emergency room fun

so last weekend, i noticed this odd mushy lump along my left clavicle. it ran from about the end of my shoulder up to my neck. at first i was like, meh.. but then it seemed to get a bit bigger and it feels weird. it doesn't hurt, it just feels... full. and odd.

soo beings that i don't have insurance [thanks to all factors that make obtaining insurance a royal, expensive pain in the tookis,] i decided to go to the ER tonight and fill out the lovely "i'm poor, but you have to treat me anyway" papers.

An exam, two chest x-rays and three vials of blood work later, they still don't know what's wrong with me.

first, they thought it was mass, problem, tumor or some sort of lymphoma in my chest draining -- thank Keebler elves the chest x-rays were clean. blood work all came back normal, too.

the doctor's response -- "you've really got me scratching my head."

awesome.

so, i just took my bra off in front of the x-ray tech, got asked time and time again if i was sure i wasn't pregnant, if i was sure i didn't smoke.. you have a medical degree(s), i'm probably going to pay out the ass, and you still don't know what's wrong with me?

all the while i wait, watching a 13 inch t.v. with no remote. this little hospital stay is going to cost at least a grand, and i don't have a remote to this itsy-bitsy t.v.?

rad.

diagnosis? they sent me home with a sheet of paper that read: "edema, swollen ankle/leg," with "ankle/leg" crossed off, and "clavicle" written in. they didn't have a care sheet for my problem, so i guess they made their own.

way to use that degree.

i'm not asking you to cure cancer here, but come on.

so tell me, how exactly does one elevate their clavicle? it's already above my heart. perhaps i should try putting it up on a pillow like the informative care sheet says. did this swelling really come from standing for too long? the ice for 20 minutes every two hours sounds do-able. i haven't quite figured out how to elevate it while i sleep, though.

maybe i should call dr. smarty-pants and see if he knows.

Lauren Conrad can bite me.

Gazillions of young adults across the nation have fallen in love with reality shows like "Laguna Beach" and "The Hills."

The shows are supposed to show your average person what it's like to live in the hills of California; to live the rich, popular life of Lauren Conrad, a student at fashion design school, or Audrina Patridge, an associate of Epic Records.

But in reality, the last thing girls from a small or run-of-the-mill town, albeit not-as-wealthy-as-Orange-County, need is to see some skinny girl with a real Chanel purse, strutting around with an amazing job wearing something from her own clothing line. This is just setting our youth up to fail, yet again. Not to mention the fact that it appears as though these girls stumbled into their professions -- no real work has been seen. I'm not saying that none of them have actual jobs in which they work for a living, but the amount of money they make for being on the show completely surpasses the minimum wage paycheck they get. Sorry, Lauren, but it's the truth.

Don't get me wrong, though, "The Hills" is one of my favorite TV shows. The show time is written weekly in my planner, and my friends know not to phone me between 9 and 9:30 on Monday nights. And I would LOVE to go to clubs and hang out with these girls.

I am able to readily accept that in my lifetime, I will never live in a house as nice as Lauren, Lo and Audrina do in their early 20's. Despite my efforts, or the lack thereof, I will never have my own clothing line, and nor will I ever be lucky enough to work for Epic Records. (Sidenote: she got the job by "going to shows since she was 15," as she said in a recent episode. Honey, I've been going to shows since I was 15, too, and you don't see me working at Epic, do you?) I will never go to parties in Malibu, and I'll never go to Cabo for the weekend.

And about the whole Heidi and Spencer "Speidi" thing: Spencer is mild in comparison to some of the guys my friends and I have dated. You think he's rude, and anti-Heidi's family? You should meet the kid I dated my junior year of high school. Think he's controlling? Meet the guy I was engaged to. Think he acts like a child? You haven't see anything. Heidi's stupidity? I know a number of people who make her look like Albert Einstein.

The difference between Heidi and I in bad relationships, I guess, would be that I woke up and smelled the coffee. The relationships I've been drug and slammed through wouldn't necessarily be TV worthy because I learned my lessons and got out of them instead of letting some misogynistic control freak with pubic hair on his face break up relationships between my family and I. If I was dating a guy that spoke to my brother in the same respect that Spencer spoke to Heidi's sister, he'd be buried in the back yard of our split-level home, not sitting "in his office" on his plump expensive couch in a condo that's rent costs more than all of the homes on my street combined.

I think the saddest thing about this TV show is the acclaimed success of the individuals it portrays.

Lauren's MySpace page clearly states that if you leave her a comment she'll be sure to read it, although her schedule is so tight she won't have the time to personally comment back. Are you serious? Lauren, if it weren't for the people interested in you enough to comment on your page, you wouldn't be as busy as you claim to be. Way to shit on the little people who got you where you are. Those commenters are the viewers who watch your show religiously, week after week; who got your ratings high enough to continue the nonsense that is your show, who gave you the outlet to express yourself through a clothing line, and you have the audacity to say that you won't comment back because you're simply "too busy?" Bite me.

