tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51111462012-01-25T18:03:20.763-08:00Fighting the forces of Darkness...day by dayConnienoreply@blogger.comBlogger481100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-10397961336859362472012-01-12T22:52:00.000-08:002012-01-12T23:44:39.007-08:00
If You Keep Doing That, You'll Go Blind!
It's come to my attention that I write a lot about the very few times that I've been ill. This is probably because I tend to be ill in luridly dramatic but not particularly serious ways. I fall prey to sitcom diseases, like food poisoning or the flu, which are acceptable to joke about. If I were writing a humorous anecdote about my chemotherapy, you Connienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-74551608598562706492011-10-04T23:38:00.000-07:002011-10-04T23:38:22.904-07:00
For the past year, I've been volunteering in the emergency room at a local hospital. Usually, my days there consist of swabbing urine and blood off of gurneys, fetching abysmal coffee from an instant machine for worried families, and rolling endless strips of gauze into neat sausage-packs of bandaging. I picked this position because of the excitement and glamor. Also because I figure that if Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-71493585392990260782011-05-19T16:17:00.000-07:002011-05-20T23:24:08.142-07:00Skillz
UPDATE: Men # 8 and 9 added!!!
I am known, among my coworkers and friends, for being quickwitted and glib. I have a 1-liner for most situations--sometimes a 3-liner; it really depends on the situation. Stories flow from my lips, making even the most boring events seem exciting. I can talk to you about Farscape for hours. Literally. Hours. Maybe days, I've never put it to the test.Connienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-86907857983502777672011-02-25T16:33:00.000-08:002011-02-25T16:41:36.263-08:00Big Bird is Watching
I was an impressionable child. Beyond an obsession with reading books that were far above my age-range, I wasn't exposed to that much terror. I didn't have any siblings to tell me about closet monsters or clawed creatures under my bed. Apparently, I didn't need them because my own imagination provided more fodder than you could believe for weird childhood fears.
A Connienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-45195727079310912712011-02-12T11:40:00.000-08:002011-02-12T13:17:02.113-08:00Stats
The other day, I was perusing the stats for Fighting and discovered several interesting trends amongst the people who find this site while googling. These are the results of google searches that have lead people to my little site:
640x480 puppy mill pictures
Ok, what? Why would desktop photos of a puppy mill be something that a person searches? Why would my website be the place to Connienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-8654227487023270382010-12-09T12:35:00.000-08:002010-12-09T12:35:04.314-08:00Red Rover, Red Rover...
I've managed to make it through a semester of human anatomy without a single blog post. I didn't post about the gruesome pleasures of a cadaver lab, or about how awesome it is to hold a brain. I didn't even post about how gross the digestive system can be.
A whole semester of silence destroyed with two words. What two words you ask, gentle readers?
Killer sperm.
Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-43916330802606802692010-09-07T12:56:00.000-07:002010-09-07T12:57:53.551-07:00
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Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-3492699290852037772010-08-23T21:29:00.000-07:002010-08-23T21:29:31.777-07:00
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mso-font-pitch:variableConnienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-69666786537613096502010-07-21T13:56:00.000-07:002010-07-21T13:56:40.039-07:00 Letters
Dear Chinese Food Delivery Guy,
I know that I order appetizers/food at a 10/1 ratio. I’m ok with that...which is why I order them in the first place. It’s not my fault that your crab puffs are so delicious. Maybe if you made them less delicious, I would not order so many of them. Please stop commenting on how many I order.
Also, please stop reminding me of how one time Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-88601335011258521852010-07-20T21:39:00.000-07:002010-07-20T21:39:05.716-07:00Seconds
I've told the story of my first boyfriend...in preschool. Things with Jimmy were pretty serious, so I took some time off of boys after the tumultuous roller-coaster of our relationship (this nicely coincided with the time off of me that all the boys in the world were taking).
