NOT SO FUNNY

Today it has come to my attention that sometimes when I attempt to be funny, I end up being mean instead. I had NO idea! Apparently, I have inadvertantly insulted at least three people in the last month.

Anyone who knows me understands that this would never be my intent. (Also, anyone with half a brain would understand that I am, in fact, FUNNY and anyone who thinks I'm mean has no sense of humor.) Oh, look! Maybe that last sentence is an example of what these people were talking about?

Anyway, I wanted to take this opportunity to send out sincere apologies if I have offended anyone in the past with some lame attempt at a joke. As a public service message, here are some touchy subjects about which NEVER to joke:

1) the Kreb's cycle. (seriously. Some do not take oxidative glycolosis lightly at all)
2) Bon Jovi music
3) Bon Jovi's hair
4) Bon Jovi's age
5) Bon Jovi's clothes
6) basically, anything to do with Bon Jovi. OFF LIMITS.
7) "The Secret"
8) High School Musical
9) Budweiser beer
10) wine-in-a-box
11) Amy Winehouse (ok, not really. You can make as many jokes about Amy Winehouse as you want. I just thought it sounded funny after wine-in-a-box.)

Oh, crap. I just did it again.

NOT A WINGMAN

I learned something new today. There is no such thing as a female wingman. I did not know this. How I could have gone 38 years without knowing this is beyond me. However, I do take some consolation in the fact that none of my female friends knew this. And I'm a little ticked off that all of my male friends knew this.

Since Saturday night, I have been under the impression that I was acting as a female wingman. I felt pretty damn proud of myself, actually. I am so frickin' cool! I am one of the guys! I am the one they call when they need to rid themselves of an unwanted presence for the night. The female wingman! Wing-gal! or Wing Grrrl. Or Wingy-bitch! I don't care what you call me, just call me! I'm there for you. The female wingman.

However, at lunch today, my friend Don decided to burst my bubble. I was relaying the story of the frantic phone call and subsequent flurry of text messages that lead me to the bar.

"Oh" he said, "Sounds like somebody needed an instant girlfriend for the night."

"Well, yeah." I said

"He had a clinger he needed to get rid of?"

"Something like that." (A posse of homosexual clingers, actually, but that's a story for another day)

"And he called you to come save him."

"Yup!" I answered proudly, "I was his wingman!"

Don gave me a look of bemused pity. "Oh, honey; you weren't his wingman. You were his girlfriend for the night. There is a huge difference. And there are no female wingmen."

I looked around the staff room. All of my male coworkers were nodding. All of my female coworkers looked confused.

"Wait!" I countered. "What do you mean there are no female wingmen? Have you ever heard of that?"

I wasn't addressing anyone in particular. Again, all of my male coworkers were nodding while all my female coworkers shook their heads.

"Is this common knowledge? I mean, have YOU ever called in an instant girlfriend for the night?"

There was a collective "Oh, yeah!" from the testosterone gallery.

"Why have I never heard of this?"

"Well," Don said, "we're guys. We don't talk about this stuff. As a matter of fact, there may be serious repercussions for my even talking to you."

As I was trying to digest this, Don dealt the final blow. "Oh, and you have to make sure to set boundaries when you're an instant girlfriend for the night. If you don't, you automatically become a part-time girlfriend."

"Meaning?"

"He'll only call you when he wants something."

You know what? I think I'm okay with that.

I'm BAAAAACK

Oh, to be back in contact with the world! It turns out that router problem was way more than we originally bargained for. So now, 20 days and one new internet provider later, we are all back on line and cleaning out the in-boxes.

What's more is that I lost my cell phone last week. I know exactly where I lost it, too. Unfortunately, it was ON A BUS and the only thing I could do was wait until somebody turned it in. It would've made things a lot easier if the bus station actually picked up a phone when somebody called. Its not like I have tons of extra time during the day or like I work at a desk where I can work while the phone just dials by itself in the background set to speaker phone. No, I have to wait for breaks between patients and that only happens if somebody no-shows. (not cancells, as the cancelled spot will be filled with another patient. It seems we have started running outpatient clinics like airlines with standby lists. But that is a story for another day.)

Anyway, when I finally did get thru to somebody, she told me that I was welcome to come in and look in the lost and found box. She wouldn't look in the lost and found box for me and let me know if a red cell phone with a big "peace love and happiness" sticker on it was in that box. Way too common a found item, I suppose? I would have to come down to the bus station as look myself.

I asked her for the street address, since the website for the bus station did not have it listed.

"Well, I could give you the street address, but we are not actually located there, so it wouldn't do you any good."

