Just like the riddle, "which came first....chick or egg," I have to wonder if my clumsy ways are due to the sleep deprivation or if the sleep deprivation is there because I'm so afraid of rolling out of bed while asleep that I freak myself out just enough that I never get to the REM sleep.
You think I'm joking, don't you. Well, two facts remain: I haven't had a full seven hours sleep in about three weeks -- I'm averaging about four, four and a half on the outside. And the stupidest of self-inflicted injuries was added to the list as of Sunday afternoon. While folding laundry.
Which brings me to the post. I was asked tonight, after giving all the sordid details of my latest dumb-fuck move, if I was generally a clumsy person. I quickly answered an emphatic, "No." I mean, we all slam our fingers in the silverware drawer or get papercuts from time to time. So perhaps I answered a bit quickly wanting it to be true, knowing it wasn't. Though I will say that of the Zimmerman girls, I will ALWAYS come in second to my sister who is the undefeated champ in the pissing contest with gravity. The girl nearly broke her collarbone FALLING OFF A STOOL showing someone her new shoes, her head was mistaken for a softball when she was three, she fell off my bed at five (allegedly due to a misplaced chair she was sitting in. Which may or may not have been put there by me. Allegedly.) and split her leg crawling into her apartment through the kitchen window.
.....Ok, so that may have had less to do with gravity and more to do with vodka, but I think you can see how even sober that could have played the same.....
God help us all if I ever manage to defeat her title. But obviously it's not for the lack of trying.
Take for example my attempts: Stepping on razor, barefoot. Being taken for a walk by my Granddad's black lab...through the hedges. Mistakenly putting lip cream on my eyes and eye cream on my lips after a bad sunburn and having my eyes swell shut. Laying in insulation because it looked like cotton candy (by the way, anything that color pink should be edible, not be made up of glass shards.) Punching myself out with a right cross in a group fitness class. Coming up to a red light and stopping my bike precisely next to a pot hole and almost falling off my bike when I set my foot down into it. Introducing my face to a slippery pile of wet rocks, twice.
.....Ok, so that may have had less to do with gravity and more to do with beer, but I think you can see how even sober that could have played the same.....
and my latest feeble attempt....Nearly breaking my wrist slamming down on the back of couch frame. I'm brilliant I tell ya, brilliant. I now realize my previous answer tonight must be retracted and, "Yes, yes I am clumsy" must be noted for the record.
Don't think for a hot second that I don't appreciate what hasn't happened to me, self-inflicted or other, because I know damn well there are much worse things out there. Please, please, know that I don't need to experience any of them. Not when I can just go ask my sister.
And you can keep the belt, sis. I don't want to defeat title.
June 22, 2009
June 17, 2009
Hold on Dorothy, Oz is just around the next bend
Miss me? I've been around, just not able to collect my thoughts long enough to post. I've been feeling a bit like Dorothy caught in the tornado on her way to waking up in Oz. When last you checked in with the Pen Test site, I was feeling the effects of gigantic plastic mugs of PBR. Since then I've been finalizing some details. I can finally announce that it's finished. I am moving.
I wish I could announce it was to the other side of the Pond, but not yet. However, I'm proud to share that I have found a new apartment (in Chicago). I know the six readers I have may understand why that's a big deal, maybe not, but many of you who I have not yet met (and I do hope there are at least 15 of you) may wonder what the hell the big deal is? People move all the time. Well, not this people. That's why I feel a little like Dorothy.
It's been seven years that I've lived in my Lincoln Square apartment. My home. I've had laughs and heartbreak, hangovers and recoveries, dinners and board games, showers and fights here. I've watched one occupant leave and another replace him. I've shared many a sorrow and made more memories than seem possible. If the walls could talk, I'd be in trouble. It's time to leave and I think dwelling in this one place for as long as I have, while unexpected, was necessary. There's been a good deal of truth and reality had here, it's time to take the lessons and put them to use. In my own space. White walls, ready to soak up my new experiences like paint. I've never lived alone and while it seems daunting to spend even more time with myself, I can't wait.
Corri, I have loved having you as my roommate and friend. Somehow Porch Counsel has to find a way to continue. There's a special place in my heart for you and I know the reason for our move is a good one; Congratulations on the engagement! And while he's a boy, Scott will make an even better roommate than me. Come visit me in Oz sometime....
I wish I could announce it was to the other side of the Pond, but not yet. However, I'm proud to share that I have found a new apartment (in Chicago). I know the six readers I have may understand why that's a big deal, maybe not, but many of you who I have not yet met (and I do hope there are at least 15 of you) may wonder what the hell the big deal is? People move all the time. Well, not this people. That's why I feel a little like Dorothy.
