Wrong prediction

Just like recent hurricanes, I will NOT be hitting Tampa as I had otherwise predicted last month. I will be flying in and out of Tennessee for the weekend for my cousin's wedding (instead of making the road trip from Atlanta to Tampa) due a number of unforeseen circumstances.

Sorry if this disappoints anyone. :(

Blood donation(s)

On a whim four months ago, I donated blood. They pricked my finger and checked my iron level. I measured at 12.5 (the bare minimum level necessary). I also hadn't traveled to any foreign countries that they had designated as unsafe in the past 3 years. They deemed me worthy of blood donation.

For the past two months, I have been trying to donate again but my iron levels have only measured 12.2 or 12.3. Not high enough to donate!! So I get rejected and am instructed to eat more vitamins and/or beans. I start to take my multivitamins and still get rejected a week later. Apparently, some people are unable to absorb calcium AND iron if taken at the same time. Ah... the catch. So I start to take iron supplements and still, one week later... rejected. The nurse told me that it could take up to month for the iron to fully absorb in my system. Okay, fine.

So today, with my little bloodmobile appointment in hand, blood donation has not only turned into a good samaritan deed but my life's mission. I go in, tell the nurse my iron level situation before I fill out any paperwork. She has me enter a little room where she pricks my finger. She puts the blood on a slide and the blood is read using a small machine. There is about a minute pause where I am just waiting, waiting, waiting to see if this whole month-iron-absorption thing was legit or if the last nurse just wanted me to feel better about my inadequate and measly iron levels. The machine beeped, indicating that the score is read--- 13.5!!! Holy crap!

Mission accomplished.

Joe and I at Dan's On Broadway surprise party. 

Carpe no diem

When Ingrid Croce offered me a job at her restaurant, I couldn't turn her down. We all know how that ended. I worked for a weekend and quit. Balancing two jobs and school was pushing the envelope for me. A few months later, I was offered a job at A/X. After the Croce's incident, I happily declined knowing that I wouldn't save any money because I would spend it all on my discounted Armani Exchange clothes. Yesterday, I was officially offered job number 3-- ophthalmologist technician. I love that I am getting all of these jobs offers but I find that I am probably the least qualified for this last job position. Restaraunt-- yes, fashion and clothes-- yes, yes, but eye sight? ha ha ha. They must want to blind their patients.

Strange times in San Diego

Today I saw a guy in the check out line buy white bed linens and an orange, lacy pair of women's underwear. Even stranger, he managed to pick up a woman in the same checkout line before his credit card transaction was completed.

concert!

For the past three years, I have been waiting too see Death Cab for Cutie in concert. Last night was the time that I had been waiting for. A radio station out here hosted a 5 band concert for a mere 25 bucks a person. It started with some local band, DCC, Muse, Franz Ferdinand, and the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah's. I bought the ticket just to see DCC but liked the music of Muse and that one song of FF.

DCC was great live-- they were having some bass problems but it was fixed by the 3rd or 4th song. I thought that they did a kick-ass job. Well, except for that one part where the bassist jumped off the drummer's platform and fell on his butt.

I must admit, though-- Muse stole the show. I wasn't expecting such a great performance from them but boy, they sounded better live than they do on their CDs. The lead singer kinda looked like a quirky, black headed version of Clay Aikon (is that how I spell his name?). The guy was pint-sized. FF was ok. Most of their music was much more mellow than I had anticipated. I was ready for a nap by the time they were done with their set... But then the 3Y's came on--my naptime quickly ended. The lead singer was dressed from head to toe in a tight shiny silver shirt/ skirt duo with little red ruffles around her neck and waist.Her feet were adorned with green converse high tops. She didn't sing at all-- she just screamed all of her songs. I would compare her scream to a loud, banchee like scream. It was ear piercing and mind numbingly bad. I really thought that they were just joking around at first but... to my dismay, their "act" was really who they were.

The reason why some things come in pairs

My pregnant friend, Charina-- "Won't it hurt to breastfeed?"

Her husband, Dan, promptly responded-- "That's why you have two of them."

Sheer panic

Have you ever had the feeling that you had to do something but didn't know what it was until it was too late? I had that feeling today. That's right, last month I told someone that I would go in and work for him today and completely FORGOT about it. Luckily, my butt was saved by another waiter. He kicks ass. Seriously.

