huh

I just realized that my first 2 posts were about gross stuff on my body. I'm NOT the medical freak you think I am. I'm really not. Lots of other funny stuff happens to me. I just don't want to post it all right away. I think that if I do that, then the funny stuff will stop happening....
Although, a recent trip to the TCC bookstore has busted that theory.
So I went to the book store to buy the books for my nursing classes this quarter. I have to buy like 100 bazillion books. And they cost more than the GDP of many 3rd world nations. Ok, this quarter it was only 3 books for about $300. But, still, I already HAVE 15 books from last quarter that cost me nearly $2000. I'm not kidding. So, anyways, I went to the store to get these books. And one of them has been rumored to be ginormous. Its so big; the last one I saw from a student a quarter ahead of me was like 6" thick. Serious.
So I walk up to the counter with 2 fellow students, and we're chattering away about books and clinical and the like... And the poor kid who's trying to find this book can't.
And he finally finds mine. The other guys already have theirs, so they go on and grab the couple things they need and head out. Bookstore guy comes back to me with a box. No, really. A box.
So, I ask him "what's that?"
"You're book"
"Nooooo, my book is big, huge actually, and red. And black. And it's a book. Not a box"
"This is the book. It's a set this year"
"Ok, so what happens if I open the box and it's the wrong book?"
"It isn't"
"But what if it is?"
"It isn't"
"But if it IS... Can I return it?"
"Not if the box is opened."
(you see my dilema here I'm sure~ the box is neither clear, nor has a window, nor comes with a covenient sticker from the manufacturer. It's just got written in sharpie the name of the book that's SUPPOSED to be in it. No one has opened the box. Ever. Not even the book store. For all I know there could be like 17 MATH100 books in there~ That's how my luck runs right?)
"Well, can YOU open the box?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"Because we can't"
"Well that's stupid. If it's the RIGHT book, I'll buy it. But I just want to make sure. I mean I don't wanna spend $130 just to go home and find out its the wrong one, and not be able to bring it back"
"Sorry"
"Wow, Really? Do you have a manager or someone? I mean... "
*he points to a very squirrely looking lady on the phone*
"She's right here"
"Excellent. Can you please open the box for me? I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass, but since it's non-refundable once the box is opened, I'd just like to make sure that the box contains the right book"
*glaring from squirrel on phone*
(note the use of the word please. I only use this when things are getting desperate and no one is listening to reason)
Five employees now manage to surround the desk to debate how best to handle the situation. People are staring. Surprisingly, not at me, at them. Like they are stupid. I feel like some sort of folk hero for standing up to the buearocracy and stupidity of college bookstore return policies. After debating amongst themselves, the squirrel looks over, sees 7 of her employees gathered around a box, hands the most senior-looking one of them a box cutter and says "Just open the damn box".
I win.

***  it was the right book. but still. it's the principle.

arm cancer

***** DISCLAIMER***** to the best of my knowlege (and I'm only a nursing student, not an ACTUAL MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL) there is no such thing as "arm cancer". There are types of cancer that can be located on the arm (skin cancer and some others I can't remember of the top of my fried brain), but no actual arm cancer.

That being said, I have arm cancer. Before you freak out and wonder how many rounds of chemo my hair will survive (all of them I'm sure, it refuses to ever do what it's "supposed to"), I'm pretty sure what I have is an irration caused cyst-like thing.
It's gross. End of story. There's a hard lump of god-only-knows-what on my arm. And of course, its in an area I can't get at. It's not quite on the underside of my arm, It's like kinda half-way on my back and under the part of my arm that connects to my back, but kinda on the side. The only way to get a good look at is is to put my arm over my head and look in the mirror. It's kinda like that spot on your back that no matter how hard you try and get at, you just can't for the life of you scratch. And that spot ALWAYS itches.
Well, the mystery lump isn't itchy. It hurts like hell. But I'm fairly certain that it's just a cyst. A little bit of something that made its way deep into a pore or something and managed to get infected and is now causing all this drama. But...
BUUUUTTTTTT.... the best part about the arm cancer....
yeah, people honestly DONT know that there's no such thing. Hence the disclaimer. I thought I was being funny and put up a post about it on facebook. Immediately got like 12 mail messages asking if I was ok, and how advanced it was. Would I be ok? Would it hurt? Did I have a biopsy yet? What was my prognosis?
Really.
Only ONE friend actually got the joke and asked if it was a zit or something. ONE. And I have DOZENS of medical professionals and students on my friends. <sigh>
But, it's probably a spider bite anyways, they're out to get me, you know.

Eye Pimple

So, I'm turning 30 in a few months. And I'm terribly concerned about this. So much so that I OBSESS over my skin. Like freakishly. I have nearly every product designed to eliminate/reduce/prevent wrinkles (I don't have any, which I attribute to my obsessive-ness, thank you very much). I can usually pass for 24-ish. This is a GOOD thing. Well, except for the pimples.
See, most people associate skin trouble with youth, so this helps in my quest for ever-youthful looks. But I really don't like pimples. And I don't have that many, just enough that I can tell they are there. Yay for hormones! But, noting my previously mentioned issue with skin obsessive-ness, you might see how this could turn out badly.
This morning, I woke up, and it was a pimple day. I washed my face, and proceded to go through my entire sanitize, serum, lotion, anti-wrinkle, anti-pimple routine. And then I noticed it. A NEW PIMPLE. And, you're thinking, "just slap some clearasil on it, crazy, and move on!" One small problem. It was ON MY EYE. ya. really. On my eyelid. On that super delicate skin that you can't mess with because even TOUCHING it too hard now will leave you scarred with wrinkles when you're like... 31. And I can't put anything on it because it's my EYE! And ALL the products say to not to put them on your eyes (for very good reason, I mean, no one wants to be a pirate with one eye and no cool eye patch). And it's not like I can just pop it, or even attempt to. Fear of the un-fixable wrinkle.... Plus the PAIN. OMG the pain. I just barely touched it with some concealer.... yah. It felt like someone was poking a red hot branding iron on my eye. Ok, well, it wasn't really THAT bad, but it was close.
And so now, I'm sitting at my computer. I'm sure no one can see it. But *I* know it's there. And it's driving me NUTS. I keep getting up to check in the mirror to see if it went away yet. I swear I can still see it even under the 17 layers of concealer and shadow that I put on it. It's getting bigger I think, just to spite me.
See, this stuff doesn't happen to NORMAL people....

Intro

So, this is me. This is my blog. I had one on myspace for a bit. And I had like 10 followers.... So... I thought, "Why not open this obviously HUGELY READ blog up to the internet-at-large?" Well, the 10 of you that loved me then... you are so lucky! I'M BACK! With better stories, funnier real-life stuff, and hopefully a new follower or two for you to comment with. My lack of creativity will be supplemented by the totally crazy stuff that happens to me in real life. No, really. Like 99% of this blog is about what has ACTUALLY happened to me. Trust me, I'm not creative enough to make it up.