It's been seven years that I've lived in my Lincoln Square apartment. My home. I've had laughs and heartbreak, hangovers and recoveries, dinners and board games, showers and fights here. I've watched one occupant leave and another replace him. I've shared many a sorrow and made more memories than seem possible. If the walls could talk, I'd be in trouble. It's time to leave and I think dwelling in this one place for as long as I have, while unexpected, was necessary. There's been a good deal of truth and reality had here, it's time to take the lessons and put them to use. In my own space. White walls, ready to soak up my new experiences like paint. I've never lived alone and while it seems daunting to spend even more time with myself, I can't wait.
Corri, I have loved having you as my roommate and friend. Somehow Porch Counsel has to find a way to continue. There's a special place in my heart for you and I know the reason for our move is a good one; Congratulations on the engagement! And while he's a boy, Scott will make an even better roommate than me. Come visit me in Oz sometime....
May 30, 2009
Pass the Schnitzel and the.....PBR?!
May Fest (LNSQ): Drinking PBR out of a giant plastic mug doesn't make it any more German or any less disgusting. It will, however, make it easier to hear oom-pah music for hours and be less hostel when getting jostled around in a crowd of 1,500 other giant plastic mug carrying drunkards.
Good times.
Good times.
May 21, 2009
May 20, 2009
Go ahead, open your umbrella indoors
Had one of those moments on the train today. You know the one, where you're reading along in the paper and all of a sudden your brain actually comprehends what it's reading and had it not you would have just kept skimming over the sentences pretending wholeheartedly to read the paper.
Yeah, I knew you knew what I was talking about. One of those moments.
Anyway, when the mental brakes engaged, I threw it in reverse and traveled back to the beginning of the horoscopes.
What? Yes, I read the paper including the comics, horoscopes and the weather. So what if the most redeemable part of the Chicago Tribune happens to be everything outside of the daily news? As a side note, here are two interesting facts:
1. The sections I read, in this order: Sports, Chicagoland, the "fun" section (Food, Live!, or the Friday section etc...) Business and then the Front page if there's time.
2. I only have the paper delivered Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I find that it's challenging enough to stay current on four days let alone all seven. I, too, find myself with unread Sunday papers at brunch.
Anyway, back to the Horoscope section this morning because it concerns you.....and you.......and you over there pretending not to be paying attention with your sunglasses on and your earphones in.....I know you're starring at me. Listen up. You'll all be interested to know that not one of us, not the Capricorns, or the Aquarians, the Libras, Sagitarians or Geminarians are in for anything less than a "6" day today.
See why my brain went, "Whoa!?"
Typically I read this particular section and search out the high sign, the sign that gets to have a "Today is a 9" day and I think, "Lucky bitches" because it's most always NOT my sign. I don't take this personally because I happen to know quite a few Aquarians so I feel that we can bond over our unfortunate ranking. On the blue moon occasion when I find out the Aquarians happen to be Prom Queen, I get all giggly and can't sit still. Like it's a birthday party or something.
After looking for the big number, I'll skim to find the sign that should quite possibly not get out of bed, the "Today is a 2" day. What sucks ass is when it's my sign and I'm already dressed and on the train, reading the paper. Sometimes it pays to sit leisurely at home and read the paper BEFORE getting dressed and heading out. I mean, if you read that your entire day's success rate is only going to top out at a 2, wouldn't you give some serious consideration to a sick day?
So imagine my perplexion (it's a word) when I can't find the niner and there's no little pip-squeak two among any of the signs. We are all either a 6 or a 7. The only explanation I came up with is that the Zodiac was either feeling apathetic and couldn't be bothered to dole out anything more than a tiny bit better than mediocre (which would be a 5) or it was still in bed and not alone....if you catch my drift *wink, wink* *nudge, nudge* and just needed to finish assigning success rates so it could get back to bizness. Either way, I guess you could say it's a win-win for all parties involved.
That would be all of us, people.
Hope you took advantage of your 6 or 7 and made choices you might not have made had today been a 2. Or paid a little closer attention to detail since you weren't given the gift of a 9 today. I bet it's just one of those wacky coinky dinks that won't happen again for a coon's age.
Or until the Zodiac gets lucky again.
Yeah, I knew you knew what I was talking about. One of those moments.
Anyway, when the mental brakes engaged, I threw it in reverse and traveled back to the beginning of the horoscopes.