If you want real entertainment, and not a bunch of prissy girls sleeping around with eachother's ex's and driving BMWs their parents bought them, you should watch a day in the life of yours truly. I'd be happy to let video cameras follow me around and document me in my not-so-rich-and-famous lifestyle.

Real entertainment is not watching girls sitting around a table drinking cosmos in the most happening club in L.A. -- entertainment is watching me try to cook lemon bars with a mixing bowl that's shedding red plastic from being microwaved.

It's nothing new to watch a bunch of anorexic skanks with nose and boob jobs go shopping at the most expensive boutique in California, but it would be entertaining to watch me spend a half an hour cutting coupons to buy generic bread at the Rock Island Country Market and fight my way through the express-line full of idiots who clearly have more than 20 items in their carts.

Entertainment is NOT Audrina's Justin Bobby dilemma while in Cabo. Entertainment is my younger brother's friend pissing on and in a Hollywood Video drop-box after his ex, who worked there, threatened to call the police.

Entertainment is heading to a bowling alley for midnight-bowling on a Saturday night along with a high school homecoming crowd, and fighting the ladies behind the counter to get a "21 and over" band to get a lousy three dollar and fifty-cent drink after having tackled ten twelve year-olds just to get size 5 1/2 bowling shoes.

Entertainment is the anticipation of whether or not my car will start as I leave Blockbuster after having rented a B movie for $2.99.

Instead of watching a bunch of rich 20-somethings who have never actually worked a day in their lives get wasted at some club that has a waiting list to get into, bring your cameras into some of the hole-in-the-wall bars I've been to, where you have to hold onto your purse for dear life, and pray that the stall door doesn't fall from it's hinges while you pathetically hover over the cigarette-burned toilet seat. Now that would be something worth watching, er, Tivo-ing.

Once again, Lauren, I'm not saying that you don't try hard in life, because I'm sure that you do. All I'm saying is that your documented lifestyle is no better or more entertaining than mine, or anyone else's, for that matter. I applaud the fact that you have refrained from spending any of your "hard-earned" dollars on plastic surgery as some of your show-mates have. Oh, and if I can ever afford to drive to the nearest Nordstrom, (probably a good three hours away), I will be sure to check out your clothing line... although I probably wouldn't be able to afford the shopping bag that said clothes would be placed in.

I'm not cut out to be a gamer

My brother plays video games, my boyfriend plays video games, and pretty much everyone else around me plays video games of some sort. Regardless of the console, be it XBOX 360, PS2, PS3, Nintendo DS, or a Computer, to name a few, it seems I can't go a day without hearing about a game, or some sort of game lingo.

Even on a recent trip to the mall with a couple of girlfriends, I got to hear the low-down on one of characters from "Final Fantasy" after we walked past a stack of shirts that were screen-printed with the character. Seriously? I'm oogling the new Batman tees, and I have to listen to the two of them go on and on about which of these characters are "the most hardcore" or the most "bad ass." It's all Greek to me.

Growing up, my younger brother and I owned a number of gaming consoles, dating back to the original Atari. I used to be half-way decent at slaying ghosts in "Super Mario," and I could kick some butt at "Mortal Kombat." "Crash Bandicoot" was a challenge, and I remember staying up all night on various occasions trying to beat the game. (My brother and I actually did. The first and only game that I've actually beat.) American McGee's "Alice" also proved to have just the right amount of challenge paired with the right amount of ease. Now THAT was a fun PC game.

There was also "Sonic" that I wasn't half-bad at, and I've played Zelda a time or two. But just when I thought I was beginning to master this whole video game thing, we reached the dawn of a new era: 3D technology.

My mind simply does not work like this. I can't remember where I'm going, where I've been; I get all turned around, and working the camera angles on a 360 is a nightmare for me. I'm a sheer and utter embarrassment at Grand Theft Auto 4, I'm a screen-peeker at Halo, (the only time I've ever been remotely successful, I've cheated), and forgive me for not absolutely loving Call of Duty. I'd shoot myself with a shotgun in that game if I could. (And, let's be honest, if I could figure out how to work the gun. Or even find one, for that matter).

I have sat through many a game trailer, read a number of reviews, and watched the hilarious flash videos of some British guy critiquing games, and yet, I don't have a prayer when it comes for playing them myself. I had a tiny bit of hope when the Guitar Heroes came out, only to find that I could only play them if they stayed on "Easy," and I have to focus as though I was performing brain surgery.

After hanging out at a friend's house, and seeing the happiness in the eyes of a four-year-old with a DS in his hands, I decided that maybe this is a counsel I oughta give a try. (After all, if a four year old could figure it out and have fun, I might have a chance in Hell.) So, with college graduation money in-hand, I marched into Best Buy, determined to walk out of that place a "gamer," of some sort. I promptly drove to Blockbuster, where you now can rent DS games, because there is really no point in buying a game I'm probably not going to be able to figure out. I'd rather rent it for five bucks and find that out rather than buy it for 30.

