Why Everyone Needs a Blog

Coworker: "Speaking of food, we have to take a break from Rojo. Remember how we got lunch from there on Wednesday? I think I had a bad batch of chicken burrito. After you left the office, I got deathly ill. I felt *horrible* but I was on second call, so I couldn't leave. I sat in my office hunched over a trash can the rest of the day. I finally gave in at about 4:30. I went into the command center, told them I had to go home, and I left. Well, about halfway home, I realize I have to go to the bathroom. I mean *go* to the bathroom. But I think I can make it to the apartment. So, I am swiping my card at the gate, and I lose it. Needless to say, I didn't make it to the bathroom. And that's just the beginning. I get out of the car, completely covered in crap. It's all over my pants, my shoes, everything. Luckily, I'm in scrubs. I get into the apartment, get cleaned up and just decide to throw everything away. I'm too lazy to deal with it, plus it's disgusting. So, I throw my clothes, shoes, everything in a garbage bag, walk out to the dumpster, and throw it out. I get back to the apartment, lay down...and immediately realize that my wallet was in my pants pocket. And that my pants pocket is in the giant apartment complex dumpster. I am angry and sick and now I have to go dumpster diving. So, I walk out of the apartment and head toward the dumpster, and who stops me but that guy who's always outside working on his car. I see that guy all the time, never talks to me. Of course the day that I shit myself and throw my wallet in the dumpster, he wants to share his life story. Sam, I'm serious, he talked to me for 30 minutes. I know everything about him. I finally tell him that I have to go dumpster diving, and HE WANTS TO HELP ME. I didn't really feel like sharing my saga with a total stranger, so I just told him I accidentally threw away my wallet. But I'm having to convince him not to hop in the dumpster with me because I would be totally mortified if this guy climbs in and sees what I'm looking for. I finally talked him out of it."
Me: "Did you actually jump into our dumpster? It's like a 5 foot drop from the platform onto God knows what."
Coworker: "Well, I figured the worst thing I could land on would be a bag of human excrement, and since that's what I was looking for anyway, it would be fine. I found it pretty quickly. Then I had to jump up, grab the rim of the dumpster and claw my way out of there. It was pretty much the worst day of my life."
Me: "You really need a blog."

What's the Buzz?

For the past few days I've been holed up in my apartment, laying on the couch in my pajamas, watching movies and television. Drinking orange juice by the gallon and turning occasionally to redistribute the snot swirling around in my sinuses. Because nothing cures a cold like lying in front of the television snuggled up with a giant teddy bear, drinking orange juice, and watching "The Little Mermaid" like you were 4 years old all over again. (Actually, something might cure a cold better because I'm still totally stuffed up and miserable, but I don't know what it is so I'll go with what I have. I'm definitely up for suggestions though.)

So, all this time I'm sitting in here, I'm hearing this whining/buzzing noise. It's coming from outside, and it's kind of high pitched, but it isn't constant. The tone goes up and down. I assumed someone was doing construction. Maybe they had circular saws set up in the parking lot? Or maybe the crazy mechanic neighbor with the attack dog had gotten some tools and was pretending to be a member of Jeff Gordon's pit crew? I didn't know where it was coming from, but it wasn't close enough to make me think someone was trying to tunnel into my apartment (another of my ideas) so I decided not to worry about it. The weather outside today was sunny and gorgeous (hit 75 degrees) and I assumed people were outside and if someone were assembling some kind of nuclear warhead in the parking lot, surely one of my elderly neighbors would call the police. I was also a little worried that the buzzing noise was in my head because of my cold. Or that it was killer bees. Always a big concern.

So this evening I'm sitting here watching SVU. And the noise begins again. And it's really loud, and it's getting dark. It continues and I think, "Surely there's some clause in the lease that says you can't operate electric lathes in the parking lot after dark." I finally shoehorn myself off the couch to figure out what the hell has been going on for the past week. Are you ready for this? Drumroll please...

It's an RC car. Some kid got a little RC car and is *racing* it up and down the parking lot pretty much from the time he gets home from school to the time his mother calls him in for dinner.

I worry that I'm going to end up one of those old people shaking my cane and yelling for those kids to stay off my lawn. Seriously. I'm bothered by the noise from an RC car. What am I going to do when I move back into a city? It's gonna be interesting.

Frustrated

• I woke up feeling sick this morning. Again. I'm pretty sure that my workplace is a breeding ground for sinus infections, influenza, strep throat, and bubonic plague. I have once again contracted at least one of these. Just in time to be on call all weekend. So, since today's my day off, I decided to go to the store and stock up on supplies. News flash: Simply Orange is God's gift to orange juice. That stuff is delicious.
• To get home from the store, I have to enter the gates of my apartment community. That's right...I live in a gated community. I'm pretty sure the gates are there to keep all the thugs inside the complex. But whatever. There's someone in front of me blocking the gates. And I can see him digging around in his car. He's paying absolutely no attention to anything except his desperate search for what I can only assume to be a sandwich or some kind of herpes ointment. What else could be that pressing? In any event, after patiently waiting five minutes, I decided to alert him to my presence with my car horn. I press the horn. Nothing happens. I LAY on the horn. Nothing happens. Welcome to stage 431 of my poor truck falling apart. At this rate I'll have to buy a new car before the year's out. Because I have a mighty need for a working horn.
• The guy finally pulls through the gate. I make it home. Walk in the door with the intention of drinking orange juice, taking tylenol sinus, and eating some lunch. I pull out the hummus mix and start chopping up pita and celery. Get the measuring cup, turn on the faucet, and nothing happens. Because the water in my building is turned off. Or has dried up. Either way, I was given no notice of the impending drought and now can not make hummus. Stupid apartment complex.

I'll also probably lose my basketball bracket. Which sucks, because wagers were placed in cake.

And I love cake.

This is what happens when I am sick

You know how I stayed home from work the other day? Yeah, I am paying for it in spades. Apparently I've been struck with karmic retribution in the form of some deadly mutant strep-flu-sinus infection hybrid. I've had it all. Congestion, fever, vomiting, sore throat, and overall misery. I woke up this morning at 5 AM because I was drowning in my own saliva. Which is what happens when you can't swallow because millions of bacteria have been kicking you in the tonsils all night. Bastards.

• I was sitting at my desk and picked up two rubber bands that were stacked together. I started fidgeting with them while talking on the phone. I was trying to do that thing where you pull one through the other to link them...you know what I'm talking about. So, I wasn't looking at them, was just trying to do that. But it wasn't working. I finally thought I had it, looked down, and it was one giant rubber band. My thought? "Oh my God I just did magic and I have no idea how! I should have been watching!" Followed quickly by the realization that it was always a large rubberband that was coiled when I picked it up. Followed quickly by yet another realization. That I am an idiot. And it is time for more Tylenol.
• I don't buy sugar-laden products. Simply because I don't have any willpower to keep myself from eating/drinking these products in outrageous portions. For instance, Chips Ahoy cookies. Samantha's serving size? One sleeve. Not healthy. But when I'm sick, I cut myself some slack. So, I stocked up on clear liquids. Specifically 7-UP and Fresca. Mmm soda. By last night, I was swigging 7-UP straight from the 2-liter bottle. I'm now halfway through the Fresca. Also, "All-natural 7-UP?" Bologna. There is nothing natural about high fructose corn syrup. It is delicious though.
• Early morning television sucks. Although I will say that I totally want to ride in the "Cash Cab." I think I could rack up. Star Trek doesn't start til 1 PM. And I can't sleep. Thank God for Scrabble. Ugh I hate being sick.