Bye, Posterous! Hello, wisdom teeth!

We're back to Blogger, people.  I'm much too lazy to create a whole new blog on Wordpress and import all my old Posterous posts.  They have automatically been backed up on Blogger anyway... so for those who follow this blog via bookmark, RSS feed, memorization, what-have-you... the new url is: janaemiller.blogspot.com until further notice.  I'll hopefully remember to spruce it up a bit, because it needs a visual overhaul. 

Stay tuned...

I had a funny story to tell about going to the dentist.  Basically I thought my wisdom teeth were bursting through my gums as infection-riddled cruise missiles of death.  There was a lot of pain and discomfort and fear that resulted in lots of webMD searches and my mom talking me down off the ledge.  Long story short, it turned out to be a canker sore... which I discovered when investigating my mouth with a flashlight. This is what I put my mom through on the subject:

ME: Mom, what if my jaw has tumors and cysts from my wisdom teeth still being there and they have to remove part of my jaw and I become a monster and my boyfriend dumps me MOM: holy shit...that doesn't even deserve a response it's so dumb ME:  webmd says it happens all the timeMOM: no it doesn't...if you're not comfortable and it's wisdom teeth it just means they're moving a little...it doesn't take much...ask to see the xrays of them so you can see for yourself and log off the blasted webmd siteME: I have a tumor. I just know it.MOM: quit worrying...of course you don't.the amount of worrying you do about everything puts me to shameME: You didn't grow up with WebMDoki will wait and seeI will still worry, but I will be quiet about it.MOM: well try to relax...it will be fine i'm sure...and ask for a view and explanation of x-rays...it will make you feel better if you understand what's going on...in the meantime take a motrin...it will take the edge off

I wouldn't exactly call it an "I told you so" moment for her, since she turned out to be right and my canker sore was not a tumor, but it basically was. Kudos to her for being reasonable and dealing with me.

Even though the crisis wasn't actually anything at all, I kept my appointment because I was due for a teeth cleaning. The technician was really funny and kept telling me stories about her neighbors diagonal from her (she doesn't like them.), and their Chihuahua (she doesn't like it), named Erica.  She said her diagonal neighbors have endless numbers of children and a dog that poops in her yard and supposedly stares at her while in the act.  I'm inclined to believe her--Chihuahuas do that sort of vindictive thing.  She said her neighbors directly across the street were worse because they had lots of teenagers who were driving like crazy people up and down the street.  Then she said it was all OK now because her neighbors' house burned down.  I was grateful to have tools in my mouth at that moment because I had no idea what to say.  I couldn't be like, "yay! their house burned down!"  Even though I think that's exactly what she was thinking and wanted to hear.  So I just sat in the chair and listened.

I also took the opportunity to discuss those pesky wisdom teeth while I was there.  Yes, I'm 26 and still have my wisdom teeth.  They've never come through and I've never had any issues with them.  My long-time dentist suggested that this be the year I have them removed in order to avoid potential problems down the road should they ever decide to make an appearance.  Not to imply that I know more about mouths and teeth than he does, but I have a bit of an aversion to prophylactic (big word!) medical care.  I say treat the problem if/when the problem shows its ugly problem face... so we'll see.  I haven't decided on this one yet.  Maybe I'll drag my heels a bit this year and blame my insurance.  I'm sure that technique has never been used before.....

Also I think everyone is in agreement that dentists are evil people who cannot be trusted.  This video is proof:

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Farewell Posterous Spaces: Fail

I don't really post regularly anymore, so I'm just now realizing that Posterous Spaces is shutting down. (crap) 

I have t-minus 30 days to get my posts backed up and/or moved to a new location.  This feels both incredibly disappointing, and incredibly inconvenient.  The Posterous blog always let me create posts through my email, which made writing at work incredibly easy.  People looking over my shoulder would think I was diligently drafting an email of some kind, when in fact I was writing spirited stories about Cookie Monster or carrots.  Now I'll have to switch back to one of the well-known (AKA RECOGNIZABLE BY COWORKERS) platforms like Wordpress or Blogger.  I haven't decided which yet.  Thankfully, Posterous Spaces claims I can export my stuff to Wordpress, but I'm not sure how confident I am that everything will make its way over.  Also I'm not sure how easy it is to embed videos and images in Wordpress because I haven't used it.  Blogger used to be finnicky, and it never looked very nice.

If I'm being honest with myself, it isn't like that many people will notice I'm gone (not gone, moved. but out of sight, out of blog).  The thing about blogging is that people stop reading when you stop writing on the regular.  I became erratic and my post views went from 8,500 down to 50 people.  But to those glorious 50, who remain consistent and true: fear not!  I will let you know where I end up so you may update your RSS feeds (oh, btw, GoogleReader is done soon too*), or your bookmark, or however it is that you become aware I've posted something.

