Pink Gloves - courtesy of Kristin :)

visit: www.somuchtosay-somuchtosay.blogspot.com to see the funsies :)

Why Kate Moss and I aren't BFF

The number one reason why Kate Moss and I would not get along:


"Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." -- Kate Moss, revealing her life motto


If only I had this entirely healthy and rational attitude towards food I too could have this rockin' bod -->

Can't stop laughing at:

This song :)

Sok0 - I'll Kill Her

*For those of you who get this by email, you might have to visit the actual blog to see the video :)

www.somuchtosay-somuchtosay.blogspot.com

Adventures in Cohabitation: Volume 1

WB and I have been cohabitating for almost a whole month now. (Ashleigh - I do realize 'cohabitating' is not a word though I beg your indulgence for the purpose of this and possibly future blogs.) Given that lengthy period of time, I have decided that I am DEFINITELY an expert on the matter, thus dethroning Carrie Underwood from this lofty self-appointed seat. Ms. Underwood has come out strongly against cohabitation lately, stating multiple times that she will not "live with anyone else unless they're my hubby...I find it offensive..."* Thankfully I am not required to live by Ms. Underwood's code of ethics and since i find the term "hubby" offensive, we're even, and now I'm taking your soapbox!


Thankfully, this cohabitation adventure has been relatively non-traumatic thus far (knock on wood.) Our stickiest wicket, if you could call it that, has been television watching, or rather my lack of regard for television watching. Two years sans cable has left me rather ambivalent towards TV watching while WB suffers no such indifference. In short order I have gone from no cable, to my very own personal DVR cable box - it's very shi-shi!

It may have been mentioned in a previous blog that I like to talk. Sadly for WB there is something about watching TV that makes me want to talk EVEN MORE. I can sit silently on the couch reading a book for hours (okay not hours, maybe minutes) but turn on a TV and I've suddenly remembered EVERYTHING that I wanted to tell you! This may be the product of the past two years in which Meredith and I literally watched the same 3 things over, and over, and OVER and OVER. (If you ever need a synopsis of Juno, any of the 8 seasons of West Wing or Across the Universe...I'm your girl. ) So when you've already seen something a hundred times, talking through it, reading through it, cleaning through it really isn't a big deal since it's mostly only on for background noise anyways. Since the advent of my cohabitation with WB I have observed that part of the appeal of television is novelty. Shows are different EVERY SINGLE week, unless of course they are syndicated, but the only real reason for watching a syndicated episode is if you missed it on its first run. Apparently TV's are more multifaceted than just background noise apparatuses and normal people don't re-watch things one hundred times over. This would explain why I get odd looks for reading with the TV on. Then again it could be the same phenomenon that drives my sister to crack my toes when I'm contentedly reading with my feet up on the couch, essentially: love. Regardless, If it weren't for DVR and the ability to pause I would probably be in distinct danger of being garroted.

I actually found myself getting stressed out by my DVR the other night. I was looking through the list of shows that I had recorded thinking, "OH MY GOD! There's so many! When am I going to find time to watch them all before I run out of space and have to delete some!" This is equally as odd as when I found myself trudging towards our room thinking, "man, I HAVE to watch So You Think You Can Dance, I've put it off long enough...sigh..." Now this is not a normal TV watching mentality and, in my humble opinion, being STRESSED by your recorded TV shows is the epitome of ridiculousness! Thus, I turned the TV off and went back to reading my book, which is what I wanted to do in the first place. I have been told by a friend that dedicating a whole day of watching recorded shows can alleviate the stress brought on by and overcrowded DVR but I'm pretty sure that my soul might shrivel up and die if I dedicated a whole day each week to such at thing.

