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Why carrots are bastards.

So you know when you're at a polite kind of party, and you've been nibbling on some carrots from the veggie tray, and then the cute guy/girl/potential boss/investment banker/venture capitalist/movie star/band member/model/geek/writer/artist you've been secretly dying to talk to all night finally approaches you and strikes up a conversation, and you desperately want to impress this person but you realize that you now have a tiny piece of carrot lodged in your throat and no matter how much you sip/swig/gulp your drink or how much you politely clear your throat, that thing ain't gonna move a centimeter, and although you're trying so hard to focus on what the cute guy/girl/potential boss/investment banker/venture capitalist/movie star/band member/model/geek/writer/artist is saying, all you can think is where can I go and discreetly hawk up this carrot like a crunchy orange loogie without completely embarrassing myself and/or appearing to be totally uninterested in this person?

Yeah.
Today was my last day on the cyto shift for the next two months. I've been rotated to the closing shift - which gives me the opportunity NOT to get up every morning at a quarter after four in the pre-morning, but also includes a shiteload of extra boring afternoon. I suspect I will be longing for that bleary-eyed feeling before too long.

Howsomeever... Because it was my last day for quite some time, I decided to finally take some pictures. Unfortunately, I ended up missing out on all the wonderfulness of having any fluids, so the pictures are totally boring. At least until they make LJ scratch-n-sniff. Then you could properly experience ALL the joys of a career in science.

Also, this week's Word of the Week is sacculitis.

Oct. 5th, 2009

I'm not dead. Really.

I'm not entirely sure how it happened, if it was some kind of subconscious prompting or just a random series of events, but I have pretty much simply not used the television or internet much in the last six or eight weeks. I've checked email and done computer banking, but not much more. And other than to do some yoga or play some Xbox, I haven't turned the tv on at all.

Odd.


Well. Not dead. Just... gone for a bit.

Not that anyone's been missing anything. I don't do much of anything exciting. The furkids are mostly fine, although Ginger the Neurotic Blonde has been put on antidepressants. I still have a job and too much debt. About the only thing that's of any particular import is that I've seen a bankruptcy attorney and am currently saving money to file Chapter 7. Yeah, I find it pretty funny that I'm going to have to skip paying MORE bills so that I can take care of the fact that I can't pay my bills. Oh, whatever. I'm hoping to have the whole bloody thing finished one way or another by the end of January.

I'm fine. Still crazy, but hey, that's life for you. Mostly, the crazy is under control. I'm mostly relatively cheerful, in fact. Mostly just about sums up everything, really.


Mostly, one day just follows another.

Crazy dog lady post! Now with PICSPAM!

Soooo... there's this thing I do with two of the furkids. 'S called agility.

One of the things I've wanted to do for a while is take pictures at agility trials. Adam was nice enough to lend me his Canon Rebel XT to play with for a while (I may end up buying it off of him, if he'll let me...) and I took it out this morning to a small trial held at my local agility hangout (where I take lessons etc etc).

I shot about 1600 pictures, and filled a memory card. The vast majority are crap, but I got a few that I liked. After culling the really horrid shots, I'm uploading the whole shebang to Flikr for the folks at the trial to snag any they'd like. Once I get better at this whole pichur-takin' biznus, I'll be putting the hat out for contributions. But I kind of want people to get used to me (and for me to get used to the camera!) and sich-like before I go asking for tips.

Anyway, here are a few of my favorites from the day. Just so's you know, I don't really know many people in the agility scene, so don't expect any shout outs or nuthin'.







Moar pitchoors.Collapse )
I am having difficulty with the fact that May is nearly half over already.

My current rotation at work is, obviously, The One Where I Cut Up Gross Stuff. This entails being at work at seven in the morning. Which isn't that bad, because it means I get out of work at three-thirty in the afternoon. Problem is, I also have to go to bed early-ish cause I have to be out of bed absolutely no later than a quarter to six (I've seen just how far I can push it, honestly).

This isn't the earliest rotation, either. There are three(!) earlier(!!) rotations - at four, five and six.

