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Day 33, Sort of

Well hello there. Yesterday’s hearing was baffling. I thought about it on my walk to my blood work and ultrasound appointment this morning. The nominee was hysterical when reading aloud his personally written statement. I laughed when he announced he had written it himself like a child might, and then thought “Well yeah, no one rational would sign off on this unhinged, partisan rant.”

I found his behavior and responses wholly disqualifying for the position, regardless of the accusation, which I also believed.

I’ve also been reading analyses of the hearing, and the consensus seemed to be there should be more investigation because she was credible.

I was feeling bloated too, but not so much that I couldn’t walk on the first partly sunny morning we have had in a while. The check-up went smoothly! The nurse used a smaller needle to draw blood on my right arm, and the Doctor was in this morning and measured my follicles. She told me there was a chance I would trigger tonight with an extraction Sunday. I was super giddy to hear this, because I am not interested in receiving more shots, and I feel like my ovaries are going to explode already. She said my blood work would determine the final call.

I asked the Doctor about something David would have to do, and I’m not elaborating here, but I’m documenting it because I returned home and recapped this interaction with David who was annoyed with me about it, but then we had a good laugh.

Anyway, work was busy, but I anxiously waited for my follow-up call formally telling me about the trigger time. And I finally got it around 3pm! Caitlin, my nurse, shared it was trigger night and that I would get a call with the exact time from the operating room. There are 14 large follicles right now. And I don’t have to take the Cetrotide shot in the morning, just a blood test.
So Yay! This phase is almost over!

Something I learned today: estrogen is the reason for discharge. I shared that I had quite a bit of discharge, and the doctor explained that that was because I have a lot of estrogen right now.

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Found the FitBit Charger!

I found my FitBit charger! Here is how I found it: I was looking at the floor under my desk, and it was there, on the floor.

Here’s The Tale of the Missing FitBit Charger:

Once upon a time there was a FitBit and a Charger. They had a very special friendship. Every seven-to-ten days, they would come together, with Laptop, to power FitBit for the next seven-to-ten days.
Charger asked nothing of FitBit, only provided a connection that served as FitBit’s lifeblood.

Then one day FitBit went to Japan. Without Charger. Charger was devastated. “How could FitBit take Charger for granted?!” Charger thought. “I give and I give, every 5-7 days!” The more Charger thought about it, the more despondent he grew.

Finally, in a fit of despair, Charger flung itself off the desk where it normally resides, into the dark abyss.

The End.

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Things to Know

In light of recent events, specifically: I have a stye inside my lower eye-lid, which has made me think about my mortality; and Robin Williams passed away, which has flooded the internet with articles about comedians and depression, I feel inclined to write a post that is more personal than usual.

If this stye is to be the random-end-of-me, I want the world to know a couple things:

1) I was an aspiring comedienne, meaning I always wanted to make people laugh. Whether it was through writing, sketch, improv or standup, the vision/dream was always for people to engage with me and walk away smiling.

2) I am happy. And I am lucky. My parents have always been so kind and loving to me, my siblings have made it so that I always have a best friend around, my friends are awesome, and my David is…well when I think about David, I suspect that is the universe’s way of saying, “Hey there, I want you to feel warm, delighted, challenged, loved, and laugh all the time, so here is David. Look into his eyes and know happiness.”

Here is a picture of David.

What a stud!
Makes me happy every day.
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Movie Review: Prisoners

If you’re looking for a psychological thriller that confirms your suspicions about the mentally handicapped, look no further than Prisoners, a movie that stars the handsome Jake Gyllenhaal and compelling Hugh Jackman. Because I don’t like movie reviews that give away too much, that’s all I can say here. *

I give this movie 12 whistles!







*Actually I do want to mention that there was a couple next to us during this movie that left an hour before the movie ended, and they left their popcorn and soda in the theater. I honestly think they couldn’t handle the suspense. This movie is not for the weak of mind.

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My new Chapeau

I have now become the proud proprietor of a very classy chapeau. I was stylish before, but this chapeau has put me in an entirely new league. Yesterday, as I walked through town and caught my reflection in store windows, I marveled again and again at my panache.

Top Five Greatest Things About Wearing a Chapeau

5) Shade. Obviously.

4) Fellow Chapeau wearers. These are partners in style, and as we pass by each other, it’s natural to make eye contact and smile. Some chapeau wearers don’t know this. They are the worst.

3) Walking tall. Wearing my chapeau doesn’t just make me feel taller, it makes me physically taller. Fact. Nay. Biological wonder.

2) People peeking under my chapeau to see what I really look like.  A fabulous chapeau could only be worn by a fabulous person. It makes complete sense that strangers will want to know more about the enigma beneath the chapeau.

1) Raising the chapeau to greet friends as I approach. Classy chapeau for a classy lady.

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His and Her Take

What actually happened (written by David):

I’m not very accomplished, so I don’t have the right to say particularly snobby things. But that doesn’t stop me.

The crowning achievement of my snobbishness was at a restaurant a number of years ago that served truly horrendous food. It also happened to have pig brain on the menu, which in and of itself isn’t atrocious, but on this occasion it was.

When the woman who was part owner of the restaurant came up and asked how things were, I decided I would tell her what an accomplished eater I was and how terrible her food is. I told her how accomplished I was, so I didn’t seem like a hobo.

“I have eaten at all the worlds most wonderful restaurants, and let me tell you, this was not one of them. And that pig brain dish, I wouldn’t serve that ever again. It was an assault on my palette and a travesty of modern cooking.”

