AGAIN with the underwear.

My supervisor had boxers on as shorts again today.

How on earth did this guy get hired?

Ridiculousness.

You can take Joe and me out of the ghetto...

Well, you know the rest.

Joe and I decided to make some barbecued pork ribs on the grill tonight.

We put them on around 7.

What we didn't know was that ribs take h o u r s to cook.

Hm.

So we decided to cook on...worst case scenario, we would just eat something else for dinner while the ribs cooked, and then eat the ribs tomorrow.

So we kept checking the ribs, and checking the grill, and checking the ribs...

Around 8:30, we checked the ribs again (not sure what exactly we were checking, mind you, since neither of us had ever grilled ribs before) and as we did, Joe saw that the flame had gone out.

Yes. No flame. We were out of propane.
This makes it very difficult to cook ANYthing.

Well, the ribs were cooked enough, we guessed. Not pink or anything. So we decided to eat them and risk possibly poisoning ourselves.

I decided to make instant mashed potatoes. If the ribs were a disaster, at least we would have the potatoes. Can't go wrong with instant mashed potatoes.

Unless the only milk in the house is just starting to turn sour and you have to make the potatoes with only water and butter.

Hm.

I did actually brave the ribs and the milk-less potatoes. Not the worst meal I've had, and I haven't un-eaten it yet, so I'm fairly certain I haven't poisoned myself.

But Joe?

He had a tuna sandwich for dinner. :)

I didn't think it could get any worse.

So I already told you how my stupid little supervisor wears tiny sweatpants, right?

Today, the sweatpants would have been a welcome sight.

Because today, much to our collective horror, he was wearing boxers.

As shorts.

Over, hopefully, another actual pair of underwear.

SERIOUSLY.

I get in trouble when I wear tank tops to work, and this strange little man wears BOXERS and no one thinks to comment on how incredibly inappropriate that is.

Not to mention disturbing.

I think I sprained my...

Wallet.

I was walking across a parking lot today and saw a credit card on the ground. I picked it up so I could alert the credit company, and lo and behold! It was no credit card...it was a $50 prepaid gas card! Yee ha.



But then, my luck couldn't be that good, could it? I ran my errand and got back into my car to head home. I assumed that the card was empty and some litterbug had just tossed it in the parking lot, but I decided to call Joe at home and have him check the balance of the card online just to be sure.

It turns out my luck WAS that good. $18.66 good. Not quite the full $50, but still, that $18.66 was good for at least a gallon of gas! ;P And the timing of it all couldn't have been better, since my gas tank was gasping on E.

So I stopped at the Mobil on the merrit and exhausted the gift card. It bought me a little less than 6 gallons. Wanting to fill my 22 gallon tank completely, I started a new transaction and paid the balance with my debit card.

It took me ANOTHER $43.36 to fill my tank.

ANOTHER.

$43.46.

I wanted to cry.

Self Portraits by Mac

My Star Wars Theory

My theory is as follows:

On any given day, without a prompt, reminder or cue, the Star Wars series, in whole or in part, by title or by quoted line, will be referenced or reenacted in some manner.

It can be as simple and unassuming as someone breathing inappropriately heavily and with a very specific sort of deliberation, or saying a sentence back to front, Yoda style...speak backwards, he does. But somehow, in some way, Star Wars will come up.

You won't expect it. But there it will be.

Like the beam of a light saber.

My Star Wars Personality

So, I took a test to see who my Star Wars "twin" was. Some results were nice, some not so nice, but for the most part they were accurate.

Here are my results...

Click to see my Star Wars Personality!!

Joe took the test too...here are his results...

Click to see my Star Wars Personality!!

Doctor Esquire!

Sara graduated from Northeastern University School of Law! Woo hoo!

Joe and I took a trip up to Boston for the day to help celebrate. A bunch of us met at Sara's apartment and took the T to Matthews Arena for the ceremony and saw this sign...



Only...if you don't speak English, how are are you supposed to read the sign? Anyway, we got to the arena (which is quite the historical hockey rink) and met up with Sara. At first, she doesn't seem thrilled with the idea of posing for pictures...



...but then she seemed to warm up to the idea.



Inside the arena was a gigantic university seal...sorry it's out of focus, I was having lighting/focus issues. The thing was like 12 feet tall.



There was also a man holding a large stick and wearing a funny hat.



Hard to ignore were the 200 chairs which were set up for the 181 almost-lawyers participating in the days events. I actually have another version of this photo which is in clear focus, but I find this one to be drastically more appealing.