*No more Google Reader? This was an even bigger blow to my head because I use it all day long and it means LOTS OF WORK to replace.  I follow A LOT of news and A LOT of comics and A LOT of cooking blogs.  I am really not thrilled at the prospect of re-entering all of those things into another RSS reader someplace else (someplace which probably won't exist one month after I've switched).  It is also one of Google's most useful tools, so it astounds me that they kept tampering with it and are now pulling the plug.  Leave it alone!  It works!  Stop asking me to partake in Google+!  It's crap compared to Facebook because social networks need lots of people to function... for social reasons.  And I don't even really like Facebook that much anymore, so what's the point?

The one positive thing about Google Reader's demise is that it prompted a fantastic Hitler reaction video, courtesy of footage from the movie Downfall (now streaming on Netflix):

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Cookie Dough Nightmare: Pass

Last night's dream was disgusting.

Wait, back up.  I know that this is that moment when I say "I had the craziest dream last night" and you roll your eyes because no one ever cares about someone else's wacko dreams.  But this is different... really and truly.  Trust.

SO THIS DREAM I HAD...

I think it's safe to say it was a nightmare, because your average everyday situation turned into one of those graphic horror scenes.  You know the ones, with the close-ups of eyeballs and needles and ooze.  Those ones.

So it turned into that when my body started pushing out cookie dough.  Ew, don't be gross--I was not doing that.  Cookie dough was coming out of my nose and ears (and only those places).  Imagine watching the soft serve ice cream come out of the machine--it was exactly like that with a thick, creamy stream and everything.  DQ nightmare!  With cookie dough blizzards!

I'm not sure why this happened to me in said dream, because I was minding my own business when I sneezed the stuff.  Then I got a headache, and I started pushing... it... out... like the gross stuff that gets squeezed from an abscess.

Then when I woke up, I was legitimately still worried that this had actually taken place and that I might need to find extra tissues in case it started happening again at work.  Then I relaxed because I realized A) it was a dream, and B) it wasn't a weekday.  Then I got super EXCITED because my dream gave me a story idea!!  (We writers like to keep little notebooks by the bedside table so we can soak up our crazy upon waking. We don't like to lose any of those little dream gems.)  In this story, a young man (think dorky high schooler) wakes up in a strange place and has no idea how he got there.  All he knows is that he smells like dessert and he is surrounded by a bunch of dead people.  He feels lucky to have survived.  The blackouts continue, and the little town's body count is RISING!  What does he DO when he blacks out??  He is the key to finding the murderer!  He must know what happens!  Could he be the villain?  He cages himself and videotapes his transformation into a monster of disaster.  He learns the truth.  But what will he do now?

This exciting story idea hinges on two things: 1) That Stephen King agrees to co-author, because I think he would enjoy this idea, and 2) That I get to name the book.

I came up with a really great name.  Oh my gosh it is so good.  Are you ready? Are you ready?

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The Cookie Monster. lol

Bestseller, right there.  You'd buy it.  Ok, you wouldn't buy it, but you'd watch the made-for-TV-movie on the SciFi channel on Sunday.  You know you would.

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Eye Exams and Birthdays! Pass!

My birthday approacheth...

 

I near the ripe old age of 26, thus I will no longer be in my "early twenties."  Twenty-five was that no-man's-land when I could pretend to still be the youth of the age, but very much aware of how I no longer belong in certain clubs.  I now venture into that realm of adulthood in which my online dating box, if I had one, would include '26-30.'  Friends are getting married, girlfriends are popping out babies--adulthood is here, my friends, whether I like it or not.  Two years ago, I bashed the crap out of that Disney princess castle pinata.  I don't see any reason why I can't do that again this year.  You know, for uncomfortable laughs.

 

And, since I'm getting old, and since my contact lens supply is dwindling, I set up an appointment with my eye doctor to see just how blind I am this year.  Just as blind as last year?  More blind?  Dare I say, LESS BLIND?

 

It turns out I'm of the same exact blindness, which is nice.  Eye doctor lady told me that near sighted people tend to 'peak' at 25, at which point their vision stays the same, or begins to get slightly better... that is, until you hit another 'old lady' benchmark and start getting more blind, but in the I-can't-read-my-newspaper way.  So being 26 means my vision stays the same/gets better.  Who knew?

 

It also means I can take out a rental car without paying an astronomical insurance premium.  Hurray for small favors!  (Is this the last "benchmark" birthday? No, there's always senior citizen status, when people will start giving up their seat on the bus for me... and I'll get into Disneyland for uber cheap.)

 

ALSO ALSO.  Visiting the eye doctor meant facing my lifelong nemesis: the eye puff machine.  (Cue tension-filled instrumental music.)

 

Some may recall that last year's eye exam included getting puffed seven or eight times or something.  They assistant got mad at me and wrote in my file that I was "difficult" and "resisted the test."  Damn right I resisted the test...

