Say Yes To Poisoned Apples

A side note that was omitted from my last post is that I have been on/off very sick and okay for the last two weeks. Today I finally sucked it up and went to the doctor for antibiotics, but I got the one doc at the health center who thinks I'm an insane hypochondriac. I got the meds but she always makes me feel like I'm lying to her. As soon as I start talking to her I start to think I just imagined two weeks of fevers and coughing, or that I didn't REALLY bash my nose last weekend. I don't know how she does this but I'd like to learn.

So anyway, sick. And because I've had a fever there's a severe limit to what I can do, so I've mostly been doing only things I can do while laying down. That includes TV, video games, and the Internet. The weird thing is that these are the only three things I usually do with my time, only normally I do them sitting upright instead of curled up on my bed frowning and squinting because my eyes are all fever sore. But to my great amusement there have been multi-hour marathons of one of my favorite shows recently: Say Yes to the Dress.

If you've never seen it, the premise is simple. It follows the sales people in a high end NYC bridal salon as they attempt to pick the right wedding dress for each client. That's it. Every episode they'll show three to five brides picking out dresses with friends/family gushing over how beautiful they look. Nothing interesting really happens, and there are not real plots. And it is probably the best show on TV right now.

My medical anth prof loves this show. He justifies it like he does all other weird hobbies of his: "It's very anthropological." While he may be stretching a bit in this case, he is right about one thing; it's really interesting to see how different families treat this process. Each one tends to be different, with some doting on their little princesses and some tearing apart every dress like it's directly responsible for the Holocaust. The best part is that all the dresses look the freaking same. Never have I seen so many wildly polarized emotions over a series of almost identical objects. I saw one woman show her sister what I swear was the same damn strapless a-line lace dress over and over for twenty minutes and the sister's range of reactions could have won her an Oscar if this had actually been a movie about the Holocaust and/or high school sports.

So for a week now I've been sitting here coughing and sniffling watching people cry tears of joy/horror at a bunch of nearly identical strapless white gowns. It's amazing. I can't stop watching because I can't figure out what's really going on. What is it about the dress they pick, the one that makes them cry in the store and say "This is the dress!" between sobs, that makes it ANY different from the others? I feel like Jane Goodall trying to decipher gorilla behavior. Though occasionally there's a bride who's like me and doesn't really get the whole dress shopping *thing* and the sales people are always so puzzled and frustrated by them, which is extra funny somehow.

I've heard the word "princess" so many times in the last week, though, that the word has lost all meaning. I'm so tired of hearing it, in fact, that I now have a very specific plan in case I ever do get engaged. I'm going to go to Kleinfelds and tell the sales lady I don't want to look like a princess, I want to look like the evil queen. The reason is because the evil queen actually looks like an adult, for one. Something about grown women excitedly yelling "I look like a princess!" just sounds weird to me, it's like saying "I look like a child! My ideals have not changed since I was four!" Come on, ladies, let's upgrade from Exiled Teenager to Woman Who Runs The God Damn Kingdom. On top of that she's beautiful, too, in a way that lets you wear red lipstick instead of boring nudes. And I'm pretty sure Snow White's skin was supposed to be paler than those dresses anyway, which I guarantee would make her look like a pasty naked mermaid in that generic white strapless number. But if they ask me why I'm going to tell them "Because fuck Snow White, that's why."


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Bronchiodilator and the Sea

There is a beach here you may have heard of called Sandys. It's notorious for having massive waves and extremely dangerous currents, so apparently it seemed like the best way to kick off spring break to two of my anth friends. We went and, under the assurances of my strong-swimming friend, I agreed to go out into deep water.

I knew this would only be a bad idea of I ran out of breath by over exerting myself in the water; I'm a good swimmer and there were plenty of body boarders and surfers out that could help someone in case of rip. I used all my fancy asthma meds before I left for the beach and tied down the sides of my suit before getting in the water. With waves like this you go in with your suit too tight and come out with it loose- I've learned this one the hard way. Tie your suit down well.

Anyway, so we go out. And out. And soon the body boarders are starring at us as we swim past them, wondering what the hell we're doing all the way out there. I'm fine until we've been out for about forty minutes, and then I start to have to breathe a little harder. No biggie, I think. I'll go in now before I really need to, just to be safe.