When I was a freshman in high school, my fast ended. I met Joe (all names have been changed to protect the Connienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-75696405340645250122010-07-13T19:03:00.000-07:002010-07-13T19:03:13.771-07:00Top 3 Nightmare Creatures
3.) Spiders
Spiders send me into irrational, arm-waving fear. I'm not talking just poisonous spiders either; I mean all of the twitchy little things. Really, anything with more than 4 legs will do it...but the more legs, the more grotesque. One of the happiest days of my life was the day I first saw my cat hunting a spider. She pounced and I cheered with joy. No Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-41794796039984866022010-07-10T17:28:00.000-07:002010-07-10T22:20:05.850-07:00Dipsea
For the past couple months, I've been running more than I have in years. I'm halfheartedly training for a half-marathon (if it were a full marathon, I suppose it would take fullhearted training). A friend suggested that we run something called the Dipsea trail. For those of you unfamiliar (also known as everyone who reads this) the Dipsea trail runs from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach--Connienoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-36554004821925379772010-07-04T13:38:00.000-07:002010-07-06T15:55:22.222-07:00Homecoming
This post is an example of how I am sometimes a huge jerk. I have a bad temper. People usually don't know this because I keep it under rein. I've lost my temper all of two times in ever. This is the story of the first time.
When I was sixteen, I was asked to Homecoming. It wasn't at all like the usual machinations that were involved in my high school's courtship rituals. I was Connienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-73673994707373860032010-06-25T16:32:00.000-07:002010-06-25T17:14:11.855-07:00The Quest for Gainful Employment
Interviews are just the worst. They are only slightly less bad than unemployment and turning tricks on the street...though probably pimps have interviews for new hookers, which would be the worst of all. You'd have to get in your highest bang-me boots and your shortest vinyl skirt and try to look sexy while you were going to puke from nerves--or from other Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-21516048421437639092010-06-23T21:32:00.000-07:002010-06-23T21:41:21.692-07:00Hospital
The second time
I've told you before about the first time I went to the hospital. It was both traumatic and inconclusive. Also, and I forgot to mention this before, the doctor proscribed me with codeine, which I am allergic to. If it wasn't for a good catch by the pharmacist, I might have gotten even sicker.
The second time I went to the hospital was a lot more clear cut.
It was Connienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-39213335523931341762010-06-22T20:29:00.000-07:002010-06-22T20:29:11.629-07:00Gifthorse
I'm never sure if other people's high school experience was similar to my own. My high school was half Mormon, which--it turns out--influenced a lot of the "standard" customs. I've gotten blank faces in the past by describing something that I thought was commonplace. In my school there was impressive social maneuvering before any dance.
The first (and most showy) step was the Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-46720407646902578102010-06-21T16:18:00.000-07:002010-06-21T16:18:20.395-07:00Pour Some Sugar On Me
Last night, I was telling a friend of mine that I have an odd aversion to ordering girly drinks in public. He suggested that perhaps this was because I was afraid of being feminine in public. My kneejerk reaction was that perhaps he should be afraid of my foot in his butt (This was probably not the most feminine response, or the most mature). It honestly has more to do Connienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-6755482016108384502010-06-18T13:25:00.000-07:002010-06-18T13:25:27.179-07:00Oh, Canada
As has been previously mentioned, the summer I spent in Washington was a summer of many experiences. One of these was the first (and only) time that I've ever left the United States.
Some acquaintances decided to drive up to Vancouver. I'd just broken up with a boyfriend, so I was in the mood to do something wild and adventurous. Going on a vacation with near strangers seemed to Connienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-89390115962521968242010-06-16T13:54:00.000-07:002010-06-16T15:27:48.373-07:00Rollin' on the River
When I was 20, I lived in central Washington state for a summer. I lived a block away from work, shared an office with a boy who drove a Ducati and had a roommate who hated any television shows that didn't star The Fonz. I had a lot of new and exciting experiences that summer. A group of friends and I went to Canada, where I was propositioned by a married couple (theConnienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-32319450264792546822010-06-13T13:31:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:54:50.992-07:00A Nerdygirl's Guide to a Social Life
Part 1: Concerts
I am not exceedingly familiar with what "kids these days" do. The vast majority of my evenings and weekends are composed of flopping on the sofa or going for a run. Some involve both! Despite my antisocial tendencies and overall laziness, I took a walk on the wild side last night.
