The Misadventures of a Defective Paramedic

The Awfulness Never Ends

So, wow, I checked my page statistics and I'm getting, on average, one and a half views a day. So, good job family and friends. Spread the word!

So I'm reading the book What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell.This is exactly the sort of reading I enjoy. It's a collection of his writings for the New Yorker. Each chapter that you read makes you feel a little bit smarter, or at least a little bit more prepared for Jeopardy. He has a chapter in the book that talks about why people "choke." As in freeze up, lose their composure, and eventually lose at what they're doing. This brings me to Last Friday's speech. Choke. O'. Rama. I had done well during my usual practice sessions, but the minute I stepped up to the podium, it was pandemonium. My note cards were written in Japanese, my visual aids were cumbersome, at best, and, at worst, messy. A bowl of rice is not easy to manage when your hands are suddenly not your own. I suspect I was talking too loudly and way too fast. The subject of my speech was "Microchipping Your Pet," something I know enough about, anyways. I surely could have faked it, but even with all the information at hand, I choked. Cue the uncontrollable giggling and mumbling under my breath ("Who wrote these notes?"). Fortunately my instructor decided not to record this set of speeches. Like most bedroom activities, this was best kept off film. 

This speech class seems to be good material for my blog and I'll be a tad sad when it ends. Plus, my instructor (who can apply eyeliner better than I could ever dream of) is wildly entertaining. After this class, it'll be nearly 100% dour, science and math professors. I'll have to find a new source of entertainment.

Get Away!

My favorite quote of the moment: "She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short." --Brian Andreas in Storypeople. Mr. Andreas is an author, but moreso a unique artist. His work can be found on Storypeople.com.

Tax refund time has come and I'm planning an adventure, maybe it's not the sane thing to do, but sometimes you just need to look out your window and see something else. A change of landscape, if you will. Spring Break is coming up and I was on the prowl, not so much for a destination, but for cheap airfare. The destination was incidental to the cheap tickets. My search took me to Denver, Colorado. $107 each way, nonstop, even. "By yourself?" My  mom drilled. "Yes." "What will you do there?" my dad asked. "I dunno, see stuff," Was my answer. "Like what?" "I don't know. I know the Denver Mint is there and a few stadiums, and...oh yeah, the mountains. Maybe I just want to know that I can walk to the window and see something else." Anyone that lives in Central Indiana knows the scenery doesn't change much. It's a corn 'n' beans/snow rotation. The ground is so flat you can see the horizon in places. While there are places less like Central Indiana than Colorado, the price is right. I haven't booked a hotel room yet, but the price seems right there, too.

Suggestions on sightseeing are welcome.

The Speech, Unveiled

In my last post, I promised, or at least indicated that I might, post The Speech. The first speech, the one about Indymojo.Com. My fan has clamored for the video, so being the brave soul that I am, here it is. I haven't watched it, and probably never will. I find it really weird to watch myself on video and I hate the way my voice sounds (does this mean everyone does?). Maybe if I get hyped up on a load of margaritas I'll give it a whirl, but that's not likely. Me watching it, I mean. The margaritas are very likely. On the topic of margaritas, I have hit upon the recipe for the best margarita in existence, Chili's Presidente Margarita. 1 & 1/4 oz  Sauza Commemorativo Tequila. 1/2 oz. Prezidente Brandy. 1/2 oz. Cointreau. 3 oz. sour mix. 1/8 to 1/4 oz Lime juice. I lean towards 1/4 oz. The brands are key to truly replicating this margarita. don't scrimp and use swill, you'll be sorely disappointed but still drunk. I guess it's about priorities. So, now that I've completely derailed this post, without further adieu, here's the speech.

Speech, speech!

So I had to give my first speech in my presentational speaking class (Com 114, if anyone cares)(and what the hay happened to good old fashioned "speech?"). The speech was an informative speech and had to be on a service in the community. I stretched those perimeters a bit and chose IndyMojo.Com as the topic of my speech. Research was a snap and I was soon well on my way to a decent outline. Apparently that was the easy part. Now I had to make up note cards ( Three is the ideal for maximum speech performance). I ended up with five, but I write big. Yeah. I write big. Huge, in fact.

After the note cards were complete it was time to practice. I had a wide variety of audiences to chose from (For those that don't know, I live with my parents who have custody of my 18 month old niece, four cats, and a black lab). I immediately excluded my parents. I wouldn't want to practice on real, conscious humans, would I? My first audience included my cat Stinky and my parents' big black tuxedo cat, Rowdy. Apparently my speech was boring. They were attentive for the intro and thesis statement, but quickly digressed to yawning and licking their butts. I hope to Dog that no one in my class does that. The clincher brought their attention back to me, but reviews were poor.