Unfortunately I have no pictures of the ceremony itself due to the aforementioned lighting/focus issues. But at the champagne shindig afterwards, I did snap a quick photo of Sara's brother Nick wearing the funny hat the grads wore all day.



Sara and Bob seemed to get a kick out of Nick in the funny hat...or maybe it was the champagne... ;)



Here Sara is with her dad Warren, on the T on the way to the restaurant.



The restaurant was called Masa and I think they got a little carried away with their sign...I know the theme was southwestern, but did the sign really need to be charred?



Bob and Warren turned stone chairs into a "modern" art installation while waiting for the T after dinner.



A great picture of Meg and Sara on the T.



Joe and I on the T (against Joe's will).



Just a pretty iris in Sara's front yard.



Back at the apartment, we met up with Cooper! Joe decided to scoop him up. I guess that makes Joe a Cooper scooper!



But after all that hanging around with Joe, Cooper reclaimed a comfy pillow.



All in all it was a really fun day. Air horns and all. :)

pri·ma don·na

pri·ma don·na [pree-muh don-uh, prim-uh; It. pree-mah dawn-nah]

–noun, plural pri·ma don·nas, Italian. pri·me don·ne [pree-me dawn-ne]

1. a first or principal female singer of an opera company.
2. a temperamental person; a person who takes adulation and privileged treatment as a right and reacts with petulance to criticism or inconvenience.
3. what Allie was called today by her tiny-pant-wearing supervisor after she questioned his sabotage of her work

[Origin: 1760–70; < It: lit., first lady; see prime, duenna]
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

Chubby?

All right.

First, my crazy coworker said he liked my nose.

Then, he asked me how much I weigh.

TODAY, he topped himself.

I, as usual, was minding my own business, pretending to like my job and trying to work quickly in the vain hope that the speed of the clock's hands would mirror that of my own. It was then that said crazy coworker told me I had lost weight. I, in my most leave-me-alone-and-stop-talking-about-inapropriately-personal-subjects tone of voice, said no and pointedly turned back to my work. Undeterred, he insisted I had lost weight. Not having changed my obviously unnoticed tone of voice, I explained my weight was, in fact, not any different, and perhaps he was confused by the difference between my baggy winter garb and my lighter summer wear. His reply? "yes, I must be seeing it differently...because when I first met you, you looked chubby."

HA!

Those of you who know me can certainly attest to the fact that I have never, not once, ever been called anything remotely close to chubby. Those of you who don't know me, but still live here on earth, can MOST certainly attest to the fact that you do not first insist someone lost weight and then explain your inaccuracy by saying, oops, I thought you used to be CHUBBY!

He's nuts! Part of me thinks I shouldn't be bothered by it, since the guy is from Ecuador and maybe down there this subject would be a more socially acceptable conversation to have with a coworker. The other 99% thinks that this frigging guy has been in America for TWENTY TWO YEARS and he should have a better grasp on what you should and should not say to anyone at work!

What will he possibly ask me next...

OMG

The latest crazy news story...

"Last month, Sofia Rubenstein, 17, used 6,807 text messages, which pushed her family's wireless bill to more than $1,100 for the month. She couldn't believe the "incredible" number she hit."

I think it's "incredible" that her parents didn't kill her.

My supervisor wears tiny pants.

I mean, ridiculously tiny. I'm actually almost certain that they are youth pants. One pair even has a silkscreened image of Grumpy (the dwarf) on them.



Granted, they are sweatpants, and sweatpants only look good on, like, 3% of the population. But still. They are way too small to be worn on any other circumstance than laundry day, and even then I would qualify it as a questionable decision.

Also. He either a) has the lumpiest ass known to man, b) tucks his shirt into his tighty whities or c) wears diapers. It's like a car accident...you don't want to look, but your eyes are just drawn there. A tiny-sweatpant, lumpy-diaper-ass, mental car accident.

I call him supervisor bumble. He is really only good at getting in the way. And every three seconds he lets loose a heavy sigh like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He is overwhelmed by his own shadow, yet somehow managed to convince the company for which I work to hire him. To those of us who have had other supervisors, it is painfully obvious that he can barely manage himself, let alone a team of jewelers.

It really makes me wonder how corporate America manages to keep it's collective head above water. Because I know he is not the only bumbling supervisor out there....we all know him...the guy who gets hired despite his lack of skill/knowledge/ability to handle difficult situations...the guy who runs around like a chicken with no head while other, not-as-handsomely compensated, employees do his work for him...the guy who, with one breath, wants the department run HIS way, but with is next breath, is denying that he has any say about anything in said department...

