Styrofoam cups

Here is another random thought for the day. Well, as we all know, I have a slight love for Chick-fil-a. Well, since my recent veganism, I have not been able to indulge in their lovely chicken nuggets with all the delightful little crispy's on the outside that crunch so deliciously as they release the tasty grease that they contain. At any rate, I still find myself drawn to eat there, and I have come to the realization as to exactly why. Here it is, they have these styrofoam cups. Now, I know they are not the most environmentally sound, however, they are amazing in their performance. They are great to hold, as they do not sweat and become slimy/slippery when you go to pick them up (as the plastic cups do). This is an attribute from the fact that styrofoam is a great insulator. However, not only the feel of them is great, but they also hold the ice a lot longer, and the Diet Coke is nothing short of the most tasty. So, all these things said, hold strong chick-fil-a, to your non-environmental concerned ways as far as the styrofoam cups go, and please continue to serve these. The Diet Coke addicts out there love them, and you for having them. Keep up the good work.

Gun Laws

This is a very controversial post most likely, and that's fine with me, everyone has their opinions and I do understand where they are coming from, but I have mine as well, and I will hold them more dearly (to be quite frank). Although, I am open for comments. At any rate...I went and got my concealed firearms permit (concealed carry, whatever you choose to call it) about a month ago. At this point, I freely admit that I have no idea about guns, and will not be packing one around, or even having it loaded at my home anytime soon. However, in the future, once I have some more education on the gun safety subject, I would like to be able to defend myself and my home. Don't worry, I'm not a nut (you can all have your own opinions on that as well)....Well, in order to learn gun safety and learn to shoot and handle one properly, I would need the tool, and so I set out to purchase a handgun. I began talking with people who owned them, researching on the internet and all that good stuff. I picked out the gun that I wanted and I went to the store to purchase it. I still have an Ohio driver's license (I am a student and not working, and so that is legal, although I am well aware that if I am to get a job, I will need to change my driver's license to Utah within 60 days). With that said, my CCP is from Utah (I was here to take the class, and Ohio and Utah have "reciprocity" with each other's permits...that means they share gun laws as far as concealed carry and they allow those permits to stand in a legal situation as lawful in both state.) So I begin to fill out the paperwork and then it is realized that although my CCP is Utah, my license is Ohio, and therefore I cannot by a handgun in any state but Ohio. (this does not matter for long guns, if anyone was wondering, as they fall under a different category and can be purchased in any state. Why you ask? what is the difference? no clue.) So, I cannot buy the gun, and I leave the store frustrated but assuming that I will go home over thanksgiving (I was going anyway) and purchase one in Ohio and bring it back on the plane. Don't worry, I then checked into all those legalities, and you are allowed to have a gun in you baggage the regulations are as follows: you must have no ammunition in the gun itself, it must be declared at check-in and you must then have the TSA rep. come over and open the chamber so that they can verify there is no ammunition in the gun. You then place the gun back in its case, and sign a "empty chamber verification" paper. At this point you put your TSA approved gun locks on your case (they can be purchased at any firearm store), take the key with you, and put the gun along with the waiver into the baggage and you are set. As far as bullets, you are allowed to have them in your bag as well, just not in the gun case, and they have to be arranged in a case as they would have come from a manufacturer. Now, each airline has a bit different of a policy on it (particulars about how many and how much they can weigh per person per bag), but this is the generality, and my particular carrier was Delta, and I had checked all those out.
Well, now I just had to get to Ohio and buy the gun I wanted. Well, it turns out that they did not have the gun I wanted in my area, nor could they order it in time for thanksgiving, and blah, blah, blah. So my next move was to call the ohio attorney general's office and ask how I can purchase a handgun in Utah given my situation. This lead to calling the highway patrol, the bureau of criminal investigations, my local sheriff's office in ohio, and so on and so on until after speaking with 12 different law officials between the states of Utah and Ohio I finally spoke with a lovely man at the Attorney General's office in Utah and he was in charge of gun laws. I explained my situation, and his answer was that if I could get my Utah I.D. card (which would not void my ohio residency preference for future graduate applications), I could purchase the hand gun in Utah. Well, so then I had to call the License Bureau in Utah and discuss with them exactly what getting this ID card would require. I had all of these things (photo ID, bills sent to my address as proof of residency, transcripts, etc.) I walk into the DMV and am told at the front that I need my social security card. Well, unfortunately that is nicely tucked away in a safe in my room in Ohio, and therefore a no go. At this point, I am told I can go to the Social Security Administration building and get a verification with other things which I have (who even knew these places existed?). So I proceed to the soc.sec.adm. bldg. to find a two hour wait, and we won't even get into the lovely people I meet in the waiting room there. At any rate, get that little temporary piece of paper which basically took me telling the man at the desk my SSN and walking out the door. I now go back to the DMV and get my ID card.
I call the store that had the gun as of two days ago, and now that I can buy it, of course it has been sold. I now decide on another gun (a little heavier and a bit longer barreled so there is less recoil)and no one in Orem has the gun in stock. So, I call the place in orem to see if they have it in any neighboring stores. It turns out they do, in Midvale. I call Midvale, it was true, they do have it, and so I put it on hold. I now go to Midvale store, pick up my gun, fill out the paper work, present my Utah ID card, and think I'm going to get the gun. But, that would have been way to simple. So, he calls the BCI for a background check and three minutes later gets a phone call back saying that they need to speak with me (you should have seen his face, probably thinking i was a serial killer or something of the sort). I answer the phone and they ask if I am who I say I am (sure, why not, that's pretty secure), and then proceed to tell me that I need a copy of all my transcripts from utah state in the time I attended. I respond calmly explaining that I do not have those, but can get them if they would like, however the Utah attorney general's office said that I did not need them. She is perplexed on the other end of the line, and tells me to wait a minute (more like ten) and then asks a few more questions about university ID's, rental contracts, etc. I respond in roughly the same manner as the first question response and I am asked to wait again (this time only about two minutes). After the hold, she comes back on to let me know that she checked with her supervisor (thank goodness someone knows what's going on), and he said that the Utah ID was all that was needed. (Really? that's funny, because, that is what I said at the beginning), so now I am cleared and i finally have my gun. wow, you prob don't care, but just had to vent. oh ya, and if you're in the business of purchasing a gun anytime soon I am now well versed on all the gun laws and bylaws as well as all the intricacies of gun slang ,make and models if you need some help or advice.

