Abdomen!

Sorry, I just like saying that word. Or typing it. Whatever.

This morning I had my abdominal ultrasound, a process that took less time than my stint in the admitting office to fill out paperwork.

The ultrasound was pretty uneventful, barring that I had to stifle the giggles a few times. I asked the technician if they ever got any extremely ticklish people in there before, and she said they had and that it makes an ultrasound incredibly difficult. Unfortunately she didn't let me watch the screen while she was doing the scan, so I couldn't make any obnoxious patient comments like, "Hey, let me know if you find my keys in there!" or "So that's why the channel's been changing every time I burped!"

During my brief time in the hospital this morning I also learned the hard way that one should not tie off a hospital robe using a knot. I felt like a dog chasing its tail in the restroom as I tried to grab it and then untie it.

Only one more test to go, then maybe we'll have this stuff figured out.

Disney Resurrection

During the children's sermon yesterday at church, the guest speaker was asking the kids to describe what a tomb was. After various descriptions, one little girl yelled out, "Hey! Snow White was kinda in a tomb when she died, and then she came back to life, too!"

Hysterical.

Way to go, jerk

Well, I knew it was coming, and here it is. I had to go to the doctor again for my stupid stomach pains. I've talked about this before, here, here, and here.

This time I went to a specialist to sort things out because I'm tired of spending $250 every several months on meds.

So, what's on tap for me in the next two weeks? Well I'll tell you!

#1- A thrilling round of 15 million different blood tests
#2- An abdominal ultrasound
#3- An endoscopy

And since twice now people have looked at me and cringed when I said endoscopy, I will take this moment to say that an endoscopy is where they go in through the throat to look at your innards -- not through the other end. Eesh.

Anyway, yeehaw, an endoscopy. I imagine it will be a process not unlike what is shown here in this photo.

Okay, maybe not, but it certainly won't be an enjoyable process. I've been told they will sedate me so I'm "comfortable" during the process. Comfortable to me means I won't remember a thing. Comfortable to them means something different, I think. I mean, just look at that seal.

Another Quote of the Day

Being a reporter will garner you some interesting friendships, experiences, and conversations -- especially if you cover disasters. An interview this morning produced a "Quote of the Day" that I doubt will be topped today.

"If you tell someone about a tube tent, they're gonna look at you like a hog looking at a wristwatch."

Yesterday, during a particularly boring part of my meteorology homework, I glanced over at our cat and realized that when she sits a certain way, she looks like a small, furry Jabba the Hut.

While looking for a Jabba photo to link to for my site, I also stumbled across this photo. Tuesday the Cat also takes on that distinct pear shape when she sits similarly.

No wait, here we go -- I found some photos of other cats sitting like Tuesday does when she resembles Jabba. Click here, here, and here.

Anyway, I swear Tuesday's on a diet, we don't feed her that much. She swears it's because she's big-boned. Either way, she's a bit tubby and she won't stick with the Tae-Bo work-out routine we had set up for her.

Also cat-related, just as a reassurance to you readers, I am doing my best to not become that person. You know who I'm talking about. That person who treats their cat like a child. That person who talks endlessly about their little chubby furry-kins to everyone. That person.

But next week I am taking Tuesday to Glamour Shots. The photo we use in her shrine is really outdated now.

How Will You Die?

You scored as Eaten. Your death will be death by wild animals. You will probably get eaten by a bear or something because you don't know the natural safety precautions and are ignorant. Eaten 73% Gunshot 67% Stabbed 67% Bomb 53% Suicide 40% Suffocated 40% Dissapear 33% Accident 33% Disease 27% Poison 27% Cut Throat 7% Drowning 0% Electric Chair 0% How Will You Die??'> created with http://quizfarm.com'>QuizFarm.com

That cracks me up. Thanks to Shannon for pointing out this oh-so-wise quiz.

I like to think that I'm not ignorant of general safety precautions around animals -- especially ones with big pointy teeth and/or the power to crush me -- and that's because my first rule of dealing with animals with big pointy teeth and/or the power to crush me is this:

-Don't ever frickin' get near them. Ever. Dammit.

What I'm still pondering, though, is what to do if a bear armed with a gun, knife, and a bomb shows up on my doorstep. I think then I'm screwed.

Lightweight

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Let's talk about drinking.

With a heritage like mine, you'd think I'd be a great hard drinker -- someone who could down 15 pints and still functionally be able to scarf some sauerkraut and polish sausage, break a table over someone's head, and then destroy someone else at golf. You'd think that if you followed stereotypes, anyway -- and who doesn't? For example, right now you could say that I'm wearing a flannel shirt and listening to Melissa Etheridge while preparing a dish involving bulger and tofu -- and you'd be right.

