The Crop Duster

Every once in awhile, I myself in a situation that cannot be controlled. For instance, in one of my classes this summer, there is a student sitting within proximity to me that "lets one go", particularly during tests or quizzes. If you are confused by the phrase, "lets on go", I am referring to various gases being released in the atmosphere that are probably hazardous to my nasal cavity. During tests, its hard to concentrate when all you can think about is the stinch. I would breathe out of my mouth to avoid thinking about it, but then someone in my class will go write on their blog about the "Mouth Breather." I now call this person the "Crop Duster." I still have not pinpointed the culprit; however, I do know they sit comfortably close to me.

There is something so incredibly invading about the whole scenario. In a way, I feel as if my American rights are being invaded. Why should I have the right to breathe in such a smell? If we have banned smoking indoors, maybe we should ban gas-passing indoors. I am beginning to think that the "Crop Duster" is a biohazard and should have one of those stickers on his/her forehead. Although I am studying to be a nurse, I haven't quite gotten over the fact that crop-dusting, especially in a class requiring concentration, is just plain wrong unless nothing can be done.

Crop Duster: I know you will never read this; however my message to you is: I will pay for any one of the abundant over-the-counter drugs available that can assist you. Help me, help you, help us all. Because when I can hear it happening, smell it happening, and it interupts my essay on glycolysis, I become slightly annoyed. Just wanted to fill you in.

Did you notify the Coast Guard about this?

Dear Jessica Alba,

I am so proud of you. Seeing someone take up such a worthy cause as saving great white sharks...it brings me to tears to see you so dedicated. Not only are you taking up worthy causes, but you are also taking on thrilling characters such as Honey Daniels, in the hit film, well, Honey. You play a glammed-out dance choreographer from the streets showing them how if any girl puts her mind to it, a good body can get her anywhere in the world. You are just one step ahead of Hannah Montana, aren't you? Not only are you an amazing dancer, but you are one of the Fantastic Four and a Dark Angel. With those skills, I expected to see you flying over the streets of Oklahoma City with big white wings, saving the world, and humming tunes to make kids from the street feel better.

Here you are, gluing up fantastic shark posters in such well seen places as under bridges. I bet the bums love you. You must have done your research because it is a little known fact that Oklahoma holds the highest shark bites per capita than any other state, and therefore thousands upon millions of sharks are being preyed upon in places such as Foss and Grand Lake. Well done, brilliant star. You reek of intelligence.

No, but really...Are you leaking spinal fluid? Or, are you just hanging out with Lindsey Lohan too much? Because excessive amounts of intravenous drug usage might lead you to do crazy, irrational things. I am concerned for you, Jessica. Because you are bringing down the name Jessica; a name, might I add, we SHARE. Your cause is as rational as an anti-tornado campaign. I'm sorry, but what purpose are you or the great white shark serving? Oh yes, that's right...both are dying...just one is in the ocean and the other in the box office. OH!

Jessica

It's hot right at the portal...

Dear summer school,

Oh, how you jam yourself between the months of June and August. You are so full of information, you create magnificent ulcers. You're beauty is that of a bacterial infection, killing the healthy cells of a twenty-something. You bring out the sarcasm in me. Some of my best material has occurred in your presence. As I sit in your endless omnipotence, I feel like a small bug being squashed by a T-Rex. I misunderestimated you and the power you have over my physical well-being. With bloodshot eyes from late nights and red shoulders from heavy book bags, I baske in the sunlight of your twenty hour lectures. I bathe in the glory of online pharmaceutical terms. I ponder on what went wrong with my dosage calculations? Summer school, you read minds and create hostile takeovers. You have forced my dog into therapy, my husband into cooking, and me into loathing you entirely.

Your subject,

J

P.S. Thanks for helping me lose five pounds.

The Dying Art of Etiquette

When there is that magical Internet access in the air and I feel the need to write about something, there is no better time than the present. I'm sitting at Panera (lovingly called "Pantera" in my household) just working on labeling lab photos. (I posted my beautiful anatomy work above for your pleasure and enjoyment).