Dear Older Man in my Chem Class...

Dear older guy in my chemistry class,
You sit behind me every morning when you walk in five minutes late, mumble something to the kid in front of you, make quite a bit of noise sitting down and then you open your 32oz. Mt.Dew...I don't mind your being there, and I'm all for going back to school when your older (lord knows if it weren't for you I would be the oldest person there). However, with your age has seemingly come an unawareness of those around you trying to pay attention, as well as an increased self-confidence in which you feel compelled to loudly answer each and every question (rhetorical or otherwise) within a second of it being asked, and also regardless of whether or not you have a clue what you are talking about. I enjoy your enthusiasm, but please think before you speak, everyone else seems to be taking a moment to do so. And just a question (rhetorical btw), how many times does a teacher have to say "no..." and continue on with the explanation before you realize you are never right and just stop trying. Perhaps you are a slow learner, and that is unfortunate (evidently for both of us), but please stop answering so loudly and incorrectly each and every day. After about the first ten times I quite frankly want to turn around and punch you in the face so that the mt.dew to your mouth at all times falls smashes into your teeth, falls to the floor and splashes all over you, creating a large mess in all it's splashing grandeur. I can then sit back and watch it all proceed (after my fist as the initial catalyst is back at my side) with the theme music proudly playing in my head. Okay, perhaps that was a bit dramatic, but that is kind of how I see it unfolding if this does not soon stop. If you can close your mouth for one class period, or even just answer the non-rhetorical questions correctly I would greatly appreciate it and we would learn much more material with no need to stop, correct, and start again every five minutes. Thanks, Eve

