Just "Pee" Yourself!

Why is it that I find it necessary to “hold it” until I can no longer stand it. Going to the bathroom is never a leisure stroll down the hall, it is almost always a dire emergency due to my holding it for too long.

There are 3 “need to go” stages/levels.

1. your typical “gotta go” feeling. No description necessary. Everyone gets it. I usually am aware I need to go by this stage, but am preoccupied…often times I say to myself: “Self, you can go to the bathroom once you finish [insert work/home/blog task here.]” A weird, yet classic psychological negative reinforcement situation…do something good, take away something that is painful or uncomfortable. Yes, I know I am odd.
2. the low hip, tingling sensation. Here enter the leg crossing, avoidance of laughter, and the “don’t think about flowing water” mentality. Usually I go here, because I have finally realized that the sensation is not going to go away on its own.
3. the low hip, pressure and pain. This is the mother of all need to pee symptoms. I rarely experience this sensation, but when I do I am always in a car. Never mind talking or communicating, because I am far too preoccupied with the pain that comes with moving and breathing. Then, there is an opportunity to go and getting out of the car and walking to the bathroom is a borderline out of body experience. See me. See me hunched over. See me hunched over, attempting to walk, with hundreds of sharp, pressurized pains that seemingly start and end in my bladder…its like finishing a marathon, seeing the finish line, and not caring about what you look like finishing it.

My conflict with peeing began with family road trips circa 1990 (that would be all road trips, post potty training.) The 4 hour drives to Burlington, VT ultimately became a game of chicken between my father who refused to pull over for

Years later, my mother figured out the solution that solved our roadtrip saga…dehydrate the kids, particularly me, beginning 12 hours before you buckle up. That’s right, no liquids starting the night before a big trip. Prepping me for a long car ride was essentially like prepping me for major surgery: do not eat or drink anything after midnight the night before; you may brush your teeth but do not swallow the water; take Tylenol with your last meal before said dehydration. Oh, the memories.

Ultimately, I have these wonderful road trip experiences to thank for my ability to drive home from my alma mater in upstate New York, without needed to stop for a rest room. That’s 6-7 hours of pit stop free cruising…and guess who hates to take bathroom breaks now…

i'm a 8.5 out of 10?

The self evaluation. A time for pretentious people to shine and self doubters to, well for lack of a better term, self doubt.

I have always struggled with self evaluations, and I am not sure if it is my inability to make decisions, my lifelong struggle at giving myself compliments, or a combination of both, but regardless they have always proved to be difficult for me.

The self evaluation process usually brings out my conscious/devil, Id/Ego, nice/naughty/whatever you want to call it conflict. There is me, my “good self,” and my “bad self” all reflecting on my actions throughout a paper, project or assignment.

On one shoulder sits my self advocating mini-me. I imagine her to look like me, only small enough to sit on my shoulder. She’s smart, quick witted, and very aggressive (reminds me of someone else I know.) She kicks in and discusses how hard I worked on said project, and that I deserve recognition for the sweat, stress, and most likely tears that went into the process. I am hard working pupil/colleague; I submit quality work that I deem qualified for review; I put in the effort. She thinks I deserve “excellent” in all categories of the self eval rubric. End. Of. Discussion.

On the other shoulder sits my honest, conscientious mini-me. She is wearing glasses, and holding books, perhaps something like Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter, sans really annoying voice. She is always the one to keep my self-advocating self in check, and asks questions like: “Self, did you really work as hard as you could have on the ‘proofreading’ section?” or: “Self, don’t you think there are other students who probably put more effort into their ‘title and introduction’ section than you did?” She usually rates my achievements as average; not sub-par, but definitely not admirable. Honest mini-me immediately butts heads with self-advocating mini-me and looks to diffuse any kind of self encouraging campaign or spark that comes with her.

Me? I serve as the mediator between the two, and historically speaking, the situation ends with me handing in the evaluation wondering whether my superior will find me to have overshot or undershot their thoughts. My mother always tells me that I am way too hard on myself, and that I tend to set unrealistic expectations for myself. So while in the real world I am particularly hard on my effort and actions, I try to create reasonable criteria for myself when self evaluating, as not everyone is as big of a nutcase perfectionist as I am.

Insert immediate anxiety until feedback and/or grade is returned.

Food for thought

My Friday: in random, oxymoronic, food related thoughts

1. I love chocolate…in all forms and phases. I do not, however, like chocolate ice cream…unless it is a fudgesickle.
2. I do not like coffee, nor do I like its taste or smell…unless its slowly churned into a delicious ice cream. Yes, I love coffee ice cream, preferably covered with chocolate jimmies. (To be clear, they are jimmies…not sprinkles.)
3. I love strawberries, as in I eat them everyday in season, so why is it that my least favorite type of lollipops and jams are strawberry? Because I said so.
4. I love bananas, and enjoy almost everything that is banana flavored (foul, I know), the obvious exception being banana popsicles. Those should be publicly defamed and permanently discontinued.
5. I didn’t like Chinese food or chocolate until I was twelve…same time I hit puberty and ballooned. Coincidence? Doubtful.