What? Yes, I read the paper including the comics, horoscopes and the weather. So what if the most redeemable part of the Chicago Tribune happens to be everything outside of the daily news? As a side note, here are two interesting facts:
1. The sections I read, in this order: Sports, Chicagoland, the "fun" section (Food, Live!, or the Friday section etc...) Business and then the Front page if there's time.
2. I only have the paper delivered Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I find that it's challenging enough to stay current on four days let alone all seven. I, too, find myself with unread Sunday papers at brunch.
Anyway, back to the Horoscope section this morning because it concerns you.....and you.......and you over there pretending not to be paying attention with your sunglasses on and your earphones in.....I know you're starring at me. Listen up. You'll all be interested to know that not one of us, not the Capricorns, or the Aquarians, the Libras, Sagitarians or Geminarians are in for anything less than a "6" day today.
See why my brain went, "Whoa!?"
Typically I read this particular section and search out the high sign, the sign that gets to have a "Today is a 9" day and I think, "Lucky bitches" because it's most always NOT my sign. I don't take this personally because I happen to know quite a few Aquarians so I feel that we can bond over our unfortunate ranking. On the blue moon occasion when I find out the Aquarians happen to be Prom Queen, I get all giggly and can't sit still. Like it's a birthday party or something.
After looking for the big number, I'll skim to find the sign that should quite possibly not get out of bed, the "Today is a 2" day. What sucks ass is when it's my sign and I'm already dressed and on the train, reading the paper. Sometimes it pays to sit leisurely at home and read the paper BEFORE getting dressed and heading out. I mean, if you read that your entire day's success rate is only going to top out at a 2, wouldn't you give some serious consideration to a sick day?
So imagine my perplexion (it's a word) when I can't find the niner and there's no little pip-squeak two among any of the signs. We are all either a 6 or a 7. The only explanation I came up with is that the Zodiac was either feeling apathetic and couldn't be bothered to dole out anything more than a tiny bit better than mediocre (which would be a 5) or it was still in bed and not alone....if you catch my drift *wink, wink* *nudge, nudge* and just needed to finish assigning success rates so it could get back to bizness. Either way, I guess you could say it's a win-win for all parties involved.
That would be all of us, people.
Hope you took advantage of your 6 or 7 and made choices you might not have made had today been a 2. Or paid a little closer attention to detail since you weren't given the gift of a 9 today. I bet it's just one of those wacky coinky dinks that won't happen again for a coon's age.
Or until the Zodiac gets lucky again.
May 9, 2009
Expense Report
Job-related trauma. It's a common occurrence. There is even worker's compensation to provide assistance for someone injured while "on the job."
Police persons are at high risk of being shot at. EMT's could easily get in a car crash. Chefs, burned or cut. Athletes, jock itch. Vegas dancers, bunions. Lifeguards, ending up on a new version of Baywatch (shutter!) these are all traumatic injuries.
So when I discover that my elbows are chaffed, from sitting at a desk......
Chaffed elbows. From typing. At my job. What?!
.........I wonder what worker's comp I could qualify for. Probably not more than a soft gauze pad or maybe a flexible band aid. My luck I'd be handed a maxi pad and told to tape it to my elbow for extra padding. Which got me thinking of all the things an office professional such as myself would expense given the chance.
Weekly massages. Without hesitation I put this at the top of the list. Forget pretty coffee mugs or fresh cream. I could care less about free soda in the kitchen or bagels on Friday. Give me ninety minutes being rubbed and pressed and stretched.
Ergonomic chair. Seeing how I sit for such extensive periods, I may as well be comfortable. I'm not asking for an Easy-boy.
Hydraulic desk. In the event the ergonomic chair isn't adequate enough on its own, I'd like the option to stand. This shouldn't be hard to convince my boss. He has one.
Coffee. I try not to drink a lot of afternoon coffee but sometimes it's a necessity and if I am buying it, chances are I'm looking for a good excuse to leave the aforementioned ergo chair and desk, so the right to expense it seems fair. Not to mention the fact that we have an employee who'll make the occasional afternoon pot of coffee and applies the Kellogg Raisin Bran slogan, "Two Scoops in Every Box" as her measuring guide.
Pencils. Yeah, I realize this is old school but my love for Ticonderoga's isn't going anywhere. Technology has a tendency to have intermitent outages now and again.
There's probably more, but you're probably reading this thinking, "But I have these things at my company."
Consider yourself spoiled and don't complain about the long wait at the elevator bank in your building. And if you could spare a couple of cotton balls and some flexible band-aids, I'd appreciate it. My elbows aren't getting any softer.
