Hooray!!!

My Kylee is home! It's always better when we are together - for me anyways. She had an awesome time in PEI though - you'll have to read her blog, which I'm sure she'll update soon, to hear all about it.

And we even went to the Jazz festival again tonight. Sigh. I love Saskatoon in the summer.

Hooray!

hygeine trip

Work has been painfully slow since February. But at the beginning of June things started picking up again. I've been busy with a couple air quality assessments and a mould assessment. I haven't yet decided if I'm glad that it's gotten busier. Anyway, when I perform a mould assessment, I wear laytex gloves instead of touching the mould. But sometimes it tears and even if it doesn't, I get that horrid powder all over me. So the first thing I like to do when I finish an assessment is wash my hands. For the latest assessment, I was in a really little town about 4 hours away from where I live and surveyed a commercial building. It was pretty clean, and they took fairly good care of it. A little seepage problem resulting in some very minor mould growth - something that could happen to anyone no matter how hygenic they are. That is why I was surprised when I went to wash my hands, upon the completion of my work, that there was no soap in the building. I checked every bathroom. Nothing. Not even dish soap at the kitchen sink. So I drove down the street to the gas station. No soap there either. I'm not sure whether it was just a coincidence or whether that is a very unhygenic town. Good thing for wet wipes.

My roomie is in Prince Edward Island, hopefully having the time of her life. But she comes home today!!!! Hooray! And my other roomie, my sister, just found out that she got into the college of education. Much rejoicing around the house. And I get to go camping this weekend. For the first time in 3 years. So happy. And I go to the oral surgeon again today for hopefully the last time ever. I no longer look like Martin Short. And it's a sunny day. And the Saskatchewan Jazz festival is in full form. Life is looking up.

mean people suck

I was right. They did give me a new prescription. But I was wrong in thinking that was all they'd give me. About the time the nurse started sharpening the scapel I realised the oral surgeon was gonna cut me open again. It was horrible. This time I was awake and it hurt lots. Granted, I am very wimpy about my mouth. But I still say it hurt lots. And he was mean. He practically gripped the needle in a fist and started stabbing at my left cheek. Then, without freezing the right side, he started wrenching on my gums. After that he returned to my left side where he violently messed about in there. It was very unpleasant and I've been quite whiny about it.

I will spare you the details but apparently there was some kind of blood clot that caused an infection. Nasty stuff. Mean horrible nasty violent surgeon guy. The worst part is that I have an entire week to contemplate going back for him to remove the "packing" that he put in this time. I don't even want to know what that is. Yuck.

And now I look like a chipmunk again. Except this time I'm a lobsided one because only my left side is swollen. Complain, complain. Whine, whine. Complain, whine.

Oh well, at least it wasn't dry sockets. I've heard those are especially unpleasant.

i'm not taking any more narcotics though

Harumphf. I am going back to the oral surgeon today. The swelling from getting my wisdom teeth out went down. Then it went back up again. I figure this is a bad sign. Especially since I just finished taking all my antibiotics the day before yesterday. I anticipate I'll be getting a renewal on that prescription. Stupid infection. I want to kick it in the throat. Except that would be like kicking myself in the throat - which, while painful, would actually be really impressive.

Yes I know it is boring to read about my wisdom teeth. That's all I got though. Except I will say that every single time I have gone to write "wisdom" teeth, I have written "wisdome" teeth. It's like I went all Canterbury-ish or something.

first list of goals

Steps to becoming a future tennis star:

get tennis coach - check
immediately start working really hard at lessons - check
develop kick-butt backhand - in progress
get cute white tennis skirt uniform thing - needs attention
buy tennis racket - needs attention
acquire tennis ball for practice - check

