me around. Rude. I had no desire to be moving but we walked up and down the hallway. I was definitely sleepwalking and drooling simultaneously. They sat me back down and I woke up to the sound of drilling the 2nd time. I had, had enough and asked for my mommy. The helper grabbed my mother and we walked back up and down the hallway a 2nd time. I told the little helper she was like my own personal seeing-eye dog only she smelt better. ha. ha.
I was glad to be out of that place and to be drooling in the privacy of my own vehicle. I slept the entire way home and was excited to drink my cola and pop my Vicodin. We must treasure the little perks in life I say and Vicodin is definitely one of them. Two of my white pearls of wisdom are gone. Only two more to go. I'm stocking up on the Vicodin. If accounting doesn't work out for me I'm taking the easy way out and am hustlin' that shit. Rachelle Cochran--Vicodin Queen. Catchy, know.
July 15th Seaside: Homeward Bound
The previous night I basically had the last pick of the straw and was forced to sleep with Diana. I now know why no one had any desire/ inclination to sleep with this sibling…she doesn’t stop MOVING or SNIFFLING or GROANING.
Thank God I suffered from a Chinese food coma that night or falling to sleep would have been impossible. I made sure I slept in until 11:00 am because check out wasn’t until noon.
After we checked out, we ate breakfast at Pign’ Pancake and I was loving life devouring everyone else’s eggs. We then visited my favorite shop, the fudge shop, where I then proceeded to eat half a pound of fudge. A fudge coma soon came over me and we all took an hour nap in the car. Brittany and Kevin went to the hat shop to purchase Kevin his pimp hat (which he now wears everywhere. Even to church this evening). We ate at CAMP 18 where my father had his BBQ Pork sandwich with secret BBQ sauce. Dad found out just how secret it was on the way home. We stopped approximately 5 times for that poor man’s bowels but miraculously made it home around midnight. I love Seaside and all it has to offer. Even the secret BBQ sauce.
Thank God I suffered from a Chinese food coma that night or falling to sleep would have been impossible. I made sure I slept in until 11:00 am because check out wasn’t until noon.
After we checked out, we ate breakfast at Pign’ Pancake and I was loving life devouring everyone else’s eggs. We then visited my favorite shop, the fudge shop, where I then proceeded to eat half a pound of fudge. A fudge coma soon came over me and we all took an hour nap in the car. Brittany and Kevin went to the hat shop to purchase Kevin his pimp hat (which he now wears everywhere. Even to church this evening). We ate at CAMP 18 where my father had his BBQ Pork sandwich with secret BBQ sauce. Dad found out just how secret it was on the way home. We stopped approximately 5 times for that poor man’s bowels but miraculously made it home around midnight. I love Seaside and all it has to offer. Even the secret BBQ sauce.
July 14th SeaSide: The Journey
Just as I suspected, there was no need for my alarm and I able to experience the unparalleled joy of sleeping in. My family never leaves when my poor mother “plans” to leave. We wanted to ship off no later than nine. We boarded our 14 passenger van, licensed “Da Clan,” an hour and a half later around ten-thirty. Standard.
Of course, prior to leaving, my younger sibling Diana always must make claim on seat territory. This time, she picked her battle with Kevin, loudest screamer in the family. Bad choice for he also happens to be one of mother’s favorites. Diana was supposedly in Kevin’s spot although Kevin wanted to sit in the very back. But Kevin’s feet were in Diana’s face etc. etc. The fight lasted for approximately fifteen minutes and was finally resolved by my poor father. Solution: Have Diana sit in my seat away from the screaming boy.
Within the first 5 minutes of our adventure, my father decides to explain to us how WW III is going to take place and how to survive if the Apocalypse were to occur within our lifetime.
Castro of Cuba has supposedly declared that WW III will be a nuclear catastrophe and that few will survive. My father, who is retired and has time for such research, believes he knows how to survive any situation. One must always keep a time-frame. Here are some survival tips for you all provided by Mr. Cochran.
