| Happy not-still halloween!
Whew! Been awhile, yeah? Yeah.
Things have been pretty busy around the Hobocamp house, but I can't really complain. School is still good, thought challenging, and I still love work. I'm just overwhelmed sometimes with everything. But that's boring. So we're not going to talk about it anymore.
Because I spend a lot of time sitting around studying these days, my snacking skills are more finely honed than ever. No joke. You need help crafting a delicious snack? I'm your girl, and if it takes hours away from study time, so be it. The other day, though, I ventured into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of peanuts, which I was thoroughly enjoying until I noticed that the bag said "Old-Fashioned Blister Peanuts."
Wooooffff. Blister peanuts.
Total bloogh. My vivid imagination got the best of me and I nearly booted. I wasn't sure what made them blistery, or blister-like, or blister-whatever so I asked Professor Google.
(A side note: I had never cheated on school work in my life till I got to grad school where everyone cheats all the time. For serious. Not on purpose- but because the professors and lecturers seem to encourage it. My first week, I struggled for three plus hours on one homework assignment, and finally pasted together an answer and turned it in. I asked my professor "I'm not trying to sound whiny, but where in the reading were the answers to those questions? I found that really difficult." And she said "Oh. I just assumed you'd look on wikipedia."
"Oh, I see. Like to check our answers?"
"No, to GET the answers. That information was nearly impossible to discern from the reading. You guys should always look on the internet before looking at your textbook. That's what I would do." Another professor issued us a take-home test and said "I've made it especially difficult because I'm assuming that you all will be cheating the entire time." I started out trying NOT to cheat, but she wasn't lying- there was no way you could just take that test at home using knowledge obtained in class. You had to seek alternate resources. I find this mildly upsetting because I'm a square.
I was complaining to the Suzer about how often my professors encouraged shortcuts and cheating and whatnot, and she said "It's like how someone is convicted of a crime that they didn't commit, gets sent to prison, and learns how to be a criminal once they're in there.")
Anyway, according to the internet, blister peanuts are roasted at a temperature which causes them to blister, making them extra crunchy and not at all fluid-filled because they went running with the wrong kind of socks.
I think I'll probably eat them again soon, but for now, I really need a break. Foods shouldn't be Blister, although this whole thing reminds me of when David Sedaris was a Christmas Elf at Macy's and he chose Blister as his elfin name. That can redeem blister in my mind, somewhat.
Since starting school, I'm even more out of touch with popular culture than I was before, and that is saying a lot. I happened to turn on the television last night, though, and I saw this ad, which is probably not new at all but is TOTALLY new to me. I especially detest that part where George Bush is in your rearview mirror, chasing you like he's a T-Rex in jurassic park and you look back at him and realize that the bottom of the mirror says, in wee white writing, "Objects in mirror are closer than they appearrrrrrGEORGE BUSH IS GONNA GETCHA." I'm voting for Barack Obama and all, but I still feel like writing a letter to his campaign saying "Knock that shit off!" Next thing you know, there's going to be an ad where some lady is taking a shower in an old hotel run by McCain and his mother and McCain pulls back the curtain and stabs her and there's that crazy music, or an ad where Barack Obama and his parents are living in an old ski lodge thing and his dad is writing a book and he rides his big wheel all over and then there are twins and REDRUM REDRUM and my god, wasn't Shelley DUVALL (Not long, as I originally wrote) totally batshit crazy in that movie? I loved the part where she is just running and screaming and flailing from room to room. Totally the way I handle crises.
So this next item may be inappropriate to discuss on my blog, but when has that stopped me before, right? And I'm pretty sure that what I'm about to say is less gross than my earlier discussion of eating blisters, which sounds like a game of Would You Rather ("Would You Rather Eat blisters or ta-" "GOOD GOD THE OTHER THING! WHATEVER IT IS!")
This topic is: my boobs.
So, they've never really been anything special. Certainly nothing about which to write home. But in the last two weeks or whatever, they've taken on a life of their own. I'm serious. I woke up one day and my boobs wouldn't fit into any of my bras. They were, for me and my frame, enormous. And they're- full. Like nearly perky. It's not normal for them. As a future medical professional, I have diagnosed myself with Boob Flu. It's like bird flu, but not from a bird, and with less vomiting, and all the symptoms are confined to your boobs. It's insane, the boob flu. I seriously just gaze in wonderment at my own chest a lot of times per day. I don't understand it.
Naturally, my first thought was 1) Holy shit, did I get fat? and 2) Holy shit, am I pregnant? But I haven't gained any weight and I took a pregnancy test, despite the fact that a baby inside me right now, mathematically speaking, would be an absolute miracle from some god with a wicked sense of humor. So those are out.
I'm waiting for the big boobs to go away, because I have the feeling they'll shrink back to normal soon and then I'm back to being Sternum Girl, but for now, it's an interesting social experiment. I went to a wedding this weekend and I wore a dress I've work lots of times before. It's nothing special- black, sleeveless, v neck, fitted- but when I went to hug the bride and her husband who I was meeting for the first time at that very moment, she said, in front of her family and everything, "Wow. Nice cleavage. You've never had that before. What's going on?" I blushed nine shades of purple and instead of ignoring her comment and saying "Congratulations!" or something normal like that, I shouted "THANKS ITS NEW. NEW BOOBS NEW BOOBS." Nobody laughed, or nodded understandingly, or said "oh, boob flu, is it? Everyone comes down with that at this time of year..." They were just quiet and solemn.
The bride looked at me strangely, but I hugged her and moved off toward the food, at which point my friend informed me that I basically just confessed to a boob job. This is going to pay off at Christmas when I've recovered from boob flu, my chest is back to normal, and I can shrug sadly and say "I couldn't afford the payments, so they got repo-ed in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. Woke up and they were gone."
I have to go to class now, but I really do have a lot more to tell you guys, so I'll be back on here some time this week.
Hope everyone is having a magical fall!
Love,
Meg Labels: food, help my brain is weird |
Yes... boob flu sounds terrrrible.
...and not at all fluid-filled because they went running with the wrong kind of socks.
Ha! I'd like to spend a long weekend in your brain, just poking around, seeing how things work.