I feel as though I should share

Summer in a Blahnik Box

2005-08-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

I wish I could just take a tiny piece of this summer and store it away in a shoebox or somewhere else equally safe (you know I consider shoes to be an art form, and even their boxes are sanctuaries). All in all, I can honestly say that it has been the best summer of my most recent past. It even beats living in a college town with no college students and sleeping at work to utilize the free A/C. I know, I know...hard to believe I ever did that!

Here's where we play "choose your own adventure." Fill in the end of the following paragraph with the option you pick to gain insight into my summer soul. I am sure the sensations you'll be left with will take you on a journey all your own.

As Laura closed her journal for one last time, she sank into her 800 count sheets settled in for the long, cold winter. Just as her eyelids began to droop, the reality finally hit her: summer was over. Her life may as well be over, too. She thought, how will I live without the salt-sea breezes and the B-grade action movies? How can I give up a wardrobe of baby-tees and flip-flops? What will I talk about if I can't dissect the hundreds of unions that happen during prime wedding season? I mean, I just love summer because I find myself ________ __________:

a. Filling my heart with love. Summer is the best season to feel my insides rise and fall at exactly the same time and my eardrums ring just from hearing that one person's voice. When my new boyfriend, Gavin, saw me dancing to his music, he realized that his muse had finally arrived on his "Chariot."

b. Filling my stomach. Nothing says indigestion like a hot summer holiday, a beautiful lakehouse, and amazing food. It is hard to feel guilty for eating so much on Independence Day when I am left with soup and Smart Start at home...

c. Losing my brain cells. If professional drinking was an Olympic sport, it would undoubtedly be in the summer games. I have yet to find a taste so fulfilling as an ice-cold beer at a red-hot bar after a long-hard day of tanning.

d. Watching my MTV. Summer television programming is dismal at best, but MTV always manages to come up with some gems. The favorites of this month are "Laguna Beach" (how did I ever live through winter without updates from these teeny-boppers?) and "My Super Sweet 16." I am addicted to both, mostly because it reminds me of the days when I had a $450,000 birthday party and crashed my Range Rover in the high school parking lot.

e. Bronzing my skin. Sun-kissed skin is way in, no matter what Vogue might tell us. Nothing quite beats the baby-white spots in between your toes contrasted with the golden brown hue on the top of your feet. It is so addicting that Mary Ella's plan seemed grand when she suggested laying out at 7:36 PM last Tuesday night.

f. Enhancing my wardrobe. Shopping is much more enjoyable when you don't have to wrestle with wool coats, UGG boots and soggy socks. Just check out my credit card statements if you disagree.

g. Re-meeting my bestie. Since my undergraduate degree is in astrophysics, I can safely say that the pheromones released during the warm summer months allow us to open up and let someone new in. I found that to be the case with my best friend, Carrie Bradshaw. We had a few rough months when HBO was trying to separate us, but ever since she sent me Season 6 on DVD, we have been talking everyday. It is amazing to know that there is someone out there who knows the deepest part of my soul and can overlook the deepest debts of my checking account.

That, my friends, is the end of our summer adventure. I hope you have enjoyed the ride as much as I have. I have gathered all of these memories (no thanks to option "c" on the list) and will forge bravely into fall with these moments as my armor. If you are not satisfied with the previous options, I challenge you to write your own adventure that will toot the horn on your 10-speed.

Climb a Ladder

2005-08-08T00:26:00.000-05:00

Are you lost or incomplete?
Do you feel like you're a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?
Tell me how do you feel?
Well I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak
And they're talking it to me.

So you take a picture of something you see
In the future where will I be?
You can climb a ladder up to the sun
or write a song nobody has sung, or do
something that's never been done

-Coldplay, "Talk"
------------------
I had a realization today. For the last 5 years, I may have been talking in a language I don't speak. I may be living a life that is so completely foreign to me that it almost feels real. I feel like, for me, education might just be like the wool socks you wear in the snow - the ones that stretch to fit your feet but then suffocate your skin as soon as they get wet and dry again.

Teaching is my profession and it has stretched to fit my needs for a long while. Even with the security and lifestyle it provides me, its contents itch and irritate my soul. The truth is, I don't get choked up over children or plaster hugs and kisses all over their squishy faces (and not just because that would be child molestation...but because none of that comes naturally to me). Instead, I cry over words - my heart races when I read a well crafted phrase. I feed off of the feelings and emotions those words convey and I find inspiration in the idea that there is always a human being behind each thought. I marvel over works of genius like "Finding Neverland" or a David Sedaris essay. The way in which these writers manipulate and celebrate language truly makes me want to be a better person. A more daring person. A person who can withstand the weather and come out in the same shape as before the storm.

I think that, over the course of a lifetime, we all have a moment when we realize that the ladder we have been climbing is in fact the wrong ladder and we have to develop an escape route. My moment of clarity has been evolving effortlessly, and while I always imagined a brave fireman helping me down the rails, I feel like this is going to be one of those things I have to do on my own. But here's my thought: when do we stop saying "what if" and start saying "so now what?"

My "so now what" moment came tonight. After a rather casual but potentially life changing conversation with my sister, I googled creative writing graduate programs around the country. I jumped in. 6 hours and several sheets of notes later, I had requested information from 10 universities.

I cried - I actually cried - when I read the information on NYU's website. That feeling of inspiration has been gone from my soul for so long I forgot what it feels like. And now I sit here, physically exhausted but emotionally reeling over the possibilities. Maybe this is a futile effort. Maybe it's not all that I think it could be. But maybe I'm about to find my missing piece...

Maybe I'm about to come alive.

Skak!!

2005-08-07T11:43:00.000-05:00

I've had a lot of time over the last 2 weeks to do nothing but think about things...I have come to the conclusion that I should never be given time off because my brain goes into over drive and eventually freaks out. Here's what I have been up to. Perhaps it will give you insight into my current brain function:

1. The people who live above me got married this weekend and I am 99% positive they had their wedding reception in their living room. Which, in general, would be a cute idea...you know, a "home wedding..." but not when your apartment is the size of the ladies room at Nordstrom. My main evidence for this "reception" was the fact that they had a GIANT polish flag hanging on their door (as a marker of sorts) and about 30 quasi-dressed up people on their porch drinking Skol Vodka tonics (I could smell the singly-distilled liquor from my patio).