The return of cable to my life has has another massive effect on my life: it has removed my excuse for inexplicable and hypocritical disapproval of most reality shows. (example: I find "The Bachelor" to be asinine and watching it to be on the same miseray scale as watching FOX news, but I still harbor a love for "Flava of Love" and "Dr.Drew's Sex Rehab.") Previously someone would ask me, "hey have you seen (fill in the blank with the name of a TV show" and I would say "oh no, I don't have cable!" I don't get to say that any more which is a pity because "oh no, I just don't really care" doesn't sound quite as socially acceptable.

So now you all know the truth, WB and I have disparate television watching habits. This could spell absolutely relationship disatster. Gee...I really hope that our relationship can survive this... ;)


* Please note that the Carrie Underwood quote has been abridged and taken ENTIRELY out of context for the purpose of this blog :)

oh Sally, that girl!

You may have gleaned from recent posts that I have come down with yet another cold. While granted this most recent cold seems to have struck in suspiciously close proximity to the Phoenix-Funk and while it may currently seem as if I have been sick forever, prior to this I never really thought I got more colds than the average human being. I retrospect I do seem to have gravitated towards careers that cavalierly place me directly in the war path of malignant bacteria and virus': middle schools, high schools and hospitals.

So while I have always been under the assumption that I'm a reasonably healthy individual with a virile immune system I have to face certain facts.

Fact #1: I am the only person in my office with their own bottle of hand sanitizer goo on their desk. Not only do I have my own bottle but I find the scent of said goo oddly comforting which in turn leads to a disconcerting habit of smelling my own hands.

Fact#2: My medicine drawer at home is stocked with cold medicine, and when I say stocked, I mean I could probably treat most of my neighborhood with my arsenal. I don't know that normal people have so much stuff on hand at any given time, though in my defense, WB did have to go purchase tissues for me since those were not stockpiled.

Fact #3: significantly more than one person has asked me recently "why is it you seem to catch every funk that goes around?" Usually it's just my Mom (hi Mama!) who asks that and I've always attributed it to her more than average consternation for my health and well being.

Now, if I accept these truths to be, well, true. Then far more concerning than catching a few colds and ick, is the possibility that I am at distinct risk of becoming THAT girl.

You know this girl. While it rages against my finer feminist sensibilities, it's almost always a girl. In the event that it's not a girl, it's generally a gay guy.

With THIS girl though it's ALWAYS something. ALWAYS something. She has a headache, a cold, an ear ache, an infected toenail, menstrual cramps or a swollen lymph node. She's inexplicably nauseated by all smells, but she's can't be pregnant because she also has a badder infection and is allergic to latex. She hasn't slept in weeks thanks to a recent bout of insomnia. She has horrible stomach pains and hasn't been able to eat in over a week (except the McDonald's Sausage biscuit you saw her eat for breakfast and the empty chicken and rice container on their desk...no no, you didn't see them eat that!) She's the person you've stopped asking "how are you" because unlike most people, her Mama never taught her that that question is one that you lie to!

So I have begun to practice with myself. ("So Anna, how are you today!" "I'm doing wonderfully well!" ) Sadly, the truth of the matter is that my inner smart ass just can't stay gone and 'wonderfully well' more often than not turns into inner monologue accent practice. ("VOONDERFULY VELL, and JOoo?") After all, it's always great fun to have an array accents ready for whenever you need them to spice up those times that you're trapped in your own head.

Who says poetry isn't inspired by pain and suffering??

O snot of my nose! A glorious dose

of NyQuil or Quill of the day

and yet I do knows, O snot of my nose

you cannot be blown away!

O snot of my nose, O grody green goo

I give notice that we must part

right here and now I bid you adieu

for to blow anymore, well, it smarts!

Oh snot of my nose

I blow and blow and I bLOw, BloW, BLOW

I JUST WANT TO BREATHE!!!

There is SO something wrong here

After careful consideration I have come to the conclusion that my immune system has gone MIA.