My time was well over the allotted five minutes so I needed to work on speeding things up. I needed an audience with a short attention span. I chose the resident canine, Lulu. She was attentive for most of the speech, ears cocked, but then started sniffing at my feet. Eventually the sniffing turned to gnawing and soon she was pawing at me, waiting for a treat. She had been a good dog, after all. This morphed into jumping and biting my arms. It was good motivation for a fast delivery, though. Note to self: Bring dog biscuits to class.

My third audience was my niece, Olivia. She had a cold, so she responded primarily by allowing snot to run down her face. Snot makes me gag so the delivery was speedy. She did, however, smile throughout the speech.

In the end, the speech went well. It was a little awkward delivering the speech to a group that is more intelligent than a black lab, but at least no one bit my arm. My instructor recorded the speeches. So if I'm feeling brave, I'll post it when I get my hands on it.

  

Stinky. He's really that adorable.
 

Lulu. She'll eat your hand off if you take her duck.
 

Rowdy. He's not so Rowdy.

Olivia is much older now. Don't ask me why I don't have current pictures of my niece but the cats' pictures were taken this week.

Be Sure and Stock up NOW!

While enjoying a lunch of Mom's leftover chili and Dad's homegrown tomatoes, I was perusing the sale pages in the Sunday paper. Every once in a while I find something that's worth stocking up on. Today was no different. I was zeroing in on the PetCo circular when something caught my eye. Guinea pigs! They're on sale all week for $29.95. Who doesn't need more Guinea pigs? I can stock up. Put them in pairs in shoe boxes, stash them up in the closet, wait for a rainy day and pull out my Guinea pig collection!

Poor Abandoned Blog

Well, I guess in classic Jen style, I sort of abandoned my blog. I'm back...for now.

Unfortunately, I am without internet access at home. I'm stuck using the computers at the library, which is majorly sucky. I think I'm allergic to the library and 9/10 users seem to be somewhat, uh, "different."

Due to my injury, I will be unable to return to my job as a paramedic. I am now frantically engaged in a job search. Sadly, things have not happened quickly enough, and it looks like I'll be moving back in with the 'rents by the end of the month. On the upside, this will give me a chance to go back to school. On the downside, well, I will be living with my parents. In Kokomo, Indiana. I think that Kokomo is as close to Purgatory as it gets. The town's industry is firmly entrenched in the automotive industry, specifically Chrysler. This has left the town with a spectacular unemployment rate and a gloomy(ier) feel. I suspect that if there were any bridges worth jumping off of  that people would be lined up to bail.

I have directed my job search towards the pharmacy tech field. It doesn't pay what I was making, but it will get me through college. Hopefully I will soon see a settlement check from the insurance company, and that it's worth the paper it's printed on. I'm not holding my breath, though. I'm hoping to eventually be able to settle in West Lafayette and continue my education at Purdue. My mom says I'm setting my sights too high as I am eyeballing a degree in Aerospace Engineering, but what else am I supposed to do with my brain?

I'm not looking forward to leaving the Louisville area. Despite the fact that I really have nothing tying me here, I have become rather attached to the city. There will be one benefit, though. Maybe, just maybe, my allergies will go into remission!

Rufus: 1 Jen:0

Because I am anal retentive and I would slash my wrists (Up and down the street, not across!) if I came home from vacation to a dirty house, I cleaned. I cleaned like a mad woman. For the most part, when I get my panties in a wad and start cleaning like I did, the cats know to hide. Rufus decided that today he would be a brave cat. He would "help."
It started with the vacuum. Most normal cats have an ungodly fear of the vacuum, not Rufus. I imagine Simba in The Lion King, "I laugh in the face of danger. Hahaha." Rufus frolicked around my feet as I, in turn, did my best to not get the cord up in the vacuum as this is a one way ticket to broken belt city. Finally, I finished this task without any casualties. I emptied the canister (who came up with this bagless crap? Now I have to stick my arm up there and pull out the cat hair). I managed to clean the bathtub without much interference from my furry friend. Then, I tackled the kitchen floor.
As I swept the kitchen floor, no small task as my kitchen is rather large, I noticed an orange figure lurking in my peripheral vision. Then...whap! Rufus attacked the broom and its accompanying dirt pile. Cat fur, litter, and other dirty bits of my life scattered. I scolded Rufus and swept him out of the way. I quickly corralled the crud and swept it into the trash can. I continued to sweep as I fended off my antagonist. Rufus seemed to lose interest as I pulled out my sudsy bucket of Pine Sol and Libbman Wonder Mop. I finished mopping in the laundry room and set the cat litter box on the floor. I continued to mop my way out into the kitchen I saw my big orange cat head towards the litter box. "Oh no you don't!" I yelled. But he did, and he tracked litter across my clean, wet floor. This happened twice before I put the litter box back out the back door. Battle: Won. Or so I thought.
As any cat owner knows, where there is a bed in the process of being made, there is a cat. And tonight, that cat was, again, Rufus. As I hooked the sheet on the corners of the mattress, Rufus darted under the sheet. I attempted to shoo him out, but he went further under. As I dove across the bed to nab my pesky cat I overestimated my pouncing ability and went right over the side of the bed. I seem to be getting pretty good at this stunt-woman thing. I'd give that back flip a 10.