2. I am obsessed with Netflix. It is the best invention in movie-watching since the VHS and I have a HUGE crush on it. I have even gotten my mailing routine down to an art form - I know exactly which mailbox to drop my movies in so as to receive new ones within 2 days.

3. On Friday night, I had every intention of eating dinner but instead passed out at about 8:14 and didn't wake up until 10 the next morning. I am officially an old maid. I am looking into buying a cat, but then I will have to kill myself.

4. The smoke detector in my apartment started beeping again. I about DIED when I heard the small "chirping" sound coming from it every 11 seconds. But, alas, the same obstacles presented themselves as last time...my ceilings are too high and my manicure is too nice to deal with the industrial plastic battery cover. So I have decided to move out. Mary Ella reminded me that every time something goes wrong with something I am supposed to love I just get rid of it. Example: I sold my last car because the tail lights burned out.

5. I spent a week in the northwoods of Wisconsin with my "family" and my small intestine still hasn't forgiven me. I ate more meat that week than I have eaten in the last 4 months. I am not kidding. We had some sort of meat for dinner every single night. I clearly didn't touch it pre-cooked state, but I am proud to say that I never once asked for mine to go back on the grill to get more cooked. I think I am beginning to grow up!

6. In a sort of related story, my friend Cat has e. coli. I about vomited when I heard the news. I believe that it validates my viewpoints about raw/undercooked meat. It is the devil.

7. I read the 6th Harry Potter book and have never cried so hard over a book. Seriously. It was the saddest thing I have ever read. I wanna go find J.K. Rowling and kick her ass so that she will make my friend Harry's life a little better for the last book.

8. I named my car Otto. When I told my activist friends Miles and Max that my reasoning was because a BOY car will keep me safer than a GIRL car, they were shocked and appalled. I just wanted to look at them and say, "I'M THE GIRL...NOT YOU TWO SOCIAL ELITISTS!!! If I wanna be a meek little girl then I will be..." But really, I love them both and just laughed at the situation...I might be a little pathetic, but they might be a little hypersensitive of my appreciation for some good old fashioned male domination.

9. I am thinking of quitting my job to become a writer. But that would mean I would have to stop buying Kate Spade and drinking expensive martinis. Perhaps I will just keep working and confine my writing to my blog. What a happy existence that would be...

10. The next time I go to a martini bar I am going to ask for my signature drink (vodka martini with 3 olives) but instead of Kettle One vodka (my fave) I am going to switch it up and ask for Gordon's. Then I will cheers with whomever I am with, saying, "here's to a rough ride going down and an even rougher ride coming back up!" Classy, I know.

Great Expectations

2005-07-18T09:32:00.000-05:00

By nightfall, my dear friends John and Jennifer will have a new lifestyle that I cannot really comprehend. No...they aren't getting married today (it is a Monday, after all). They are having a baby - a MUCH more shocking and life changing event, if you ask me. They have known that July 18th would be the birthday of their first child for weeks. And while it seems like everyone is scheduling the date of their children's births, I am still in awe of this eventuality. The fact that J & J will wake up, grab a glass of juice and the Tempo section of the Trib, and then go get a kid just baffles me. If only everything in life could be scheduled for comfort the way induced labors are. Think about it - wouldn't paying rent be so much more pleasant if it were on, say, the 7th of every month? The 7th is less daunting and a much cheerier day indeed. Or maybe all holidays could fall on the 15th of every month, that way we would never get confused. We could know what to expect, just the way J & J know what to expect to accomplish this day.

And so my thoughts turn to expectations. Perhaps "expectant parents" are the luckiest type of parents. Before the endless hours of tears and fears, the play dates and homecoming dates, the first make-up applications and college applications, there are dreams. Yes, it is undoubtedly terrifying, knowing that something is coming but not knowing what it will look like or how it will change you. But at least in those first 9 months of parenthood, you get to see this change in the best light possible.

I might never experience the expectations that come with the first bouts of morning sickness or the awe struck moment of the first kick from deep inside. I haven't yet found my dream to be a mother...perhaps I never will. My schedule might never coincide with scheduling a birthday or c-section. But I am overjoyed to see this journey unfold for people I love so deeply.

It's not just about God anymore...

2005-07-10T21:31:00.000-05:00

I have decided that Sunday mornings are the devil. Since I am not a big "church person," I usually spend my Sunday mornings reading the news (if you count InStyle as news) and making a gourmet breakfast (if you count Smart Start as gourmet). This morning, though, I woke up and found my cabinets bare and my stomach empty, so I ventured out to grab a bite.

In the 3 blocks from my apartment to the Jewel, I passed 21 cars. 18 of them had disgustingly cute couples holding hands and laughing inside. 2 had moms with rocks on their ring fingers and kids in their backseat. One was a semi. Upon entering the grocery store, I was greeted with more signs of couplehood - pre-packaged muffins in packs of 2 and buy one get one free mochas at the Starbucks stand. I brushed off these depressing statistics, deciding that my sightings must have just been a fluke.

After I picked out my assorted fruits for fruit salad and grabbed a copy of the latest Vogue magazine, I headed to the checkout. A nice older lady chatted it up while she rang me up. As I slid my debit card in the machine, she said, "this will be a great breakfast in bed for your honey." I am sorry, but when did a kiwi, a pint of strawberries, and some raspberries scream, "I AM MAKING THIS FOR MY BOYFRIEND WHO IS SLEEPING PEACEFULLY IN MY SHEETS OF EGYPTIAN COTTON?" I politely told her that there was no honey and went on my way, trying to ignore the hopeless stare she bore into my back.

I usually feel quite comfortable being a "single," but this morning jaunt to the grocery store got me thinking...Sundays are supposed to be full of outings to the pool and late morning strolls, not "outings" of your singleness and late morning pity-parties!