Lesson I have learned: once I have any trouble breathing, it is already too late.

Going back in is the hardest part. I felt fine, though I was progressively struggling for breath, and was keeping on top of the waves. Then I got to the shore break and, unlucky for me, a series of extra tall waves came up on me. The water was now too shallow to ride them so I had to duck under, but at this point I was panting and the deep breath necessary to go under wasn't good enough. I surfaced hastily and got pushed under again. And again. I started to wonder what would happen if I passed out- would anyone notice? I managed to look over the water long enough to see a few fat tourists starring at me from the beach, not understanding what they were seeing. I started to feel foggy and wondered if anyone would be able to help. Then I felt my feet hit the bottom and I pushed up with everything I had, comic staggering out of the water as fast as I could. I only made it to the edge of the water before I dropped down in the sand, panting, covered in the wet sand from the shore break, hair in a giant matt all over my head. I caught my breath and sheepishly trekked down the beach to my towel, thoroughly embarrassed.

A few minutes later, my first friend came staggering toasted the towels, still dripping, covered in sand, and panting. "Did you see me almost die?" I asked. "Did you see ME almost die??" She replied.

A few minutes after that my other friend, covered in sand, still dripping, came running over, panting. "Did you see me almost die??" She asked. We traded stories and I mentioned how the first two of us has slowly dragged ourselves down the beach, embarrassed. My third friend shook her head. "As soon as I could put my feet down I just ran the hell out of there and didn't stop till I got here. It prolly looked like the ocean just vomited me up."

I think they were not as serious as I was about the true impending nature of my demise by drowning, but I didn't really want to emphasize how much I suck so I downplayed it significantly. I did learn several things, though, among them being the fact that I do not want to be the only idiot in the world to die of asthma duress brought on by overly ambitious outdoor sports. The other lesson is that holy shit drowning might be the worst way to die ever.

I told them how I wondered if anyone would notice I'd passed out and she laughed. "I just thought, 'well, this is it. I had a good run.'"

Nine More Weeks of Winter

In nine weeks I will graduate and I will NEVER HAVE TO DO THIS SHIT EVER AGAIN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE* and I cannot even tell you how excited I am. I was really excited about working full time because I've always preferred working all day to being in school all day but now I really don't want to do anything. I want to have some time off to do NOTHING for a while because I am burned the hell out. But I don't get to do that at all, actually, and odds are I'll end up with a job that doesn't have vacation time. So there's that.

Also, I think you can very easily absorb my feelings about everything by reading Pictures for Sad Children from the beginning. You don't have to read all of it to understand, but the first 100 or so comics pretty much sum me up right now. I used to think A Softer World was the saddest thing I'd ever read but Pictures for Sad Children definitely takes that cake. Stay in school, children, what else are you going to do?

In other news, I am seriously beginning to think Hawaiian tsunamis are fake bullshit things made up by Menehune Water Co to make people buy their entire stock all at once. How else could a wave slap the shit out of every island between Malaysia and California and nothing happens here? Fucking magic, that's how. That or this whole state is its own goddam Truman Show and they use tsunamis and weird racism to keep us from enjoying the island too much.


*Unless I go to grad school, and if I ever need to go to grad school I might as well just go up on a mountain and die because I can't imagine wasting any more of my precious finite life on this crap.

I Want This Day To Last Forever

Over the last four days I have:

-Applied for graduation
-Been approved for graduation in absentia
-Bought my cap & gown
-Registered for commencement
-Applied for a field school in Costa Rica
-Given a presentation on the early 90's cholera epidemic in Venezuela
-Written a paper
-Aced a Japanese test

Today I got accepted to the field school. Then I got a call from HR at a company I had applied to a month ago. They'd filled the position already but said they would keep my resume on file, which I normally assume is bull but here they were calling me said they needed someone and I seemed right. Unfortunately they needed someone full time NOW and I can't do that plus be in school and working at my internship, so I had to decline. But they did say they would keep my stuff on file for another six months. Uh, wow?

The icing on this day is that when I got home I got a call from work telling me not to come in because my boss was out sick.



God I love everything about this week so far. Let's see how long it can keep up this way, shall we? I have a paper due tonight, then midterms tomorrow and on Friday. I am optimistic.