children's books clarified

1) The Mystery of the Pirate Ghost - written by Geoffery Hayes
Otto and his Uncle Tooth track down the pirate ghost terrorizing Boogle Bay.
2) Goodnight Moon - by Margaret Wise Brown
Descriptions of colorful pictures of what's in a room
3) Fred - by Posy Simmons
Fred's owners, Sophie and Nick think he is the laziest cat in the world, but who knows what goes on after dark? It's only after their beloved pet dies, that they discover he has been leading an exciting double life . . .
4) There's A Girl in My Hammerlock - by Jerry Spinelli
Maisie Potter knows what she wants, she knows why, and she knows how to get it. So when her teenage hormones begin acting up around Eric Delong, she abandons girls' field hockey for cheerleading. And when she doesn't make the squad, she patiently waits for next season's sports to begin, and to the horror of almost everyone in the school, tries out for wrestling. Of course, this is an all boys' team, and Eric Delong is one of those boys. Maisie makes the team and surprises everyone with her endurance and skill. She also makes more than her share of enemies, including Lizard Liz Lamply, Eric's aggressive girlfriend, and Holly, her fickle best friend. But Maisie has heart and determination--she's a female Maniac Magee with an intact, nurturing family, and she picks up more well-wishers along the way, as pockets of strength appear in refreshingly whole supporting characters. Maisie's is an original and vibrant adolescent voice--curious, confident, and very alive. She tells a story of sexism and challenges that is fresh from the headlines and perfectly integrated into the everyday events at a suburban junior high school, rich with nuance and melodrama.
5) Who Put That Hair in my Toothbrush? - by Jerry Spinelli
he sibling rivalry between twelve-year-old Megin and her older brother Greg intensifies after she ruins his science project and he retaliates by throwing her favorite hockey stick into the pond.

There are the complete and correct titles along with small synopsis for each. Enjoy!

