Geti Your Yeti A Neti Pot

After suffering countless days with the streptocockovirus and demolishing the better part of a box of Kleenex, I lamented to the right person. My friend suggested something that I heard as a "nutty pot" by U-station tubes being swelled with mucus but was actually a "neti pot" once googled and in my possession.

Well, this thing looks like a genie's lantern and comes with salt packets to be dissolved in luke-warm water and then poured into the superior nostril of one's tilted head. The solution drains out the inferior nostril. Once empty you blow your nose, fill up the pot again and repeat by tilting the head the other way.

This is an instance in which you try to drown yourself standing up in your bathroom. If you think to yourself "I am one Gucci dress shy of stealing Mr. Pitt from Angie," well, then get yourself this apparatus and knock yourself down a few notches. You basically are electing to have snot cascade from the most prominent mucus-membrane of your body. It's not logical. It could be the moment you've been dreading...you know taking yourself to almost the near end of existence for wellness.

But it opens the third eye. As luck would have it! And my third eye has been kind of itchy lately.

And now I see. But more importantly, I breathe. And they are not mutually exclusive. You must breathe to be able to see and what good is breathing if your can't see properly. Metaphorically, that be.

I'd recommend it. Highly. I'm stellar now and plan to be this way for awhile. Unless my sister has me killed to collect my life insurance, I'm not surrendering to the streptocock. Ever!

Did I mention my sister is my beneficiary? And she knows thugs. I'm just saying. Keep that bee in your bonnet. Keep me in your prayers.

I've willed my neti-pot to my friend Kellen. He'd never kill me even though he's already threatened to.

God Bless! God Blesses the Yeti Neti's!

The Perfect

Dog would use the toilet and have opposable thumbs and could understand how to work keys and locks

Friend could read your mind and not go fourteen rounds with you about "what should we do."

Job would include naps, free fresh brewed iced tea, and Cheez-Itz. And no one manages anyone.

Snack is Cheez Itz.

Religion would involve naps and have service at the mall (or outside April-September).

Chair already exists...a recliner. LOVE THEM!

Baseball player died a couple years ago...he was Kirby Puckett.

Rapper is alive and well iand from St. Louis. Nelly is my dawg.

Pair of socks never have to be pulled up.

Underwear never get wedged. No matter how large your tush is.

Date, well, this is how that would go:

Sam: I really like this place.

Date: I chose it because the decor is green. Green represents life, renewel, and also, decadence.

Sam: hehehehehhehehehe

Date: Would you mind if I ordered for the both of us?

Sam: Sure.

Date (to waiter): We'll have the Cheez-Itz crusted walleye on a bed of fresh Cheez-Itz with a side of Cheez-Itz infused roasted winter vegetables. And can we start with some Cheddar-Jack Cheez-Itz and lemon-pepper tuna and the tossed spring greens with parmesan-crusted Cheez-Itz croutons with a cheddar vinaigrette. Did you want to maybe put in an order for the Cheez-Itz danish with an Easy Cheese Cheez-Itz glaze for dessert?

Sam: I am no longer wearing any clothes.

Date: You're so funny. Tell me about your mother crushing your hand with a car door when you were in kindergarten again. That was hilarious.

Sam: Where are those Cheez-Itz you were babbling about earlier?

Date: Did you know that people are like cups of coffee?

Sam: No two are alike?

Date: I was thinking more like; fair trade or mass-produced by gold-toothed monks in Zihuatanejo. Sugar, no sugar, half-n-halfed, or neat. They are energy contained in something tangible. It just blows me away.

Sam: Cheez-Itz?

Date: Do you want to rent "Coming to America" on the way home? We could get a couple boxes of ice-cream sandwiches and just laugh our asses off...

On an unrelated note...The Perfect after dinner drink is the B&B. Delicioso!

Pizz-Oetry

Compliments of MS Outlook:

Hi!



Is anyone interested in ordering lunch today for the meeting? We obviously don't have to all order from the same place - but I thought I'd check to see if everyone might want to look at ordering from one or two places so we might have a chance of the food getting there at the start of the meeting. :)

Yes!!!!!! Somewhere not too expensive?

Let me know where you decide, I may or may not order something.

Yes please!