It can't be too late...to say that I was so wrong!!!

2005-07-08T10:17:00.000-05:00

Since Mary Ella and Karen are both on vacation from work this week, I feel as though I should act like I am on vacay also...even though I still have to wake up each day and teach the boring children. Here are some things I have learned during this week of fun:

1. It takes a certain breed of woman to be able to spend a weekend with a bunch of ADORABLE engaged couples and still feel confident in her singlehood.
2. They really DO make pants with zippers that are a mere 1" long. Talk about "ultra low rise."
3. Red Star Tavern has the world's best martinis and I am not joking at all.
4. Once you find a pair of pants that looks hot on you it is completely acceptable to purchase them in every color available.
5. It is completely acceptable to hold a "pretend conversation" on your cell phone on your patio in order to stare at the 2 fireman playing football in your front yard.
6. Sometimes when you ask someone to share their life story, they actually WILL. Be afraid of these people. Be very afraid.
7. If, in trying to save money by skipping grocery shopping for a week, you instead eat out every meal, you will undoubtedly spend MORE money.
8. Air Supply never gets old. Never. And it helps if you sing, "I'm All Out of Love" at the top of your lungs with your girlfriends in your car...then in the bar...then at the gas station...then in the car one more time.
9. When you invite people over to your house on a Thursday before your last day of work, make sure that you are prepared to stay up all night for various reasons.
10. Do not, under any circumstances, play circle of death with red drinks on your rented carpet.
11. When someone spills a drink on your rented carpet, forfeit the game and require everyone else to down their drink or stand on the tile while they drink it.
12. When the THIRD drink gets spilled on your carpet, go to bed.
13. When in bed, if you hear the noises of random make-outs in your living room, chalk it up to the fact that your less sophisticated friend is "getting even" with the guy she is on a break from.
14. When you are still awake at 4 am, give up on sleeping and shop on e-bay instead.
15. When you go to work the next morning and the kids ask what is wrong, just say that you took a trip to "Malibu" and you are a little jet-lagged.

A Messy End

2005-06-24T17:42:00.000-05:00

This is the most overdue blog of my life, but I feel like this story cannot go by the wayside:

As I unlocked my classroom door for the last time on June 8, I couldn't help but reflect upon the ups and downs that I witnessed in room 105. As a class, we overcame intense curriculum, a roly-poly attack, a few outbursts of physical violence, and multiple outbursts of tears. I quickly realized that my diary of my first year of teaching was devoid of a very common occurrence: not one student got sick in ANY way in my class. Yes, there were moments when children looked as though they might hurl or pass out, but not a single solitary kid got sick in my class. (I secretly credited myself for this track record because of my intense dislike for dirt and mess. I figured my obsession with antibacterial wipes had to have helped the kids stay germ free.)

So, on June 8, we were having a celebration of sorts. The kids only had 2 hours of school, and it was basically a free for all of signing yearbooks, cleaning desks, and opening presents. It was going to be a great day!

During the morning announcements, one certain little boy (we shall call him Kurt), started squirming and talking in his seat. But it wasn't whisper talking or anything, it was hardcore gabbing. I glared at him (I have a killer glare) and expected the talking to stop. But instead, he just got louder and more animated. So, I got right up in his face and told him to cool it and "zip the lips." It was then that I realized something was wrong. His face was the color of pavement and his eyes were watering. "Oh shit," I thought. I couldn't have been more right...

Without a moment's pause, Kurt screamed out, "But Ms. Ferdinandt, I can't be quiet because I just had diarrhea in my pants!" AHHHHHHHH!!!

As Kurt got up out of his seat to go to the nurse, the dominos fell. He looked down at his chair and the puddle that now rested in the middle of the seat, made a horrified face, and waddled out of the room. As he left, his classmates smelled the first wave of the illness and went ballistic. Overall, it was an awesome start to the last 2 hours of our lives together.

I figured I would be sending Kurt on his merry way a little earlier than the rest of the class, but 10 minutes later he came back with a new pair of shorts and a smile. His mom had driven over a change of clothes so that he could stay for the last day. Neat.

This wasn't the end of this disgusting drama, though, because he shit in my room 2 MORE TIMES before the day was over!!! By the third time, his tablemates smelled the accident before Kurt even said a word...and they had some choice words to yell at him, including, "God, Kurt, would you just stop pooping?!?" and "the classroom smells like those toilet things at Great America!" One kid even got up and took a clothespin from our math bucket and clipped it to his nose. And you thought 7 year olds weren't animated...

So, at the end of the day, I knew that no year could ever top this one. I knew that I could never think of Kurt without thinking of his seemingly endless supply of pants (by incident number 3 his mom was just sitting in the lobby with his dresser drawer full of backup pants). Mostly, though, I knew that I will NEVER have kids of my own for fear that they might leave a puddle on my Ethan Allen furniture or in their Gap Kids chinos.

Crush of the Week 6.5.05

2005-06-05T17:37:00.000-05:00

I have never been one to enjoy all the shows geared towards medicine, such as ER, Dr. 90210, or Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman...mostly because I am of the belief that my body is made up of skin and cells and devoid of any type of blood or guts. Thanks to Bagley, though, I have become OBSESSED with the show Nip/Tuck - especially Christian Troy, played by Julian McMahon. Besides the fact that his Miami tan shows off his piercingly beautiful eyes, his wardrobe is to DIE for. And though most of the time I finish watching an episode and am revolted at the way he treats women, I am convinced that when he meets me, he will reform his ways.

Basically, Julian is a 10 in my book!

Bye-Bye, Mr. McGraw

2005-06-04T10:25:00.000-05:00

After a rousing happy hour for "whiskers and tails," an extra-curricular club run by teachers at Kingsley to teach kids about disgusting animals, I found myself driving home through the classy streets of Naperville. There, at the corner of Naper Blvd. and Washington streets, amidst the endless supply of Jaguars, Mercedes, and Hummers, was a regular, run of the mill red pickup truck. As I sat behind it and marveled at how much dirt could be accumulated from the sparkling suburban streets, my eye caught a personalized license plate holder. Here's what it said:

"Fords and Pussy: I eat 'em both."