How long can one survive without food? 3 weeks
How long can one survive without water? 3 days
How long can one survive in freezing water? 30 minutes
How long can one survive without air? 3 minutes
If we were to enter a nuclear war, one must wait approximately two weeks after the initial blast before coming in contact with the air for fear of radiation damage. Radiation damage consists of losing hair, bone erosion, brain reduction, among other various painful side effects. This lecture proceeded on for a good 40 minutes and we reached the conclusion that if we were to run out of food, the Chihuahuas would be our last resort.
Seaside usually only takes about 3 hours to reach from the Eugene area. For some inexplicable reason, we did not make it to Seaside until a whole 8 hours later. Some members of my family have bladders about the size of their brain…Actually, I truly believe that since my father possesses a small bladder, some of my siblings have inherited the same unfortunate trait. I only suffer from SBS (Shy Bladder Syndrome). It’s getting better though. No worries.
Once we arrived, I indulged on enough Chinese food to feed a whole Chinese village and proceeded to live the good life in the Hott tub. I love Seaside.
Of course, prior to leaving, my younger sibling Diana always must make claim on seat territory. This time, she picked her battle with Kevin, loudest screamer in the family. Bad choice for he also happens to be one of mother’s favorites. Diana was supposedly in Kevin’s spot although Kevin wanted to sit in the very back. But Kevin’s feet were in Diana’s face etc. etc. The fight lasted for approximately fifteen minutes and was finally resolved by my poor father. Solution: Have Diana sit in my seat away from the screaming boy.
Within the first 5 minutes of our adventure, my father decides to explain to us how WW III is going to take place and how to survive if the Apocalypse were to occur within our lifetime.
Castro of Cuba has supposedly declared that WW III will be a nuclear catastrophe and that few will survive. My father, who is retired and has time for such research, believes he knows how to survive any situation. One must always keep a time-frame. Here are some survival tips for you all provided by Mr. Cochran.
How long can one survive without food? 3 weeks
How long can one survive without water? 3 days
How long can one survive in freezing water? 30 minutes
How long can one survive without air? 3 minutes
If we were to enter a nuclear war, one must wait approximately two weeks after the initial blast before coming in contact with the air for fear of radiation damage. Radiation damage consists of losing hair, bone erosion, brain reduction, among other various painful side effects. This lecture proceeded on for a good 40 minutes and we reached the conclusion that if we were to run out of food, the Chihuahuas would be our last resort.
Seaside usually only takes about 3 hours to reach from the Eugene area. For some inexplicable reason, we did not make it to Seaside until a whole 8 hours later. Some members of my family have bladders about the size of their brain…Actually, I truly believe that since my father possesses a small bladder, some of my siblings have inherited the same unfortunate trait. I only suffer from SBS (Shy Bladder Syndrome). It’s getting better though. No worries.
Once we arrived, I indulged on enough Chinese food to feed a whole Chinese village and proceeded to live the good life in the Hott tub. I love Seaside.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Home at Last
We made it back from our breif repreive at Seaside. Barely. I counted how many times we stopped on the way home and I totaled five. Further details on why tomorrow. Let's just say Papa Cochran will never be eating the BBQ Pork Burger with the secret Barbeque sauce from the restaurant CAMP 18 ever again. Oh dear.
But I must be brief, for tomorrow I rise for a most horrendous occassion. Tomorrow, I go under the knife and essentially face certain death. Tomorrow, I have my surgery to remove the wisdom teeth on the left side of my face. (Only removing a few at a time for insurance purposes and so I also have something to look forward to for next summer. joy). I am well aware that some people do not survive such surgical procedures but do not fear. I have taken the proper precautions. I've said my good-byes to my loved ones and have gone to confession. I'm ready for this dental battle. May the surgeon win.
Tomorrow, I shall attempt to write about Seaside despite being heavily drugged up. I'm actually hoping I'll be passed out for the entirety of the day. I'll request that actually. If I survive this thing. Fingers crossed. Pray for me.
But I must be brief, for tomorrow I rise for a most horrendous occassion. Tomorrow, I go under the knife and essentially face certain death. Tomorrow, I have my surgery to remove the wisdom teeth on the left side of my face. (Only removing a few at a time for insurance purposes and so I also have something to look forward to for next summer. joy). I am well aware that some people do not survive such surgical procedures but do not fear. I have taken the proper precautions. I've said my good-byes to my loved ones and have gone to confession. I'm ready for this dental battle. May the surgeon win.