Let me know what you are thinking

Personally, I was thinking Potbelly's because they have a pretty wide selection of things (sandwiches, salads, etc.) so I thought maybe it would have something for everyone. But, honestly I am open to anything. I don't want to make the decision on this - that's why I asked the question! :)

Potbelly is fine with me, but I don't care where we get food, I just want some. Thanks :)

I'm not ordering anything, I brought my lunch today so no vote from me. Thanks!

I think the vote is in for Potbelly's. If you want to order please get your order in to me as soon as possible.



Thanks.



Thanks:?

Potbelly? Fine! Thanks :/




Also, I am finding it super hard to communicate via email "conversations." No one understands me the first time and so I usually just copy and paste my original message into my response to their response and then get half the answer I was looking for. And then I give up, do a half-assed job and continue infosnarking.

Today, at work, I took a good look at my office (cube in corner that is three-times as big as everyone else's space and off-set from the rest of the "team by about 5 feet) from all angles and determined that with strategery and silence I could nap under my desk. So I detached my hood from my coat and used it as a pillow and my coat as a blanket (it is ankle length) and laid down for my second 15 of the day. To get up I tossed a paperclip on the floor and crawled out from under the desk as if I was "finger vaccuuming*" my floor. It was as close to bliss as one can get at the job I work.

*Finger vaccuuming...this is what they do at ghetto Catholic schools instead of employing an even half-assed custodian. Everyone is beholden to pick up 10-15 pieces of paper/sand/dirt/fuzz from the floor. We also had to sort recycling bins, bang erasers, and correct simple assignments.

This week has been fun. I spent Tuesday with my friend Lee, while his husband entertained Floridians elsewhere, at the Midtown Global market. We had Greek food, Vietnamese, sushi, and tamales. And then we drove around and looked at foreclosures that they are thinking of buying. I had girl's night last night with my chicas and pounded the world's greatest bleu-cheese stuffed olive dirty martini. I've purchased some cute duds from JCrew. I've seen 12 episodes of Scrubs. Love it! It's been terribly cold, but fun nonetheless.

I do not find it noble

It is quite counterproductive to do any do-gooding on a day that is somewhere near -10 below. People, and by that I mean your average ordinary do-good loving Samantha, will find your efforts efforts done by a lunatic.

Today as I was driving home and having a one-on-one with God (I do that when I drive) I came across this bridge peopled by people with posters and picket signs reading "Stop the War" and "No More War" and "Let the War be Done" and "Let's Battle No More" etc. They aren't that creative. And it is like negative 20. No motorists are honking like the poster "Honk For The War to Be Over" told them to. And I have a feeling that not everybody driving was on the PRO-WAR movement. They were thinking, like me, that these protesters are fucking crazy fucktards.

No one will jump on your bandwagon not matter how noble the cause if you are doing something twenty times more stupid, like picketing in temps that are 40 sub-zero.

I can just see it now:

Protest Organizer (to crowd): It's chillier than a grave-diggers ass out there. Let's get our signs and TO THE BRIDGE! No monuments, buildings or forests to tame the diligent wind. Just us and our cause of war cessation.

Crowd: FUCK Yeah!


And that is the devil at work my friends. I mean, do not get me wrong, I hate the war. But I don't vote because it doesn't matter what I'm doing some Tuesday in November (it's a thing I have about standing in lines, I am very convinced God doesn't want that for me). I digress, I do not like the war. But I despise stupidity more. And while I think this war is semi-moral in theory, war in general is not, but more so protesting in a tundra is even more completely fucked up.

It was a sad protest. Now, I have a headache and I only get about two of those a year so we all know that I've had a bad day.

In the name of chivalry...

...I got called a "big fat bitch."

I am not used to minor gestures of gentlemenness. I think it was from one year and a couple of months in Chicago and getting door after door slammed in my fricking face (except Kelly and my bff, of course), but it was also from much earlier.

Really, I haven't had too many doors held open for me or guys being anything but weird to me. For Valentines one year I got a pack of smokes along with chocolate, another year I got some wigged out cd that I immediately threw away, and another year I spent V-day with some fucked up mobster and his uncles doing peels in a parking lot. He worked two hours a day Monday-Thursday.

So today when I was waiting patiently for a guy to enter a parking lot as it was his right of way and he didn't budge for what felt like twenty years and I mouthed "Move it you sack-sucking corn-fed beast," to him it was like any one of my dealings with the male species. Except this motherfucker called me on it.