Never have I ever read anything that made me physically GAG until that moment. Immediately, I decided that whatever creep was sitting in the drivers' seat of that horrendous excuse for a vehicle must be missing 16 teeth and have a flannel shirt with the arms ripped off... and he must have never had a piece of ass in his entire life. After meditating my way out of that vomit inducing image, I glanced over to my left, where I saw a cleanly shaven 19 year old jammin' to Uncle Kracker in his Chevy Cavalier. We all know that I prefer gentlemen in BMWs, but at that moment I found myself intensely attracted to the boy driving that Cavalier. That moment quickly passed, but I realized that class and country don't mix...and never will. And while I mourn my decision to discard all of my beloved country music, I know that I need to stay as far away from that red pickup as possible. Forever!!!

Crush of the Week 5.29.05

2005-05-29T12:51:00.000-05:00

Get ready - this one is a doozie!

This Crush of the Week is NOT a celebrity but rather a regular old guy, and it is the first time I have professed my love for a "commoner" crush of the week (at least in cyberspace).

While shopping at my mecca (IKEA), I was blindsided by the love of my life. After looking longingly through the various prints and canvases available to own from our friends the Swedes, I turned around and was dumbstruck by the fine specimen standing in front of me. A tall, dark, HANDSOME lad with crystal clear blue eyes stood at the photograph prints, trying to decide which would look best adorning what is undoubtedly his expensive bachelor pad. What I saw next is what sealed the deal:

His shirt, a simple green tee, displayed the saying:
"Boston: miles of Irish smiles."

OMG - I wanted to rip the shirt off his body (not only because the saying is PERFECT for my life, but because what was underneath would be just as tasty!!!).

If it is possible to find love in a import megastore, then SIGN ME UP!!!

Crush of the Week 5.22.05

2005-05-22T14:11:00.000-05:00

I find it rather funny that the majority of my "crushes" have been scruffy, rugged, "off-the-beaten-path" kind of guys. Frankly, I am about as OPPOSITE from those descriptions...but alas, opposites attract!

In keeping with tradition, my crush of this week is none other than James Denton from "Desperate Housewives." For those of you living under a rock, Jamie Denton is perhaps the HOTTEST plumber to ever grace the small screen - he is completely void of "plumber butt crack" and dirty wife beaters. Instead, he is dressed in hot, hot, hot jeans and usually sports a 5 o'clock shadow. Ahhh. Does it get any better?

In addition to his mad handy-man skills, Jamie Denton is a hardcore Cubs Fan and a Chicago boy to the core. The fact that he got to throw out the first pitch and sing the 7th inning stretch at Wrigley over the crosstown classic weekend just proves that his blood runs cub.

Jamie, you can throw out my first pitch anytime!!

Blogthingamajiggers

2005-05-18T21:50:00.000-05:00

Just another addiction of mine...go to blogthings to discover your own obsession! Here's what blogthings thinks about me:

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.

In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you.

You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.

Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred.

In this moment, you think of love as something you don't need. You just feel like flirting around and playing right now.

Rocks and Hotties

2005-05-17T17:57:00.000-05:00

Today, after taking the first graders on the world's most boring field trip in the history of the world (we WALKED to a farm 1 block away from school to dig up rocks in the soil while a bunch of old people watched us), I overheard the absolute funniest conversation of my entire life. Liz and Katie, two girls from another class, were rambling on about life. Here's what ensued:

Liz: All I know is that Aiden is going to be a hoTTie when we're in high school.
Katie: Yeah.
Liz: I mean, he's gonna be, like, a smart, talented football player...and totally cute! Have you seen his eyes?
Katie: Yeah.
Liz: I am so glad I get to sit next to him in class.
Katie: Yeah.
Liz: Except, he's kinda disgusting sometimes. He eats his erasers.

Honey, if eatin' erasers is his only downfall, snag him while he's single! (He can be trained, after all!)

Crush of the Week 5.15.05

2005-05-15T10:46:00.000-05:00

Jake Gyllenhaal is simply scrumptious. I just watched "Moonlight Mile," and his sensitivity and heroism is about as dreamy as seeing a man holding a tiny baby in a patch of tulips. The movie made me bawl...mostly because it dredged up some pretty awful memories, but my boyfriend Jake's performance made it all worth it.

And it doesn't hurt that his name is Jake. Best name ever!

Terror in a Housedress

2005-05-14T08:21:00.000-05:00

So I have taken up reading random people's blogs, mostly because I am convinced that the next one I read will really change my life. So far, that hasn't happened. This morning, I came across a blog of a woman who shall remain nameless. Here's what got me thinking in her profile:

"What's there to say I'm your average housewife/mom. I go to church, sing in the choir there, and an alumni choir from my High school, I crochet, read and write when I can, and I love to play TSO. I love spending time with my family."

Okay, so if THAT is being an "average housewife/mom," then hide me behind a desk piled high with paperwork and phone calls to return so I NEVER have to live that life!!!

Crush of the Week 5.8.05

2005-05-08T18:07:00.000-05:00

It is common knowledge that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. The way to my heart, however, is a man who can fill his own stomach. There is no hotter or more crushable chef in the world than Tyler Florence. Since I am now addicted to the Food Network, (mostly because I want to learn how to be a master chopper,) I have fully evaluated to pros of dating Tyler Florence. They are as follows:

1. He travels a LOT (every show he is in a different city). I could just tag along with him and get all 50 states crossed off my list in no time!

2. He teaches idiots how to cook. Anyone who has ever lived with me knows I am clueless in the kitchen, but I feel like he could enlighten me.

3. This is the most important item on the list - His last name is Florence. By marrying him, I could maintain my essential initials of LMF. I am even willing to move down in the alphabet from "Fe" to "Fl" for him - that's quite a sacrifice!

Clearly, this is a match made in heaven. While I may only be able to offer impeccable decorating skills and expensive taste, I am sure Tyler will fall deeply in love with me as soon as we meet!