Tomorrow, I shall attempt to write about Seaside despite being heavily drugged up. I'm actually hoping I'll be passed out for the entirety of the day. I'll request that actually. If I survive this thing. Fingers crossed. Pray for me.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Dusk Before Beach Adventure
JMJ
This morning I was able to ignore the stings of my scorched epidermis and wake up with a smile on my face for today I was to play the world's greatest game, soccer. Every Tues this summer I have decided to partake in a selfless deed and assist a one-legged elderly man coach the town's middle school team plus a few preschoolers...I'm never having children.
I must admit though, there is nothing more satisfying than being able to dribble with an ease through people half my size until I get schooled...by my own sisters. My younger sisters, a 15 and a 13 year old, are the equivalent to an Amazonian woman and make sure I am aware of that fact on the soccer field and at our loving home.
I no longer dare start any physical altercations with them for the sake of my wellbeing. I know how to survive and make sure I do even if it means swallowing my pride. I usually choke though...
I later went to shelve and restored order one book at a time at the University of Oregon library. I truly do love my job, not only because my ten year-old brother can do it, but because of the people I shelve with. They are my library family. We keep each other sane one day at a time.
We are master book shelvers and struggle to make our job seem important on a daily basis. We never succeed.
The bus ride home was less than enjoyable though...I had to sit by a foul-odored kid...again. The kind of odor that makes you wish you lost your sense of smell from a tragic childhood accident with fire or something. Sweet kid but his clothes need to be introduced to a washer and he himself needs to be introduced to the shower.
Packing for this beach get-away tomorrow at Seaside with the family is beginning to be a pain in the ass. I have packed my blue-poka-dotted underwear and Green Secret deoderant thus far. We'll be there for barely two days and I'm just at a loss. ugh. My brother on the other hand has recently asked to borrow one of my bags to pack some of his junk otherwise known as shit. It's the third bag he plans on bringing. Little does he know I am going to make sure that his skateboard, board games, spy-gear, pocket knives, various flashlights, hair gel, and car collection do not make this journey. bahaha.
I'm looking forward to this little rendevous, this break, this precious "family time." For the trip, my mother thought it would be a good idea to purchase "Soy Bean Trail Mix" whatever the hell that is. I'll be munching on it anyways no doubt because family trips can be stressful and food eases my nerves. These soy beans will have to do. My dad is happy because he found the rest of our "top quality boogey-boards"...in our green house? We can now boogey-board as a family. Thank God. Seaside, watch out, for here come the clan of the Cochs.
This morning I was able to ignore the stings of my scorched epidermis and wake up with a smile on my face for today I was to play the world's greatest game, soccer. Every Tues this summer I have decided to partake in a selfless deed and assist a one-legged elderly man coach the town's middle school team plus a few preschoolers...I'm never having children.
I must admit though, there is nothing more satisfying than being able to dribble with an ease through people half my size until I get schooled...by my own sisters. My younger sisters, a 15 and a 13 year old, are the equivalent to an Amazonian woman and make sure I am aware of that fact on the soccer field and at our loving home.
I no longer dare start any physical altercations with them for the sake of my wellbeing. I know how to survive and make sure I do even if it means swallowing my pride. I usually choke though...
I later went to shelve and restored order one book at a time at the University of Oregon library. I truly do love my job, not only because my ten year-old brother can do it, but because of the people I shelve with. They are my library family. We keep each other sane one day at a time.
We are master book shelvers and struggle to make our job seem important on a daily basis. We never succeed.
The bus ride home was less than enjoyable though...I had to sit by a foul-odored kid...again. The kind of odor that makes you wish you lost your sense of smell from a tragic childhood accident with fire or something. Sweet kid but his clothes need to be introduced to a washer and he himself needs to be introduced to the shower.
Packing for this beach get-away tomorrow at Seaside with the family is beginning to be a pain in the ass. I have packed my blue-poka-dotted underwear and Green Secret deoderant thus far. We'll be there for barely two days and I'm just at a loss. ugh. My brother on the other hand has recently asked to borrow one of my bags to pack some of his junk otherwise known as shit. It's the third bag he plans on bringing. Little does he know I am going to make sure that his skateboard, board games, spy-gear, pocket knives, various flashlights, hair gel, and car collection do not make this journey. bahaha.