"I was being a gentleman," he said when I got out of my car. Then turned around and said, "You don't have to be a big fat bitch about it." And he probably added this because I was pouring Fritos into my mouth straight from the bag (which had been in my car for about a week so he could've added "nasty" onto there and it would've been all the more fitting.)

I am going to go do the elliptical now.

Abbreviated Names

Basically, I think the only abbreviatable names is Wm. Or, in long hand, William.

I was thinking of abbreviating my name to Smha. But it looks a little to much like how one would abbreviate Smithsonian.

Plus, Wm has time on its side. People are used to it meaning William.
I'd have to train people for centuries to start the Smha (or maybe Stha) revolution. And I DO NOT HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME.

My time is limited. I was at the doctor the other day for a routine check-up and she (my nurse mid-wife of awesomeness) asked me, "Any new men in your life?" To which I answered, "No. I am working on myself. But I have made a pact with God. I told God to get my soulmate ready for me and I will get myself ready for him. And I trust God. He will not let me down if I keep my promise."

And she said, "I think you should get married before you turn 30. You are so pretty. That won't last long. Just marry anyone." And she kept rambling along those lines, like it doesn't matter who, just anyone will do and do not trust God because he'd want me for the religious life. So I have about 11 months and 18 days to forge a union to make my nurse midwife happy.

I told her that I already plan on having a home birth because nothing sounds more ridulous than me having children, but than me having a child at my place of residence. And she said she'll be there. So I've got that squared away.

And then she introduced me to the new doctor at the practice who was quite cute. He looked like AC Slater in a lab coat but a tad taller.

On a more unrelated note, I have resumed, part-time, my earlier profession of therapeutic massage. I did 9 sessions this weekend and I am super tired. So I am not sharing very interesting stuff. And for that I am sorry. But one lady did not have a vastus lateralis on her right leg and it felt wicked cool. Imagine missing an entire major muscle.

I am Orientated

Actually, I am Sami.

I spent the better part of this week watching corporate videos, taking multiple choice tests, selecting health insurance deductibles, choosing a beneficiary in the case of my untimely death (my sister and then Chicago Portfolio School), and drinking vodka. At work.

Here is the greatest part of what I learned this week; Hepatitis B can exist out of the body on a hard surface for 5-7 days and studies have shown that while once over half the American adult population read at a sixth grade level now around 60% read at a fifth grade reading level. And I apologize, I do not know at what level in which I write but my typos certainly can only be a hindrance. And by that I mean a hurdle of sorts in the understanding of my message's actual meaning.

I will now write in a way that only fifth graders would understand.

Well, at the place where I go to earn money to pay my bills, they made me learn about the things I will be doing and the place I will be doing it at. They did this by printing out instructions on many pieces of paper and having a lady with a very strong Minnesotan way of talking read the words on the pieces of paper to me. On day three of this boring process I came to work with a water bottle containing Peach VitaminWater and Raspberry Absolute Vodka. I felt like I was in tenth grade once again. When the lady read the part about communicating with your coworkers I was interested in joining the lecture.

She read to us that the best way to make sure your coworkers understand what you are saying is to say it as if they were a fifth grader. And this means you must do the same when you write electronic messages. She said that this is because most people do not read better than most fifth graders. Reading ability is very bad in America. In fact, the creators of the manual ensured that we would understand it because they wrote the job manual at a fifth grade "read-ability" level.

I raised my hand and asked, "So how am I supposed to take the fact that you are reading this manual to me?"

"It is policy that I read it to you. So that I can explain it to you," she replied.

"Do you normally hire people you have to explain a document to that has been written so that a fifth grader would understand it?" I asked.

And she smiled and said, "Yes."

And then about two hours later I learned that Hepatitis B and other potentially dangerous pathogens can exist for about a week outside of the body. So wash your hands.

We were observed by various men and women in ironed garments throughout the three days. On the third day we were made to watch a video for the third time about courtesy. It was comical. The first time.

By the third time I was pretending to laugh and enjoy the video so poorly that one of my new coworkers turned to me and told me to "cut it out."

I responded to him, "Well, give me a scissors then."

He rolled his eyes. "How do you expect me to cut something if I do not have scissors?" I asked. "I'm in fifth grade," I reminded him. Then he laughed.

A man in room observing us through our orientation put his right index finger to his mouth and said "shhhhhhhh."

Don't ever forget to call in sick on your orientation days. This is the only way to ensure to them that you are a smart and competent person.