I am enjoying my cup of hot coffee, the thunder and lightning is buzzing outside, and for once, I'm content with doing nothing but homework. I have come to realize something as I concentrate on my schoolwork at a place that sells potato chips as a side item...I realized that etiquette is a dying art. As I sit here thinking intensely about the acromioclavicular joint, I hear it. CRUNCH! Until that moment, I thought I was by myself on this side of the restaurant. There she sits, the Cruncher. The first crunch wasn't so bad. I thought, "Sometimes it is satisfying to hear a potato chip crunch on the first bite...I know I've done it at least once." But, by the second crunch, I knew that her mother had failed her. Failed to teach her that chewing with your mouth open is something that should be left to the cows. Who am I to judge? For all I know she was raised by bovines in a similar way that Moglie was raised by wolves.

The crunching continued and I felt that "crazy" feeling stirring up inside me. Sometimes it happens so fast that my chest and neck break-out into this red rash and the urge to say something gets harder and harder to resist. Why is that sound so annoying? Probably because my mother conditioned me in such a way that my eye twitches when I see someone chewing gum with their mouth wide open. However, nothing is worse than crunching. I remember about a month after Ben and I got married, we were sharing a bowl of chips and salsa. He said that the chips were too large and he had to crunch them in order to break them. He saw me cringe, I remained calm, and taught him the art of breaking chips with your hand before you dip them. That lesson has saved both of our lives.

There have been at least three people come sit near me in the past hour with a bag of chips, sit down, and crunch so loud it starts to sound like miniature explosions. Every single person looked like they were in their forties or fifties. What happened there? Why are they crunchers? By that age, someone...a coworker, spouse, friend...should have told you to close your trap when you chew. When we have children, there are a few things I am going to teach them:

1. Don't nervously tap on things

2. Chew with a shut trap

& of course...

3. Santa Claus fell off our roof and died because you left the door open while the AC was on

I think with those three little lessons, they will go far in life.

Reunion in grocery aisle 9

Dear Rainbow Sherbet,

You have been in and out of my life for a long time. Running into you again in Aisle 9 at Wal-Mart was nothing short of fate. As you stared at me through the glass where some kid had marked "Poop was here" in the door frost, we reconnected faster than John Goodman connects to a donut. As I picked you up and placed you in my cart, I could barely wait to taste that first scoop of lemon, lime, and orange goodness. Everytime I open the freezer door, I ask myself, "What will it be this time? Will I get more lemon or lime this time? Last time I hit the jackpot of orange swirl with barely any lemon or lime!" You are the enigma with your swirls and your particular array of flavors. The mystery of what I will scoop exhilerates me. Every night when Seinfeld reruns come on at 11pm, my first thought is you. I like nothing better than to have a bowl of you accompanying me on the couch. Resisting your goodness is as difficult as doing a trapeze act with my pants unzipped. You are the wind that ends up on my tush. You raise me up so I can climb on couches. Lovin' you is more than just a dream come true.

I'm so glad there's no fat in sugar,
Jessica

I only had stems and none of the good stuff...

Girl in my math class: "So what is a bond again?"

Math teacher: "A bond is a debt security. The authorized issuer owes the holders a debt..."

Girl in my math class: (interrupts) "Ohhh! Bail bonds! I know all about those. I spent Friday night in jail."

Math teacher: (silent with an awe-struck look on her face)

Me: "Haha. I don't think I've ever heard anyone be that open about jail before."

Girl in my class: "Yeah, I spent all night in jail Friday."

Someone else says, "Okay, now we all want to know why."

Girl in my class: shrugs her shoulders and says, "Charged with possession. Remember? This weekend was Reggaefest..."

Duh! Didn't you remember? (Hit your head with your hand now.) Doi! Reggaefest. The sudden infestation of Rastafarian green, red, and yellow must have killed so many brain cells that possession is now justified. Jail is fun!