Can't Sleep, Camouflaged Masses Will Eat Me

I had a nifty loft apartment on the East End (the "Good Part") of Louisville. I was a 15 minute drive from two malls, where I would go to worship bi-weekly (on payday). I was five minutes from a Border's bookstore where I would worship more frequently. There was a Starbuck's and a Kroger that sold sushi three minutes down the road. I had Steak 'N' Shake and White Castle at my disposal 24/7.
Then, I made the mistake of deciding I hated working in the city. I applied to, and was subsequently hired by, a service an hour west. In the boondocks. Life was good. I had my nifty apartment, a job I really liked, and a cat to keep me company. Then I allowed a boyfriend to point out that I was driving 50 minutes, each way, to get to work. Even worse, he had to drive 50 minutes to see me. Believing that love was in the air, I allowed him to corral two of his closest friends and move me to a duplex on a dead end road. Little did I know what I had gotten myself into.
I grew up in Northern Indiana, and have never really been a city girl, but these people made me look like Michigan Avenue. I was suddenly immersed in a culture of camouflage, pickup trucks, and chewing tobacco. While I consider camouflage a crime to fashion, that was only the tip of the iceberg. The official Wal-Marting uniform is baggy t-shirt, flannel pajama pants, fake Crocs, and uncombed hair. I was surrounded by Glamour Don'ts. I couldn't spit without hitting some poor child in a "Git 'er done" shirt. "Have you no pride?" I want to yell. It's not that hard, nor is it terribly time consuming, to take a shower, put on some blue jeans, and find a shirt without motor oil stains on it. I did it, and so can you.

Another Day, Another Doctor

Due to the pain, I took my hand specialist's advice and went to see my family doctor to investigate the abnormal bone scan and alleged wrist fracture. He poked and prodded my wrist, occasionally making me yelp. "Yep, probably a fracture in there," He declared. "How'd you do it?" Well, therein lies the mystery. "I don't know," I mused, "Maybe a fall during the ice storm?" That didn't make sense, though, that was almost two months ago. He handed me more prescriptions to stop the sneezing and wheezing, and I headed down to the basement for my x-ray. After the pics were snapped, the tech assured me I'd hear from the doctor tomorrow or Monday. I gathered my stuff and headed to Culver's for a Butterburger (mmm...Butterburger). As I inhaled the salty, greasy goodness and enjoyed the free wi-fi, it hit me. No pun intended.
It was about three weeks ago and I was doing laundry. The cat litter box sits across from the dryer and there is sometimes (read: usually) litter scattered around the area. I was taking my load out of the dryer and wanting to avoid the cat litter and too lazy to walk around the door, I was leaning over the dryer door. When you're 5'2" and trying to reach over the dryer door to get the socks in the back of the dryer, it's bound to happen. And it did. Ass over elbows, I went over the dryer door. I was doing my best to not ruin the dryer, and it all happened very quickly. By the time I was reoriented. I was sitting in the cat litter box, a bruise already forming on my thigh. I looked around. I knew I was alone, but I still couldn't help wonder if anyone saw my acrobatics. The cats were staring at me, and no doubt wishing I'd get out of their litter box. I brushed myself off, changed my pants, and quickly did what I should have done when I first got the dryer. I switched the door to the other side.
So here I sit, a hot Friday spent with an ice pack on my wrist and a bottle of Advil by my side. I'll be awaiting the results and further instructions.

Today, Not so Great

Today I went back to my doctor at Kleinert and Kutz  for my bone scan results. Diagnosis: nada. Apparently my right arm is perfectly normal (or not, as normal arms don't hurt all the time) BUT there may be a slight fracture in my left wrist area. I guess this would explain what I thought was "Blackberry-itis." When or how I may have fractured my wrist is beyond me. I'm also going to go a bit further and guess that stress fractures in the wrist are pretty rare. But, I'm no doctor.

So, all this leaves me at the end of the line. I will go in for a "functionality test" to determine the extent of the disability. After that, I either go back to being a paramedic or I find a new career. I'm thinking I don't have much time to get really good at blogging.

After my ill fated doctor visit, I headed to my favorite comfort spot, Sephora. I really only meant to return some makeup that didn't go so well for me. I did that, then bought some cinnamon bun flavored lip gloss and nail polish with the moniker "Queen of Everything." Like I could resist that. Sephora does get snaps for spotting me a free sample of some really expensive tattoo covering make up. Just a warning, kids, tattoos are expensive and difficult to hide, no matter how you do it. Think once, think twice, then wait until you're thirty, then think again, ask your mother, then if you still want one, Godspeed.