Police persons are at high risk of being shot at. EMT's could easily get in a car crash. Chefs, burned or cut. Athletes, jock itch. Vegas dancers, bunions. Lifeguards, ending up on a new version of Baywatch (shutter!) these are all traumatic injuries.
So when I discover that my elbows are chaffed, from sitting at a desk......
Chaffed elbows. From typing. At my job. What?!
.........I wonder what worker's comp I could qualify for. Probably not more than a soft gauze pad or maybe a flexible band aid. My luck I'd be handed a maxi pad and told to tape it to my elbow for extra padding. Which got me thinking of all the things an office professional such as myself would expense given the chance.
Weekly massages. Without hesitation I put this at the top of the list. Forget pretty coffee mugs or fresh cream. I could care less about free soda in the kitchen or bagels on Friday. Give me ninety minutes being rubbed and pressed and stretched.
Ergonomic chair. Seeing how I sit for such extensive periods, I may as well be comfortable. I'm not asking for an Easy-boy.
Hydraulic desk. In the event the ergonomic chair isn't adequate enough on its own, I'd like the option to stand. This shouldn't be hard to convince my boss. He has one.
Coffee. I try not to drink a lot of afternoon coffee but sometimes it's a necessity and if I am buying it, chances are I'm looking for a good excuse to leave the aforementioned ergo chair and desk, so the right to expense it seems fair. Not to mention the fact that we have an employee who'll make the occasional afternoon pot of coffee and applies the Kellogg Raisin Bran slogan, "Two Scoops in Every Box" as her measuring guide.
Pencils. Yeah, I realize this is old school but my love for Ticonderoga's isn't going anywhere. Technology has a tendency to have intermitent outages now and again.
There's probably more, but you're probably reading this thinking, "But I have these things at my company."
Consider yourself spoiled and don't complain about the long wait at the elevator bank in your building. And if you could spare a couple of cotton balls and some flexible band-aids, I'd appreciate it. My elbows aren't getting any softer.
May 8, 2009
Can I get another?
It's no wonder that booze is readily available at funerals and going away parties.
Why don't we turn to brussel sprouts for comfort? Is there something unfriendly about things that are pulled from a garden? Is comfort best felt when it comes from something derived in a barrel or concocted in a barn?
Any emotion be it frustration, sadness, anxiety, stress is all the more manageable when we wrap a warm soft blanket of alcohol around it. The brutal week, the rough patch, the unexpected goodbye....they all seem easier to conquer when we feel a little blurry......our breath is slow and easy......our reaction time lethargic.
It's as if we've been caught in a flash from a camera. The tracers linger and for just a moment nothing can be seen, it's all a wall of bright reflected light. Like static for the eyes.
Then, as quick as the shutter opens, the eyes blink and the scene becomes focused, no more soft fuzzy edges. And then we order another hoping to get right back under that blanket. Oh boy what a day today has been. What I wouldn't give to be on the beach in Manistee wrapped in my personal blanket and starring up at the stars. The beach coupled with the whiskey I've entertained tonight would do this girl some good. Open space tends to calm me.
Before my last ice cube sucks the glass dry, I raise my glass and bid a fond farewell to a rockin' co-worker and friend. Here's to tamales, injury reports, cussing, cackles and sunshine. Safe travels and many happy successes to you.
Why don't we turn to brussel sprouts for comfort? Is there something unfriendly about things that are pulled from a garden? Is comfort best felt when it comes from something derived in a barrel or concocted in a barn?
Any emotion be it frustration, sadness, anxiety, stress is all the more manageable when we wrap a warm soft blanket of alcohol around it. The brutal week, the rough patch, the unexpected goodbye....they all seem easier to conquer when we feel a little blurry......our breath is slow and easy......our reaction time lethargic.
It's as if we've been caught in a flash from a camera. The tracers linger and for just a moment nothing can be seen, it's all a wall of bright reflected light. Like static for the eyes.
Then, as quick as the shutter opens, the eyes blink and the scene becomes focused, no more soft fuzzy edges. And then we order another hoping to get right back under that blanket. Oh boy what a day today has been. What I wouldn't give to be on the beach in Manistee wrapped in my personal blanket and starring up at the stars. The beach coupled with the whiskey I've entertained tonight would do this girl some good. Open space tends to calm me.
Before my last ice cube sucks the glass dry, I raise my glass and bid a fond farewell to a rockin' co-worker and friend. Here's to tamales, injury reports, cussing, cackles and sunshine. Safe travels and many happy successes to you.
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