This seriously was the best humor I have had at 9:15am in the morning. Not that drugs are something to laugh at, but it seems as if this girl is just not the type to be casually talking about possession, jail-time, and Reggaefests. She is really sweet and always helps other people in our class with the difficult math problems (and will probably rock all those "bail bond" questions we have after this experience...what? Bail bonds vs. corporate/government bonds...hmmm). I guess I was just shocked at her openness to twenty other people in her class...like it's no big deal. I learn something new everyday...and sometimes it's about how to properly hit a bong and not about annual percentage yield.

(I also want to add that I wrote about this same individual on my last post. Impressionable.)

Like, what is this all about? Like, what am I learning here?

Ever since I started school again in January, things that should not be human nature have suddenly become instinctual behavior for me. For instance, the Taco Bell cravings. What am I? Pregnant? Hungover? Neither, thank goodness. The thought of grade-D "beef" suddenly appears in my thought bubble, especially on late nights when I am sitting in front of the late-night Seinfeld re-runs pretending to read. Suddenly, I think Cheesy Gordita Crunch and the Fat version of me fights with the Trying-To-Eat-Healthy version. I feel like Sybil trying to fight Peggy, Mary, and well all of the "other" personalities.



I have also caught myself saying "like" more often than the English vocabulary should allow. I noticed this in one of my classes when one girl said outloud, "Oh my gosh. I totally forgot that the Marley fest is this weekend!" Someone else responded, "I thought it was called Reggaefest?" She said, "Well, like, it used to be Marleyfest. But now it's like the Reggaefest." Holy bong-hitter.



I've also been wearing sport shorts, flip flops, T-shirts, and baseball caps more often than a girl should. Less make-up, too. One day I went to class and everyone did a double-take when I walked in with make-up and a cute shirt on. "Whose the new kid?" It's me. I tried today. Meaning, I used shampoo and bothered to put deoderant on...not that any of you will notice since none of you wear any (which by the way, it's starting to smell like Indian food in here, so maybe we should all try a little harder).



So, yes. I might be joining Kappa Grabba Donut soon and before you know it I will be smoking hookah with my classmates talking about what a drag our Biochem class is...just shootin' the breeze college-style. Except, not really. In all seriousness, I feel like God has placed some special people in my life this "first" semester at school. Everyone seems to have an amazing life-story... for instance, I am in class with a newly widowed mother who is going back to school to help her four children pay-off school loan debts. Her selfless, upbeat attitude is hard to come by anywhere on this planet. She works harder than anyone in there. Young mothers who juggle daycare schedule, working 40 hours, and school full-time. And of course, there are recently graduated eighteen-year-olds living with their parents and wanting to get through school so they can move out as quick as possible. It's amazing what you can find out about a person while you are both examining the wall of a trachea underneath a microscope. God has given me several conversation starters...whether it is "what are you doing this weekend?" or "can you believe that we are dissecting cat intestines?" He moves in mysterious ways.

Beware of the Easter Doggy, Chuck Brown

Yesterday, we went to Jo's Annual Easter Doggy Parade, a healthy combination of coffee-drinking, people watching, and dogs in their Easter best. There were dogs dressed up as Obama and Joe "Bitin", cross-dressed pups with thongs, Hawaiian kanines, ballerina poodles, and much more. It was hilarious. We took Kia so she could see the show; however, we decided against humiliating her with any sort of bunny ears or embarrassing pooch paraphenalia. She was unruly on the leash and could barely contain her excitement!

And Easter is a great holiday. Just taking a day to remember what Jesus did for us is very humbling. It has been fairly quiet in our house today with nothing but the sound Ben turning the pages in his Bible and me nervously tapping my ink pen while I study for a big test this coming week. I have felt a bit ashamed recently, too. Here I am writing selfishly about things I find ridiculous, embarrasing, or funny...when in reality, I am the most ridiculous of all. Last week at church, our community shared stories about how they reach people in their communities. Simple ways...college students creating movie nights, families reaching out to other families in their neighborhood with cook-outs, and even dog owners ministering to other people at puppy play dates. The stories made me think about all the simple ways and opportunities that I fail to let people know how much Jesus really cares for them and how much His presence is apart of my life. I have a blog and I fail to write about the most defining feature in my everyday life.

