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