Archive | February, 2011

His name was Ringo. Woof.

23 Feb

Last week I was reminded of WHY I love living in DC: we occasionally get a random 75 degree day in the middle of winter. (Sorry, Michigan friends, it’s true. In some places there are NOT six full months of winter!)

Anyway, I’m a sucker for an unseasonably warm day, so Alan and hoofed it to the dog park to see if we could touch other people’s animals. Because I’m OCD and travel a lot I don’t actually have a dog, but I love them, so this is my happy compromise.

The dog park was packed with canines and owners alike purging their cabin fever (not to be confused with Bieber Fever – it wasn’t overtaken but screaming girls) so it was a perfect night for pooch watching. Continue reading →

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Why I will never be a comedian.

21 Feb

Yesterday I thought of something while I was walking that seemed blog-worthy, even though it was just a sentence. I can’t remember it now, but at the time, I thought it was hi-larious.

So hilarious that it occurred to me to start a “stand-up” category where I could test one-liners as if I were a comedian. Almost as soon as I had that thought, I cringed at myself, realizing that no one – and I mean  NO ONE – is funny enough to “test” their material for a non-existent stand-up routine on a non-existent audience.

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I’ve got your TPS report right here.

18 Feb

At work a few weeks back, we were discussing creating a document where we store data that multiple people needed to access for responding to RFPs. My colleague – who sometimes mixes up words – ran with the idea, suggesting we create a central suppository.

I almost fell off my chair at the time, but in retrospect, I think there’s something clever about it. At least it would be more polite to direct someone to a “central suppository” instead of telling them directly to shove it up their ass.

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For Valentine’s Day, I gave Alan the gift of Crazy.

17 Feb

Since I had to travel for work on Monday (meaning I would miss Valentine’s Day) Alan and I decided we would celebrate early by making reservations at Brasserie Beck for dinner right after work Friday night.

We were both pretty excited about it, so when my leg ballooned to the size of an elephant’s trunk and I hopped a cab for the hospital, I called him with the news, “We may need to push back our dinner reservation, because I’m on my way to the ER.”

I probably should’ve started that call with, “I’m fine and you shouldn’t be worried…” but I was too fixated on the meal to think rationally. So it was no wonder Alan promptly freaked out and jumped in his car to meet me at the hospital.

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Part One: In which, for a moment, I think someone has taken out a hit on me.

14 Feb

I’ve never needed an emergency room before, but this weekend I was there twice, for two separate things.

First, my work day was cut short on Friday because I looked down and realize my left calf was suddenly Hulk-worthy, measuring in at almost two inches wider in circumference than my right leg. I called my doctor and he directed me to the ER to get an ultrasound for a blood clot. (More on that in a separate entry.)

Then yesterday, thinking I would take advantage of the gorgeous weather, I ventured out for a walk. Forty minutes into the walk, while in a pedestrian crosswalk, I got hit by a car.

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