Anyway, despite my background being Scottish, German, Polish, and smidge of Irish, I am a big-time drinking light-weight. Seriously. One beer and I'm woozy. Two, and I will publicly yell whatever you want me to, no matter how gross, crass, perverted, or foul it may be. Three, well - watch out.

I was not a binge drinker in college because I hate vomiting and being out of control. And really, I can have a lot of fun without drinking heavily. Anyway, those facts on vomit and self-control had me knowing my limit quickly and sticking to it as best I could. Yet through college and slightly beyond, that still didn't mean I would not do strange or funny things whilst under the influence of one or two beers.

For some time in college, there were tales of my "Speeches to Heather's Image in the Mirror." I once railed at my mirror image for going to a college that made me gay and a democrat. At other times friends witnessed my discussions with various parking meters and shrubbery. I once drunkenly lamented to a friend about the difficulties parking meters must have when they fall in love with each other. "How do they enjoy each other if they're always stuck in the same place?" I worried aloud.

On a walk up Jeff Hill at my alma mater, I greeted the entire row of pine shrubs along the hill as if it were a receiving line. "Hi, thanks for coming, thank you, thanks for being here, sorry about your roots, thank you, ooh you have soft piney hands, thanks, you're beautiful..." and so on.

That was college. Once out, the drinking declined sharply due to my environment and other factors. But I would still partake in a beer or more here and there with dinner or at a party. Casual drinking, and such.

I have not been tipsy in over a year now. This is by choice to an extent, but it was a choice forced on me by several of my internal organs. My stomach strongly dislikes me oftentimes, and usually it's for no apparent reason. I figured, why drink a beer when it will only have you doubled-over in extreme pain a short time later?

So I gave it up. It sucks, especially because I enjoy beer. I like how it tastes and I enjoy tasting different kinds of beers. But again, it's not worth the pain. And until I can drink it again, I will cherish my last partially-inebriated time with two very close friends in October 2003. We had a wonderful time at a nice little bar in Somerville, Mass. I was drinking Sam Adams. The friends bought me another to get me giggly. And then on the way back to their place, I made sure to yell some things about crabs. Then I broke a chair over some guy's head. All in all, it was a great night.

Office Quote of the Day

From a coworker: "I've seen the movie 'From Justin to Kelly' two times, and it's not that bad. I mean, it's no 'Godfather,' but you know."

No, I don't know.

Strange Emails

There are some days when I write emails about a vast range of topics. Today's topics and mentions have included:

-improv comedy
-whether or not you'd dare to deafen a gynecologist by slamming your thighs shut
-The Smithsonian Air & Space Museum
-are pork chops wrapped in ham and then wrapped in bacon really better than a turducken?
-home workout regimens
-at an upcoming church conference dinner where I'm the night's speaker, should I give them a rider full of ridiculous requests such as a bowl of green MnMs, ten pairs of velour track pants, a chinchilla, and a 10' cross?
-hurricane relief
-Porhamcon? Hamporkcon? What would you call pork chops wrapped in ham and then wrapped in bacon?
-asbestos
-The amount of donuts in my office today creating a lopsided donut-per-human ratio
-Bachampork?
-holy crap, my alma mater made the Men's NCAA Tournament
-church growth issues
-Hambapork?

That's right, start up an email dialogue with me and you never know what you'll get.

Additions

Two new links have been added to my list of fellow bloggers. Kerry is brilliant and funny -- and I will forever be indebted to her because she's the one who originally told me about the amazing organization that I now work for.

Katy is equally brilliant and funny. While she did not help me find my current job, her vast understanding of the world's languages helps to regularly supply me with translation services when I need to know how to say important phrases such as "melted barbie boobs," "smelly whore," or "do you serve horse at this restaurant?"

Read their blogs. You will not be disappointed.

Covert Food Ops

I suck at grocery shopping. Seriously. I love The Price is Right, but I know that if I were ever on stage there competing for a lovely dining room set, a nice vacuum, or a NEW CAR, I'd fail miserably.

I believe it's mostly just because I don't enjoy wandering through the aisles comparing prices. For me, grocery shopping should be quick -- in and out in 10 minutes with people splitting up with their own specific food mission. This is hard when you're in the store by yourself with a long list of things to get.