It's really enough to make a competent, skilled worker want to run off and live in some jungle somewhere very far away from anything that could remotely be considered "corporate". Especially since I also know that it really doesn't have to be this way. Imagine what businesses could accomplish if they hired the BEST people for the job? These people could then focus on their own work, instead of the work of their incompetent coworkers (or supervisors)...

The possibility for success would be immeasurable.

I wonder if that's how Google does it.

Ride the shock waves.

It's official. I will be having lithotripsy done on me! (See "Diamonds are a girl's best friends...kidney Stones? Not so much. May 8)

June 12th (forever from now) is the big day. I'll let you know how it goes.

These are my eyeballs.

This is how they normally look. Like human eyeballs.



I had to go to the eye doctor yesterday for my annual check up and more importantly, to get a current prescription for my contact lenses so I will no longer be shackled to my glasses. They had to dilate my eyes, so I was completely blind for the remainder of the night. Boo.

Anyway, this is how I looked by the time I left the eye doctor.



Ha, just kidding. This is really how...



I look like some sort of alien.

On drugs.

I swear, doctors are bad for your health.

Inconceivable.

This is what happens when the American public is allowed to vote for things.

First, George W. Bush gets elected president.

Then, Melinda Doolittle, an amazing singer, doesn't make it to the final round of American Idol.



It's no wonder other countries hate us. From an outside point of view, we must look really REALLY stupid.

Har har har...

Two jokes I had to pass along...


What do a Texas tornado and a Tennessee divorce have in common?

Someone is going to lose a trailer.




And one that made me laugh out loud, really hard....


What do you call a mentally disabled person in a fancy suit?

Mr. President.

What not to ask your (female) coworker.

I'm at work today, at the sink, washing my hands. Nothing interesting, until the guy washing his hands next to me turns and says, "So, how much do you weigh?"

What?

This is the same guy who told me he liked my nose.

After I picked my jaw up off of the floor, I explained to him that you do not ask a lady her weight. He asked if it was all right to ask a woman her age. I said no, never ask a woman her weight or age. So he asked if it was ok to ask a woman's height.

He then proceeded to guess my weight (correct) and height (incorrect).

Who is this guy?

He already checked out my nose. Now he's asking my weight and height? I feel like I am being studied for some sort of experiment.

The worst part is that his workstation is right next to mine.

I am surrounded by freaks.

I am nobody's sweetheart.

So there's this "consultant" at my job lately who is here to help us with blah blah blah, it doesn't matter. Anyway, another jeweler and I were asked (read, told) to sit with this consultant guy and one of his former employees to learn some tricks of the trade. Great, that's fine, I like learning new things, and I enjoy seeing how other jewelers may do something differently than I do. So I walk up to consultant-guy and he says, "hi sweetheart."

Um, what?

My brain INSTANTLY goes, ok, you can stop calling me THAT now. But my mouth is too busy saying hello to the jeweler whose hand I am shaking, since we are being introduced.

So here, we are....the consultant (who, by the way, was wearing pajamas), his jeweler guy, the other jeweler from my job, and me. Four people...only three of whom are appropriately dressed...only two of whom speak English fluently and sans accent...and, somehow, only one of whom is repeatedly being called things like "sweetheart" and "hon". (He also had other terms of endearment, but I think I've blocked them out of my head.)

WTF.

I"m sorry. Do I NOT have a degree in Jewelry and Silversmithing? Am I not an accomplished jeweler who is, though by far the youngest jeweler at work, one of the best jewelers there??? HELLO?!

I am nobody's sweetheart.

I managed not to kill the guy the for the rest of the day, despite his inability to call me by name. He did go out of his way to come over and say goodbye at the end of the day, but it wasn't worth a damn to me after he said, "see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

At this point my work friends (who know my personality) were making fun of me and calling me all things under the sun. At least they made me laugh.

I thought I was done with the name-calling until I walked in today and was greeted with, "hello sweetheart."

SERIOUSLY!?!?!!!

If he calls me anything other than my name again, I have vowed to a) kick him in the teeth b) beat him senseless with a ring mandrel or c)tell him I have a name and he needs to use it.

He'd better hope I'm in a good mood at the time.

Happy Anniversary!

To Joe and Me! Today is our fourth anniversary, so I thought I'd post some photos of the happy day.

I thought I had more, but I don't know where they are stored. If anyone has any digital photos that they can email me, that would be awesome.

Anyway, here are some of my favorites.

Enjoy!

I should be at the gym right now.