To go along with the theme of this post, I would like to tell you about a little dog named Baxter. I got Baxter in college when a woman I worked with at Starbucks was trying to get rid of this dog she had rescued from a horrible living situation. Baxter was the best dog ever. Big ears, black and white, and a permanantly crooked tail that his previous owners had accidentally shut in a door. When I took him home to Claremore for the summer, Baxter took up permanant residence on the land where my parents live. My parents fell in love with him and took care of him better than I could in college. Baxter loved going to work with my dad, sharing a donut with him in the mornings, and playing with tennis balls in the backyard.

My mom told me about a day Baxter had taught her a huge spiritual lesson. As a way of pleasing my parents, Baxter would bring them presents from the land. Whatever his catch was that day (squirrel, rabbit, turtle), he would joyfully trot up to the house, tail wagging, with the lifeless animal hanging out of his mouth. He would drop the animal on the back porch and just sit and wait for either my mom or dad to see him. My mom wasn't having a particularly great day when Baxter brought her a dead turtle. As soon as she saw that sweet dog bring up the bloody, limp reptile to the backsteps of the house it hit her. What Baxter does to please his parents is often what we do to the Lord. In a way, we often come to the house of the Lord with our dead turtles...nothing really useful to our Father and it almost always is unpleasant and stinks. Yet, although we can't bring anything useful to Him, He loves us anyways just as we are. He takes us just as we are, even though we have nothing.

I don't deserve to celebrate Easter, but I am so glad I get to. God's grace for my life is a miracle because almost everyday, like an untrained puppy, I am bringing God my dead turtles. And He takes them and loves me anyways.

Happy Easter -- enjoy the day and think about who He is to you. Because whether you realize it or not, you mean alot to Him otherwise today wouldn't exist.

Six Tests and a Funeral

That title sounds like a movie. Something with Hugh Grant and a barely famous hair-modeling actress? Yeah, that sounds about right. And that movie title sums up the next few days for me...following by the last night where I loathe my performance on each test, hunker down in my closet, and pray for daylight to come....or maybe I will just throw caution to the wind and end up not caring...which sounds like the better route to go.

I have good news for you, though. I have been experiencing intense headaches almost everyday from January to February (that's not the good news, but it is the reason for no recent blogging publications). A few weeks ago I started working out vigorously and drinking water like a lipsynching gypsy and now...no headaches! Praise Him! The only reason I have been working out so vigorously is because of cable TV. That's right, cable is making me thinner. While it tends to make others experience a high-rate of self regret and misery, I am feeling more confident than ever! At our new apartment, there are TV's hooked up to every piece of workout equipment in the 24 hour gym. If I couldn't be constantly entertained like a typical American, I would be fat like the typical American. It is all about balance. At first, I hated the idea of needing a TV to workout. But, don't knock it until you try it! Watching an intense Cosby show can really get you swinging on the eliptical when Rudy is up to her usual mischief. And the vigorous competitions on Top Chef make me peddle even faster! The suspense kills me! Wow, do I love exercising!

Welcome to Bone Marrow...it's like the best thing that's ever happened, right?

(ad on the radio) ..."looking for the hottest nightclub in Austin? Come to FUSE. Where all your dreams will come true...halfprice drinks for the ladies "

(Ben and I both laugh)

Ben: "I would like to see an SNL skit that makes fun of club names and the people who go to them."

Jessica: "If I had a club, I would name it Bone Marrow. Something primitive sounding...something that invokes the visual of needles and mating rituals....you know, the things you would expect from such a sleezy joint. And of course, something that makes you think of a jello shot."

Ben: "Yeah, and if you used red jello they could all have types: O positive, AB negative, etc.

Jessica: "I want to go to there..."