My dearest wife is not like this, which is one of the reasons I always try to weasel my way out of grocery shopping with her. This is not my saying I don't appreciate how thorough Amy is when she grocery shops. She's amazing with the prices. She's almost like Rainman with her grasp of food prices between grocery stores.

"Yeah, ground turkey is only $1.64/lb at the Food Lion...we're definitely going there. Definitely. Not Giant, nope."

But sometimes I still have to go do the grocery shopping on my own. And one of those "sometimes" was today during my lunch hour.

I stood in the produce section perusing the list of groceries needed sent to me by the wife. My eyes glazed over as I looked through the various bagged salads, vegetables, and regular apples vs. organic apples. Baby Greens style bagged salad? Italian style? American style -- does that mean it's deep-friend and covered in chocolate?

Anyway, I try to make grocery shopping interesting if I'm on my own. The store I go to usually helps out by playing great music over the intercom system. Today, as I was selecting Golden Delicious apples, I was singing along with the Hall & Oates classic "I Can't Go For That."

As I selected fruit cups, it was "You've Lost That Loving Feeling."

Then I noticed a woman near me scanning some of the shelved items into a large Palm Pilot-looking device. She wasn't wearing any grocery store apparel, she just looked like your average middle-aged mom-type with a scanner.

I got excited because I thought I had located a secret grocery store rival price scanner! I'd only heard of them up until now. These are the people who work for one chain, but sneak into another to scan their prices and compare until kicked out by the store. Wal-Mart and Target do this to each other all the time.

Wanting to know more, I sauntered over covertly so as to not blow her cover. Although, honestly, she wasn't doing a great job of scanning covertly herself.

"Hey - do you work for another store?" I asked while pretending to look at some puddings.

"What?" She looked at me incredulously.

I scooted closer, but pretended to look very closely at the back of a box of granola bars. "I said, do you work for another store? Are you scanning this store's prices to compare?"

She looked embarrassed. "No, I'm not."

Rrrrright, I thought, thinking she was afraid to admit it because she thought I worked for the enemy.

"I don't work for this store, I just want to know," I reassured her. "I've heard of those folks who go store to store to scan the competition's prices. Are you doing that?"

"No. I'm not scanning anything," she said, breaking eye contact with me to lean down, pick up another product, and scan it.

What, you're doing it for your own home research? I was confounded, but didn't want to harass her anymore, thinking she was afraid I'd blow her cover.

So I moved on, and shimmied through the dairy section to "Respect." But it bothered me. I couldn't pick out the right type of cheese and shimmy with total concentration because I kept thinking of the covert scanning lady. What was that woman doing with the scanner? She must be working for another chain.

I had to go back and learn more. Was she was at risk of being kicked out for sneaking in to get their prices? I owed to my blogging public and to my being a journalist to go back and ask the hard-hitting questions. It was my duty as a reporter to pester her until she gave me the truth.

I rolled my cart back to the same aisle with a purpose. She was still there, just now scanning canned goods. I pretended to be very confused over whether I wanted Wheat Thins or Triscuits.

"So are you just doing this for your own research?" I asked.

"What? Oh no, I work for a company," she answered cryptically.

The intrigue increases. "Do you work for another grocery store chain?"

"No."

No more pretending to look at snacks. "Will they kick you out if they find you here? I mean, does this store know you're in here scanning their stuff?"

"They know I'm here. I do this in a number of stores around here," she said, finally stopping to look at this pest who would not leave her alone.

My interest slightly deflated knowing we didn't have to be all covert ops anymore. "Oh, that's cool. I just always hear about those workers who sneak into each other's stores to scan prices."

"Why, are you looking for a part-time job?" she asked with a smile.

"Nah. Maybe if it was all secretive and risky, you know, getting chased out into the parking lot by an angry manager."

She just laughed at me and I headed off to the checkout line.

On the way out, I jumped onto the back of the cart and rode into the parking lot at top speed.

Snow Day

While I did not get the entire day off work yesterday due to the snowstorm, I did get to leave early. As I walked to my car, I picked up a clump of snow to see if it was snowball- or snowman-worthy. It was -- the snow was very wet and dense.

So when I arrived home, I decided to make a miniature snowman army take over the front steps of my apartment building.

It was entirely too much fun. Click on the "Snow" album to see the army.

My apartment door is only a short distance away from the front steps, so it was hysterical to hear what people said as they passed the army of tiny snowmen.

"What the...? What is this crap?"

"Oh, that's so cute."

"Mom, can I smash them?"

They did not last through the night. No, the warm temperatures were too much for the tiny snowman army. This morning all that remained was one little patch of slush and a pile of twigs.