Bruised like the peach that I am

I should be banned from the world of blogging. I'm a terrible, terrible blogger, and for that, I apologize. I wish I could say that I haven't had time to blog because I've been busy saving starving children, or finding the cure for AIDS. Even if I could say I've been busy working, I'd feel a little better. But no, this past week was my first week of work and I clocked a whopping 12 hours. WOAH. So what have I been doing with my time? Well, I started reading the Golden Compass by Philip Pullman, but I'm only 98 pages into it, so that doesn't really count, and I was planning a surprise scavenger hunt for my boyfriend for his birthday, but that only took a couple days, and well, I've been sleeping... a lot. I really am a very boring person. 

I'll fill you in on my weekend excitement though....

On Thursday I went to the blood clinic to get a blood test done because an alarming amount of my family members have been testing positive for a genetic disorder called Factor 5 Leiden. I don't know much about it except that it has something to do with Protein C and Protein S and it causes hypercoagulability, which, in turn, can lead to blot clots. Apparently, if I test positive, then I'll have to go off oral contraceptives. But the ironic part is that women who have the disease and become pregnant are at a greater risk of thrombosis. Go figure... 

Anyway, I got my blood test, and within minutes of leaving the clinic, my arm started to hurt. So, like always, I ignored it for a bit. Two hours later it's still hurting. Come supper time, I look down at my arm and it's turning a shade of blue directly below the elbow. At about 10 pm last night, I was getting a little nervous, seeing as the bruise was getting bigger by the minute. I called Telecare and the nurse on the line told me to get to a hospital within 4 hours. So of course I didn't go. This morning it was looking better so I figured it was going away. Then... I went to work. I don't think lifting trays of dirty dishes helped my arm any, and now it's getting black and blue again. I haven't had a bruise this big since I fell off a stage during a performance 7 years ago. 

The picture doesn't really do it justice, but at least you can get an idea of the size of the sucker. If it didn't hurt I wouldn't really care so much... I mean, a good bruise always makes for an interesting story, but when it affects my sleep it's gone too far. 

Speaking of sleep... I'm out. 

I'm in the blue! :D

Alright, sorry for the lack of posts lately... I've been a pretty boring individual since I finished school. All I've been doing is packing and moving...

Anyway, I was reading Healthbolt today and decided to take the vitality compass challenge - it tells you what your life expectancy is based on your current life habits. My results are as follows:

Biological age: 19.2

Life expectancy: 93.9

Healthy life expectancy: 80.9

Blue zone years: 12.2

and I could add: 4.4

Not too bad... but I could definitely do better. I went back and retook the quiz based on the hours I used to dance when I was in high school (when I was in the studio every day for about 3 hours on average). Here are the new results:

Biological age: 18.4

Life expectancy: 97.7

Healthy life expectancy: 85.2

Blue zone years: 15.9

and I could add: 2.0

I could add five years of healthy life expectancy if I can get back into a good work out/exercise routine!! Definitely something to think about....

So, take the quiz at bluezones.com and leave a comment to let me know how it goes. 

I'M DONE!!!!!!!!

DONE 

DONE  

DONE

DONE

DONE DONE

DONE

DONE

DONE

DONE AT MOUNT A FOREVER!

...that is all :)

"And your duties would be..."

On Tuesday I had a job interview for a local daycare, so the night before as I was going through my almost-nightly routine of watching an episode of Friends on sidereel.com, I decided to watch 'The one with the cooking class", seeing as Chandler goes for a job interview in the episode. At the time, I thought maybe it would be a good choice, maybe I'd get some sound advice on how to ace the interview. Here's a clip from the show...

So, the next day at the interview, the woman who is interviewing me is talking a bit about the job and what does she say? "Let's talk about what your DUTIES would be." No joke. I almost lost it. I don't think I've ever shown that much restraint in my life. As I was leaving, I almost pulled a Chandler and said "Have you ever seen that episode of Friends where Chandler goes to a job interview and starts talking about doody? You know, poo?" Seriously, the words were on the tip of my tongue. To prevent myself from letting it slip, I started rambling about the weather and how spring was on its way. Lame, I know, but at least I didn't talk to my potential future boss about poop. 