I'm looking forward to this little rendevous, this break, this precious "family time." For the trip, my mother thought it would be a good idea to purchase "Soy Bean Trail Mix" whatever the hell that is. I'll be munching on it anyways no doubt because family trips can be stressful and food eases my nerves. These soy beans will have to do. My dad is happy because he found the rest of our "top quality boogey-boards"...in our green house? We can now boogey-board as a family. Thank God. Seaside, watch out, for here come the clan of the Cochs.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Birth of CochTalk
JMJ
After a total of 27.8 minutes and a whole lot of impatience, I have finally created my own online diary. My own blog. My own...CochTalk. I am leaving my old fairy-diary behind in the dust due to the frequent hand-cramps while writing in it and for the preservation of my delicate hands. Being a hand model still holds a place in my future...somewhere.
It occured to me that if I ever plan on writing a book about my life, memoirs, stupditiy, etc. (a best seller regardless) a blog would not be a bad place to preserve all these precious memories as fascinating as might be.
Today, Monday the 12th of July, I woke up in agony and without any shorts on. Yes, I have become a victim of the 1st degree sunburn. I am on the road to a speedy recovery though. Please keep me in your prayers.
The best part about this morning after waking up and eating my usual eggs and ham in a state of euphoria, was then having my loving father approach from behind while administering his little back massage of love...and pain. Who says love isn't pain? I then proceeded to make a little gruntle moaning, "Aw, dad how sweet but I'm a tad burnt."
"Oh...so this hurts?"
"Yes. Dad. Allow me to be blunt. Stop."
Shelving books was a struggle but for a girl with my unfortunate, limited stature it usually is. The stools are so degrading and I refuse to utilize them (The broken shelf in the PN section is a result of that decision).
I could barely lift my burnt arms though but I managed. I cannot let the loyal patrons of the University library down. With each book, I hold eduation in the palm of my hands, and the library's legacy must live on. Every book must be shelved. No exceptions. I take my job seriously one could say. SMSP for life. (Planning on having that tatooed above my ass-crack. When I bend down to shelve a book, people will know where I gained my experience.) We manage them stacks.
Later, I babysat, bought groceries with pops, practiced piano for about five minutes, took a suana where I proceeded to "sweat like a pig" as papa Cochran would say and now I am here starting something new in my life and loving it. Blogging. So it Begins.
After a total of 27.8 minutes and a whole lot of impatience, I have finally created my own online diary. My own blog. My own...CochTalk. I am leaving my old fairy-diary behind in the dust due to the frequent hand-cramps while writing in it and for the preservation of my delicate hands. Being a hand model still holds a place in my future...somewhere.
It occured to me that if I ever plan on writing a book about my life, memoirs, stupditiy, etc. (a best seller regardless) a blog would not be a bad place to preserve all these precious memories as fascinating as might be.
Today, Monday the 12th of July, I woke up in agony and without any shorts on. Yes, I have become a victim of the 1st degree sunburn. I am on the road to a speedy recovery though. Please keep me in your prayers.
The best part about this morning after waking up and eating my usual eggs and ham in a state of euphoria, was then having my loving father approach from behind while administering his little back massage of love...and pain. Who says love isn't pain? I then proceeded to make a little gruntle moaning, "Aw, dad how sweet but I'm a tad burnt."
"Oh...so this hurts?"
"Yes. Dad. Allow me to be blunt. Stop."
Shelving books was a struggle but for a girl with my unfortunate, limited stature it usually is. The stools are so degrading and I refuse to utilize them (The broken shelf in the PN section is a result of that decision).
I could barely lift my burnt arms though but I managed. I cannot let the loyal patrons of the University library down. With each book, I hold eduation in the palm of my hands, and the library's legacy must live on. Every book must be shelved. No exceptions. I take my job seriously one could say. SMSP for life. (Planning on having that tatooed above my ass-crack. When I bend down to shelve a book, people will know where I gained my experience.) We manage them stacks.
Later, I babysat, bought groceries with pops, practiced piano for about five minutes, took a suana where I proceeded to "sweat like a pig" as papa Cochran would say and now I am here starting something new in my life and loving it. Blogging. So it Begins.
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