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Totally Undignified

So, I found the downside to writing papers by speaking.

Hiccups.

photo courtesy of Amatoris

Oddly enough, that's always the first thing people liken my eyes to...

I don't understand Mondays

it has been a weird day.

Last week, I was talking to Sarah about how mundane a story I have for my injury. People see my brace, which is silver, steel reinforced, and bad ass. Then I tell them what's wrong, and lets face it-- talking about damaged carpal tendons and injured ulnar nerves also sounds pretty bad ass. Then, they ask what I did to cause this, and I say... typing?

Talk about a letdown.

So Sarah comes up with the bright idea that every time someone asks I should look them in the eyes and say "too much masturbation."

It has been a weird day.

I woke up early this morning so I could go in to class and take a quiz. I have to say, it's a little unnerving to have the professor pretending not to listen as you pretend not to notice that she's in the room as you are dictating your quiz to your computer. I was practically whispering into my headset, so my accuracy was for crap, but I didn't care. When the rest of the class came in to take the quiz, I just corrected all the mistakes with my left hand.

After class, I was walking out of the café with Sarah, and decided to express my worry that my left hand was about to go the way of my right. I turned to her and asked "what am I going to do if my left hand dies?"

"Stop masturbating," she says. I glibly reply, "Nah, I'll just get someone else to do it for me."

Cue my old chemistry professor coming around the corner with a look of O.O on his face.

It has been a weird day.

why I wish work were over.

It is a gorgeous day outside. It is also warm, and I would love to go outside and play, but unfortunately I'm stuck in this cumbersome security uniform. Also, if I were to do anything fun people would stare at me weird. Call it the Curse of the Belt or something equally interesting.

I also have had nothing to do since noon. My incompetent boss left me with more than half of the unlocks, which is great because I only have one hand. Despite this I've been done for almost 4 hours now. I don't really like sitting around and doing nothing. When on the clock, anyway. From what I hear, that's when most people like to do it, but it always makes me feel kind of guilty and lazy. (Thus ends another installment of why Wren doesn't make sense.).

Oh well. In another hour I'll be done and I'll be able to go flop on the lawn with no sense of guilt, which is good because I think it's high time that my freckles made their reappearance. Note to self: teach voice program to understand the word freakle.

Well, that was easy.

Peenrita

Plan B

Well, today has been productive. I called AAA, only to find out that battery trucks in Tacoma don't work on weekends. Of course, I was silly and forgot that it is absolutely impossible for cars in Tacoma to run out of power on Friday and Saturday. So now I get to call and go through all of that again on Monday. Most excellent!

But, I was able to get something productive done today. Daryl and I had an attack of clean and ended up cleaning the entire downstairs. When I dusted the TV screen, he look me in shock and shrieked "ew"! Apparently he doesn't like dust either, which is surprising, since he uses the TV more than any of us, and has been staring through that coating of film for weeks...

We also got all our posters hung up again today, in preparation for Heroes. as usual they have all started falling off the walls, and we have been too busy with labs and papers and dying to keep putting them back up. But, now that 30 people are going to invade our living room every Monday for the rest of our semester, we kind of feel obligated to not make them sit in the pig sty. Go figure.

And finally, I conned Fam and Unc into buying me a voice recognition program. In fact, that is what I am using to write this post right now. I feel bad for Sarah, who is sitting to my left playing World of Warcraft, because she can never tell if I'm talking to her not, and shall never have to read my blog again. (At least that's what she just told me.). Then again hearing and in bits and pieces over the course of my writing probably doesn't make it flow as well as it would if she were reading it when it was done. Maybe I should just start writing when she's in class...

Apparently this is the same software that Maddo's dad uses. It's called Dragon NaturallySpeaking 9, and he says when he is teaching it to recognize his voice that he is "training the dragon". I really like that phrase, and so have decided to adopt it for my own use.

So, now have two different ways to blog. I don't quite yet know which one I like better, and so I'll probably end up using both until my hand heals. The good news is Fam has decided me to send her insurance cards, so hopefully on Monday or Tuesday I'll finally have a way to go to the doctors I need to see.

In the mean time, margaritas!

I can't audioblog this one.

Dear family:

Die in a fire. I can't start physical therapy for my tendons OR get the test I need to determine the extent of the damage to my nerves until you send me my fucking insurance cards. This would not be a problem if you had just fucking SENT THEM TO ME IN NOVEMBER LIKE I ASKED YOU, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS SONS OF BITCHES.

The longer I wait, the worse my hand gets. You are ruining my chances at ever being healthy and normal simply by being lazy.

Also, fuck you for making me get sent to collections over the blood test bill. Another doctor will likely do the same because you can't put two fucking pieces of plastic in an evelople.

Unc: why the fuck do you have a secretary?

Fam: what exactly is it that you DO? Really?

WHY CAN NEITHER OF YOU BOTHER TO CARE?