Clearly ImmuneSystem's loyalty has been compromised by Metabolism, whose absenteeism and lack of cooperativeness have been notable since I was about 10 years old. I've known for a while that Metabolism would ultimately have a negative impact on it's coworkers and low and here were are, ImmuneSystem which is either boycotting or on vacation. This departure has left me vulnerable to the ravages of every sniffly-snotty cold or flu-like illness that I come across. I am not okay with this and have lodged a complaint on the grounds that I wash my hands compulsively (thanks Mom!), take my vitamins, sleep sufficient amounts and excercise regularly. I feel as if I am doing my part and it's clearly time for ImmuneSystem to return from whatever lovely beach it is probably frolicking on with Metabolism.

In the mean time I am drinking tea and eating soup since that's about all that my throat is willing to permit. Which brings me to my point, there is something SO wrong with the saltine crackers sold in the cafeteria. They're oddly yeasty tasting and, dastardly to think much less type this: too salty. I know, I've betrayed my salt lovin' roots but IT'S TRUE!

<-- These suckers are supremely grody sherody. It ought to be criminal to ruin a good saltine cracker they way that they have. Nabisco Saltine, they ain't!

Now I understand that 'branding' as in brand names is largely pointless in most categories. In terms of medications, it's FDA regulated, thus Wal-itin is more or less exactly the same as Claritin. Toilet paper, paper towels, glass cleaner, mustard etc. you might as well save the dime and get store brand. Ketchup (Heinz! and especially not any brand that calls it katsup) coffee creamer, maple syrup etc. all make the "worth the extra dime" category in my mind. Add to that list:
Nabisco - I salute you for providing the world of sick people and bland food lovers alike with a crispy, leavened, and perfectly salty cracker.

Can't Stop Listening To:

I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears and listen

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go away, it should
But I know the heart of life is good

You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go away, it should
But I know the heart of life is good

(Whistle Interlude)

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good

I know it's good

This morning...

Cast of Characters:
- Old Guy: random old guy wearing velcro sneakers in the parking lot
- Hurt Guy: middle aged guy with this arm in a sling and limping with the aid of a crutch

Old Guy: old lady beat you up?

Hurt Guy: yup...guess when she says no, she really means no. (*sigh)


I love it when eavesdropping pays of!

Veterans Day

I find myself feeling rather guilty this Veterans Day. Guilt that I have tried to assuage by becoming fluent on the historical significance of Veterans day.

Veterans Day (no apostrophe grammar nerds, the official spelling is that of the attributive form, not the possessive) has only existed as we know it since 1954. Prior to 1954 Veterans Day was known as Armistice Day and was in honor of the end of The Great War. In`1954, knowing all too well that The Great War hadn't in fact been "the war to end all wars" and that the generation of men who had fought at the behest of their country in 1914 wouldn't be the last that warranted a day of remembrance and honor, a shoe salesman (and WWII veteran) named Al King began lobbying for Armistice Day to celebrate more than just World War One. So Eisenhower expanded Wilson's holiday to encompass ALL veterans, expanding those honored but keeping the sentiment the same.

Why Veterans Day is celebrated on November 11th is surprisingly poetic, it coincides with the signing of the Armistice by Germany in 1918: the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month. I'm always surprised to find poetry in anything associated with the government, thus I was not surprised to find that in 1971 the government moved Veterans Day from the 11th to the 4th Monday in October for the sake of 'consistency.' Thank all that is holy that someone came to their senses 7 years later and moved it back to the 11th.

I am running low on history here and before I get to the guilt that I am trying to assuage, I'd like to take a moment to appreciate those who serve in our military. While I may not agree with or admittedly understand the whys and hows of armed conflict, that doesn't mitigate the sacrifice these men and women make. In recent years their service has been voluntary, but again that doesn't mitigate their service, a service that is rendered faithfully and often thanklessly. Thank you.