And, I am glad that I actually did something productive today (I wrote one of my three papers). If I had spent the day watching TV and catnapping, this enormous amount of guilt in the pit of my stomach would probably be an ulcer right now.

Through the Grapevine

When I was at work on Friday, an older lady was telling me about her experiences in Thailand as a young, white female back in the 60's (in case you were wondering, she was traveling around Southeast Asia studying architecture). This one was my favorite story.

One day, she waiting for a friend in a hotel lobby in Southern Thailand. Her friend was running late so this lady decided to take a seat on one of the lobby room couches. Then, out of no where, she felt a hand come from behind her. This hand cupped her right breast. She was very shocked and incredibly mortified. She couldn't believe that someone would disrepect her like that at a very reputable hotel. Immediately, she turned around to scold the accuser when she realized that the "hand" wasn't a hand at all but rather the trunk of a baby elephant. The King's procession was walking by and a little elephant thought that he could be fresh with her.

Smog time in San Diego

After a long two days of running around trying to get Kevin's car to pass the California DMV smog test, I can officially say that I never want to get my car registered in the state of California. It's a big, big, big, big, big pain the arse especially when your car won't pass. In case you're curious, Kevin is handling the smog complication very well. If this had been my car, I would have driven it into a lake.

In and around Florida

Just like recent hurricanes, I, too, will be in and around Florida. My dates of arrival and departure are actually scheduled though. I will be flying the dreaded America West Airlines because it's the cheapest flight I could find online right now (I had a bad incident with them when I went to Las Vegas two years ago). My plan was initially to fly in and out of Tennessee but it appears that I will be making a road trip to Tennessee from Atlanta with my brother and co. for my cousin's wedding (by the way, I can't believe us "kids" are old enough to get married). Then we will be driving back down through Hot-lanta and onward to good ole Tampa Bay. We're going to arrive in Tampa on Monday, October 18. I leave for the west coast again on October 26. That's right kids, I will be there a WHOLE week.

I know I was just home. But I am going home again. See you there :).

New things to do

Maybe it's something in the air or just like-minded people trying to spend their free time productively. Needless to say, I wasn't going to document my brand new hobby (as of Saturday night)--crocheting, until I read Serena's blog about how she's learning how to knit. I am very impressed that she's already knitted a hat for Isaac. I, on the otherhand, haven't so much as even made a coaster.

The best thing since AIM

YAHOO INSTANT MESSENGER!!! Download it. For me. Please. My new screenname is vim792000.

My motivation

My motivation comes from my cartoon mentor, Homer Simpson. He is almost comparable to the Dalai Lama in profound statements. This one is my favorite right now-- "Trying is the first step towards failure."

You simply cannot deny this man's genius.

Practice makes perfect.

Another day at the hair salon... or so I hoped.

My hair color had been fading and the roots had been showing so I thought that today was a good day to have all of that stuff touched up. All is well until the new assistant from Brooklyn took me to the shampoo area to rinse out my hair dye. There's small talk about how he's newly imported from the east coast and how he currently lives in an apartment in downtown San Diego with a friend.

Then, the series of unfortunate events occur. I felt water. No, not the water on my head, but I felt water dribbling down the back of my shirt. Immediately after, I heard a loud splash. The water basin had clogged up due to an overlooked piece of cotton that the assistant hadn't removed from my scalp before shampooing. I franticly stood up because I was so startled and realize that water and remnants of hair dye were now dribbling down my entire back side.

The assistant, being new on the job, became overly apologetic and began to dry off the floor first. I, on the otherhand, was dripping wet and a little confused with I should do next. Run to the bathroom and ruin the salon with my hair dye dripping everywhere? Or, just stand very still and hope that someone would hand me a towel?

By this point, practically everybody at the salon rushed over to help me and the assistant when it dawned on me-- I realized that the white tank top that I had worn was now ruined because of the hair dye. But I thought, hey--no harm, no foul. I didn't really care that the hair dye had ruined my clothes or that my undergarments were soaking wet. I just felt bad for the new assistant's psyche.

After the floor was mopped and my clothes were put in the dryer (don't worry, I was wearing a robe), the assistant (still shell-shocked) proceeded with my shampoo session. He had already conditioned my hair when he muttered, "Oh, I don't think that I shampooed your hair yet." So he had to backstep to shampoo first, and then condition-- that's right, Haircare 101.