Anyway, that's beside the point. The point was supposed to be that I get home with a couple hours to spend with the dogs and make dinner. Then I have a bit of time to watch an hour of TV or read, and then I take a shower (hell if I'm going to get up any earlier to wash my hair every morning, so I do it the night before) and toddle off to bed to read a bit more or listen to music for a few minutes before turning off the light and hoping I fall asleep.

Somehow, this seems to make time go a lot faster. This may also be helped by the fact that mostly my new job doesn't suck at all, apart from the commute. I actually had one day where I was given constructive criticism (which usually makes me want to pee myself and hide under the nearest rock) and I actually didn't even care! If you had any idea how crazy I am, you would understand that this was a huge milestone for me. It gives me hope that someday I can actually interact with other people again like a somewhat normal person. Social and general anxiety can kiss my chubby pink ass!

I'm not there yet, though. I'm just hopeful, that's all.

Unfortunately, it also means that I don't spend much time online. I actually do most of my email and posting with my crackberry, and I hardly ever get caught up with my friends list. Which includes my people-I-see-inna-flesh friends - I found out about a death in my friend's family several weeks late (and send you lots of hugs and snuggles, Chris).

I'm feeling a little hermit-ish and out of touch, and I wish I could actually get out to see people again. I haven't seen the Usual Suspects in forever, and it's not looking good for the next two Fridays, either. I think the next time I'm actually going to get to hang out with people in real life is Memorial Day weekend on Saturday night after work (I have to work one Saturday a month with any rotation), but that's only tentative at this point. Look at me, pining to be social! Weird! Did somebody up my medication when I wasn't looking?
Y'know how there's that old bit about how people and their pets resemble one another?

While none of my dogs and I look particularly similar, I have one dog who is a bundle of silly anxiety-based neuroses, one dog who would love to have friends to play with but is a complete social retard, and one dog that is afraid of every situation she can't control.

So what I want to know is why the hell can't I resemble Storm? Confident in every situation, clever, charismatic as hell, adventurous to the point of near stupidity but blessed with an amazing ability (or perhaps simply the astounding luck) to always land more or less on her feet.

Of course, having said that, I expect that I shall become mostly blind, half deaf, epileptic, and ever so slightly senile... all the age, none of the panache.
Thursday and Friday were pretty mild days at work, sample-wise. Not mentally - I really am crazy as hell, and practically wet my pants when authority figures (which, at work, is pretty much everyone else) even look at me funny. Yep, that's me. The submissive urinator.

Anyway, the sum total of two days of trimming in samples comes down to thisCollapse )

In other news, it seems that problems with scars seem to be catching - Chris is having problems with his, and now I'm having problems with mine. Only my problems are less of a real pain in the ass and more of a WTF sort of thing - I've gotten zits in my scar. Which isn't a picnic, because they're painful and deep and take forever to pop and go away, but is honestly just one of those things that makes me look at my body and say, "What are you thinking, you big ball of fatty tissue? I mean, is this really necessary?"

Yup. That's my life. Poking disgusting stuff with a knife, submissive urination, and wondering why the lump of fat that carries my brain around has to go and make zits in my scar tissue.

Apr. 21st, 2009

In case I haven't mentioned it before, the new job is working as a lab
tech for a veterinary pathology group. The job entails a lot of
different tasks, but the two major ones are transcription and
processing the cytologic (think of anything other than blood or urine
that can be sucked out of a body by a needle) and histologic (think
chunks of the body itself) samples. This means that a significant
portion of my job is rather delightfully disgusting.

I have decided to share what I do with the world, or at least that
part of it that reads my Livejournal (which I admit isn't much of it,
and may actually become even less of it). At some point I hope to add
pictures as well. For those of you who are or may be squeamish, I
will offer my descriptions and whatnot behind a cut, like soCollapse )

The sound of awesomeness.

D'you hear that? That is the sound of me roaring my victory from the top of a bloody pile of pathetically twitching bodies I left in the wake of my epic battle with the unemployment demons.

Or, in a far less melodramatic fashion, on Wednesday I was offered the job I interviewed for on Tuesday.

I start my training tomorrow morning.

Taking joy in the little things.*

I was thrilled all out of proportion today when I received a $17 check from Sutter Medical for overpayment on some office visit copays and my new ATM card.




*First one to make a comment about showing me their penis gets a boot to the head.