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.

Dilated Disaster

It all began on a dreary yet blissful Friday. It was the first day of my over-delayed spring break and I had an eye Doctor’s appointment. I scheduled an appointment out of fear that the blind spot in my right eye (due to Toxoplasmosis) was beginning to expand and that perhaps I was going blind. Paranoid, I know but what can I say? I am the daughter of Mr. Paranoid himself, Kevin Cochran.

A little history on my Toxoplasmosis. The disease is defined as, a parasitic disease caused by the protozoan Toxoplasma gondii. The parasite infects most genera of warm-blooded animals, including humans, but the primary host is the felid (cat) family. Essentially, I contracted the parasite as child while playing in my cat’s cat litter. We didn’t have a sandbox when I was little and I had to make do with what we did have. So yes, because I played with cat poop, I now have a blind spot which progressively get worst if neglected.

I remember sitting in the chair, eyes dilated, and then seeing the stick of doom with numbing ointment come at my eyes. I was petrified and the Ophthalmologist Assistant’s little Thailand accent was not providing any comfort. We were about to take my eye pressure for a Glaucoma test and then I made the rookie mistake and asked her what Glaucoma actually entailed. From there, it was all a blur….to be continued

Smelliest Road Trip Ever

We were told that we’d depart and begin our journey-of-a-lifetime around 2:00 am but I was a dumbass and did not believe my mother's bold statement. I decided to finally hit the sheets around 1:45 am. Biggest mistake of my life.

As soon as I fall asleep, my long, lost sister from North Dakota jumps on my head. Not the most ideal way to be woken up, but most effective. I slowly take a peek at my clock praying, hoping it’s not what time I think it is… 2:30 am. Half an hour of sleep. This was going to be the longest road trip of my life.

For the Cochran clan, the beginning of every road trip carries the most commotion for this is when every one fights over the “prime” seats in our huge-ass 14-seater van. I came out to the van last and thereby sat in the last/worst seat available. Joy.

We actually, miraculously left the house at 3:00am and I struggled to make my seat comfortable. I ended up crouching in the fetal position and fell asleep due to complete exhaustion. I woke up two hours later, however, because of an excruciating ache in my left shin. Yvonne’s amazon-like legs had been crushing it and my shin could not withstand their weight any longer. I crouched even tighter due to agony but had difficulty falling asleep this time; for some unfortunate reason, half my siblings could not and would not stop farting. Not only were they loud, but they were deadly. I cannot even begin to describe the stench that travelled from my siblings’ asses. I am still thanking God till this day that my seat was by the window and that I was able to open it when need be, which was like every twenty minutes. I believe that window was the only way I survived those twenty hours.

To my prediction, we stopped at least every two hours for potty breaks because Kevin Jr.’s bladder is the size of a golf ball. But despite the number of stops we made and the number of farts passed, we somehow made it to our destination here at World Mark, San Diego. I can only pray that the trip home be nothing remotely similar.

SeaWorld, Universal Studios, and Disneyland are not and never will be ready for us.

Here we come.

To the Land of Magic we go

Well, we depart in T-Minus two hours for our magic-fill Christmas vacation and I could not be more excited. But, I must admit, I am most excited for what "magic" this 18-hour road trip will bring. Who knows, maybe we shall come out of it a stronger, more loving family? Maybe I'll finally get along with Diana now that we're given all this time to settle our differences? Or maybe we'll all discover how incredibly small our bladders are?

