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Archive for February, 2011

A gunnie conversation with my Anatomy&Physiology prof

Posted by Lissa on February 28, 2011

ANATOMY & PHYSIOLOGY PROFESSOR (APP): “Yeah, my mom’s going to outlive all her kids.  I mean, the woman packs!

LISSA (instantly): “What does she pack?”

APP (a little surprised): “Excuse me?”

LISSA (with obvious interest): “What kind of gun does she carry?”

APP (looking almost embarrassed): “A hogleg.

LISSA (delighted): “Really?? What kind??”

APP (fumbling): “It’s a 45.  A sixshooter.”

LISSA:  (beams)

APP (trying to recover): “Me, I prefer the 1911.”  (pause) “Do you know what that is?”

LISSA (trying not to laugh, nor to look snobbish or haughty) “Oh yes! My friend up in Massachusetts has a Gold Cup ACP, match-quality, that he let me shoot.”

APP (enviously): “Yeah, mine’s not that nice.”

******

We continued the gunnie conversation during the break and in the walk to the parking lot after class.  He says, by the way, that he would totally take a Berretta if someone gave it to him, because he would immediately sell it and buy something that works.  (No knocks of people who like Berrettas – I’m just repeating what he said!)

Isn’t it fun when someone shares your interests??

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From the dream journal

Posted by Lissa on February 24, 2011

Last night I dreamed that I was in a water park with a dying cat.

Welcome to my subconscious. :)

It’s not as grim as it sounds, though … It was my cat, but it wasn’t Rajah. This cat was colored similarly but was much longer and skinnier and older. I think most of my dream revolved around keeping the cat dry (or at least not drowning) and trying to beam-ourselves-up-Scotty at designated beaming stations. Did you know that you have to close your eyes when you disintegrate lest they fly out of your skull? Yeah, me neither.

Of course, I woke up with The Rajah patting my face, so that eyeball thing could have been prompted by paws’n’claws :)

P.S. Thank you, busy people, for the helpful tips! I’ll have a more detailed response in Week 2. Assuming this week doesn’t kill me. ;-)

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TIRED. So. Tired.

Posted by Lissa on February 23, 2011

*cue the siren of the Wahhhhhmmmbulance*

Ugh.  This is rather a tough week for Lissa.  I mean, I knew it would be an adjustment to go back to work full-time.  I expected the mid-afternoon fatigue. I’m learning to like the drive and honing my highway-rush-hour-skills.

But I’m exhausted. I drove home yesterday and threw together a hasty dinner (thank you, Crockpot, for making me delicious Mexican chicken!*), gobbled it down, unloaded the dishwasher and did the dishes, then spent just under three hours preparing for my Developmental Psychology test tonight. Meanwhile, I haven’t opened the box with the skeleton, my floors really need to be vacuumed, my bathroom is crying “Clean me!  Clean me!!” and I owe someone in MA a thank-you card.

I know, I know.  I want cheese with my whine!  But seriously — I *know* a lot of y’all are busier than I am.  I know that you’ve done what I’m doing, only with kids added into the mix.  Soooooo . . . any helpful tips, dear readers? Please?  How have you managed to organize/juggle all the things that you need done while not dying from lack of sleep???

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I lived!

Posted by Lissa on February 22, 2011

First, a big thank you to Amy, George, Christina LMT, Butch Cassidy, Terrence and To Old to Work — I really was a bit nervous for my first day, so your comments were really appreciated!!

I think I’ll do just fine at Florida Financial.  It’s a very different place from Ye Olde Financial Company, but different doesn’t mean worse; just not-familiar.  I suppose that any place would have been different, really, since Ye Olde Financial Company was the only place that I worked after college.  Kind of nice to think that the real company-references on my resume just doubled ;-)

I’m still working on classes at the community college — I had NO FREAKING IDEA THERE WERE SO MANY G**DAMNED BONES IN THE HUMAN BODY, LET ALONE THE MARKINGS — which means that my life is going to be pretty busy this year.  My current plan is to try to finish up all my prerequisites this year.  If all goes well, then I can decide at year-end whether A) I love Florida Financial and want to stay there for years, or B) it’s really time to go to nursing school.  If Option A ends up being where it’s at, then I imagine nursing school will be put off until we move again (we think that’s pretty likely in 5-7 years).  In the meantime, I’ve ordered a 16.5″ skeleton and a skull so I can put my fingers on things as I learn them.

And hey, it’s a headstart for Halloween decorations! Yay!!

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Day 1 at Florida Financial

Posted by Lissa on February 21, 2011

Good morning everyone! We had a LOVELY time in Mexico — I’ve got quite a pleasing tan :) I’ll try to post pix sometime this week.

In the meantime, though, I’m very carefully gussied up in a pinstriped suit with a black sweater tank underneath. Florida Financial is a couple towns down from Lissaville South and I wasn’t sure about traffic, so I left an hour before opening for a commute that’s supposed to take 20-30 minutes. I arrived with no problem and had JUST pulled out my iPhone to blog when … another car pulled up with who I *think* is my new Big Boss.

So, great; he knows I’m really early. Right?