In which Wren discusses chocolate ice cream, margaritas, and Comic House

With a cameo of the roomie!

In which Wren discusses CSOC majors, and imitates Manstork imitating her

If you're confused about who "Manstork" is, do a Ctrl+F in the Security archive for Manstork and "Partnerman." He goes by both depending upon how I currently feel about his existence.

In which Wren reveals her secret conversion to Wicca.

I am sorry about the background noise in this one-- there's also a skip, but you're not missing any words. Is just the way the file saved.

In which Wren has an epiphany and decides to tell the world.

If I were a car, they would have canned my model years ago.

Back from the doctor. I apparently have a dire combination of both ulnar tunnel and tendonitis. Yeah, you read that right. I have both a nerve and a tendon problem. This means that I am going back into physical therapy. (Though I suppose I should be happy it's not for knee problems this time around...) It also means I cannot write or type unless I absolutely -have- to until further notice. So, don't expect any blog posts.

But that's not all. As soon as they heard I was on Tegretol, they decided I should see a neurologist, too, in case this was a neural issue and not really an arm problem at all.

So there you go. I am either a broken excuse for a human being or a total headcase.

._.

One last thing. I think it was lack of sleep that caused me to liken the pain in my arm to "having nails hammered into it by a bunch of Romans."

Luckily, no one got it.

Perfect.

There will be no blog posts until further notice. I have injured the tendons of my right hand, and typing feels like burning.

No, I did not hit/slap/punch/murder anyone or anything. In fact, I have no idea WHAT I did.

Days like this fill me with a hatred of life.

*SQUEE*

Tonight we got a call letting us know there was a lost puppy in the Arboretum. So I head over with a lead to collect him.

Did you know silver rottweilers existed? Neither did I. But they are ADORABLE. This little guy was really well-trained. We took him back to the office, let him settle in, and gave him a bed made of lost-and-found clothes while Dispatcher went to work putting out ads.

So puppy passes out behind the counter where no one can see him, farting contentedly in his sleep. A girl comes in to report her car stolen, and is clearly trying hard not to cry. She's on the phone with her parents, waiting for the police, and giving us her info, all the while clearly stressed out. She gets off the phone, there's a pause, and I have an epiphany.

"I don't know if it would help, but there is a lost puppy back here that would probably love for you to pet him."

She was a lot calmer and more relaxed by the time the police arrived. Clearly, puppies fix everything.

Ever wonder why you're really in lab?

I know I sure do. (Yes, this is for the science magazine.)

I am at a loss.

I have no idea what to do. My iDog refuses to be happy. If I pet its head, it whines, if I scratch its nose, it whines, if I play it music, it pretends it's happy, and then whines the minute I ask what its personality is. If I take the batteries out, he whines, too.

So I get online and look up the manual. The troubleshooting section contains one item: "What to do if your iDog freezes up." It tells me to press the reset button. I figure hey, he's stuck in one mood, lemme try that. So I press the reset button.

And he whines at me.

Apparently there is no reset button for insanity.

Dear Campus Community:

I apologize that most of you are now aware I was having printer issues, but can you blame me for screaming? It should not take fifteen minutes to convince a $100 printer to spit out ten pages of notes for an exam I have tonight.

*clicks print*
Printer: I am out of paper!
Me: NO YOU ARE NOT!
*clicks ok*
Printer: Look at all this paper I am feeding through my body! Whee!
Me: WHY IS THERE NO TEXT?!
Printer: Your document has finished printing!
Me: *twitch*
*clicks print*
Printer: I am out of paper! =D
Me: D'AH!
Squirrel in tree outside: *FLEE*
Printer: >>
*Five pages print*
Printer: Your document has finished printing! ^.^
Me: I WILL THROW YOU OUT AFTER THAT SQUIRREL.
Printer: . . .
Me: . . .
Printer: . . .I AM OUT OF PAPER BITCH.
Me: *froth*
Roommate: ...I think the squirrel just committed suicide.
Printer: =D

My printer is the electronic equivalent of a passive-aggressive, retarded puppy, and for that I truly am sorry.

Much love,
The angry girl who now has no voice

I have never stopped relating to Faye.

Here's a good example of why.

1 AM

Me: "I'm going to wake up early and study my ass off."
Sarah: "Yeah..."
Me: "You know, I wish that really worked."
Sarah: "What, getting up?"
Me: "No, studying my ass off."
Sarah: "...BLOG THAT."

Awww.

S.T. Strange went outside today, and was more interested with burrowing in my hair than anything walking or driving by. Which means a lot, since a couple across the street were staring raptly, trying to figure out what was on my shoulder. A fratboy also drove by, whistled, catcalled...and cheered when I flipped him off. -.-

But the rat was cute.




And, of course, the excursion ended with him attempting to crawl into my shirt.






And, yes, that is a new hair color.

Q: Why have you not been updating?

A: Carpal tunnel. >.<