Some friends were going to a concert. I really enjoy Connienoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-201080177666231052010-06-12T18:29:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:55:13.192-07:00Un-Mentionables.
Many of you may not know this, but I am an award winning writer. Or rather, I thought I was an award winning writer until earlier today.
I've been dabbling in fiction writing since junior high. The first attempts were laughable in their juvenility (I know it's not a word...part of writing is making up words...I'm almost sure of it). One particularly delightful endeavor Connienoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-65895880378312301152010-06-11T10:39:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:55:28.077-07:00Win, Shoes or Draw
I've been running since I was about 12. Well, that's not completely true. As a child I had a whole lot of frantic energy and I actually ran around like an idiot quite frequently. I was hell on the Red Rover field. But I've been running "competitively" since I was 12. During those years, I've experimented with a wide array of different running shoes.
12 years old:
I Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-15839165988458407522010-06-10T21:57:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:55:40.587-07:00Run Part 2: Fitness Boogaloo
After the awe-inspiring success of my run on Sunday, I decided to give it another try. Half-marathons don't train for themselves. Due to a collapsed arch and a bum knee, I figured that 6 miles was quite sufficient for an after-work jog.
This blog gave me an idea for a way to deal with my arch. Buddy-taping is a fantastic method if you've got a finger out of Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-46722270503374955562010-06-09T14:23:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:56:00.948-07:00Designs
So, it turns out that far more people than I thought have strong views about my blog design. None of them are positive. One reader asked if my new tone was "angry red pepper." I considered writing a post that was angry-red-pepper toned, but I couldn't think of anything. I guess that can't be my theme.
I don't want black because that seems so angsty. White is bland. My Connienoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-17867782820051372982010-06-08T16:58:00.000-07:002010-06-08T16:59:12.329-07:00This blog has evolved over time.
Initially, a group of us wrote funny quotes from the day. Now that I have a job and am a gainful member of society, I've felt the need to protect the identity of the innocent (guilty) by getting rid of those posts. After that, the blog became my property and provided a sounding board for my rants. You may notice that the posting was infrequent and the posts Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-28568808428488501062010-06-08T11:32:00.000-07:002010-07-20T21:40:19.556-07:00Firsts
The first boy I ever dated was named Jimmy. He was a year older, a year wiser. He knew the mean streets of Spring Lake, New Jersey like the back of his dimpled hand. He was four years old. I was three. It was probably true love.
I met Jimmy on my first day of preschool. I toddled up to him, in awe of his maturity and thick head of brown hair. He turned and our eyes caught with an Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-231904833084151132010-06-07T21:59:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:56:36.342-07:00
Smell Ya Later!
I haven't had many roommates. I can't even remember the name of the first one I had.
I remember she was Texan. She enjoyed the dulcet tones of the Dixie Chicks and eating Pop-Tarts cut into dainty little triangles. These were often paired with Mountain Dew. It's a dizzying combination of sugars; one that will jack you up like crazy for approximately an hour and then leaveConnienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-73198694137669166242010-06-06T17:32:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:56:47.605-07:00A Tale of Twelve Miles
Mile 1:
Today is beautiful! I'm going to run 12 whole miles! I just drank 2 cups of coffee after abstaining for a really long time; I could probably quiver the whole 12 miles! Should I bring my water bottle with me? Nah, I'll be fine. Coffee's like 90% water anyway, right?
Mile 2:
Nature is super-pretty! I'm so glad that I came out today. I'm going to be totally Connienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-53502887814193413522010-06-04T20:40:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:57:03.116-07:00
Hospital
The First Time
I haven't been to the hospital many times. I think this is predominantly due to the fact that I've been incredibly lucky--combined with the fact that I'm an extreme hypochondriac and I'm terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I have nothing...or that I have hantavirus. I feel like if I go to the hospital with no real problem, they won't take me Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-45641082938709373962010-06-04T14:24:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:57:22.332-07:00
There's Honestly No Title That Can Cover This.