 

This year I did GREAT.  I practiced all day.  I kept holding my eyes open real wide and staring at a dot across the room.  I psyched myself up.  Of course, once I got there and had to stare at the red barn, the twitching showed up.  I took some breaths and tried to calm myself... things like "it's ok, eyes, it's just the red barn... that clicking doesn't mean an air jet is approaching you."  It sort of worked.  It only took three four tries this year to SUCCESSFULLY puff both eyes.  Improvement!

 

This oldie but goldie is signing out...

 

 

This video has been cracking me up all day.

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Puppy Tails: Pass

Good morning, everyone, and a very happy Friday to you!

I share this video because watching puppies push themselves on a longboard is a brilliant way to start a Friday morning.  Thank you to Lolcats for the morning suggestion.

Puppies on YouTube, a cappuccino, and a fresh scone.  That's a breakfast of champions... at least it is in my mind.

I sort of suggest watching the below video without sound.  The squealing of the thrilled owners is understandable, but also slightly annoying.  It almost distracted me from the cuteness of wagging puppy tails... almost.

PUPPY TAILS!  ::wiggle wiggle::

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Death By Carrot: Fail

Accidents happen and no one is safe.

This is the fact I learned yesterday when I nearly choked on a baby carrot--twice. How does one choke on a baby carrot? Twice?

It's simple: one forgets to chew properly and/or to swallow first before laughing/breathing/jumping/thinking.

For me it was a double whammy. I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business and chewing baby carrots, when this extremely amusing picture of two dogs battling for a tennis ball under water made me laugh hysterically. But I hadn't swallowed yet, so I coughed/choked immediately and sent half of the chewed carrot bits into my nose.

When the initial coughing had ceased, I inhaled deeply to oxygenate my body and mind. Crap.

There was still carrot in there. I sucked carrot bits from my nose into my lungs and coughed the rest of the day. If I die of pneumonia and lung-based trauma, you know who/what to blame.

But it got me to thinking... how much would it stink to suffer death by carrots? Dying already sucks. But embarrassing deaths are probably an incredibly hard carrot to swallow. lol

So what happens when I'm freaking out about dying from some ailment? I Google it, of course, as you do.

This is what I found... Based on 2009 statistics from the National Safety Council, accidental deaths are the number one cause of death for those ages 1 to 42. It's also apparently the fifth-leading cause of death among all age groups--it obviously gets trumped by heart disease and cancer ailments in the overall numbers.

Choking is the fifth most common accidental cause of death, behind fires, falls, poisoning and motor vehicle accidents. Choking results in approximately 2,500 deaths each year. Infants or children ages 3 and younger are at the highest risk. They choke on hot dogs a lot.

But carrots have been named a hazardous food in terms of choking too.

So chew your vegetables. And your hot dogs. And cut up your food for your little ones. Also, swallow... preferably before you start laughing/breathing/speaking. Plus it's rude to talk with your mouth full.

Sorry, I just realized how depressing a topic DEATH is on Valentine's Day.  Although given the origins of Valentine's Day (or Saint Valentine's Day), it ironically sort of works to be talking about it. Certainly death by carrot wouldn't make one a martyr, as the Valentine Saints were. But it makes you dead, nonetheless.

To cheer us ALL up on this loving and Hallmarky day, let us watch this ADORABLE wedding proposal video made by an animator in California. It doesn't have anything to do with Valentine's Day, but it is about LOOVEEEE!

<3

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Table Art: Fail, Desktop Dogs: Pass

Morning!

I woke up an hour early so I could get a cappuccino and do some writing before work.  While sipping and doing just that, I made a table tagging discovery. I was strangely tickled by this case of defacing private property.  My table had this written on it:
[[posterous-content:pid___0]]In case the picture isn't clear, someone scratched "FART" into the table.

My first reaction was "this is childish and dumb," but then I started picturing the type of person who would take the time to scrawl such a thing into a Starbucks table. I pictured them giggling while they carved the wood, super impressed with their edgy and amusing commentary. Maybe they used the 80s switchblade they bought after seeing The Outsiders at the Michigan Theater. Maybe they were eight years old and mom didn't care if they wrote on the table so long as they shutup and let her write her dissertation. I can only guess.

I also wondered if anyone watched from another table, left to speculate at the contents of the message being carved. Perhaps they imagined something worse; after all, it could have been another four-letter f-word.

Right below the "FART" message was this response:
[[posterous-content:pid___1]]That reads "YOU PIG."

If I was the type to carve on desks, which I'm not, I might have changed "FART" to say "I FARTED," so the reader would be left to wonder how long ago this gross message (and fart) was made. The message's original intentions would still be satisfied, plus the "you pig" response would still apply. Everyone loves fart humor.

Everyone also loves put humor. So, happy Monday, and enjoy the following picture from Lolcats. It is now my desktop background and it makes me giggle every time.

[[posterous-content:pid___2]]Get the ball, Get the Balll, GET THE BALLL!!!

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