Late night...random thoughts

So, basically it's like the bizillionth night that I have not been able to fall asleep at my usual 9pm at the latest bed time. This may sound like a good thing to most of you, but it's kind of throwing off my schedule, and to be honest, I don't do well without a schedule. At any rate, here I am, with a compilation of random thoughts from today.
1) I was sitting in anatomy lab this evening and the perfect amount of light was shining through the window to illuminate every stray hair on my substitute lab instructors face. You know the light i'm talking about, the light where every flaw on your skin (especially the random straggler hairs) are glowing in all their ugliness. So there they were, two black chin hairs, staring at me every time I tried to look at her. It was a good thing I didn't have a tweezers or I might have been hard pressed not to have an intervention right then and there. I'm not saying that they are hideous and I can't handle it, because I have them, I'm just saying they are hideous, period. Regardless I feel as though we should all be on the look out to warn each other if we see them. Now, perhaps I'm the only person under 50 who has these, I suppose that could very well be the case, as often I feel as though I'm in an 80 year old body (you know with arthritis in all my joints and arthritic bone spurs in my jaw -- seriously, who does this happen to). At any rate, I had gone back to work on cadavers and promptly forgot about the hairs until I arrived home and found a hair on my boyfriend's toothbrush. It sat next to mine, and I didn't notice it at first, so I picked mine up, and brushed away...ahh, minty clean....and then, holy shit!... I almost hurled. There it sat, a small black hair, wedged in-between the bristles of his toothbrush (thank goodness it was not mine or I would have hurled), just staring at me, daring me to touch it. Well, I didn't take the dare, i didn't touch it, I didn't dare touch it. I'll let him know when I see him sometime tomorrow. anyway, this leads me to my next random thought...
2) Did you ever read "Who put that hair in my toothbrush" or "There is a girl in my hammerlock," or even heard of them? Well, I have this vivid recollection all of a sudden of those two books being my favorite books of early adolescence and I am now trying to find a way to get my hands on a copy. I need to look them up as soon as I've had enough of typing on here. At any rate, great books, don't really recall what they are about, but I think the title should tell us enough...they are clearly cornerstones of our literature past and should definitely not be forgotten, so if you have a moment, pause and remember you favorite childhood books. (P.S., obvs The Outsiders should be on the list) Also, sidenote from real childhood my favorite books were the one with the mouse and the moon (very basic and I think it was called "Goodnight Moon"), another I believe was called "fred the cat" or simply "fred" who would go out at night and wreak havoc on the neighborhood when his owners went to bed, and I remember something about the children thinking he had died and saying "poor fred, poor poor fred, fred is dead, dear old fred is dead." I know weird memories, and better still what about the one with a pirate and a pipe that said "pfoot, pfoot" (you can make the sound as you read it). Anyway, good times with childhood books, I had many clearly rememberable nights with those books, I should find them and read them again. You should do the same, either read my recommendations or remember and find your own.
3) Random thought that is totally unrelated (as if the first two actually were, but somehow they linked)...Golden girls is perhaps the best television sitcom ever created. Like the G-rated 70's version of "sex and the city." These old women, we all picture our grandmothers when watching it, talking about one night stands, and their dead husbands, and they have created their own sorority house. Come to think of it, this is like "Old School" but actually is old school, it's the freakin' original "old school." Rose (the ditz who always talks about growing up in st.olef), Dorothy (the uptight and overprotective daughter who never has a guy except her crazy inventor ex-husband who pops up every once and a while), blanche (the southern bell who thinks she's still 20 and beautiful and is a total slut as they all tell her), and of course the best ever Sophia (the incredibly old and absolutely hilarious mother of dorothy who gets more action than her daughter and has all the health problems of her age, but the wit of a 30 year old). Anyway, I think i've gone on long enough, but it is a must see. I pretty much can turn it on (it's about the only thing on my DVR, because it is on lifetime 4 times a day and i've yet to see a re-run), and laugh out loud to myself almost to the point of crying. Now you might think this is a rare occurence depending on the episode, but I beg to differ, it is a guarantee with just about every episode as they are all just as hilarious as the next. Let me paint you a scene: Dorothy is sitting at the table with Blanche when Sophia walks in with what looks like cataract glasses. Dorothy looks up and says, "ma, what are you wearing those for? are your eyes hurting?" and Sophia says, "no, pussycat, I just lost my glasses and these seem to be working." Dorothy responds, "ma, you can't tell me you can see in those" and Sophia says, "sure I can, who's the black guy at the table with you?" and then she advances across the kitchen to stand at the counter and observe the table. Dorothy and Blanche go on to discuss Blanche's family tree so that she can go over it with the Daughters of the South at their annual ceremony to allow in new members (ridiculous in it's own right), when Dorothy realizes that Blanche's great grandfather was not only born in Buffalo, NY (making her a yankee and inelegeable for the Daughters of the South), but also that he was jewish. Blanche responds, horrified, that now she's not only a yankee but she's also jewish and Sophia says quietly from behind, "and now the black guy is prejudice.".....oh man, you prob stopped reading a while ago, but i'm crying i'm laughing to hard just writing it. Basically, it's great, everyone needs a daily dose of Golden Girls, the greatest show on earth!

blue-footed booby

So, my friend today was mentioning that she was on the good old facebook (what would we all do without the stalker in all of us being so easily enabled) and was looking at a friends pictures from the galapagos. She then mentioned this bird with "baby blue feet" that was so pretty. Being the inherent dork that I am, I promptly asked why their feet may be like that, are they seabirds? do they camouflage to the water or something? My answers didn't seem good enough, my friend was as perplexed (or perhaps really didn't care) as I, and so I decided to look it up. Well, here are my findings, thought you might find them interesting....The bird is actually called the blue-footed booby bird. I have added a picture so that you can better picture the exact creature that I am speaking of. The name "booby" comes from some foreign word bubi or bobi (depending on which source you consult) and meaning "dunce" or "stupid fellow" (once again depending on the source). Either way you get the point, this bird is not the brightest of creatures, or more correctly explained, it is simply very clumsy when on land. I then learned that these blue feet play a very large role in their mating rituals. Evidently the females are attracted to something about these blue feet doing some clearly incredible dancing (I can only imagine the turn-on). Well, if those males can move those flappers in the right way, then they may just find themselves a mate! (they are monogamous or bimogamous if you were curious) so this is quite the big deal, ya know, this whole dancing thing. So, this is probably a better explanation as to why these purty blue feet have developed. This brought me to wonder about our mating rituals, and wow, that gets the wheels turning, but i'll leave that up to each individual to ponder on their own, as I'm sure it tells us something different and unique to each of us. The other reason I found as the likely reason for these feet is simply the fact that there also exists the red-footed booby bird (who knew these things even existed in the first place), and so these different colored feet allow them to tell each other apart....I read this and though to myself, can it really be that basic? We really need different colored feet to tell ourselves apart? but, then again, I looked down at my socks and realized that although not color-coded to mean human, probably human in their own right by the simple fact I was wearing them, and not only that, but they have L and R (p.s. I had them on the wrong feet) for morons like myself (CLEARLY as I couldn't even adequately use them) to tell which foot is which. So then I realized, perhaps it is this simple, perhaps we need simple indicators to tell us many things in life. At any rate, now that we're all updated on the blue-footed booby, i ask you to question, how do your feet look and what do they tell you about yourself? I won't answer that question out loud (it'd be pretty embarassing) and I think you can probably draw your own conclusions from the evidence above. Anyway, just some food for thought.