The guilt that I am struggling with at the moment is not due to a lack of appreciation for the soldiers, but rather an outrage with the institutions that wage these wars. The psychological and psycho-social ramifications of war upon the men and women who fight in them, have been well documented to range anywhere from mild anxiety disorders to incapacitating PTSD and debilitating depression. The Vietnam War is notorious not only because of the social opposition it inspired in Americans, but more significantly because of the marginalization of it's veterans once it was over. The lack of social and psychological support for these veterans combined with a society desperate to forget, resulted in thousands of soldiers who were unable to assimilate back into mainstream culture being disparaged and forgotten. It's amazing how human beings are capable of so much, but learning from our mistakes is clearly not something we excel at.

The scandals associated with this current war in the Middle East just keep coming: poor medical care, faulty personal armor and protective gear, insufficient information and abuses of power. We never learn. Veterans Day is not meant to be the ONLY day of the year that we express our appreciation and when you're trying to show anything, specifically gratitude, actions speak louder than words.

So today (yes, I am going to go here) I would like to send a recognition of Major Nidal Malik Hassan out to the Universe. He brought unmentionable pain and suffering upon his peers at Fort Hood last week when he open-fired in the middle of the cafeteria. (Technically he is still being referred to as a suspect but lets face it, he held the gun and while innocent until proven guilty we can all but assume that it was he who fired it.) He is a soldier and a psychiatrist who was charged with caring for his fellow soldiers mental stability in combat, but who was watching out for him? This is a soldier whose ability to cope was failing and who tried time and time again to not be sent back to Afghanistan - only to be refused and told that his services were still needed. It doesn't excuse or explain what he did and it doesn't atone for the additional suffering that he has inflicted on more American soldiers and their families. Still I have to ask, how did he slip through the cracks? How was he able to become so desperate, so unhinged and so unable to differentiate between right and wrong?

Even more distressing in my mind than a disturbed soldier slipping SO FAR through the cracks that such a tragedy was possible, it the reaction that we as a society have had to it. Had he been a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, white Baptist from Omaha, we would be mourning this tragedy and examining the course of events that led up to it. Instead we are condemning, feeding hysteria, prejudice and intolerance. I get that the facts have to be looked at in light of what we are and not distorted by what we wish we were. I know that no matter how distasteful it might be to our finer sentiments, given our current situation his religion and ethnicity may very well be pertinant. To drag these facts over the coals of sensationalism and to re-enervate old, very tenuously based and ultimately disproved claims of disloyalty does not make it any less of a tragedy and is despicable. Look at the facts yes, search for answers but let us not forget that what we already know: the ravages of war do not stop with the casualties of armed conflict. His Arab heritage does not by default, exclude us from taking part of the blame upon ourselves.

Macabre bizzareness

Every time I read a medical note that refers to the patient as "unfortunate" I pause for a moment, mildly perplexed yet amused. Granted, it's always been a valid use of the noun. I personally would consider being diagnosed with cancer to be, at the very least, an unfortunate turn of events. I too would term him/her as an "unfortunate X year old with refractory acute leukemia."

Still, this phrasing never fails to stand out as the first and last language in the note that in any way humanizes the patient, thence forth returning to the common practice of referring to patients as spoiled dairy products (e.g. expired.)

Makes me shake my head in perplexity and amusement every single time.

This morning...

The song track to my life...this morning :)


The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun

The Airborne Toxic Event - Gasoline

Sister Hazel - Life Got in the Way

Madcon - Beggin'

Hypnophonic - Mediocre Miss

Paul Simon - Me and Julio Down By the School Yard

Now cheese too?!?

I have to admit that I was not shocked upon watching Fast Food Nation to find that fully cooked food that can be procured a.) without getting out of the car and b.) in under 3 minutes is not good for me. I found the sudden wave of righteous indignation that hit the vast majority of the United States to be comparable to the outrage that swept the female half my 6th grade class when they found out what was actually in hot dogs. (What? You're surprised that the tan colored, homogenous meat finger that doesn't need to be cooked before eating isn't 100% organically raised lean beef and pork?) Seriously, we've all found pristine looking McDonalds french fries in our cars months after our last visit to the Golden Arches, did it really take a movie to point out that they hadn't bio-degraded? Let's get serious mister.