Post from England

In July & August of 2004, my mom, my grandmother and myself took a trip to England and Wales to see where my grandmother was born and raised. Tonight, mom came across this email that I sent to my dad while we were away. It made me laugh so I thought I would share: (make sure you read to the end)

Hey Daddy, 

I don't have much time because I only brought 2 pounds with me, so this may be short... but I'll type as fast as I can (bear with the typos). Today was a pretty good day, we started off with a tour of Westminster Abbey. It was pretty neat to see where all the royal stuff (coronations, weddings, funerals) take place. Plus it was where the Anglican Church started so that was pretty cool. Then we went down to Buckingham Palace to watch the  changing of the guards. T he lady that sat with me on the bus was from Scotland, I could barely understand a word she said... Anyway, so we got dropped off at Trafalgar Square (where there's a GRANITE column commemorating Lord NELSON, right beside the CANADA building). We roamed around there and Picadilly for awhile then headed over the Thames to the London Eye (it took mom some convincing to get on it). Then I found a sporting store where everything was on sale :) :) :) I ended up getting a Welch rugby jersey and a English 'football' one too. On the way home we got VERY lost on the tube and had to get a bunch of people to help us. I think one guy (prolly around 19 or 20ish) was in complete awe of how stupid we were, but he was very helpful. Then when we finally got redirected by some other man from Notting Hill he helped us out quite a bit. He ended up holding the subway doors open for us since Grammy couldn't run to catch it. 

Anyway, tonight we went to see Chicago. It was SOOOOO good. We had pretty bad seats (Second row, fat right) but it was still amazing. David Hasselhoff was in it too, mom was impressed, she said she's going to rub it in Ruth's face. (Ruth is my aunt, who apparently had a thing for Hasselhoff?!) 

I wish you had've come with us, you'd love all the architecture and the carvings, it's really quite impressive. And my fake British accent is coming along nicely too.

I haven't done too many drugs since getting here, nor have I gotten so drunk that it's taken me any more than 5 trips on the tube to get me home. (Legal age here is only 18 by the way). Mom's trying to send with off with random guys to pick up some more pounds, we're running out quickly because of all the British weed we're been smoking in hyde park after hours. Grammy says she's feeling the best she's felt in years. Oh, and while we were long on the tube a drunk man offered me a swig of what was in his brown paper bag... so I took it and ran before he could catch up with me... the more I drank the faster I seemed to run. I don't know what it was, but it was some powerful. The police actually thanked me for helping to stop the drunk bums in the subway. Also, mom's decided to let me roam free at night since I want to go clubbing and it's not quite what her and gram want to do (they'd rather hit up the pubs). 

Anyway, I best be off... I've got a taxi waiting around the corner with my liquor run for the night... 

Love, Steph xoxox

I'm actually kind of surprised my father didn't have a second heart attack after this email. I can just picture him sitting in front of the computer with a stunned look on his face, trying to figure out if I was serious or if I was kidding around. 

Last Class Bash

Today marked my last class EVER at Mount A.... it's kind of too bad I slept through it. God knows if I'll ever be back in any of the buildings on campus. It's kind of a strange feeling. I still remember my first week at Mount A, how big campus felt and how completely lost I was. Now, 5 years later, I know that campus like the back of my hand, every corner of it has some kind of memory associated with it. Like how Arran and Ash stopped to take a nap in the garden out side the chapel because their residence was too far from the pub, or how many hours I spent on the red floor of the library trying to cram information into my overworked brain. Every time I think of the biology building I'll think of the weekend I spent dissecting dead cats and sharks to study for my chordate anatomy lab exam. I smelled so much like formaldehyde by the end of that weekend that my boyfriend at the time wouldn't even hug me. Or there was the time I pranced around the stage at Con Hall in a bright pink and blue 80's bodysuit with purple leg warmers while the leads in Footloose sang "Holding out for a Hero". 

 I'm holding out for a hero til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight....

I can still remember the terrible, tacky choreography that went along with it. Ahhhh first year. 

Tonight marks an end to these memories.... Thank God! I had a phenomenal time while I was here, I made some great friends, had some amazing memories and got a double major too. But I'm ready to move on with my life. 

Tonight I get drunk... tomorrow I decide what to do with my life... eep!

Hopefully tonight will look something like the following: 

The above video is from a few weekends ago. Derrick had a few too many triple rum & cokes and I just happened to catch it on camera. He's going to kill me when he sees that I posted the video, but I figure no one reads this anyway, so who cares? haha :) 

Essay. From the French essayer, meaning to try. 

I'm trying but I'm sure not getting anywhere. I have a 16 page paper on the treatment of bulimia due on Monday for my advanced psychopathology seminar. I've been staring at a blank screen since 1:00 this afternoon and all I've got so far is 166 words in which I regurgitate the DSM-IV TR criteria for bulimia. In those 166 words, I use the words vomit or purge 7 times. This is gonna be a great essay. 

You'd think I would have a lot to say on this topic, seeing as I wrote a paper on it last year and I just did a half hour presentation/debate on it less than two weeks ago. But no, my brain has decided it has worked too hard for the past 17 years and it wants a break. 

I'm going to eat. Hopefully I'll have a somewhat intelligent conversation with my roommate and recharge my neurons.