I was thinking of not making this a blog post. I realize that it's potentially too gross or revealing too much of my psyche...which is silly since like one person reads this anyway. So, here goes!
I was sitting at my desk, just finished with reading a paragraph about something boring, like fixture preparation or iris assemblies or world Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-77143024584850983862010-06-04T10:52:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:57:34.572-07:00
Let's Talk it Out
In the past two months I've been forced to do the unthinkable. You're probably thinking that I had to kill a puppy, or move to Iowa. It's even worse.
I've had to have deep and insightful conversations about my feelings. It's enough to make me miss the old days, when everyone just assumed that I didn't have any. This isn't just one excruciating heart-to-heart, either. IConnienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-91156964460792418872009-07-03T09:59:00.000-07:002009-07-03T11:21:26.944-07:00Balls and Pin-headsSometimes, a girl just needs to feel classy. She does her hair nice, sweeps on some extra mascara, and stuffs a spare pair of socks in her purse. That's right, she's going bowling, late-night style. I was that girl the other night.I rolled into the alley late, making an entrance. Once there, I rented my shoes and moseyed on over to lane 4 to meet my group. I was bowling Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-55404965886322808352008-08-09T17:03:00.000-07:002008-08-09T18:17:04.245-07:00WingWomanI'm not good in bars. I'm good at drinking in them, or talking to friends in them. Sometimes I even look cute in them. What I'm not good at is meeting strangers in bars. You know what bars are full of? Drunk people. Drunk people, especially those who aren't *my* drunk people, kind of suck. They're boring, don't enunciate and quite often sweat too much. Drunk men tend to think Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-36960223309569950672007-10-14T13:05:00.000-07:002007-10-14T13:43:56.803-07:00I Don't Want to Hold Your HandI have a long history of being hit on by "Flies." My friend Skippy coined this term in high school, and I've always found it appropriate. Flies are rather like they sound, they usually circle around creepily until they decide it's appropriate to land. Pesky as their namesake, human flies are difficult to get rid of, have bug eyes and have no idea when they aren't Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-24358656124449890792007-07-15T15:40:00.000-07:002007-07-15T15:57:58.192-07:00Come Sail Away With Me This weekend is the first regatta I’ve sailed in months. Sailing is one of those hobbies where I kind of forget about it when it’s not around (in fact, when it’s not around I wonder if I ever really liked it). Then, I get called about a regatta and I agree to go. I’m reminded why I enjoy this sport. Today, I woke up early. This is one of the reasons that sailingConnienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-56312948527491356682007-06-30T04:48:00.000-07:002007-06-30T04:54:27.198-07:00 What's your flavor?I recently got an intern who reports to me. I sign off his time sheets, provide day-to-day instruction and also stand in as a mentor. I’m fairly certain that my new employee is my age. I have no problem with this, as I have work experience that he does not. Plus, I have the huge ego that I received wrapped in my engineering diploma. Engineers are more Connienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-64043177749403776002007-06-28T18:46:00.000-07:002007-06-28T18:57:55.367-07:00Hot Child in the CityThere’s something about a visit from the parents that makes you feel more like a child, but dedicated to becoming a super-adult. When my parents appear in town, it’s after a week of prep-work at my home. I replace the dead plants on my porch. I wash my car. I give my house a super-cleaning and buy vegetables to stock my refrigerator. Usually, I’m forced to drink a lot of beerConnienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-80442735984852609362007-05-22T18:58:00.000-07:002007-05-22T20:28:47.242-07:00Good Old Fashioned Lover BoyI don't know if I'm a product of my generation or of a western upbringing, but chivalry is always slightly surprising to me. This isn't to say I never encountered it growing up. My father is incredibly gentlemanly. Watching he and my mother seemed sort of like watching the older generation do something cute and moderately archaic--like watching your grandparents Connienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-81176883636316308452007-05-21T20:01:00.000-07:002007-05-22T05:36:52.445-07:00Son, be a dentist People will pay you to be inhumane A month ago, I succumbed to pleas from my mother to schedule a dentist appointment. It had been two years since my past