Dream Killer

2005-05-04T22:47:00.000-05:00

I have always wondered what it would be like to be a Jewel checkout lady. I think you can learn a lot about somebody by what they pile onto those little conveyor belt thingies. Like today, for example, when I went through the line with Tylenol Cold, NyQuil (aka dream killer), a frozen dinner, and vitamin water. The lady taking my money must have been thinking, "this is a sicky with no cooking skills." See...not too far off!

So anyways, after leaving the newly purchased NyQuil in my car all day, I opened my car door to the unmistakable odor of the cherry flavored nightmare syrup. Somehow, the SEALED bottle leaked all over my passenger seat. That was awesome. The worst thing was that it started eating away at the cloth...which made me wonder what it can do to the inside of my body - say, my esophogus for example. Here's my theory:

Once the NyQuil gets swallowed by the patient, all the cells in the body immediately cry out in protest, struggling for freedom. Before you can say "impending death," the NyQuil spreads to all areas of the body, quickly eating away at the cell walls of all your blue blood cells (those are the ones that keep you awake). Since your blue blood cells no longer have any lining, they ooze out into the rest of your blood stream, that is why your veins look blue from outside your skin. (If you think about it, people who are NyQuil virgins - like babies - do not have blue veins.)

Okay...back to basics. So your blue blood cells have collapsed and contaminated the rest of your cells (the white ones which keep your teeth white and the pink ones which control your estrogen). You immediately become sluggish, feeling like the weight of the world has been transferred to your eyelids. Before you know it, you have passed out in your bowl of tasty homemade chicken soup. You spend the night in a dreamless sleep, breaking out in a cold sweat in order to freeze the blood in your veins. This freezing process re-attaches the blue cell walls to their goopy insides and your life is restored just in time for your morning coffee.

Disclaimer: The makers of NyQuil do not want you to know these facts, but it is my duty as a scientist to share with you what I have come to know.

Okay, off to my own NyQuil induced sleep!

(Oh, also, the NyQuil didn't actually eat away the cloth of my car...that was just for dramatic effect).

Aye, Mate-y!

2005-05-02T19:01:00.000-05:00

I open this blog with my away message from last night:

"There is something lodged in my right eye that is causing me to contemplate scooping it out with a hot spoon. Neat."

Okay - so after sleeping my Sunday afternoon away, I woke up to what I could only assume was a needle embedded deep inside my eyelid. Being the trained physician that I am, I dug said foreign object from my eye, being careful not to damage my cornea. As I looked down at the giant eyelash covered in tears, I cursed it for causing so me much pain.

I regret to inform you that this discomfort was not the cause of my vulgar away message - no, no, that came later. As I snuggled down to watch an evening of smutty housewives and slutty medical students (aka Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy), a fog slowly lowered itself over my right eyeball. I was going blind. I would never see the face of my husband or the glistening rock he will undoubtedly bestow upon my hand. Life, essentially, was over.

After consulting my doctor, Mary Ella, I decided that the only way to get rid of the blindness was to flush it out. Since I didn't have any eye drops or saline solution, I was at a loss for what to do. Down an eye, I weaved my way to my kitchen and proceeded to pour a glass of triple filtered water and grab a straw from my cupboard. With the precision of a brain surgeon, I sucked up some water from the glass and strategically poured it into my eye socket. Surprisingly, that didn't work. I went to bed.

Waking up this morning was a little like being dead. My eye was glued shut...but not in the pink eye way, in the "my skin has swollen to the point that it won't open" way. I couldn't take off work, mostly because I never figured out how to call in sick, so I drove half-blind to school and got ready for the day. Bobby walks in at the beginning of the day and says, "Ms. Ferdinandt, why are you crying?" After telling him that I wasn't crying, he asked if someone punched me. I let him believe that I was a hard ass.

So I get off work and fumble my way to the ER. The technician takes one look at me and says, "woah - that must hurt!" What she does next proves her idiocy. She asks me to cover my good eye and read from one of those eyesight charts. How the hell am I supposed to do that if my eye is swollen shut?? Dumbass.

After a gallon of orange vegetable dye gets dumped into my slit of an eye, the hottest doctor I have ever seen tells me that I scratched the shit out of my retina. He tells me that I get to spend tons of money on antibiotic eye drops and wear a hot pirate patch over my eye! I get up and try to bat my eyelashes seductively as orange dye oozes out (that must have been a sight).

4 hours and 32 minutes later - my eyeball is still orange, my eye lid still feels like a brillo pad, and my mind is still planning out the perfect wedding to the perfect doctor. It'll happen...I can feel it.

Deep Conditioning

2005-05-01T17:09:00.000-05:00

I have never been one to subscribe to the Self-Help Revolution. Basically, I have always believed that if I really want to help myself, I'm gonna need more than a book with a catchy title. Even so, lately I have found myself drawn towards articles in magazines and newspapers discussing how to live a more authentic life. Yesterday, as I sat in Kim and Shay's apartment alone, I curled up on their couch (aka my bed) and opened to an article in SELF Magazine about how to create happiness in your life. It claims that if you have 15 minutes, you can become a happy person. Come on, 15 minutes? You're telling me that this whole time I have been less-than-happy and could have cured my blues in the amount of time it takes to deep condition my hair? Looking deeper, though, I came upon the meaning between the lines. SELF just wants us to be "happy," but I think we need to search for something better.

I don't want to constantly seek out happiness. Too many people believe that in order to have a good life you have to be happy. Why has it become unattractive to have a bad day or a rotten month? If you don't endure the pain, how do you ever bask in the spectacular?

For a long time, I tried to drown out my sorrow by creating situations to foster happiness, or at least get people to believe I was happy. I considered the loss I suffered to be a hindrance to my life, when, in fact, it was the best defined emotion I have ever felt. I believed that to be sad was to be helpless and weak - but now I know that to be sad is to be honest.