Um, not quite. See, it’s technically the headhunter agency that is employing me for the first 90 days. And my contact promised to be there at 8:15 to greet/thank everyone and smooth over any awkwardness. And now I’m worried that I’ll interrupt Big Boss’s quiet early morning time.

So … like a coward … I pulled out and am now sitting in front of a Starbucks half a mile away.

But at least I beat most of the traffic!

Happy Monday, y’all! Wish me luck!

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News!!!

Posted by Lissa on February 14, 2011

I’ve got news, everyone! Two pieces of happy news and one piece of sad news. Sad news first:

“SesaWHAT?”
So, remember the Workout Wednesday posts? Remember how I worked my way up to 5k and then to four miles and was really proud of myself? Well, shortly after that I started having trouble running … It just felt like my feet were whamming and I couldn’t find a quick light stride and it was all very discouraging. We figured it was probably a case of plantar fascitis and I took a few weeks off, then went back to short runs. WHAM WHAM WHAM, plus pain in the soles of my feet. Another few weeks off, plus new running shoes that help correct my tendency to pronate … WHAM WHAM WHAM, and now pain in BOTH feet, especially first thing in the morning. *crap* So I bit the bullet and went to a podiatrist.

Guess what? She first thought it was Turf Toe, but upon x-rays it turned out that both my feet have imbalances sesamoids. Those are, apparently, two little bones around the tendon and they’re supposed to be the same size. In both my feet one is significantly smaller than the other, which may be due to avascular necrosis. JOY!! Consequently I spent my Saturday afternoon getting my feet fed into an MRI machine.

By the way, my new goal in LIFE is to NEVER injure my head, neck, shoulders or torso in such a way that would get me fed in head-first. I would have been a gibbering wreck. Damn claustrophobia!!

Sigh. Onto Good News Item the First: I got a job! YAY HOORAY! I start next week for what I’m going to call Florida Financial. It’s a few towns down the road but my commute will still be shorter than it was into Boston. And I’m guaranteed a seat!! And I won’t have random strangers sweating onto me, yay!! :)

Finally, Good News Item the Second: I’m sitting on a boat waiting to take a quick trip to Mexico. Because life is good. :)

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!!

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Today’s Nugget of Wisdom

Posted by Lissa on February 10, 2011

Learning about guns from Hollywood and rap music is like learning about sex from Penthouse and Skinemax. THAT BUS OF HORNY CHEERLEADERS AIN’T NEVER GONNA SHOW UP.

KTHXBYE.

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Oh, c’mon now. Y’all are making me defend KOBE BRYANT?

Posted by Lissa on February 8, 2011

We’re from Boston, hometown to the Basketball Jesus.  And you’re making me defend a LAKER?  Who is also quite possibly a RAPIST and certainly an ADULTERER?

Sigh.  I hate you, World.  Alrighty, here we go.

Did y’all see this commercial?

I re-watched this over the weekend because Mike made a reference to Kobe’s nickname: Black Mamba.  (Thank you, Sports Guy, for letting me have even the weakest grasp on this stuff.)  If you watch carefully during the video you can see that he’s labeled his weapon with the word “MAMBA”.

And then I thought about it, and I googled it, and sure enough — folks called it “distasteful” and criticized him for looking “all smiling and happy.”

You should see ME after firing a REAL gun ;-)

So, as is my wont, let’s get the disclaimers out of the way, shall we?

- I hate 3D video games.  They give me headaches and I can’t work the controls and they suck rabbit ass.

- I have never played Call of Duty (see above) and likely never will.  There are books to read and cats to pet, you know.

- Combat soldiers have hard, dirty, gritty, tough, dangerous jobs.  Video games are the opposite of that.

Okay?  Onwards!

I love this commercial.  I love the soundtrack, I love the cinematography, and the fry cook at the end* makes me LOL.  (Literally.  Not internet-speak, but actually bust out in audible giggles.)

I love it because it parallels the very best of the gunnie community: how people of all different ages, ethnicities, genders, vocations and (sometimes) political leanings can get together and have a great time.

You know what I saw the last time I went to the range?

1. A group of Caucasian-ish youngsters (says the old codger) sharing two lanes and two guns.  There were perhaps three guys and two girls and much giggling and rah-rah-ing (along with safe conduct).

2. A pair of my-age-ish black men shooting side-by-side.

3. What looked to be a father and his high-school-ish-aged son sharing a lane and taking turns.

4. What looked to be a 50s-ish husband and a wife sharing a lane and a revolver.

5. A guy who looked to be about sixty,  in a wheelchair, with another guy who might have been his son helping him set up and sharing their . . . um . . . Glock, I think.

6. A mixed-race hyperspastic pixie shooting next to a guy with fabulous green eyes.

And that’s what I loved about the commercial.  It had a beautiful young woman wearing stilettos (I liked her suit); a girl with glasses who was not skinny, working as a team with an obvious hippie wearing Birkenstocks and a dude in surgical scrubs; a guy wearing a construction hat; a guy wearing khakis, a blue short-sleeved shirt and what looks like a Blackberry; a balding guy wearing a three-piece suit (who answers the phone “Concierge”!!!!); Kobe Bryant; another balding guy wearing a tie; a guy in a football jersey, jeans and sneakers; a guy wearing a polo shirt who has “SSG TRAN” on his gun; Jimmy Kimmel (“PROUD N00B”); and the most awesomest closing character that I mentioned.