I'm sure more things will get added to this list as I go. This was just to start me off. Haven't I made fantastic progress for having just started playing tennis yesterday? Yes, I'm sure it is only a matter of a few short months until I'm chillin' with Andre Agassi and other tennis pros. My coach is indeed a lot older and he kind of looks like a light haired Tom Sellack. Plus he has a really strong accent. I thought about telling him how it was his lucky day and soon he would be almost as famous as me, simply for being my coach. But I don't want him to give me any special treatment so I didn't say anything. His name is Lubush and he's already yelled at me a whole bunch of times. It's just like in the movies! Apparently I am not an instant prodigy - but that's okay. I'm sure the prodigy-ness will kick in soon. And I don't mind a few months of hard work. My coach seemed really impressed with my progress by the end of the hour. Even though he wouldn't let me hit the ball any more because I kept putting it in the next court and the old rich people playing there were getting kind of upset. "Jeest touch ze ball - do not heet eet" he kept saying. (Note - he doesn't have a French accent, I don't actually know what kind of accent it is, but that is the only one I can sort of write out. Meh, close enough.)

There are two other people in my class. Ian and Kerie. They are both males in their late 30's and they play pretty good. I think, for the first little while until I get really good, they will be good to practice with.

I also already bled. That's a sure sign of being a hardcore athlete. To bleed during your sport and not complain about it. For some reason my mouth started bleeding again - I figured a stitch must have come out from my wisdom tooth surgery. Anyway, I didn't know what to do. Can one spit on a tennis course? Even if that is proper edicate, I hate spitting. I think it's gross. So I swallowed it instead in my attempt to be hardcore. Now I know what it must be like to be a boxer. I bet they bleed a lot in their mouths and have to swallow it.

So anyway - top priorities before my next lesson are to acquire a racket and to keep working on my backhand (which is coming along very nicely now that I've stopped trying to hit the ball and only "touch eet").

future tennis prodigy

I am taking tennis lessons! First one is tonight. I just know I am going to love it and find it was a waste I wasn't playing all these years.

What with other people at work taking all the holiday time I wanted this summer (no camps - sigh), getting my wisdom teeth out and using it an excuse to sulk and have a pity party for an entire week, stupid boys (ok, maybe not stupid, just boys in general even), and the extensive lack of motivation for anything besides eating and watching Battlestar Galactica or Monarch of the Glen with Ky, I figured I better do something quick or I was gonna have a crappy summer. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and do something I have always wanted to do. I phoned around and found a place where I can take a few group lessons for not too much money. If I decide that I like it, I might even sign up for the slightly price-ier private lessons. Sounds like the instructor is older. But he has an accent. So this could be an enjoyable summer endevour. I shall keep you posted.

Actual call to 911

Dispatcher: "911."
Caller: "Help! Help! Send the police! I been shot."
Dispatcher: "You said you've been shot?"
Caller: "I been shot!"
Dispatcher: "How many times were you shot?"
Caller: "This is the first time."

Yes, I am that retarded

I have to tell you a story* about a girl** who got caught up in drugs.

They gave me 3 different prescriptions between the antibiotics and the painkillers after the teeth surgery was finished this weekend. I hate taking pills and happened to mention this fact to the doctor dude cuting up my mouth so he gave me all liquid prescriptions. Mistake number 1.

The one narcotic prescription had a dosage of approximately 3ml. It was the both the best for the pain and the best in taste, but after taking it I was not supposed to drive due to potential dizziness. I found 3ml did the job more than well enough - and it would even leave me a bit nauseous as previously mentioned. So yes, 3ml was plenty good enough even though I was technically allowed to take a little*** more if I wanted.

Of the other 2 prescriptions, I was to take 10ml.

On the fateful day (yesterday) I decided to venture back to work which involved driving. Therefore, throughout the day I took a couple 10ml servings of the antibiotic and the non-narcotic anti-inflammatory prescriptions. But when I returned home for the evening, I happily filled up the little dosage-administering-thingy and took some or the good pain stuff. I hardly even thought about it. I was just so glad to be able to collapse onto my new couch and relax for the evening. Mistake number 2.