I am well aware that when confined in a small space for 18 hours amongst family, it could be life changing. Some serious family bonding is about to occur. This trip could also be the first time someone is thrown out of our van, if need be. We are all going to be sleep deprived and will maintain a very low tolerance for annoying individuals. I mean, we will only be living the good life in Disneyland for approximately ten days. An individual, or one of my siblings, could definitely survive if dropped off at a rest stop with a working water fountain for that long. If we're feeling merciful, we'd leave them with some spare change to purchase goodies from a nearby vending machine too. My money is on "darling" Kevin Jr. to get booted off the island first. He's not tall enough to go on a lot of the rides anyways :p

I volunteered to drive for part of the drive but after my lil episode today, I am sure my parents are seating me as far away as possible from the steering wheel. Yes, I backed up into one of our cars with the van today. Beyond embarrassing. Fortunately, it only left a little dent, hardly noticeable. Adds character I say. It also adds to the large number of times I've hit something.
My uncle who married the Chinese mail order bride is here as well with his Asian baby to house sit. So, I've learned all about the importance of chickens, chicken coops, and how chicken poop makes the best fertilizer. Exciting stuff.

Maybe I'll find my true love amongst the lines of Disneyland and we'll just happen to sit by each other on the ride and just happen to hold hands out of sheer fright of course ;)
One can dream right and I am now heading to the land where dreams really do come true.

The Unspeakable

I have taken it upon myself to be somewhat productive this break and am shelving books...for three days straight. Not to mention a whole "four" hours of shelving each of these days which is a grand total of 12 hours for working this break.
Yes, I am going to over-exert myself I know, but what can I say? I am a workaholic and addicted to shelving. My work ethic is definitely something to be emulated and awed upon. However, one patron during work today did not think so. At all.
During Christmas break, it is beyond me why anyone student would spend their days in the library. This is not my idea of "recovering." I personally prefer to sprawl on my couch accompanied with a generous helping of pumpkin pie while watching some sort of life-altering movie like, How to Train Your Dragon. Then I usually pass out and wake up to a nicely formed pool of drool beneath my face. Good Times. I did this all day yesterday. And the day before and will probably do it all day tomorrow as well. Busy times ahead.
While working in the main sorting area today with my fellow coworkers (place where you place books on carts), a patron walked in while embracing her laptop with an easily detectable anger in her step. In the other hand, she was holding a coffee cup almost as big as my face, which I was sure to comment on upon noticing it.
"Dang, that's quite the holiday coffee mug you have there. What does that hold? Like, 16-20 ounces? I'm impressed you can carry that with one hand," I said very politely.
"Oh. Well. Thanks," the little patron responded coldly. She continued to speak, "I would just like to say that in all my years as working as a librarian, I have never had to tell a fellow librarian to keep their voice down. Please, your voice carries all throughout this floor of the library and it's quite a disturbance." The girl then took a sip of her coffee cup, turned around, and left.

I was stunned. Shocked. Who does this patron think she is? I complemented her huge-ass coffee mug for goodness sake. I was a little hurt but decided to keep my singing to a mere minimum for the rest of the hour. I am pretty sure she is the only person in the world who does not enjoy my rendition of Chris Brown's "This Christmas."
People would pay to listen to this. Top dollaa. Money be green. Yea.

Bald Spot Expanded

My father now resembles this man except my dad's head is a little more egg-shaped.

Yes, Kevin Cochran Sr. is now hairless, bare, bald. I knew this day would come eventually but I had no idea he would ever lose it "intentionally." I am still in utter disbelief every time I gaze upon that hairless surface, which can now blind people when light reflects off it.

Prior to the shave though, he was inspired by Kevin Jr. to dye his hair blonde. I'm glad this phase was short lived. My father's hair honestly appeared as if someone took a piss on his head. Kevin Jr.'s head though still needs some attention...from a razor preferably. asap.

I am slowly growing accustomed to my father's head. I can't help but wonder though that if mad enough, maybe he could boil an egg on his head? Might just have to crack one on there someday...Honestly, what I will miss most about his dwindling hair is that precious bald spot. For the past ten years, it has been my only way to detect him from a crowd. Now, I'll just look for the potato head.
My dad rarely exposes his bald dome, which shines so brightly, due to fear of a contracting a head cold. Let's just say for Christmas I am going to find a beanie that reads, "Not even Bruce Willis's Head Looks this Good Bald."
Thank God my dad's head is big enough for this caption.