one, so I figured I was probably due. The appointment was scheduled in June, which allowed me to almost forget I had it. Last week, I got a call telling me they had a cancellation and I could come in on May 21. This wasConnienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-53558015452319978962007-04-05T22:08:00.000-07:002007-04-05T22:25:35.674-07:00It's Getting Hot in HereYou get a two-fer tonight, as I'll be out of town all weekend, and on a different trip at the beginning of next week. (For those of you in the San Jose/ San Fran area, I'll be in San Ramon on Monday night. I fly in late Mon and out late Tues. I like to pretend that I'm a jetsetter.)I was chatting with a friend tonight and he commented on an erotic image gallery he was Connienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-84141192302965660552007-03-25T15:24:00.000-07:002007-03-25T16:03:58.428-07:00Duck season, Wabbit season!I opened MySpace a while back, and saw this ad in my window. It struck my fancy that there is a "boyfriend season." I imagined getting dressed in hunting gear (For hunting the rascally boyfriend, this likely includes high heels and lots of skin) and setting my sights on someone through my scope (aka beer goggles)."What makes this boyfriend season?" I wondered, aloud.Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-72874881184142232522007-02-24T08:47:00.000-08:002007-02-24T09:49:04.843-08:00Since moving to Jacksonville a year and a half ago, I've been on two whole dates. Once I explain the dates, I think you'll understand why. I've explained before, I think, that I don't like meeting people at bars. The only thing you have in common at that point is that you both like to drink. Plus, I usually go to bars with a group of guys. You don't meet guys if they think you're already Connienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-22813963902293725972007-02-10T20:24:00.000-08:002007-02-12T12:25:28.163-08:00I went to a concert tonight. Most of the groups just made a lot of noise, but the band we were there to see--Jones--was pretty good. The following conversation ensued between myself and the drummer.Drummer - "Yeah, so we were playing a set down in St. Augustine at this religious school, and they wouldn't let us play one of our songs"Me - "Really? What song."Drummer - "Fuck Machine."Me - ::Connienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-74375948440799677452007-02-10T00:23:00.000-08:002007-02-10T00:35:00.769-08:00Never Again.Never again will I step up to protect the honor of an Irish lass. I was out at the beach, with a couple of Irish folks and some friends from around town. We'll call the Irish people "Mary" and "Eric" to protect their identities. Eric disappeared shortly before the clubs closed. Everyone else ended up leaving, except for Mary and a friend of mine. Mary insisted on finding Eric--ifConnienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-12925935982723038282007-01-24T18:40:00.000-08:002007-01-24T18:50:11.307-08:00Hallways confuse me. Now, you're thinking "What's so confusing about walking in a straight line, Connie?" Walking down a hallway alone, I'm totally fine. The problem comes when you throw other people into the mix.My office has several quite long halls. It's kind of awkward walking down a one and seeing someone you know kind-of-well walking the other way towards you. At what point do you waveConnienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-36226011104952526802007-01-14T16:32:00.000-08:002007-01-14T17:15:41.179-08:00A brief discourse on fashion in early 2007. Long-haired MenI was walking down the hall the other day at work. For those of you who know my work situation, it involves a lot of middle aged, married men. So, when I see someone who is potentially within 10 years of me age-wise, I get excited. If they're male, even more so. Anyway, down the hall, just about to turn a corner was a young butt. YesConnienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-1136913126276360782006-01-10T09:10:00.000-08:002006-01-17T21:43:49.436-08:00Yesterday was…interesting. I’ll gloss over the early part of the day, which was irritating, but doesn’t gain much in re-telling. When I leave work (at 7), I head over to Chili’s for dinner with some friends. We eat dinner, and 2 of them have to leave early to pack for trips (Tampa and Key West). So, I’m sitting, sharing a beer (a refill that neither of us want all of) with my other friend, Connienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5111146.post-1126152694432291812005-09-07T21:10:00.000-07:002005-09-07T21:11:34.440-07:00kate: Chris did you bring this rock into the house?chris: no, but I bet you the spiders did. They did it to cause strife between us so that we would fight and let our gard down. Then they could attack but our love is too strong.Katenoreply@blogger.com0