If you think about it, we are always drawn to people who are real - people who suffer and celebrate, people who make it through the rough patches to enjoy the peace that comes. We look at perpetually happy people as "plastics" or "fakes." But we find heroes in characters from books and movies that refuse to hide their flaws behind a thin veil of happiness.

In "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," one of the characters is searching to be "exactly happy." I am drawn to that concept, mostly because it makes a formula out of an emotion. Like if we add enough of the right ingredients, we will reach exact happiness. The problem is, we can't ever seem to figure out the measurements...so we always end up with a result that is less-than-perfect.

Maybe we should get off the "happiness" bandwagon and search for something more fulfilling and attainable. I choose to pursue contentment. I choose to learn to put my life into balance and realize that each day that comes - whether the sun is shining or the rain is falling - provides another chance for rebirth.

Crush of the Week 5.1.05

2005-05-01T15:58:00.000-05:00

lay your head upon my shoulder
lay your hand within my hand
i give you all that i am
and i breathe where you breathe
let me stand where you stand
with all that i am

Yes, that's right. These lyrics were written for me by none other than Rob Thomas. After recording 3 of my favorite albums of all time with Matchbox20, my boyfriend Rob has done it again. His new CD is simply to die for, and it is impossible not to get lost in his eyes.

'Nuff said. He's quite a catch.

examples of why 99% of boys in bars are no longer appealing

2005-04-30T16:46:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, a coworker and I were lamenting that meeting boys in bars is complicated, dangerous, and extremely exhausting. After compiling a list of the most memorable one-liners, I am left wondering how anyone can find true love at the local watering hole:

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen" (said with eyes closed due to extreme drunkenness).
"You know, I want to stay in this country, but I will be deported if I don't get my green card. Interested?"
"I have no friends in Chicago. Can I get your number so I won't be so lonely anymore?"
"I fix toilets for a living. What do you do?...Oh, you're a teacher? But you could do so much more with your life!"
"Can I buy you a drink?" (I request a Cranberry Vodka). "Bar Tender, can I get two shots of Absinthe?" (WHAT? They don't even SELL absinthe in this country!)
"Can you hold this [a wad of cash] for a minute?" - guy proceeds to stuff it himself in my back pocket. Smooth.
"I don't think I will be able to make it back to my place tonight without yacking...can I just stay in your bed?"
"You don't have a drink in your hand...Here, drink this!" (Hands me a half empty Red Bull Vodka with someone else's lipstick marks all over it. Again...WHAT?)

Guess I'll just have to resort to finding love at work - too bad the only male people in my school are over 50 or questionably gay...

Crush of the Week 4.24.05

2005-04-24T08:25:00.000-05:00

Paul Bettany, the star of Mary Ella's favorite movie, "Wimbledon," is this week's pick for crush of the week. Besides his delicious British accent (I seem to have a thing for accents), his body is to die for. If you don't believe me, just check out "Wimbledon" for the scene in the bathroom at his apartment. Yum.

lugnutschwishenshafts

2005-04-18T22:08:00.000-05:00

So after about the worst day in all of human history at my job, (a kid sneezed all over my face and I had to report a family to DCFS --- no, I did not all of the sudden transfer to a Chicago Public School,) I get in my car to go home and enjoy the freakin' awesome weather. A couple of moms were in the parking lot waiting for some of their bratty kids to get out of school, and after commenting on how cute my purse was, they also noted that my front right tire was losing air as we spoke. Now, in addition to my cracked side mirror (not my fault) and complete lack of windshield wipey fluid (don't know how to open the hood, so can't fix that), I am down a tire!!! Neat.

After stalker calling every phone number that I thought my dad might pick up, I decide I can be a big girl and do this on my own. So I begin driving toward home, secretly hoping that some hot guy will notice my flat and save me. Nope. Doesn't happen. I finally pull into this spot called Lube and Tube or some shit like that and walk in expecting to get walked all over by these mechanics. Here's what happens:

me: Hi. I have a flat tire.
guy: What happened?
me: I don't know. It is flat. It wasn't flat before. My boyfriend (what?) thinks there is a nail in it.
guy: Um. Okay.
me: (blank stare)
guy: (thinking) damn, we can totally hose this chick.
me: Um. What do you need from me?
guy: The keys would be nice.
me: Right.

So about 3.2 minutes go by and I am sitting in one of the most disgusting seats ever, wishing that Tube and Lube subscribed to more magazines than just Maxim and Automobile Magazine. The guy comes out and another Oscar worthy conversation ensues:

guy: Do you have a lugnutschwishenshaft?
me: ?
guy: A lug nut wrench?
me: um. Should I?
guy: Okay. Just come with me.

So I follow the guy into the "shop," taking extra care not to bump into any vats of oil or rubber for making tires. After a few minutes of him explaining to me what a lug nut is, I told him that I don't own any tools, so I couldn't really help him. The look on his face was priceless. It was much the same look as I give to the kids when they can't seem to write the letter "o." He explained that it would have come with the car, and I responded with, "well, unless it is one of the buttons on the stereo, I am pretty sure I don't know where it is." Right.

He told me to go sit down.

14.7 minutes later, when I was wishing that I had a real boyfriend to do this shit for me, the guy comes back in holding what I believed to be a broken off piece of a toothpick from his mouth. What's up, Tom Sawyer? But no, that little tiny piece of wood punctured my tire and cost me freakin' $37.14 and 56 minutes of my life.

I love having a car that is susceptible to vandalism, hail, and tiny shards of wood. Love it.

cars with loud asses

2005-04-17T21:09:00.000-05:00

So I've been thinking about bumper stickers a lot lately, mostly because the sprawling Chicago suburbia is wrapped up in voicing its views on the ass of its cars. I have decided that they are a way for people without a voice to pretend like they are being heard. Here's what I know - my new goal is to be the only person in the universe NOT sporting a "support our troops" ribbon on my car. I for one do not believe that an ugly yellow plastic magnet on the back of my car shows any type of solidarity towards the people a half a world away. I am not saying I don't support the troops - I am amazed that anyone could be that brave, to fight for a cause we cannot see. I am just sure that the $1 I would spend on the thing goes to Dubuya or Haliburton, just like my $4 for Snapple. And why didn't the bumper sticker makers stop there? Why did they have to come up with all the variants? My personal favorite is the pink, "support a cure" ribbons. Who doesn't support a cure for cancer? Why do you need to put a freaking sticker on your car to announce it to the world? I am thinking about going down the street and confiscating all the magnets on the back of cars and throwing them on the curb. That would probably freak these people out. Their identities and good will would be shattered and they would become like everyone else in the world. Normal.