I started off with the Sims. Turns out, I don't want to create my own world. I loathe planting flowers, and I highly dislike following directions from a pixelated character. Especially when she is the mayor. That got returned right after I realized that "Rock Starr," the person who must have rented the game before me, got extremely further than me in the game having played it for half as long.

Next, I tried my hand at the new Super Mario Brothers. Now, this is my turf, and the odds are finally fair. I slid through Worlds one through three with ease. Somehow, I skipped World Four, and am now playing World Five, but I'm not going to complain. I'm far more successful kicking Koopa ass than I have been at any other game.

Though, at the end of the day, I am still unable to call myself a "true gamer," (or any type of gamer, for that matter), I deserve a name more hardcore than "Princess Peach" for my effort. Though "Boo" may be against Mario, I think I'll call myself "Boo, Beyotch" from now on. Though it's not "gamer," it'll do for now.

As for the New Super Mario Brothers game, bring it on, Bowser.

. ex's and oh-no's .

I was sitting at my desk today and I began thinking of the age-old wish that when you break-up with someone, they should be sent to another planet. A number of songs have been written about the anxiety of crossing paths, premonitions, hauntings, you name it --. But I have yet to hear a song about break-ups between two friends.

In some ways, platonic relationships can be more intricately woven than romantic relationships, and therefore, a planet designated for ex-friends is completely in order.

Actually, a planet should be set aside for the disposal of ex-lovers... and a galaxy set aside for ex-friends.

Why? Because sometimes, ex-friends can be overly-crappy, and not just your average jerk. Sometimes, ex-friends feel the need to get buddied up with your ex-romantic partners. Now, there is not only the combined ammo against you, there is the combined threat of rumors and revenge, as if it's not enough for these things to take place with only one brain behind the operations.

Even if they are not going behind your back and continuing to stab, stab, stab, or rub salt in the torn-open wound, perhaps they were trying to use you. Yes, use you. And once they've got what they wanted from you, maybe they'll drop you. Regardless of the road they have chosen, it's your turn to pick a road as well.

Perhaps we should start creating legal contracts with people prior to befriending them. This document could be a simpler version of a pre-nup to ensure the speedy and safe return of your belongings, money, or what have you. In this day and age, you can't trust anyone, and nor should you feel like you have to. I think that these little contracts could end up saving us some time and avoiding confusion if and when everything goes to Hell in a handbasket. If people do it when they enter presumably life-long unions, why shouldn't they be around when entering presumably life-long friendships?

Anyway, when it comes down to it -- people can be just plain crappy. We need to either come up with something to protect ourselves with in the beginning, or devise a plan to deal with the end.

. a rose by any other name .

A rose by any other name actually doesn't smell as sweet.

A rose by any other name smells like poo. Care to know why? If you don't call it a "rose", you are calling it by a name that not everyone has assigned to the object that we refer to as a rose. If you call it something else, it does not mean the same thing. This, therefore, is the introduction to my arguments.

Laura. is my name. pronounced Lar-Ah.

I recognize that the majority of people with "my name," and similar spelling pronounce their name as Lor-Ah. Yes, "Lor" is the only nickname that I have (that I like, anyway..I've been called worse in my day, believe it or not). I would just like to phonetically break it down for you.

Laura in my context is pronounced Lar-Ah. Do you say RestOrant? No. And I would hope not. You say RestAURant. Alright. Now take the same AUR sound you used in Restaurant, and apply it to my name. What do you get? LAR-AH.

Yes, the majority of the time I introduce myself as "Lor-Ah". Not because it is correct, but because it is much easier. However, when I am at work, and I give someone my name to, let's say, take a message, and I clearly and articulately say LAR-AH, why then do people repeat my name back to me as LOR-AH as if they did not hear me just say my name? If someone said "my name is Justin," would you repeat back "alright, Joostin?" No. If someone said "my name is Beth," would you say "alright, Booth?" No. You wouldn't. You want to know why? Because your ears hear sounds, which relays those sounds to your brain, which registers those sounds, which sends messages to your vocal cords, which allows you to repeat back the sounds that you heard.

Interesting concept, I know, and a bit hard to wrap your pretty little head around.

So, again, Yes, I do introduce myself as Lor-Ah. Is that my name? No. If you've been calling me Lor-Ah for days, weeks, months, years, do I expect you to change that? NO. But for all you new people who HEAR me say my name correctly, pronounce it correctly. Or I'll mispronouce yours in an obvious matter. It's really not that hard, and I apologize if it is. I know it's a tough concept, but c'mon, give it a try.

Hell, even try it with every day words. Take the word "word" for instance. Why don't we just start saying "ward" instead? And then look with stern faces when people don't understand what you are saying. OR, why don't you just try listening? Take a second out of your busy life, and LISTEN.

You get the point, I think I'm done here.