Bellini-induced Brain Freeze

TLC has been making a lot of garbage tv these days (Virgin Diaries, hello? I admit I laughed awkwardly when I saw the virgin wedding kiss in the trailer.) but I found the two-part Geek Love to be really endearing. It also made me feel kind of sorry for myself, egads. I mean, look at all those adorable, endearing, little "geeks" finding love, and yet I do not fit in with them. Although I am a huge fan of certain aspects of those Comic Cons (Simone Legno seems to always be at the San Diego Comic Con, Big Bang Theory and Twilight have held panels at Comic Cons) if I had to talk myself up for 6 minutes or so to one of the serious geeks he would lose interest pretty fast. I don't know much about Star Trek, have not seen the most recent 3 Star Wars -- or even remember much about the older three except for those adorable Ewoks -- I don't care for Spiderman and the only reason why I care for Batman and Iron Man is because Christian Bale and Robert Downey Jr. are both hot and

Soooooo, I'm going to try and blog more. I'm also going to try and workout more (I'm thinking 2 days of aquafit, a day of laps, and a day of weights. Here's to trying!) And somehow...somehow...I think that the way to keep me posting and exercising is by folding 1000 paper cranes. I really don't want to call this my New Year's resolutions or any such thing. What I need is a routine outlet, and if I can divert myself from eating as an outlet to working out -- which I must admit I do enjoy when I finally get my butt into the gym/pool -- and if I can make a habit of writing whatever little or big thing I am thinking of at the moment then that'd be a great start. When I was younger I was an origami nut. Consider it a hobby passed down from my great uncle. We would use whatever scrap we had to fold the latest designs he had just learned. For a couple of years he would send us "Rudolphs" made of paper cubes, lollipop sticks, pipecleaners, and of course a

Just a quick post because I didn't quite say everything that was going on in my mind this weekend. Ha, if Daisy could read my post-title she'd probably be through the moon. But it was the only song lyric I could think of on the spot that talks about diseases. Aidan let me know that he went and got tested over the weekend. Anytime I've had a moment to myself my brain has gone into warp freak-out mode over how stupid I have been. He came out clean, so...you know...goody for him and all, but that doesn't make me look any less stupid. SO many scenarios. So so many. All the other girls value their health enough that they insist that he be safe all the time. I don't speak up so he gets a "gimme." Since it would appear that I don't value my own health why should he value my health as well, right? It had been 8 months or so between the times I was with him. I got my annual checkup shortly after the time before our most recent get-together and I was fine th

I had the stupendous fortune of seeing Weezer perform live for the first time in. my. life. It was everything I thought it would be, hoped it would be, dreamed it would be. And when Rivers came back onto the stage and yelled out "Calgaryyyyyyyy! We're on an island..." My little happy heart could do nothing more but dance in joy, though I felt like I was the only one who whooped up as I knew what song he was referring to (does noone else adore "Island in the Sun?!") I was euphoric. But I had something else in mind for this post. I just wanted to share before I began. So Civic asked me if I wanted to go to Beano that night...but it was Weezer-night! But if he was willing to wait till later baby sis and I would meet him there. The only reason why I wanted to go to the festival was to see Weezer in all their nerdy fabulosity so as soon as they finished I would have no issues with leaving the grounds early and heading over to 17th. So that's what we did. By the

Why are corn niblets spelled with one B whereas the word nibble has two? Moving on... I really wish I could motivate myself to write in here whenever the mood strikes me. As it stands I have to play catch-up with my thoughts yet again. Boob-watch 2011: I've been driving again for a month now. Hooray! I've also picked up a few "normal" bras. Have I lost a lot? Well, considering I was always too embarrassed to get the girls professionally fitted they are down a cup from what I used to wear (still haven't gotten them professionally fitted) and depending on the maker of the bra it's possible they have been downsized even two cups. Yowza. I'm feeling a lot better about them; sometimes I do miss them when I wear a top where they used to be more front-and-center...but that could just be similar to how us ladies feel when we have a dramatic haircut. I love the fact that dresses zip up with ease now (remind me to tell you about the day I was a bridesmaid dressed in

Well, not quite, but it is a gorgeous day outside. And things seem to be progressing nicely *knock on wood* So exactly 7 days ago I was probably snapping out of my anesthetic and the deed was done. So how was it? I would say the pain was at its worst straight out of surgery, in the recovery room. The nurses would ask me for my number -- on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being mild and 10 being the worst pain I have ever experienced (that's practically verbatim, folks) -- and I said 5 off the bat. Unfortunately, she couldn't give me any painkillers yet as my breathing was still really slow. By the time she was able to administer anything I rated the pain at a 6. I don't know what the nurse gave me but it must have been some pretty terrific stuff because my number was never back up there again. The rest of the day and into the evening I rated the pain at 1 or 2, at times even as ambitious as 0. Just like my very first surgery (a corneal transplant in 7th grade) I was taking th

It's time, ladies and gentlemen. In 10 hours I'm going to be headed into the OR and about 2 hours later (or so they tell me) I should be a little less stacked. Farewell back problems, digging underwires, and stupid social comments? Let's hope so.