Wow. I've only been blogging for one day and I have already thrown politics into the mix. I HATE politics. I apologize. Never again. Okay...maybe not never, just not often.

Crush of the Week 4.17.05

2005-04-17T08:52:00.000-05:00

For my first installment of "Crush of the Week," I am going to go out on a limb. Dominic Monaghan, who played a hobbit in Lord of the Rings and currently plays Charlie on "Lost," is obsessible because of the following things:

he is darling - even if he is a little short.
has an kick ass accent (I heart the British Isles!)
he would be an awesome boyfriend - even if the only evidence comes from how he treats the love of his life, Claire, on Lost.
his bestie is Elijah Wood. That's cute. They are short together.

Stay tuned for future obsessions - it's going to be a steamy summer!

A beginning

2005-04-16T16:01:00.000-05:00

Apparently the new thing to do is create a blog, so here is my attempt. I suppose I should begin by explaining myself. From the outside, my life probably loks pretty great. I have a good job, a hot car, a well decorated (of course) apartment, and a lot of free time. I am just pretty sure that the view from inside doesn't look as great. I am just a girl searching for something I can't even define.

Life has hit me around a little. I have loved. I have lost. I have learned to move on - one foot in front of the other. I just know that I will continue to trip and stumble on my path. Still, the road looks well worth the bumps and bruises along the way.

Firsts, Lasts, and Other Random Thoughts

2005-04-16T01:12:00.000-05:00

F I R S T S...

First best friend: Max - we knew we'd be besties from the moment we met - I was still in that incubator thing they put newborns in at the hospital.
First car: Mercury Mystique - that was the first and last American made car I will ever own. I hate America. We can't seem to get anything right.
First kiss on the lips: Adam from summer camp (how pathetic is that?)
First self purchased album: The Bodyguard
First funeral: Mr. Kotleba
First pets: ew. animals are grotesque
First true love: words - when I learned to write, I learned to live authentically.
First enemy: Alexis Barbour. We had a "We Hate Alexis Barbour" club. I was president. Then she choked on her bagel during hot lunch. We waited in eager anticipation to see if she made it or if Mr. Sachar couldn't revive her. That's when I first realized I was evil.
First big trip: My first visit to the homeland (Ireland). Oh wait...that is only in my dreams.
First music you remember hearing in your house: James Taylor (thanks to dad) and Crystal Gayle (thanks to mom) - dad taught me to appreciate good music and mom taught me to make fun of the bad.

L A S T S...
Last car ride: to North Chicago for a rockin' 80's party.
Last movie seen: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (I heart free HBO)
Last beverage: Diet Coke (I am waiting for the day when I can push it through my veins 24/7)
Last food consumed: My signature sandwich from Subway - turkey breast on Parmesan Oregano. Love it!
Last crush: Too many to count. There was this hot dad today at Blockbuster - he had a little boy with him and they were getting "The Incredibles." I kinda followed them out to the parking lot and they got in a Mercedes convertible. No wedding ring either (I am obsessed with checking for that...reason #1 why my husband's ring will be sodered to his finger). I think he and I will be perfect together...
Last phone call: Anne at midnight last night. All I remember saying is - "don't delete this message - no pressing 7 - press 9! 9, 9, 9, 9, 9999999999999999999999!!!!"
Last time showered: uh. about 36 hours ago. gross.
Last shoes worn: flip flops. emerald green. I am obsessed with flip flops.
Last item bought: a handle of Bacardi that is mysteriously empty already. hmm.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S...
Who are your very best friends? Besides Jennifer Aniston, my dickish friends from college are the best friends I have. You know who you are.
Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Several (boyfriends). They just don't know it yet.

F A S H I O N S T U F F...
Where is your favorite place to shop? Too many clothing and shoe stores to count. But I am obsessed with Target. I go in for cotton balls and come out with a new DVD, 3 new pairs of sandals, knobs for my dresser, apples, and a skillet.
Any tattoos or piercings? I am so over that.

S P E C I F I C S...
Do you do drugs?: nope.
What kind of shampoo do you use?: Aveda Rosemary Mint Shampoo (an obsession)
What are you most scared of?: Living my entire life without ever taking a significant risk.
What are you listening to right now?: the elephants that live upstairs and "The Postal Service"
Where do you want to get married?: I thought I knew - but I think part of the joy of planning my wedding will be finding the perfect spot that nobody has thought of before - classy, sophisticated, and knock-down-drag-out fun.
How many buddies are online right now?: lots...But they are all "away." Jerks.
What would you change about yourself?: My address. It isn't exciting enough here. And the elephants upstairs are really starting to piss me off.

F A V O R I T E S...
Color: red. My entire house, my car, and my favorite pair of pants are all red.
Food: I get a food orgasm from grilled salmon with lemon juice.
Boys' names: Mary Ella TOTALLY stole my names - Jake and Ben. Best names ever.
Girls' names: I really love Olivia and Ellie.
Animals: animals belong in barns or glass boxes, not on surveys.
Sports: Nothing beats a Cubs game on a hot summer day, Tennis (I heart Wimbledon...The movie and the competition).
Perfume: Ralph Lauren Blue
Cologne: I am obsessed with Burberry Brit. Those British sure know how to push my buttons! Aqua di Armani doesn't stink either.