"Ok", I replied, "Could you give me directions to the bus station? I'm coming from off-cape."

"Oh, we are right in Hyannis", she said. "You can't miss it. Its the building with weathered gray shingles and white trim."

You don't say? On Cape Cod? That building should just jump right out at me!

"All right. Let's say I'm not familiar with Hyannis. I would come down Route 6 and get off Exit 6 and then I would go where?"

"Well," she said, "You could get off exit 5 or exit. Whichever. All depends on how you want to go."

"How about you just give me the street address? Even if the building isn't located there. Would that be ok?"

The good news is, my phone was turned in 4 days later so I only had to make the trip there 4 times.

Oh, to be back on the radar...

ON MY WAY

Off to a good start; I went out and went rollerblading today after work. Even though my whole head was itchy as hell. It was weird; halfway through the day my eyes started itching. Then my nose and my ears. By the end of the day, I felt like an addict, blinking, squinting, scratching my nose, pulling my ears, clearing my throat, scatching my head all figety and jumpy. Surprisingly, the rollerblading cleared up the itching a bit. And a violent scratch-down with the loofa in the shower cleared it up a bit more. But I still think I'm gonna swallow a benedryl before bed tonite, so I don't wake up with my eyes swollen shut or something. What the hell happened to me?

HELLO JULY

So my wireless card has been fighting with the router for the first few days of July, which has meant a reprive from doing anything whatsoever on the computer. When I finally fixed the problem, I had approxomately 400,000 emails waiting for me; 399,975 of them junk mail. Oh well.

It also gave me an oppotunity to think about exactly what the hell I should be striving for in July. I must admit, I'm starting to lose steam. What exactly am I striving for? I don't feel as if I have changed for the better or the worse at all since January. And furthermore, this whole blog thing just may be an ode to mediocrity and boredom. But then again, that just may be the stomache bug that has plagued me all of this July 4th long weekend talking.

I had thought about for my 30 day thing: sleeping outside for 30 days. (tent optional) The mosquitos are insane this year, though. Not just in their sheer number, but in their level of aggression. I fear that I may be one giant itching pustule come August. So instead, I decided that I need to (1) exercise outside every day. Starting tomorrow. Since I needed to stay in close proximity to a bathroom this weekend.

(2) I will GO SURFING! technically, I've done this before. But I sucked. So I will try to surf non-suckily

(3) I just got a whole list of summery reads courtesy of Jen Lancaster's blog, so I am going to be easy and breezy and read one of those. Whichever I can find most easily.

(4) I am going to buy...a new bike. Yeah, I like triathlons that much.

(5) I am going to go to a bar on the beach (either in Cape Cod or Virginia Beach, or both) and look cute till somebody buys me a drink. Good goal. I just may turn back into myself aged 26!

(6) and yeah, I am going to both dive into the craft pile and dust off the guitar. Enough is enough. And July is enough.

Have I mentioned that when I'm not riddled with a horrible GI , I LOVE summer? Just checking.

YEA JUNE!

June, you rocked! I love the fact that summer came blasting in with the top down, the music cranked, and the alcohol flowing. I feel so alive in the summer. All the pensive, melancholy brooding of months just falls away as I'm outside running or swimming or rollerblading or biking. I feel like my crazy self again.

Which means I have little time to spare for goals:

1) Once again, a failed eating plan. Maybe that's why I have only successfully lost and kept off a grand total of 4 pounds in a year. (I did go down 2 pants sizes though. Go figure) Maybe one of these days I'll get it right. Just not in June.

2) Saw some live music. While drinking free beer. Bonus!

3) Went to the movies. Twice.

4) Finished a sprint triathlon and preparing for another.

5) Read my book.

6) Did not get to crafts. Its too nice out.

July....maybe all my goals should be outdoor endeavors?

STAINS

So, continuing with the theme of stains for this week: the cicadas are out in full force in Mashpee, through which I have to drive on the way to work. Which means...lots of splattering. Giant, yellowish beige stains on my windshield.

The cicadas are huge. On the ground, they look like extra long cockroaches. In the air, they look like small hummingbirds. They fly willy-nilly up and down, back and forth swooping through the air. It's very difficult to swerve and avoid the flying beasts.

What makes it worse is when they land just out of reach of the windshield wipers. Then their little bodies get cooked in the summer sun and become a giant summer stain on my windshield. I know its terrible to talk about a living creature in this way; "man, his death really ruined my day and made my jeep dirty". But what else am I to do? They are cruising around in swarms.

Clouds rolled in and its thundering tonight. Maybe the rain will wash the cicada stains away.