Lesson learned - always pay attention when taking narcotics. After about 15 minutes I turned to my lovely roomate Ky and giggling said, "I think I overdosed on my medication." As more and more feeling left my body I remembered that I actually filled up the dosage-administering-thingy to the top instead of stopping at 3ml. I TOOK 3 TIMES THE NORMAL DOSAGE! At first I wasn't too concerned about it - in fact I wasn't too concerned about anything. And I felt really funny, but really good. Then I recollected how nauseous a small amount of this stuff could make me feel and how a lot of this stuff might be even worse. I decided to be responsible and phone the pharmacy. They basically said that the effect of an overdose could be that my breathing reflex would stop - so as long as I didn't stop breathing, I'd be fine. No duh. Thanks pharmacy people. I really didn't figure that I'd taken enough to actually really harm myself, but just to be on the safe side I gave Ky a quick verbal lesson in artifical respiration. Then I let myself relax for the rest of the wonderful hour until the nausea hit. Then I whined and complained and alternated between laying on the couch, the floor of the living room and the floor of the bathroom. T'was a fun night. And my favourite Ky was the best pal ever and watched six hours of Monarch of the Glen with me until the effects had worn off and I was ready for bed.

So that's my story friends. And it behooves me to repeat a little diddy I remember from my childhood.

"Don't you put it in your mouth" (echo)
"Don't you stuff it in your face" (echo)
"Though it might look good to eat" (echo)
"And it might look good to taste" (echo)

"You could get sick"
"Real sick"
"Real sick, real quick"
"Real ick"

Laters.


*Story based on true events.
**All names and identities have remained the same to expose the stupidity of the girl involved.
***As in an extra half mil or so.

I hear the snickering

First day back at work. They are all laughing at my face.

I think I am too vain for this to be bothering me this much.

Pure fat cheeks

Have you ever seen the movie Pure Luck? There is a scene in it where Martin Short gets stung by a bee and looks similar to the above picture.

Anyhoo. This, friends, is how my face looks. It is very embarassing to look like a male actor in make-up and a fat suit. Especially an actor you don't even like (with the exception of his work in Father of the Bride. I love him as Franck).

But look like him I do. Sigh.

Remember, this is from a girl who usually won't even take a regular strength Tylenol unless it's absolutely necessary.

So this narcotic that the doctor prescribed is awesome. Yes, it makes me a bit nauceous (still don't know how to spell that word correctly) but it also makes my teeth stop hurting and it makes me dizzy. Which I have to admit, is kind of fun. Like being on an amusement park ride all the time.

I know there is a guy out in blog land who is starting up this big pirate adventure thing. I wonder if he needs a ship's doctor. Now that I have all this extensive experience with narcotics, maybe I could apply for the position. Hmmm.

Oh, and you guys would laugh your head off if you could see me. My cheeks are about 40 times their normal size.

Okay, wave of nausea - time to go back to the couch.

Wisdomless

Well, I have four less teeth. And I look a bit like a chipmunk. The "surgery" to remove my widsom teeth was apparently successful. Besdies feeling continually nautious from the painkillers, it hasn't been too bad. Although it did take almost a full 24 hours for the bleeding to stop. Queen of West Procrastination gave me a tip to use tea bags instead of gauze - which was awesome. I liked it because the guaze made my throat so dry but the tea bags didn't make me constantly thirsty. The best part by far was the laughing gas at the very start. After about 20 full breaths of the stuff I started to feel really relaxed. Then a couple moments of paranoa came and I wanted to start crying. Then all of the sudden I really wanted to thank the two nurses who were in the room for spending their Saturday taking my teeth out. In fact, I wanted to give them both a hug and tell them how much it meant to me. Then, thankfully, whatever she put in the IV knocked me out and I don't remember anything until towards the end of the surgery. I actually became concious while the surgeon was finishing up and I could hear his final instructions and I think he was probably doing the stiches or something.

So anyway, it's time for some more painkiller which means I'm gonna be nauceous in about a half hour. And a little loopy.

How do you spell nautious/nauceous/naucous?

to weed or not to weed

Just as an aside, do you ever feel really stupid and embarrassed. Like if you could take back something (or a whole bunch of things) you said or did and instead be ultra smooth, polished and classy instead of fumbling and ridiculous you maybe would?