H A V E Y O U E V E R...
Taken a bath with someone? yes - but I was about 4.
Made yourself throw up?: Does eating an entire serving of Cold Stone ice cream knowing full well that I am a lactard count? If it does, then yes.
Skinny dipped?: nope.
Been in love?: I like the idea of being in love only once. So I am calling whatever I have felt in the past just misguided attempts at love.
Made yourself cry to get out of trouble?: The shirt I am wearing says "Irish Princess." What do you think?
Pictured a crush naked?: yes.
Actually seen a crush naked?: partially.
Cried when someone died?: Of course. If you answer no to this one, you don't have a heart.
Lied?: Too many times to count.
Been rejected?: yep - but not ever after putting myself out there (again with the not-taking-risks-thing).
Rejected someone?: I have deduced that I am the pickiest person alive - I often reject people on based on principle or wardrobe.
Used someone?: Not intentionally. I hope nobody thinks I have used them.
Done something you regret?: I make a point of living without regret. So far I am doing pretty good.

C U R R E N T...
Clothes: My favorite T-Shirt and pj pants.
Music: I obsess over movie soundtracks - I don't like to commit to one artist for an entire CD, so I love the variety in soundtracks. I secretly want to become one of the people that picks music for TV shows or movies.
Make-up: I am ashamed to say that I am still wearing the green eye-shadow from last night. I am impressed to say that it still looks hot.
Annoyance: People who think that I can't see them through the windows in their car. How do they think it is okay to pick their noses while driving? That is a bigger hazard than talking on the phone while driving because it causes onlookers to gag.
Smell: Coconut Lime Verbena from Bath & Body Works (scent of summer)
Nail Polish: french manicure on my fingers and my summer signature: hot pink on my toes
Desktop picture: Clark and Addison - I love the Cubs!
DVD in player: Napoleon Dynamite (thanks for the suggestion, Kimmy!)

L A S T P E R S O N...
Hugged: Mary Ella
Kissed: Some irish guy in the bar last weekend who jammed his tongue down my throat after about a 2.2 second conversation. How'd I let that guy pass me by?
You IMed: my mom.

A R E Y O U...
Open Minded: I am slow to warm up, but I generally love finding out about other people's ideas. More opportunities to grow.
VeryArrogant: I hope not. I don't feel like I have much to be arrogant about, except the stupid stuff that doesn't matter.
Interesting: I don't feel very interesting. When I meet people and tell them I am a teacher, they usually respond with, "oh. interesting," and then proceed to question my decision to enter the world of jumpers and wooden necklaces. Somehow I don't think that that is the kind of "interesting" the survey is asking about.
Moody: a little - but I blame the alcohol.
Organized: I am impeccably organized with everything except my finances - my dad tells me I don't deserve money because of how clueless I am about keeping track of it.
Healthy: Yes, but it is no fun.
Attractive?: How the hell am I supposed to answer that one?
Bored: Yes - it all goes back to the fact that I have a boring address and no roommates.
Responsible: Unfortunately, I am. Once more with the not-taking-risks thing...
Obsessed: Obsessing is one of my favorite pastimes. Current obsessions include: diamonds, "Felicity" on DVD, ipod, Benefit cosmetics, Eric and Kathy on the Mix, matt & nat handbags, Kashi granola bars, Travelocity, Topher Grace, ballet flats, Sex and the City, cell phones.
Angry: I rarely get angry, unless the kids won't shut up during D.E.A.R.
Sad: More than I should be. I overanalyze.
Disappointed: More than I should be. I build things up in my head and then they have nowhere to go but down.
Hyper: I despise hyper people. Why can't you just realize that it is not attractive or fun to be around you when you can't relax and enjoy the moment?
Trusting: People usually have to prove themselves to me before they really get to see the real me.
Talkative: Yes. But I don't like having to carry a conversation. I do pride myself on my storytelling skills.
Legal: I drive WAY over the speed limit, but otherwise I like laws. I like lawyers more. Especially ones named Jake or Ben.

W H O D O Y O U W A N N A...
Kill: I don't like death. I would like to kick George W. in the kneecaps, though.
Slap: Again, not big on the violence.
Look Like: I want Sandra Bullock's hair and Renee Zellweger's wardrobe.
Talk to Online: That is the stupidest question ever. Why talk online when you can talk in person?

W H I C H I S B E T T E R...
Coke or pepsi: Diet Coke is god.
Flowers or Candy: Flowers - always flowers. Except when they get sent to my work and all the old ladies I work with say, "oh, did your boyfriend send you those?" And then I have to tell them, "No, I am not seeing anyone right now. They're from my mom." And then they look at me like I am some kind of invalid because teachers are supposed to be married with a bun in the oven by the time they graduate college. That kind of ruins the flowers.
Tall or Short: Yeah - tall enough that I can wear really high heels and still feel small but not so tall that I can't put my arms around his neck. So exactly 6'4" (see...I'm picky).
Thick or Thin: Oddly worded - but I am generally not attracted to string beans. Nor Homer Simpson.
Long or Short: I can say that if the guy's hair hits his chin in any way, he has some significant style issues.

R A N D O M...
in the morning i am: quiet. I don't talk until I have been up for at least one hour and have listened to a good dose of the Mix Morning Show.
all I need is: family and friends. I could never survive without them.
what do you notice on a person first: Usually eyes, followed closely by style and hygiene.
last person you danced with: So now I am supposed to know his name?
worst question to ask to a crying person: Are you okay? Do they LOOK okay?
who makes you laugh the most: All of my best friends - we live for laughter.
who makes you smile? my students...Random strangers doing kind things...
who gives you a funny feeling when you see them? This creepy dad of one of my students. I am paranoid that he is going to ask me out on the last day of school. I am seriously weirded out by the guy.

D O Y O U E V E R...
sit on the internet all night waiting for that someone to IM you?: um, no.
wish you were a member of the opposite sex: Once a month I do. Otherwise no. I love fashion too much.
wish you were younger: Not really - I think 22 is still pretty young. Although I do wish I was still in college.

N U M B E R...
of times I have had my heart broken: One.
of hearts I have broken: millions.
of guys I've kissed: Less than most. I wish I could become a 'random makeouter' so my numbers would rise, but I am too much of a hopeless romantic.
of girls I've kissed: none.
of tight friends: I am grateful to say that there are several people I could never live without.