My Epidemic

Updating my random adventures of the past week:

1. My aunt has breast cancer and while being prepped for her chemo treatments they somehow "nicked" her lung. And then it collapsed. "Oops," was basically the doctor's reaction. The rest of us just stared at him.
Then they had to perform emergency surgery immediately to keep her breathing and didn't even have time to move her from her bed or fully sedate her. They just numbed the area they were cutting open and let her watch. Like those surgery channels in highdef. Really highdef. Later she told us all about it in graphic detail.
"So then they put these spreader things between my ribs and I could hear them cracking as they pulled apart and then they inserted this tube into the torn part of my lung and pumped it back up like a tire. And then I was okay again."
Er. It was really gross. All the doctors and nurses in the hospital kept stopping by to hear the story. To which, ofcourse, she obliged. Therefore putting the rest of us through the pain of hearing the story at least a dozen more times before we left.

2. While visiting my aunt, Chris and I were introduced to her roommate. A 78-year-old English woman...who wouldn't stop hitting on the young football player across the hall in recovery and telling us about her Depends. "Depends on Depends."
Then she launched into a long speech about how kids these days have it so easy. "Sex education. Pah," She scoffed. "Back when I was young we had to learn the hard way. Get it. The hard way." Wink wink nudge nudge.

3. (For all boys who don't like hearing about menstrual cycles skip to the next subject. You won't like what I'm about to say.) I had the absolute worst period of my life this week! It was fucking terrible. I wanted to cry and hit people and I basically popped Midol like they were friggin ticktacks. It was so awful. I went to work. Ate. Slept. And that's about it. The entire middle of the week is a blur of cramps, tampons, and a bottle of wine shared with Chris over our mutual menstrual misery.

4. By Friday all was relatively well again. Went out with the Drunken Assholes Society (Chris, Sam & I) for the first time in er...ever. It's a rare thing when we can all get together. Drove down to the other local University and picked up one of Sam's ROTC friends and then out to Old Chicago. (It's the easiest place to get drinks for those who are not of age yet.) Spent a good $50 on alcohol. Met up with another ROTC buddy. Went back to their dorm. Kept drinking.
Met a preacher and his wife at like 2AM. I don't know. It's a little blurry. I remember giggling and listening to everyone introduce themselves as ROTC. So I thought it'd be funny to, as they were going down the line doing official very military sounding introductions, to say, "Jess. Local Police Department."
The preacher looked me up and down to which I giggled and then Chris announced (she was the drunkest of all), "Chris. Paypal." And the moment was shattered because then the preacher thought I was lying. I thought of being like, "Hey! Pal! The friggin Chief of Police recruited me himself into the Academy! I'm just getting my Masters first and then I'm going to pull your Preacher ass over with my badge and Religion Masters and giggle even more!" But that's about as far as my drunk mind got before I was distracted by the announcement on MTV that Lance Bass was gay. For some reason that was surprising when I was drunk. Eh. Oh well.
And then I was told I have a nice ass and I drunk dialed some people. And Chris found herself a guy that reminded me of Popeye and then I went home and drunk MySpaced my big gay pal, Dan...because I owed him one.

5. Got into it with Boyfriend last night. We were supposed to go on a real date for the first time in a very, very long time. But he decided dinner was lame. So he ate at home while I was getting ready. So then I was supposed to fend for myself on the way to the movie and when I finally picked a restaurant and started to order, he interrupted me and nearly shouted, "Stop, stop, STOP! Just stop talking!" Ahem.
And then I got my food to go and dropped his ass off back home. And then I contemplated going back out to the dorms, finding that guy who liked my ass and seeing what Boyfriend thought of that. But instead I had a chick night and hit the sack early. Fucking asshole ruined a perfectly good Saturday night.

