Would you like paper or plastic?

For the record, Dr. Suess’ head is rolling around on my desk right now. A woman who works at the U makes Christmas ornaments for like half the university each year. I’m not even kidding. They aren’t just like cheesy balls with confetti in them. They are time consuming, ornate bulbs that are awesome. Anyway, I was putting up our office Christmas tree and when I got the Dr. Suess ornament out, I noticed his head was no longer attached to his cap. I was about to call him “decapitated” but didn’t feel it was the correct terminology, as he has no body. Perhaps “deHATitated” is better? Anyway, it’s entertaining.

I sometimes think I missed out on a very valuable lesson in kindergarten. Not the one on writing or sharing or even washing your hands after you go to the bathroom each and every time. It was one of the most important principals in life: how to cut straight. I cannot do it for the life of me. I’m making my own Christmas cards this year (prepare to be amazed if you are on my Xmas card list!) and if you look closely, you will notice there are no straight lines. I try to stick to the fancy scissors that cut out decorative borders. On those, who cares if it’s straight? I’m revising the large bulletin board thing in our office today (ya know, like teacher’s have in their classrooms) and I am cutting out program headers and descriptions. I use the paper cutter for the large projects, but the details are botched up like Michael Jacksons’ nose job. I just cannot go straight.

I am officially set for a CT scan this Saturday. What a great way to spend a Saturday morning, huh? Last time I got a CT scan they had a cancellation so they basically called, asked if I could come in and like 20 minutes later I was there. This time around though, there is actual preparation involved. I had to go to Dr.'s office this morning and pick up this nasty berry smoothie contrast crap to drink. I have to drink half of it the night before, and half right beforehand. From the looks of it, it appears to be curdled milk mixed with milk of magnesia and pepto-bismol. Don’t try to fool me by writing the word “berry” and putting fruit on the bottle. I’m clever-er than that.

After I get back from my lunch which involved picking up said berry garbage, running to Kohl’s and picking up a salad from Taboon, I get a call from Dr. She leaves me a message saying she wants me to come in and do a urinalysis and discuss my latest pap smear with me. I’m like – ok, I was just at your office – but if my pee is that important to you, I’ll see what I can do. And to leave a woman a message that says you need to “discuss” her pap smear results? Can that ever be an even relatively good sign?! That’s like calling a 15 year old and leaving a message that says “I’d like to discuss your STD test.” Nothing good can possibly come of that! Luckily though, I am not dying nor do I have some raging something or another going on. Apparently it takes a number of doctors to get an accurate pap smear. I’ve had 2 this year, and neither were sufficient to tell anything from. If you think I’m going to have a 3rd one for this year, you are high.

My big boss told me today, “it’s better to have a big brain than a big mouth.” I think that was meant as some sort of jab, but I’m not sure yet. This was followed by him saying “anything you say is right, Erin.” He’s out of the office for a few days, so I have sufficient time to think of a worthy response.

I am on 4 AM duty with the nephews tomorrow. Matthew better brush his teeth, lay off on the Axe deodorant spray and put a normal coat on. Chase better not be grumpy, have shoes that are easily located and not talk my ear off on the way to school. What happens if they don’t you ask? Nothing. I’m an aunt – I have to threaten things from time to time. Even if they are nonsensical threats.

Off to share my urine. (This reminds me of an episode of Will & Grace where Jack Black was a guest star. He was a doctor, and upon seeing a pee specimen on a table says, “is this your-in or my-in?” Get it? Urine or myine?

I crack myself up. Or better yet, Jack Black cracks me up.

EEC