the Lowe's experience

Well, this is a fairly short entry, but had to share it. So I'm attempting to install a mantel over my fireplace (you might ask yourself who has a fireplace without a mantle? I did, but, well as it commonly goes, the answer is me. i don't) to rectify the ridiculous situation of a plain drywall wall above a hole of a fireplace. So, I read up on it, decide the best method of attachment will be to create a "french cleat" if you would like to know the proper term, and so I proceed to Lowe's to acquire the needed supplies. I already have a power drill (I know, i'm high tech like that) and majority of other things, but no level or stud finder or proper wood screws, etc. Well, my boyfriend shows up to my house in his jeans and flannel shirt (hot, i know). I proceed to go over the list of what we need and if he agrees that it will work (sometimes don't know why I even ask), and he responds with a very glazed over expression that it sounds good. So we go, and as we get to the store he is walking a good 4 feet behind me and carrying his glass of diet coke that he is casually drinking while meandering behind me through the aisles. Well, I find the dry wall anchors (in case I can't find the studs) and proceed on to find the wood screws. I begin to look at the different sizes and diameters available when a woman looks down the aisle and says "do you work here?" I turn around, thinking she couldn't be talking to me as I look as clueless as she, and realize that she is looking at Rob. As I observe the situation I see that of course she would be talking to him, I mean he is wearing the flannel shirt that screams "I know my stuff at Lowe's" but then I realize he is also drinking out of his purple glass and texting someone on his cell phone. My immediate reaction is to ask if she is a moron, but think better of it and instead respond, "who, him? he's useless." She proceeds on her way, and Rob acts as though he is offended that I called him useless, but then completely blows his cover that he wasn't wondering why she might have thought he actually worked there by saying (after about a minute passes) "oh, i guess I am wearing a flannel shirt." "Mmhmmm," I say, thinking of course, wow, you're not only useless in the hardware store, but you're a little slow too. However, I don't say that, and instead I just chuckle to myself and think, this will be a good one to blog about. I mean, honestly, if only my boyfriend fit the useful part of the bad stereotype of the way he dresses. Who wears flannel shirts? So that was my hour of lovely time at Lowe's. I'll keep ya posted on how the mantel mounting actually plays out. I am now well equipped for the project, just have to face it. (p.s. I love ya babe, and you aren't useless at all, just sometimes in the "fix-it" parts of life).