6. And now I'm at work doing absolutely nothing. Yeah!

I've been occupied at home so I haven't been posting. Not like anybody cares but I just thought I'd apologize to my millions of devoted, imaginary fans that have been holding their collective breath since my last post.
Here's what's been up since my last post:
1.) The Troll of my department asked me for Advil the other night and I actually contemplated denying the massive child-proof container bulging in the side of my purse. The fact that I was about to lie to the woman just because I didn't like her bothered me so much that I guiltily handed over some of my precious stash. I feel like a better person for it...but she still looks like a troll. And she smells funny too.
2.) An old friend of mine's father was brutally murdered a few nights ago. It was incredibly gruesome & of course I heard every detail downtown. The viewing was at the same mortuary my brother's was. When we walked up front to view the open casket I started sobbing. I sat in one of the back pews until my family ushered me out with steely impassive faces. They tried making me feel better by taking me to McDonalds. Apparently none of them realize I can't stand the sight of the golden arches let alone the food. My family doesn't like tears in public but McDonalds is okay by them.
3.) Chris completely cut Asshole off. Thank God.
4.) Sam is talking about our entire group jumping out of a plane for her 21st Bday trip. Sweet.
5.) Cutey Officer paid me another visit the other night. We got to talking again and realized we have an entire group worth of mutual friends. "Well shit, next time we go out I'll have to call you and Sunshine," He said. I, being the naive asshole that I am, agreed and gave him my number. It wasn't until 10minutes after he'd left that I realized I'd just given a strange officer my cell number. Boyfriend graduates from the academy in October. Pray they don't ever meet. Pray!
6.) For some reason I am completely obsessed with the new Kelis song, "Bossy." I can't help it. I just play it over and over at work. The Troll hates it. Bonus.
7.) Our department is justly known as the one full of bitchy cows. While in fact only about half of our crew is overweight, they are obscenely overweight. The rest of us are just bitchy. I admit to being of the bitchy variety. Hey, we're not Baskin Robbins with its 31 flavors here. We've got two. Fat or Bitchy. Pick one or get the hell out.
The largest of our staff has been on the list for one of those tummy-stapling surgeries for awhile but due to a bunch of other health issues she hasn't had it yet. Recently she had some breathing issues & was in the hospital for a few months. While in, she had a tracheotomy done.
I'm not really sure if it's due to the trach or the oxygen tanks she carries with her in her modified shopping cart, but ever since she came back to work she talks extremely loud. It wouldn’t bother me that much if she didn’t have so many really descriptive stories to tell all her friends over the phone about her stay in the hospital.
For instance, "So I’m doing my business in the corner on the chamber pot cause I couldn’t get to the toilet for a few weeks when the doctor comes in and just starts poking at my trach. I’m yelling at him to leave me alone so I could finish but he just stood there while I was shitting, poking me all over." Ahem. I have to admit it took my brain almost a full minute to process the "chamber pot" comment and then I started gagging. If you knew her (bless her heart) you’d be gagging too. Trust me.
And when she’s not forcing us to overhear the sordid details of her hospital stay, she’s pulling her trach tube out of her throat and cleaning it over the little paper trashcans or breathing into her oxygen mask like Darth Vadar.
8.) Boyfriend got maced at training the other day. I laughed at him.
9.) I keep having gruesome nightmares about my Dad being murdered the way my friend’s dad was. I didn’t sleep for 2 days straight after I heard the news. I’m sleeping now but not very well.
10.) I won a trip a few weeks ago which I immediately turned over to the family for a group vacation. My parents usually take us all out of town around my brother’s anniversary but this year they couldn’t afford it. It’s supposed to be this weekend but I’m debating whether to go since my mother makes me want to kill myself if I’m around her more than 10 minutes.
11.) I recently registered at MySpace.com. I get really bored at work (hence the blog) and it’s been occupying my time for a bit. It’s incredibly lame but I’m addicted. I admit it. Isn’t that the first step?
12.) Random thought, have I ever mentioned I’ve met a celebrity? No? Well I have. Don’t ask why I was thinking about this but in Vegas for my 21st I ran into Chris Pontius from WildBoyz, the only non-gay show on MTV. Like I said, random thought.
13.) I was watching Project Runway with Boyfriend the other night when they were talking about how when taking measurements for a dress one needs to measure from the bust to the waist and from the waist to the hips. Boyfriend looked at my torso as I was sprawled out on his couch and laughed, "Did you know that your waist and hips are in the same place on your body." I smacked him. I can’t help the fact that my torso is the same length as my foot.

Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings, The Boyfriend (duh Duh DUH)

I know I’ve said this before, but Boyfriend truly has a gift.
My own personal super power is nothing compared to his. I may have the relatively harmless talent to embarrass myself daily, but Boyfriend has the amazing power of deep-throating his own foot whenever we’re in a public setting.

One past example of this:
When we’d first started dating Boyfriend was incredibly nervous around my, admittedly, intimidating father. We’d been dating a few weeks when my mom bought a pug. We were poking at it (as you would most oddities of nature) when Dad started rattling on about the initial reasons for breeding the small ugly things. He rambled for awhile about how royalty used to use them to warm their feet and how it wasn’t at all a waste of money to buy a small ugly piglet thing that snorts.
He eventually turned to Boyfriend and waited…after a few seconds Boyfriend realized Dad was waiting for some sort of input on the subject and faltered. "Er. Well yeah, and you know they have their eyes on the sides of their heads like those sharks so they can see other bigger predators…cause they’re related to those ones that are named after the tool…er…hammerheads! Yeah. Hammerheads. They’re related."
My dad and I stared at him for awhile before I changed topics.

Dad has never let Boyfriend live it down. Till this day he randomly shouts, "Hammerhead!" when Boyfriend is visiting.

Last night, my parents had a dinner for my aunt and nephew’s birthdays. I’ve mentioned it briefly before but my aunt was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She had a few cancerous nodes in one breast removed on Wednesday, and her other breast completely removed the day after. She’s still recovering from the surgery so the dinner was supposed to be a "Hey, cheerup!" thing.
Boyfriend was petting my/our dog (though he doesn’t take care of the thing) at the table as we all finished up our meals. Wookie (my dog) was trying his best to be stealthy in his hunting of the grilled chicken breast sitting at Boyfriend’s elbow.
My aunt had just gotten up to help with the cleaning and was standing directly behind us as Boyfriend suddenly turned and threw Wookie into my lap.
I glared at him, "What’d you do that for?"
He looked so exasperated as he waved his hands wildly around his head motioning at the chicken breast, "I don't want to loose my breast!"
The entire room went silent.
Boyfriend had not been briefed on my aunt’s situation before hand and continued on his tyrade about how he'd never hear the end of it if I was left with only one breast and why I should appreciate the fact that he was willing to defend his.
My jaw hit the floor.
Dad shoved his fist in his mouth.
Mom dropped a dish.
And then suddenly everyone was too busy cleaning up the forsaken food on the floor and fighting off the dogs to notice me punching Boyfriend methodically in the chest and pushing him into the bathroom to laugh my ass off.

It was sick. I know. But it’s like he has this God-given talent he just can’t control for saying the wrong thing at the exact moment that it will have the greatest impact.
It’s a gift.
One I think I enjoy much more than he does.

Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings, The Boyfriend (duh Duh DUH)

It's been a shitty week but you got to find humor somewhere...right?