What I thought happened (written by me):

Constructive criticism is the hallmark of every great intellect, and if you could use one phrase to describe me, “great intellect” would not be it. But that doesn’t stop me.

My most regrettable experience providing constructive criticism was at an expensive restaurant a number of years ago that served truly horrendous food. The dessert was some kind of pineapple sponge cake that I would have expected as part of a grade school lunch pack.

When the woman who was part owner of the restaurant came up and asked how things were, my inner altruist emerged as I resolved to help this restaurant improve their troubled ways. “I’m going to give honest feedback,” I whispered to my husband, who shook his head non-supportively.

As an aspiring intellect, I knew that I needed to establish credibility before my words could carry any weight, so I began sharing that I was a worldly eater. “I have eaten at some really amazing restaurants around the world,” I slowly began. She smiled at me. “And this, the flavors here, were very, very far from those flavors.” Seeing her crestfallen face made me realize this was not constructive at all, so I became more specific, delicately discouraging her from offering the pig brain dish to other customers.

She accepted this criticism professionally, but I still felt bad hurting her feelings, so I began my version of softening the blow: “Please remember I have eaten at a lot of good places, so I am biased.”

David’s Perspective Continued:

“Please remember that I am no ordinary hobo who visits the likes of Applebee’s and The Olive Garden. To such a person, perhaps your food might be extraordinary. I wouldn’t know.”

My Perspective Continued:

The part owner thanked me for my words and turned to go. I didn’t share my feelings on the dessert with her because I felt that was enough feedback for one restaurant visit.

David’s Perspective Continued:

“I forgot to tell her about how awful the dessert was,” I said to David. “Should I call her back?” David shook his head again, assuring me I had done enough damage for one day.

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Brilliant Nicki, Just Brilliant!

In addition to being a pop sensation, Nicki Minaj is a champion of science and research, I’m pretty sure.

On my drive to work this morning, listening to her wax poetic about dancing drunkenly, presumably on the dance floor, it occurred to me that her hit song, “Starships” is actually about expanding NASA’s space program. She has casually inserted these lyrics in there, and it’s only a matter of time before it becomes a common phrase that everyone is repeating. This unassuming neologist has been turning her talents to social engineering, and in the finest way.

If I may, here is a refrain to the catchy tune, Starships:

I’m on the floor, floor
I love to dance
So give me more, more, ’till I can’t stand
Get on the floor, floor
Like it’s your last chance
If you want more, more
Then here I am

Starships were meant to fly
Hands up, and touch the sky
Can’t stop, ’cause we’re so high
Let’s do this one more time

This line about starships, repeated throughout the song, has nothing to do with the rest of the song. But unlike Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” masterpiece, the non-sequitur lyrics in Starships perhaps serve an alternative purpose: put starships in flight. I’m a big fan of space research, so I shall now also become a fan of Nicki Minaj. Bravo! Let’s put starships in flight!

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SOPA Blackout

Today, in opposition of SOPA and PIPA, I write this blog entry acknowledging ‘s support of innovators worldwide opposing this legislation.

“The US news website Politico estimated that 7,000 sites were involved by early Wednesday morning.”  Now it will be 7,001.

Unfortunately, I will not be blacking out the site in its entirety, because as you may have suspected, I do not know how to do that.  However, I will go ahead and link you to google’s petition, in case you have not been on the internet today: More information on SOPA. 

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Winter is Coming

The tricky thing about this blog post title is that you can’t tell if I’m being literal, as in, it’s November, and obviously, winter is coming, or if I’m alluding to Game of Thrones. I’ll never tell.

Anyway, what do you think of this new header design? I’m really conflicted about it for a number of reasons:

1) Alignment. You see how I tab over on the list of what this blog is about? Well, you have to be really careful about creating different vertical alignments, because it could look disorganized. For the most part, you want text to line up on the page in their appropriate visual columns. What I’m doing here is bold and potentially stylistically devastating. Or it’s okay. I think it’s okay.

2) Font. You see how I use one font for the header, the text, and then a different font for the text in the bubbles? Well, you have to be really careful about using different fonts, because it could look like you don’t know how to highlight things and select the same font for them. For the most part, I do not know how to do this. What I’m doing here is not deliberate and potentially stylistically devastating. Or it’s okay. I think it’s okay.

3) Comic. You see how I combine stick figure drawings and a predisposition to megalomaniacal thoughts? Well, you have to be really careful about suggesting you have G-d-like abilities, because it could look like you are crazy. For the most part, this is a blog, so people should not judge. What I’m doing here is dry and thought-provoking. Or it’s brilliant. I think it’s brilliant.

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Week 8

It’s no secret that David and I love a good meal. And while we can navigate a restaurant menu with the dexterity of a seasoned pilot, our skills in the kitchen are a different story. Thus, every evening we struggle with the same dilemma:

Me: David I’m home!
David: Hello!
Me: I’m so hungry.
David: No, I am hungry!
Me: I haven’t eaten all day.
David: I ate a banana.
Me: What are we going to eat?
David: ….

And thus our nightly adventures begin. We spend the following hour debating different restaurants and weighing the merits of going to the grocery store. This exercise is actually very useful because during this hour, time passes, as it is wont to do, and restaurants and grocery stores close, thereby eliminating themselves as options.

Long post short: I’ve managed to lose a few pounds.

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