What I would like to know, is when cheese, of all things, became an unhealthy food. Since when does eating healthily exclude cheese! It's calcium rich, it's protein packed and it's, um...delicious! Just think of all that we would miss out on without cheese!! What would a caprese salad be without the fresh mozzarella? Why would we even bother to remember the French if it weren't for brie? If there weren't stinky cheeses, what would we say when someone toots? What would we put on crackers? Would Wisconsin even exist? Not to mention Italy which might shrivel up and cease to function upon finding out that cheese had become a no-no. What will Winos do for funsies while they drink? Next thing you now they'll be taking away yogurt!

I for one am ready to take a stand. I am not okay with slandering cheese's good name with accusations of being unhealthy and detrimental to our health.

WHOSE WITH ME!?!?

Zumba! Zumba!

One of the things that I love most about Zumba class is that if you look around about half way though, you just know that everyone is thinking the same thing: "I'm a little bit awesome right now."

Halleluja! The world is right again!

I'm a fan of snuggling. For this reason I am very grateful that the weather has becoming vaguely chilly, no matter how fleeting it may be.

I am also a fan of communicating. I may be one of the worlds most communicable life forms. I like to talk, chat, shoot the shit, catch up, explain, argue, teach etc. Pretty much any activity that lets me motor my mouth is a go. I have a Facebook page that my sister (hi E!) claims I update to much, but I call shenanigans. One can never post too many pithy, pointless status updates. (One CAN however over-share, thus: 86 any vague intuits towards depression, bowel movements, sexual dysfunction of any kind and passive aggressiveness in general.) And for when 108 characters just isn't enough to purvey my opinion, I have this blog in which I get to ramble and expound for paragraphs at a time, effectively without censor!

Writing may be one of my most favorite means of communication because all those coulda-shoulda-woulda saids that I can never manage to think of in the middle of a debate or argument, inevitably find themselves fully formed and far more dauntingly articulated with the use of the backspace key and a good thesaurus. Towards this end I am generally in favor of making up words when the current lexicon doesn't provide one that accurately portrays what you are trying to communicate. I mean, truly, where would I be without the terms groundation ((v.) the act of being grounded), Butt-muppet ((n.) someone who acts as a puppet for someone else, as in they have a hand up their ass controlling their mouth see also) and ass-hat?!? What I DO have a problem with, is twisting an already fully sufficient word for no good reason. I just don't see the point in gross malapropism. Thus, we have reached my point:

In recent hours I have had my faith in human semantics restored not once, but TWICE! Apparently well spoken / written English is not only not dead, but it's still flippin' awesome!

I must plead guilty to having made fun of President George W. Bush on numerous occasions for his inability to speak the language that he a.) grew up speaking and b.) is the language of the country he "ran" for 8 years. Yes, I've done it more than once but I do try to let that oh so very dead horse lie. Still, I was bereft upon learning that some of his Bush-isms were being considered as candidates for Websters annual additions to their dictionary, specifically the term "misunderestimated." Seriously people? I know that this term waw spoken by a US President but that doesn't make it correct or necessary! The definition is on Google, is that not enough! Yet, low and behold, there may be a divine being: "Misunderestimated" is NOT being considered by Websters!

The second moment of this week in which I had my faith in the English language restored was actually just a reminder of something I already knew: "smegma" is ACTUALLY a real word. I had always assumed that it fell under the category of invented out of necessity like "Shaganasty" and "Yahoo." It doesn't. It's a real word, it's in the dictionary. Now, I wouldn't necessarily suggest going and looking it up in the closest medical dictionary but rest assured, it means pretty much what you think it means. To make this even better, it can be an adjective to: smegmaitc! If that isn't awesome, I don't know what is.