Oh yeah, and we’ve got multiple ages, multiple skin colors and multiple genders.

Centerfire is a language that crosses all boundaries . . .

So. Yeah. I really enjoyed the commercial, I thought it was well done, and I think it’s stupid to be upset at a multi-million dollar athlete taking what was probably hefty fee to advertise a game that he seems to like in what was clearly a video-game setting.

That is all.

*P.S. Do not ever fire two guns at once.  Really do not ever fire two guns at once while looking in a direction that neither of your guns is pointing.  KTHXBYE.

P.P.S. Guess that wasn’t all, was it?  Well, as long as I’m still writing, please remember there’s no scientific link between violent video games and actual violence.

UPDATE: Borepatch links. Thanks! (And you should totally click that link ’cause his description of the commercial is Most Wondrous!)

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Happy Caturday: Frustrated Rajah edition

Posted by Lissa on February 6, 2011

Hey, remember this video?

Well, it’s been WEEKS since I’ve suffered a Rajah-bite.  He used to try at least once a day and draw blood perhaps once a week, yet (by rough count) I’ve gone about 21 days without a puncture.

Has he suddenly become a reformed character?

Hardly.  It’s just that I’ve had the following brilliant insights:

1. Given prior warning (i.e. no stalking), I’m faster than he is.

2. I have two hands and he can only watch one of them at a time.

And thus, the game that I call “Pattycake” was born!

(Note – turn up the volume to truly appreciate the anguished longing in his howls!)

Camera credit goes to Mike.  (I was so busy provoking  the kitty and avoiding his lunges that I didn’t even notice the camera till we were done!)

And go Packers!!!

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And this is why people think Psychology is full of crap.

Posted by Lissa on February 3, 2011

[Disclaimer — I’m not saying that Psych *IS* a bulls*** science.  I know a certain person in Wisconsin who a) is smarter than me; b) writes papers and studies on Autism in which I rarely understand more than “the” and “and.”]

Last night brought the transcendent joy of the second Developmental Psychology class discussion.  I really want to do well in all my classes, so I’m doing the readings and taking good class notes and trying to find interest in the material.  Unfortunately, I keep getting sidetracked.  Why?

Because the book and my prof insist on teaching us how bad the United States is.

Chapters 2 and 3 were supposed to be on “biological and environmental foundations” and prenatal development.  Why, then, did we delve into the following highly educational tidbits?

  • It’s shameful how the elderly are treated in America.  In Japan, there’s a culture of reverence for the elderly.  It’s a disgrace that we don’t share it.
  • Also, China has playgrounds and parks specifically for the elderly.  We, on the other hand, have ten times their income but we won’t spend it on the elderly because we think they don’t matter. How sad!
  • Furthermore, Americans have these horrible stereotypes about the elderly, e.g. that they can’t drive.  The Prof doesn’t know how we formed such ageist, hurtful stereotypes, but lots of elderly people remain active their whole lives and such derogatory stereotypes just hurt them terribly.
    [I’m biting my tongue hard enough to bleed at this point.  It keeps me from raising my hand and asking, “Are you frickin’ SERIOUS? Those stereotypes exist because THE ELDERLY CAN’T DRIVE.  We’ve seen our grandparents lose their verbal acuity and their motor reflexes; it happens to some earlier and some later, but it happens to all of us eventually (if we live long enough).  That’s a fact. So now actual facts that most people have observed personally equals an AGEIST STEREOTYPE. Good grief.”]
  • Prenatal care is very important for the mother and for the fetus.  And yet somehow people are arguing against national health care.
    [Yes.  Yes they are.]

And my personal favorite?  This:

Because (the professor kindly explained) it’s important to know how big a problem it is in America, that so many of our elderly live in poverty, and that so many countries care for their aged population better than we do.

Now, y’all know I’m no statistician myself, but . . . . seriously? Because fewer Romanian elders live below the Romanian poverty line than in the United States, this is a terrible country?

That’s right, folks — it’s better to be elderly in Russia, Estonia and Slovenia than here.  Also, the Czech Republic takes better care of its elderly than does Austrailia, the UK or Switzerland.

And this nugget of wisdom is important enough to appear in CHAPTER TWO of our textbook.

*cue sound of Lissa’s head exploding*

Now, I’m not saying that a chart like that has no use.  I think a discussion of how the elderly are perceived in each country dependent on economic status relative to the national average — and the resulting social stature — could be very interesting.  Unfortunately, that’s not what the book was trying to teach me.

This may be a long semester.

P.S. Also?  Sorry, book, but when you blithely state that one-sixth of all couples who try to conceive discover that they are infertile and list absolutely no backup for that rather astonishing number, I will probably assume that you are talking out of the southernmost aperture of the gastrointestinal tract.

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