While my own social life has been treating me (in the words of a Vegas buddy) like "a fat slutty bitch" lately, the rest of the outside world seems to be circling the drain as well.
(I know I try not to get too serious on this blog but bear with me...I promise the ending is ironic as hell.)
My hometown's two largest gang rivals have taken the occasional club altercation and driveby to a new level. There have been three gang-related homicides this week alone and a string of kidnappings involving several young women. With the exception of a 13-year-old girl kidnapped and mutilated 4months ago, most of the missing women fit both my age and physical description.
One of them go to my college.
Her boyfriend is being prosecuted for her murder and the murder of her unborn child.
The people of my (not so large) city have gone crazy. And it just keeps getting worse.
My family, friends and coworkers are all on high alert and are just generally driving me fucking crazy about the kidnappings. Not to mention the serial rapist still yet to be apprehended in my area. Did I mention that? Yeah. They break into mainfloor apartments during the night. Nice.
So when I was bored at my cubicle the other night, I decided to log on and check one of my favorite author's blogs for updates on any new books.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong day for my sour mood and I to have logged on to that particular site.
Apparently, MaryJanice Davidson has begun her own version of a gang war against another blogger. After reading her interpretation of the events I commented on the article. Ha! Massive fucking mistake.
Like I said, it'd been a bad week and hearing that some unhappy reader was supposedly calling her every nasty name in the book, I spoke up on behalf of my favorite Undead and Unwed author.
Well...ahem...it would seem MJD hadn't really told the whole story and I, in my crap mood, hadn't done the background needed to really comment on the situation and was caught with my pants down and basically ass raped. In fact, the woman with which MJD was having her blog war actually commented on my comment (You'd think I felt special but I didn't.) and ripped me a new asshole for it. Which I admittedly deserved.
I know better than to not do my background before sticking my nose into the situation. And here's the really funny part (hence the opening line) I actually talked about how lame blog wars are and that the people who spend all their time bitch slapping eachother anonymously should put all that "fanaticism" towards something productive.
(Here comes the great part...)
I actually suggested finding a cure for cancer as one of their options as opposed to verbally slamming an author online.
And guess what. Go on, guess. Guess!
MJD's rival, the woman who defended herself against my nasty commenting, is an ONCOLOGIST! Ha! How is that for irony! At first I was all, "Aw...shit" and wrote an immediate retraction but MJD had changed the options on her blog so that she now has to okay the comments before they're published.
Which sucks for me because now this Karen Scott won't ever know that I apologized! It shouldn't matter to me but for some reason it was bothering me all night.
Then I woke up this morning cracking up. An oncologist! What are the chances that I'd verbally attack a world famous oncologist with a jibe about curing cancer? I mean it has to be nearly astronomical.
But then another thought hit me, Well of course you did! You're you! You're like the guy from American Pie, this kind of shit is what makes your life interesting! That's just how you roll... And then my inner voice started cackling so hard I couldn't help but laugh with it and I haven't stopped telling the story since.

Hell, when things really get shitty what else can you do but laugh it off?

PS
If Karen Scott finds her way to my blog and reads this: Sorry! I had a really good apology going on MJD's blog but it has yet to be published. Hope you get this one instead.

PPS
But come on...it was a little funny...

All About Me...'Cause you're just too lame!
Top 10 things I love (not in any order)
10.	My nephew & the rest of my insane family
9.	Wookie Killa Estoban Donovan III (My dog)
8.	Baseball games & icecream on a breezy summer night
7.	Strawberry smoothies & Southpark
6.	Long, hot showers & leopard print thongs
5.	A great book and nothing to do
4.	All my friends & Boyfriend
3.	Sexy men in kilts lifting weights or doing pullups
2.	Lap swimming completely alone
1.	Smores around a campfire
Top 10 things I hate (not in order)
10.	Snakes
9.	Corona
8.	Anything that smells like or is seafood
7.	Sharks (I blame Jaws)
6.	Any of the Rocky movies
5.	X-Files
4.	McDonalds
3.	Floral print anything
2.	Explaining myself
1.	My brother's laundry
Finish the sentence
i'm craving:	good sex
i want:	to go back to sleep
i need:	to take an online quiz for class
i have:	no idea why I'm taking this quiz instead of that one
i love:	screaming "Hey that's the girl who pissed in the muffins!" Everytime my EX-roommate & I cross paths in public places.
stop the...	killing!
silly...	rabbit
Which friend fits
most inteligent	Me. No doubt. All me.
most thoughtful	B
most stylish	Chris
funniest	Sam
who you would bring on vacation	Sunshine
Who fits
mean?	Crazy Jackie!!!!! (I say ominously)
smart?	My Dad
powerful?	Oprah
strong?	Batman (He's my hero)
da bomb diggidy	THE BOSS
Have you ever...
made someone cry	It's my hobby.
kept a full journal	Yup
painted on a canvas	Yup
have you ever viscously threatened someone	Actually....yeah
fallen deeply, passionately, overwhelmingly in love	I'm not sure anymore
called someone a sugar nipple	No but some poor defenseless cop will be "sugar-nippled" tomorrow
the end!	Hooray!
Create Your Own Survey Powered by My Online Quiz.com