TGIT

What life looks from my driver's seat in light rain

...without functioning windshield wipers.

Here's to 48 hours straight of not stressing about condensation. TGIT.

i'm in a glass case of...non function?

raisinets > chocolate covered espresso beans

I do not like strong coffee; I do not like espresso; I do not like coffee beans or any other coffee specimen (the obvious exception being coffee ice cream,) so I am unsure as to why I am so perplexed by the fact that I dislike chocolate covered espresso beans.

I do not like chocolate covered espresso beans. End of story, but occasionally I will cross paths with the opportunity to eat them, and a majority of the time I will try one….you know, just to be sure I do not like them.

End result? Always the same. I do not like chocolate covered espresso beans. Not one bit; not one iota. I like all other chocolate dipped delicacies, but not the bean of espresso.

This leads me to bigger questions here. What kind of crazed, caffeine addicted chocoholic created these little mocha morsels of energy? Lets be frank here: chocoholism and caffeine dependence are real addictions. Combining them is just plain cruel for mocha enthusiasts. Luckily for me, I am not one of them, however, my obvious vice is peanut butter, and we all know how delicious combining chocolate and that tasty treat can be.

Secondly, why do people choose to drink coffee when they can nosh on these caffeine caplets all day and achieve the same desired effect? I think it is a no brainer...especially when chocolate is involved. Bet your bottom dollar that if Raisinets dispersed caffeine into my bloodstream and boosted my metabolism, I would eat those suckers all day, every day (calories removed, of course!)

i scream for ice cream

In my years of vast experience, I have found that there are few problems that a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream can’t fix. Honest.

Ben and Jerry have created the perfect companion to break ups, sweet tooths, swine flu, removing of the tonsils, hot weather, cold weather, boredom, and pregnancy. I think that my good ole friend Ben and/or Jerry found the direct path to pure happiness through saturated fat, heavy cream, and chocolate chunks, nuts, brownies and cookies. Can I get an “Amen?”

This said list of blissful, yet deadly, ingredients is obviously counter balanced with all of the healthy, natural things in my bucket of bliss. Being a “Cherry Garcia” and “Chunky Monkey” girl myself, I am of the most healthy ice cream eaters, being that each of my flavors are fruit based, and are therefore by default more healthy.

I also ingest many beneficial vitamins from Ben and Jerry’s baby, such as omega-3-fatty acids from Chunky Monkey’s walnuts, and vitamins C and A from the cherries in Cherry Garcia. Not to mention the added benefits in consuming dark chocolate, which we all know is part of a healthy heart diet in moderation.

Why get the Fro-Yo when all the natural, healthy ingredients are already in the original version? As I continue to prove time and time again, no sequel is ever as good as its predecessor. Don’t skimp on the original, especially when you are already buying the Chocolate Fudge Brownie variety.

At any rate, I would just like to thank those wonderful people up in Waterbury, VT for creating the most perfect comfort food for this ice cream addict.

Sans one wiper and one wheel

February was a bad month for Sass.

For those of you who haven’t met Sass, shame on you. She is the most loving Saab 9-3 out there, and my, does she have stories to share….if only her hood can talk.

Sass has been through it all, and has been a good sport in all weather. She handled beautifully during my 9 hour drive from Burlington, VT in my family’s attempt to “beat the blizzard home” in late 2007 (Great idea, Dad!), and has effortlessly honked and whipped around to sorority tunes with many a deltas hanging out her windows on bid day. Way to go Sass!

Regardless, February was a bad month for Sass…making March an even worse month for my checkbook. As much as I love her classy shine or her willingness to stick it out in tough storms, Sass truly lived up to her name this month, much like her owner. Sass and I are now fighting.

As if her windshield wiper breaking during the monsoon of last week did not serve as enough entertainment for her, this week’s flat tire no doubt added some spice to her month. Sass clearly thrives on my ability to totally freak out over things that I cannot control. The tears, stress, and cash spent on her in the last 24 hours equal out to about the amount I have cumulatively spent on her in the past two point five years. Thanks Sassafrass.

Apologies ahead of time, checking account, for the hit you are unknowingly about to take.
I am hoping these said Sass problems stem back to my not saying “Rabbit Rabbit” on February 1, 2010 (please see my rabbit rabbit rant for all details).

Don’t worry, I said “Rabbit Rabbit” this morning…