the perfect picture of white trash

So this is completely random, but it came to me as a vivid memory for some reason today, and I felt the need to recount it. So here goes:
I was home in cleveland a few summers ago, and decided to go to the drive-in movie with my parents (I think it may in fact be the last drive-in that actually still operates). We were seeing pirates of the caribbean II, for which I was not too enthused, but regardless of the film the people watching was priceless. It all began when we pulled up in an area without yet a lot of people. It slowly began to fill up and next thing I knew this old, brown, low-rider, Buick pulled up in front of us. I was pretty excited to see what or who would emerge from the vehicle, as their car was impressive in its own right. It only got better as I watched the scene unfold before my eyes. First three little grungy kids jumped out and began to pile their blankets and pillows onto the hood of the car. This was interesting, but then it got even better when the "mother" (I quote it as I am making an assumption) emerges from the passenger seat. SHE is priceless, SHE was worth the entrance fee. Now begins how I try to explain the perfect symbol of white trash with the most admiration possible...
First emerges a pale leg with no shoes on, followed by a more bare leg nearly all the way to the top (at which point I begin wondering if she is wearing any pants). Then I release my breath as I see the brownish blue fringe on the edge of a cut-off pair of daisy dukes. She emerges in entirety with bare feet, daisy dukes mostly covered by an oversized wife-beater that was a lovely shade of gray and some amazing dollar store sunglasses. At this point my night was complete, but it only continued to get better. She turns around to open up her lawn-chair and the rear of her daisy dukes are a lovely brown/yellow color over the faded blue jean (ya know, as if they had seen better and cleaner days). She sits in her chair for a moment, and I think that it's really over, I've seen all she has to offer. But no, she then sits back in the passenger seat for a moment with the door open and reaches in the glove box for a pack of cigarettes (not a conaisseure so I don't know the brand) but she emerges with a long skinny brown cigarette with a white plastic filter on the end. (p.s. I've always wondered what the hell that thing is "filtering.") She proceeds to sit back, relax and smoke it. She seems content, but evidently that was a misjudgement on my part because she then reaches over to the door pocket and pulls out a magazine. I now payed closer attention as I figured it had to be a top quality trash magazine (that I would take as a very strong recommendation for my next purchase), and lucky for me, she didn't let me down. It was not only a junk magazine but THE junk magazine: The Enquirer. Exactly as it looks in the check-out line, black and white, big bold letters across the top, and the most ridiculous pictures (the ultimate displays of amateur photoshop users).
So here I was, watching the most amazing scene unfold before my eyes, from the wife-beater and daisy dukes all the way to The Enquirer...So I sat back in my admiration and wondered, really? does it get any better than this? forget the movie, this was the most perfect human I have ever witnessed to this day. She was purebred white trash, born and raised, and she crossed the i's and dotted the t's on every stereotype that was ever created about who she was and what she stood for. It was pure, it was real and it was priceless...Thank you drive-in movies, for bringing the best audiences ever. (what does that say about me?)

christmas time is coming

So I must admit that I am one of THOSE people who start decorating for Christmas as soon as Halloween is over. In fact, christmas is something I would love to decorate for year 'round, although I have to set some boundaries so that it still maintains its excitement when it comes time. At any rate, just needed to let this be known, so that all those who are the anti-Christmas spirit can back off...Please, why wouldn't you like Christmas? It's family time, evergreen smells time, and eggnog time! There is also the whole gift giving aspect, I understand, but if that stresses you out, than just leave it. Christmas was not meant to stress us out, it was meant to bring each and everyone of us a long overdue "cup of cheer" that we have been needing all year long! At least that's how I view it, I mean honestly folks, would you rather love a season and feel all warm and fuzzy inside or waste energy to avoid that feeling and consequently make yourself dread something that is just so great. In summary, I can't wait for Christmas, for snow and for cuddly naps and family time. I LOVE CHRISTMAS! (and think you all should to). Take a deep breath and face the fact; Some of us will never outgrow our love of Christmas from childhood, and unfortunately for all the uncle scrooges out there, we are the majority.

useless information

Do you ever feel as though you have managed to gain so much useless information over the years, and wonder how it really all fits in there? Well, after eight years of undergraduate classes I know that I have gathered well beyond my fair share of useless information. However, the other night I was made to wonder: useless information...is it really "useless?" or is it simply "used less".
I sat on the phone last night (not literally sat, rather talked) later than my usual eight-thirty bed time (in fact 4 hours later) and so I was in a relatively low grade state of delirium when the topic turned to melatonin. Go figure, we were speaking of it as being a great herbal sleep aid. Without even realizing, I soon found myself uncontrollably regurgitating to my friend all of the reasons that it would make sense that it would work. Some smattering of "controlling your circadian cycles," "released by the pineal gland," and "endocrine hormone" along with "synthesized by the amino-acid tryptophan," followed by about a two minute long dialogue (pretty much to myself) regarding that perhaps because of its synthesis from tryptophan both of them have sleepy effects. This naturally segued into thanksgiving dinner, and the fact that I won't have that great nap this year because I have recently become vegan, and trailed off rather quickly thereafter.
At any rate, soon after my "thoughts" had been released from my tired and easily amused brain, I was brought to laugh at myself immediately and apologize for bringing in way too much to detail to such an initially simple topic. My friend quickly responded, "it's okay, you can let me know, because I won't really follow and then i'll just say 'I don't know, but it works.'"...And this is an incredibly long ramble to get to the point that perhaps there is a time when you have gathered so much of the "useless" information that when all compiled it may actually be quite useful and informative and its bad name comes from the mere fact that it is "used less."