Most days Horoscopes are vague and lame. Like, "You are wondering about a problem with your lover. If you are single...er, then...you're not! Hooray for Pisces!"
Mine lately have actually been pretty reflective of my feelings.
For example, today I spent the entire day hiding from Chris, Boyfriend, and pretty much everyone. Basically the two of them are silently fighting with eachother and taking their issues out on me. It's so...debilitating to have two people you care about so much turn on eachother. But not actually turn on eachother rather just turn to you and verbally attack the other...but only to you. You're the one absorbing the backlash and the snotty comments. You're the one having to hear one person you love attack another and feel like if you defend them you're picking sides. You feel like you can't say anything more than, "Please. Please don't say that" for fear that they'll feel betrayed.
It ruined my 4th of July, I was determined not to let it ruin today.
Today I shut my cell off (Which either means I'm dead or extremely depressed). I ignored the home phone. I just laid in bed till 2 and rested.
And then I did what I only do when I'm truly, deeply depressed, I read my favorite love story. I read it because when you feel like the people you love can't over look petty issues for your sake...it's really hard to keep believing that they love you back...
When I'm depressed I tend to want to run away. And when there's no where to go, I hide. I hide from my friends, my family even from my own thoughts by becoming so consumed in other places and other people. I'm not proud of that. But I know I do it. I don't hide when people need me just when I need someone. I guess it's too hard to count on people...
But I digress, my horoscope today seemed to reflect some of that. Sometimes Ms. Cleo really does know what the hell she's talking about.

"It may be challenging today to keep your fantasies separate from the facts as the universe presents them. You might even feel as if your dreams are more important than the dreary world around you. For now, don't bother trying to break out of your illusions; if you do, it may be rather discouraging. Enjoy communing with nature or worshipping any way you choose. In just a few days, you will receive landing clearance and will arrive safely back on planet Earth."
Wednesday, July 5, 2006

Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings

Unlike myself, Sunshine had this entire past weekend through the 4th of July off of work. To kick off her unofficial vacation she had a little pre-Independence Day bash at her house last night.
I rustled up my posse (A bunch of guys at the party were trying to teach me how to be ghetto, I failed...miserably.) which included Sunshine's newest love interest, DC, Chris, Boyfriend and pretty much the entire crew from work.
We came.
We ate.
We drank.
We conquered the blender.
We drank some more.
I did my infamous Cartman dance. (The 1st sign that the party has officially reached its climax.)
I was introduced to Hennessey.
And then I bunked at Boyfriend's.
On a side note: Chris invited WorkBuddy and he pussed out. He did however invite her over for a little "after party" at his house but apparently that only consisted of watching Southpark until 3AM. Lame.
When I got the call at 9:30AM (Remember I work nights. Anything before 11 is like some God forsaken time I've never even heard of.) that my Mom had some how gotten food poisoning and been taken to the hospital during the night, I had only about 3 hours of sleep and was still drunk.
Fantastic.
Mom was fine. Puking. Apparently suffering from extreme diarrhea about which she described to me in great detail later. Eck. But fine all the same. Dad wanted me to come look after her "as soon as I could" so he, another night-shifter, could get some sleep.
I moaned something I hoped came out unslurred, about being on my way and then rolled over to nudge Boyfriend.
Boyfriend, the bastard that he is, has a liver of steel. He had drank about 18 beers, 1 bottle of champagne (I have no idea where he found that), helped me finish another bottle of champagne, and an unknown number of daiquiris. He had also managed to pour about half a bottle of rum into one of my daiquiri concoctions while I wasn't looking and happily handed me a straw when I started drinking it out of the blender.
I nudged. Boyfriend didn't move. I called his name. Didn't move. I punched experimentally. Didn't move. At this point I wondered briefly if he was dead and decided the only sure way to tell was to resort to extreme measures. Remember, I was still drunk.
So. I smacked his balls.
He came awake screaming violently.
I rejoiced in the brilliance of my reasoning and of course, that Boyfriend wasn't actually dead, then proceeded to make my way to the bathroom without an explanation for the cursing naked man in the fetal position in the middle of the floor. (He'd rolled off the bed.)
About half an hour, and one slightly slurred explanation about someone trying to poison my mother, Boyfriend was driving me back to Sunshine's house to pick up my car.
On another side note, when I drink too much my hangovers the next morning tend to manifest themselves as some sort of evil stomach flu. I want to puke and die and puke some more. The morning after my 21st I begged Boyfriend to kill me the entire morning. Thankfully, he didn't oblige.
So we're chugging along in Boyfriend's truck, him singing and car-dancing along to some Spanish rapper, me with my head basically out the window, my eyes as tightly shut as they can be while I focus on not vomiting. After waging a silent battle with the volume button on his stereo while slowly inching our way through the BurgerKing late breakfast drive thru, I was ready to not only smack Boyfriend's balls again but fucking deep fry the bitches.
Over the past few months of not bunking at his house, I'd forgotten that Boyfriend is one of those people. The lepers of the drinker's world...prepare yourself people, Boyfriend is a Perky.
He has never had a hangover in his entire life, and he could be running on 2 hours of sleep and still be spry as shit the next day. Singing. Dancing. Cracking really bad jokes.
I can see how some of you may confuse this DISEASE with being a “Morning Person.” But you would be so very wrong. A Morning Person is that guy at work that walks in and is all, “Good morning” with a bright-eyed smile as he passes your cubicle.
A Perky is that annoying fucker that's at work before everyone else so he has time to dance around the office whistling show tunes and waving like a crack addict as he skips on by. He’s the one that stops by your desk nearly vibrating with early morning excitement to start a fresh new day sniffing coffee grounds and jabbering in all his goddamn perkiness about the puppies perky fucking Kelly Ripa was kissing on some morning show I‘ve never even heard of.
I hate these people.
I was genetically predisposed to hate these people. I was conditioned since birth to want to smack the shit out of them whenever I see them.
And there I was. With a hangover the size of Texas, stuck in the BurgerKing drive thru surrounded by Perkies while my Perky Boyfriend orders three value meals and makes some confusing analogy about studying and the primer stage of painting.
“You know, you look so cute when you just wake up and your hair is sticking up in the front like that.”
Still slightly drunk but sobering fast in the presence of Perkies, I flipped him off. “I hate you so hard.”
He smiled like I’d said something really cute, “Aw. Well I love you too, Babe.”
“Fuck.” Oh shit. I could feel the puke. Feeeel it! No! No puke. Bad puke! “Off.”
“You’re even cute when you’re hungover and you’ve still got that slightly flushed, glazed look.”
When I reached to slap his balls again he laughed and easily escaped my groping hands. Fucking Perkies.

Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings, Drunken Adventures, The Boyfriend (duh Duh DUH)

Sex Dictionary
Do it! You know you want to know what your name means in the 'Sex Dictionary.'
Mine was:
Jess--[adjective]:
Tasting like Strawberries

That's right. I knew it all along.