Instead, I am sitting on the couch, doing absolutely nothing. I just polished off half a box of Tagalongs...that's right, half...I, at that half-way point in the box, had one iota of self-control left. And am now trying to convince my bladder that I do not, in fact, have to pee every thirty seconds. I am still forcing myself to drink lots of fluids during the day to try and conquer this kidney stone, but I think the kidney stone is winning.

I saw my chiropractor today and my back cracked like, six ways to Sunday. It felt good. And he massaged my lower back which was great since I was really sore from a weekend of installing radiant floor heating in my upstairs bathroom, via the kitchen ceiling. (If I ever remember to charge my camera battery, I will post some photos of our ceiling all striped with bright orange hose and aluminum plates).

Wednesday, it's back to the chiropractor. Trying to get my neck to curve the right way. Right now it doesn't. :P Since it's curved the wrong way, it's causing some of the discs in my neck to compress and wear away. Also, it's causing the early stages of arthritis. :P So, for me, it a trip to the chiropractor twice a week and traction every night. (I've been very bad at doing my traction lately because of all the pain in my kidney. Bad Allie.) If you're in need of a chiropractor in the Stratford area, Dr. Pesale is great and his office staff is really friendly.

Thursday it's off the the eye doctor for my yearly checkup so I can get a new prescription for contacts, since I ran out like a month ago and have been forced against my will to wear my glasses. Boo glasses. The security guy at work did tell me I reminded me of Superman/Clark Kent with my sometimes-contacts, sometimes-glasses identity. His name is Rich. He's nice, and he as also had kidney stones. :(

Friday, I get to meet my new urologist, Dr. Singh. He is hopefully going to tell me that we can absolutely do lithotripsy to remove my ever-growing kidney stone. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

For those of you who are counting, that's four doctors visits in five days. When did I turn 90?

Also, and I'm sure I'm not alone here, I am allergic to spring! I have been alternating between sneezing and blowing my nose CONSTANTLY since about Friday.

I'm kind of a walking disaster. Someone at work today flippantly said, "hi! how are you?". Boy, they had no idea what they were in for! :) My brain instantly went through the long answer (kidney pain, back pain, chapped lips, sore nose, allergies...)but I smiled and said, "Good!" Liar. I wonder if they were lying, too, when they told me how they were doing?

Anyway, Joe just got me some Benadryl at the store so I am going to go eat the entire box. :)

And then watch Heroes! Are you on the list?

ps...I just spell-checked this post and when the computer got to "lithotripsy" and didn't understand it, the only word it could think of as a substitute was "death trap". LOL

*udpate*

the benadryl worked a w e s o m e.
I heart benadryl.

You're not going to believe this.

I saw this on the news today and couldn't believe it myself. But I did see it on CNN, and we all know that CNN is a bastion of knowledge and all things truthful. Right. Sure. Anyway, the story's true, so here you go...try not to pee on yourself from all of the guffawing.



Man with no arms and one leg eludes police.
Amputee eludes police in car chase.

By The Associated Press

NEW PORT RICHEY, Fla. (AP) - New Port Richey police officers chased a driver who had no arms and one leg, and the guy got away.

Authorities believe the driver was 40-year-old Michael Francis Wiley, who taught himself to drive with stumps and then became one of Pasco County's most notorious drivers.

Wiley is well known by local law enforcement and has had his license suspended many times.

Yesterday, just after noon, an officer reported spotting Wiley in a blue sport utility vehicle at a convenience store. When the officer went to investigate, police say Wiley took off.

The officer, who was joined by a second cruiser, chased the SUV for about eight minutes. Police say the officers broke off pursuit because of the potential danger to others.

Police will seek an arrest warrant for Wiley today. Charges could include fleeing to elude and habitually driving with a revoked license.


(Copyright 2007 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.)

SERIOUSLY!!!?!?!

What on earth is wrong with the New Port Richey police department? The man has only ONE leg!!! AND NO ARMS!!!! And he DROVE away!! It's almost too ridiculous to be true.

Almost.

The nose knows.

All right, that title has nothing to do with anything. Sort of.

I was at work today, sizing a ring or something, when they guy who sits at the bench next time mine turns to me and says (in very broken English, because I guess 22 years in America isn't quite long enough to get a grasp on the language), "I like your nose."

I'm dead serious.

So I laugh, because that was a totally absurd comment which I was totally not expecting, and he says, "No, really, you have nice nose."

So I thanked him. Because what else on earth do you possibly do in that situation? Make a joke? My nose is all right I guess, but sometimes it really blows. Ba dum bum, schh.