Pooping my pants

Well, I figured I would start out with a brief story from about two months ago that explains very well exactly my luck in life (take it as you will). My boyfriend's nieces who happen to live with him had all caught some form of the flu. I was worried I was going to get it, so I only stayed part of the weekend before leaving to go back to my house up in Logan. I was feeling okay until the evening when I got back and even when I did start to feel a bit "off" I kept telling myself that it was all in my head.
To say the least, come 1:30am it was NOT in my head. I hit the bathroom at record speed and then had a momentary dilemma of which way to hit the toilet; head or rear first. I went with the rear and this was the obvious right choice judging from what followed. I proceeded to sit on the toilet until about 4am having intermittent spurts of very awful bodily functions out one end or the other.
Let me just tell you that these were the roughest threeish hours of my life. I didn't want to go into great detail, but I think it must be explained simply to put it all into perspective. It began with a normal routine of a movement and a wipe. Soon, however, the chaffing began and the burning sensation followed. After about the first four of those cycles, the burning sensation got to the point where even with applying neosporin after each wipe in-between movements, there was still no relief. After about the first hour it was as though a lighter was being held to my butt cheeks everytime I sat down and the acidic projections would aggrevate the raw skin to the point of feeling like knives in my bum. Soon the pain was so great that I then began to puke because of it. So two hours into this whole episode I had now become a true "switchhitter" on the toilet. About a half hour into that, I then began to shower with cold water to clean myself rather than attempt to wipe the burning embers that had become my butt cheeks. And so it proceeded until 4am: toilet bum first, cold shower, toilet head first, and the incessant burning and pain.
Luckily this had all quieted down for the most part in time for me to curl up in my bed and grab about two hours of sleep before getting up to go to class. Well, all day long went pretty well until about noon when I had to go sit in a computer lab and take some assessment test. Roughly half way through this test, I began to have some churning feelings in my stomach again. I was a bit worried, but honestly though that it was just gas cramps and it would all be relieved as soon as I could reach my car. I finished the test, made it to my car, and began to release the gas to my major relief. I was relieved, that must have been it, and so, hoping for one last release, I let out one last squeak that turned out to be the kicker. I guess you could say the last one of the string was a "shart." So began my drive home, leaning on one butt cheek so as not to mush the unknown contents in my underwear further through to my pants. So I guess you could say it was awkward and uncomfortable and so perhaps I was going a little faster than I should have. I survived the ten minute drive up until the point where I could see my townhouse from the last stop sign of the journey. So, with the excitement of getting home I suppose I didn't really stop at the stop sign but I did "totally pause" (to quote the best movie ever, Clueless). Well, the policeman hiding on the side street evidently did not agree that a pause was enough, and proceeded to pull me over in front of my complex.
He arrived at my window, with me basically leaning out of it, in the attempt to keep the situation in my pants from progressing any further. The whole normal pull-over began with if I knew what I had done, if I usually stopped, etc. I responded abruptly with yes, sir, I did roll that stop sign, but to be honest I shit my pants and was just trying to get home to rectify the situation at hand, and I live right there as I point at the beckoning door to my house. I'm not sure he thought I was serious, but it was the truth, and all that I had to offer. He let me off with no further questions and parted with a simple "well, I'll let you go get that taken care of, but please make sure to stop at all stop signs in the future." I thankfully pulled away and arrived in my house. Everything was taken care of, and the day went on. I guess now I know a good excuse if I ever get pulled over again. But, honestly, what are the chances of THAT ever happening, to ANYONE? prob, pretty slim, but it did.