Anyway, to the post.

To begin, I hate gardening. To be more precise, I hate bugs and other crawly things. And gardening = bugs.

So, my new place has a yard. And that yard is made up of two parts. A garden with some flowers and a lawn of weeds. No, not a lawn of grass, weeds. Think about a nice warm summer day and getting the urge to lie on a verdant bed of sweet smelling, soft grass. Instead, your option is a prickly field of dandelions and thistle. But the war has begun and I shall continue to wage it as best I can. Last night I went and filled a up a jerrycan for the first time in my life and brought it back to my house to get my new old lawnmower set to go. I mowed the weeds and the wee bit of grass in between them. Then I started pulling the big patches out with my weed/hoe/thingy. Disgusting find number 1 - two cockroaches doing it under a mushroom. Blech. There was no way I was touching them so I went to find aid in removing the two lovebirds from my property. They must have already found something a little more private by the time I was back because I couldn't find them. That means more baby cockroaches later. It is almost enough to make me sell my house and move into a condo immediately.

I finished weeding that area (careful to move aside all foilage to check what might be under it before pulling) and then moved to the garden. Some of those dandelions were 3 feet high! I think I may have accidentally pulled out a bunch of real flowers that weren't weeds. Oops. Anyways, I have a ridiculously irrational fear of spiders. I saw at least 6 different species in that garden. I was honestly scared to be in there the whole time. Yes, I know I have a problem. I will not deny that feeling terrified that while walking in my garden a creature 1/100,000th of my weight might get me is a little ridiculous. I can't help it. The terror is real.

By this time the sun was starting to go down. I'd seen too many bugs and mosquitoes and too much copulation to really feel like doing more gardening so I grabbed my bottle of weed spray (this was the part I'd been looking forward to) and used the whole thing on my lawn. I also kept hoping/wondering whether or not weed killer might possibly kill cockroaches and spiders too. Sadly, I doubt it. I seem to remember talking about how pesticides work in my plant science class. It might give them cancer, but it wouldn't immediately kill them.

So here's to hoping that the first battle in my war on weeds has made some headway. According to the bottle of Killex, I'll be able to let you know in 3-4 days.

Ha! I just scored a meeting with a HUGE potential client.

Oh bother

Do you sometimes wonder what the point of something was?

Relay for Life

Last night I did the Relay for Life with some friends. It was a pretty fun event I must admit. Basically, your team has to have someone on the track at all times either running or walking (and in our case often dancing). But now I am tired and feel kind of crappy, which to be honest I anticipated. But I'm having trouble sleeping because at my new house, my bedroom is on the east side of the house and it is so much lighter than my old room. I will have to get used to it - I've been waking up pretty early the last few mornings.

Things at the relay that made my night:

A little boy doing The Worm

A really big girl with awesome rhythm rocking out to the Macarena immediately after members on my team started complaining "Who requested this?" with disdain. I figured that girl did. I dont' know why but it makes me happy when overweight people are fantastic dancers.

The team of guys that inevidably came dressed as women and subsequently kept feeling their fake chests all night were actually really kind and thoughtful on several occasions.

At the end of the night the song Cadilac Ranch came on and three of us went to line dance and this boy saw us and came racing over as fast as he could with a thrilled look on his face and danced with us. Sadly, there were only 4 of us enjoying the song.

The porta-potty decorated by the team called "Helen's Hooters". They were a team of 40 something woman all wearing bras on the outside of their shirts that they decorated with glitter, ribbons, etc. The sponsored a port-potty and it had possibly the best ambience of any porta-potty I've ever been in.

Glow sticks.

When my friends requested a song for me. They wouldn't tell me what it was but when it came on I had been sleeping (it is very helpful being a nighttime narcaleptic at events such as these - naps are fairly easy to take) and I immediately woke up, knew Ky had requested it for me, and started dancing.

And finally, I got to be a Total Girl and hold up one of the numbers in how much was raised.

So anyway, I might try to sleep some more but it was a good time.