So in case any of you hear of any companies who are in desperate need of a nose model, apparently I'm your girl.

Lions and tigers and.....

Bears! In Hamden! Oh my, indeed.

Monday afternoon, a 200 pound black bear was sighted in Hamden.



Apparently the poor guy was wandering around looking for food and found his way near a school and a residential neighborhood. At one point, he was sighted on the street that runs parallel to the street I live on. It's like Wild America!



Thank god Marty Stouffer is here to educate us us! The DEP estimates the state's bear population to be at least 300 and growing. In 2006, move than 2,000 sightings of bears were reported from 125 of Connecticut's 169 towns. This year there have been more than 1,800 sightings. Granby has the most sightings with 134. As the bears leave their winter dens, their natural foods are typically scarce this time of the year and as a result, they often wander into backyards where human-provided foods are sometimes plentiful.

And now you know.

Anyway, they cornered the bear in a tree and sedated him so they could take him back to "where he belongs". Um, where...outside? In a tree? I think the DEP is a little confused. If you find a bear, say, in a mall, then you should take him to the woods. But to take a bear out of one tree, only to release him near some other tree...well, our tax dollars have to go somewhere, I guess.



But the bear didn't eat anybody the story had a happy ending so I guess all is well.

Maybe next time is will be an alligator. Or a kangaroo. Now THAT would be a story.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend...kidney stones? Not so much.

It's official. I have another kidney stone. I think this brings my official kidney stone count to 9.

Sigh.

Most of you know that I almost always have kidney pain. Just about 13 months ago, I had some tests done and it was discovered that I had a kidney stone in my left kidney. My doctor said it was stuck in a "good" way, and I was sent home with a pill a day for the rest of my life, and the strict instructions to drink more water than I had thought humanly possible.

Well, the little pill a day (well, only 1/2 a pill a day) has supposedly prevented me from making any new stones, but the one from last year apparently decided to make camp in my left kidney. We are certain of this because I was put through the same test as last year. It's called an IVP. Intravenous Pyelogram. Basically, they stick an iv into my arm and pump a contrast material into it which, once absorbed by my body, will show up white on an x-ray. Then comes the x-rays. This time they only did a partial series, so it was only about 8 or ten x-rays. This isn't my film, but it's what an IVP film looks like.



The white lines you see show the contrast material as it travels through the kidney and ureters and down into the bladder. (And, in case you're worried about this guy, don't. HIS kidneys are perfectly healthy.)

Doing an IVP usually takes about an hour and a half or two hours. Since part of my kidney was not functioning properly, mine took four and a half hours. A lovely way to spend a sunny day. :P

Anyway, this batch of x-rays told us that part my kidney was blocked. Only they weren't sure why. I would have to wait for my nephrologist to go over the films more carefully.

Today, I heard from my nephrologist. The bad news is that the stone that was stuck last year is still stuck in the same spot as I sit here writing this. The worse news is that it's been growing for the past year. It could have been worse though. They initially thought my pain could have been caused by scar tissue from a past stone. That would have sucked, since scar tissue doesn't go away and the only way to treat the pain is with the aid of pharmaceuticals. Narcotic analgesics, to be exact. No way to live, I must say.

The good news is that the stone is now big enough to try a method of removal. It's not the same way they took out my first stone, so this will be new to me. We are going to try ESWL. Extracorporeal shock wave lithotripsy (lithotripsy for short). This is a procedure in which I am placed on a table and blasted with shock waves that are pin pointed on my kidney stone in an effort to break the stone into a zillion pieces so it can pass from my system.

This is what it looks like.



I don't know when it will be done, but I promise to keep you posted.

The last Perry Civic

My sister totaled her car. Or, more accurately, she had it totaled for her. It was sometime last week...so much has happened since then that I've completely lost track of time. Anyway, she was on her way to work and with no one in sight, turned left. Out of the blue, some New Canaan girl smacked right into the back passenger side of my sister's car. She hit her hard enough to spin my sister's car 180 degrees right into a stone wall.

SHE hit MY SISTER...yet, the accident was my sister's fault.

?!

Yes, apparently Connecticut has a law that places the blame on the party turning left. So...her car was totaled. She was all banged up from her deployed air bag and seat belt. AND she got a ticket for "failure to yield while turning left". And what happens to the stupid girl who caused the accident? The girl who had at least 50 yards to slow down but didn't? The girl who made no effort to swerve around my sister's car, even though there was no oncoming traffic? Nothing. Twirp.

Here are the photos. The emt said my sister was lucky to be alive.