To top it all off, the entire time the assistant never got the water pressure quite right. The pressure was so strong that I kept wiping off the little splashes of water hitting my face and my eyes. I didn't have the heart to say anything to him because he was already so frazzled and fidgety from the the flood that had caused prophets like Noah to build an arc.

What matters to me is that he gave it his all and tried his best (and trust me, he was trying). In time little assistant, you will be the best shampooer ever.

Survival of the fittest

For those of you who know me very well, you know that I can get easily freaked out and very jumpy, especially when I am completely engrossed in a project. If I am working on something and you come into the room, I will scream-- not because you invaded my privacy but because I thought that you were going to kill me. It's survival mode... Darwinism at it's best.

A day of golfing gone horribly wrong

Joe, Florence, and I have been trying to improve our golf skills by practicing at the driving range every week. At first, I was doing really well. I could actually hit the balls and they would fly straight-- be it, not very far, but straight. The more and more I go, the worse and worse I get. The stupid little golf balls now fly through the air at a very sharp angle, likely to hit anyone or anything that comes across it's path. It's unpredictable... in a predictable kind of way.

Today, for example, Joe and I went to a new driving range north of where we live for a change in atmosphere. Each person's personal space on the range was divided with waist-high green metal waffle dividers. Directly behind us was the parking lot. I bet you can see where this is going. The first few balls I hit were decent. The more I hit, however, the more the balls kept hitting the metal waffle dividers and ricocheting into the green. Luckily (?) I wasn't hitting them hard enough to do any damage. I did have images in my head of me actually nailing a ball into the dividers where it would bounce off and hit me in the face (maybe that's why I wasn't hitting them that hard, it was all subconscious). Anyways, maybe about 15 minutes into my game, I hit a ball so hard (and at such a sharp angle), it hit the metal divider, bounced across the driving range fence into the parking lot where it hit... (brace yourself) a pretty black, expensive Lexus. No damage was done (it hit the wheel) but I decided that I shouldn't push my luck anymore. See, my golfing was unpredictable in a predictable kind of way. It was only a matter of time before something serious happened.

An investment for the future

I never used facial cleansers or moisturizers. I never washed my face before bedtime or even splashed it with water to make it sure it was hydrated. My thought was always-- hey, if it ain't broke (read: no pimples/acne), don't fix it. But man, times are changing. Because of my part-time job as a server, my hands are always getting dirty from handling plates and glasses. And, because I have short hair, my hands are always touching my face to push back the hair that is always falling into my eyes. So *poof*, I have pimples.

Today I decided to invest in skin care products. The only problem is, in order for my skin to get better, it has to get worse. That's right. For a few weeks, I have to tough it out with SUPER RED, SHINY pimples (even bigger than the ones that I have right now!) growing in every which crevice of my face while my skin goes through a "detox" phase. I am no longer Vim. For the next few weeks, you can call me pizza face.

Eek! Hurricane!

Don't fret. My family is safe. They were evacuated from their house yesterday but were able to return home this afternoon. Silly east coast meteorologists never seem to get weather forecasts right.

To toast or not to toast?

Back in the day when I had a full-time job in DC, I used to attend monthly meetings called, "Toastmasters." For those of you unfamiliar, it's simply a club where people come together and improve their public speaking skills by practicing in front of one another. Your prepared or impromptu speech had to be a certain length of time with as little mistakes as possible-- there was always a "grammarian" to count every single grammatical mistake and filler word. After a year of attending these meetings, you would think that I would be flawless in public speaking. Wrong.

This morning I was forced to leave a message on an elementary school's answering machine. My message went something along the lines of this-- "Ummmmmmmm. My name is Vim and I am a student uhh working towards my teaching credential. Uh. I need to sit in on two classes for uhh an assignment and uhhhh, I was wondering if I could uhhh schedule a time so I could come in. Uhh. Thanks."

With every "um" and "uh", the little grammarian that has been embedded in my head as a result of Toastmasters laughs and adds another tally on his imaginary chalk board. It taunts me and makes me even more nervous to speak in front of people. Did Toastmasters help me become aware of all of my flaws in public speaking or did it just make me more paranoid?