In nine days I am going to lie on a table, close my eyes, and wake up a little less stacked. It has been consuming a lot of my "thinking-time" as of late. I still worry, but if I was truly terrified I think I would have backed out by now. What troubles me the most is the recovery. I don't know what to expect. Or actually, I've been told what to expect and have heard from those who have undergone the procedure what I can expect, but I am hoping for better. Wisdom teeth? That was a breeze; the surgeon was surprised I was on the phone when he did his evening follow-up call. Corneal transplant? A piece of cake. Yes, I was out of school for a while (I can't even remember how long anymore) but I do not recall any pain or discomfort...just an inconvenience if anything. My parotidectomy? That one was a little gross -- I recall getting faint when the time came for the doctor to remove that icky drain post-op. I mean, yes, I was happy to get rid of it but I was

So...it's happening. After all these years contemplating having a breast reduction I never thought it would actually happen. And you know what? I got a call to set up a surgery date. Oh. My. God. So May 3rd I will become a little less stacked. I would say de-stacked or un-stacked, but let's not get drastic here. Uber scared! I have been thinking about it non-stop. Is this surgery really necessary? Everyone I have talked to who has had the procedure done say they wish they had it done earlier, that I will be so happy I got it done, blah blah blah. I hear that. I understand it. Guess I'm just a big pansy when it comes to surgeries, pain, and the like. My past surgeries have not been that painful, though they were more crucial operations. In this case I'm lying on the operating table for something that isn't really crucial to my health (unless you want to talk about sore backs, emotional happiness, etc.) but all the information I have read make it sound

Hoh ho! You get two days of posting in a row; you lucky dog! My coffee table is a whole to-do of books to read. You would think I would just write a list of things I would like to read someday. Instead, I end up with all these impulse purchases from our local bookstore, with a mental post-it note to read it sometime. On one day of wandering through the shelves I came across the cover "Talking to Girls About Duran Duran." Being that I am an amateur Duran Duran nut the book caught my attention right away. So then I found out the book was the second one written by Rob Sheffield; and Mr. Sheffield first wrote a book called "Love is a Mix Tape." So since the second book was only available in hardcover (and I'm not a fan of hardcover) and the first looked like an easy read in paperback it jumped into my open hands and came with me to the cash register. The store clerk was really excited by my purchase...to the point that I was embarrassed that I had never heard

I was heaving a whole stack of catalogs onto a rack this afternoon when one of the thick covers gave me a nasty papercut. Lovely. Can't tell you why this always stuck with me but one class in high school, I couldn't tell you which subject, the teacher spent a whole lesson on suffering. A papercut was an example of senseless suffering. There is no purpose or lesson to be learned from the pain it causes. It just hurts. Nothing you can do about it. Pretty much no remedy for it. Just let it sting and irritate you as long as it will. Boy, do those buggers really get to you. So then it made me think about my current situation, if you can call it that. Not that it just popped into my head. It had been marinating in my head for many a day now. It's all about a boy. As far as I can see Aidan has cut me off yet again. No hints. No warning. I have gone from some form of daily acknowledgment to deep cold NADA. But this should be a papercut, right? We were never in a &qu

Happy New Year, boys and girls! So...another year. Some stuff new and more of the same. New job? Check. (Since my separation with my former employer I have heard through the grapevine of at least 4 more employees who are no longer with them...and they are not hiring any replacements! Someone was seriously looking out for me when they ousted me. Hidden blessings, I tell you all.) New path? Also check. Happier times? You betcha. The creeper who comes and visits my blog still has not identified his or herself (FYI: Bellini is spelled with two Ls. I know you still get directed to my page, but get it right) and I do not want to be paranoid but it'd really ease my mind if you would just let me know who you are. Over the past little while I have met some characters who I would rather not be reading this page -- really, my life is none of your concern -- and I realize the internet is public and a privacy free-for-all but it would be so nice not to have to take my blog down to