Busy Busy Saturday Summary

The past couple of days have been crazy busy for me, sorry about that, not neglecting you.

Thursday was my ultrasound. So here's

Ultrasounding Off: So what with the possible endometriosis, I had a pelvic ultrasound ordered by the GYN. Genius idea, really, when someone is having lower abdominal pain, let's take a stick and jab it around those places that hurt. The conversation between me and the technician went like this

Me: *flinch*

Tech: Are you okay?

Me: Mm-hmm!

...

Me: *flinch*

Tech: Are you okay?

Me: Mm-hmm!

Repeat that 7 or 8 times. I had to keep saying "Mm-hmm" because it hurt too much to talk. And you know what else sucks about those things? The technician isn't allowed to tell you anything. And they won't let you see the screen. So you could have massive tumors hanging off your internal organs, but they can't say anything. Like when I broke my leg (Spaz Girl Walking), I asked the nurse taking my X-rays and she couldn't tell me. She did make a face, though, so I knew, but really. You're scared and in pain, knowing is infinitely better than knowing something's wrong but not knowing what.

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Friday: I overslept like, 5 hours for going on errands with my mom, but the more pressing matter was a phone call from Debra. It's sad, but I predicted this: Manny isn't doing well in school. I'm no expert, but I'd say his social, life, and motor skills put him at about age 3. I know it's hard to think of 5 year olds as being self-sufficient, but they do need to be (to an extent) in order to be able to handle school.

They need to be able to feed themselves, they need to be able to follow a set of directions, they need to be able to go to the bathroom alone. Manny's having trouble with these things. He's also getting in trouble because he gets frustrated very easily (common with autism) when he has trouble with things. My poor boy, I wish I could hug him. Maybe I can talk my mom into visiting tomorrow.

I also made killer cinnamon rolls last night. Found the recipe here at Whipped the Blog's Ultimate Cinnamon Rolls. Incredible. They were delicious, and I managed to make them without brown sugar (I substituted white) and vanilla (I substituted nothing). I can't imagine how good they're going to be when I'm able to make them for real because these were awesome. And pretty easy, too.

Oh, and my two cents, when you're cutting the individual rolls off the log it's way easier to use the thread than it is a knife.

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Today: Today I got to hang out with one of my best friends from high school, Linus. Aaaah, Linus is awesome. We had a long talk about relationships and work and family...it was great.

I also picked up a study book for the GREs. Holy crap, I'm going to fail, I'm going to fail so hard. I've got the language part, that'll be fine, but oh, man. The math? Not good, not good at all. Flipping through the book I saw triangles. TRIANGLES. I know the area of a triangle is one half times base times height, but that's all I remember about triangles. Crap.

At least I have the book...

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Upcoming Posts: Movies based on books has been postponed as Blanc came up with a great idea for tandem movie reviews so we're going to talk about that. The Fight Club & Self Injury post is still coming, I just need to feel good about the final draft. Tomorrow will be the obligatory September 11th post, of course. Also definitely coming is a review of Bridget Jones' Diary, the novel, and I might have a substituting job this week and those are always entertaining.

Stay tuned, it should be a good week.

Joanna: The Best Worst Name in the World!

I loooooove names, of any and all types. I like finding out where they come from and what they mean-- the more unusual the better. First names, last names, doesn't matter. I've been through them all.

In fact, I don't know if she knows it but one of the meanings of a friend of mine's name is "Goat." Not kidding. (No, Gayle, it's not you.)

"Goat", I figure, kind of negates any of the good qualities this particular name has. Kind of like when Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise named their baby Suri-- a very pretty name with several pretty meanings in different languages, including "Princess", "Queen", and "Rose". In other languages, though, it means "Pickpocket", "Pointy nose", and "Llama." (See?) Llama's not as bad as Goat, but "Pickpocket" is pretty harsh. And that's not even an obscure language, Pickpocket, it's in Japanese. Not exactly Sorbian, is it?

But "Joanna" is different from Suri and The-Name-That-Will-Not-Be-Named-But-Means-Goat, if only because of its sordid modern history. Joanna has been the go-to name for troubled and trouble-causing female characters in books, movies, and TV in a way no other name has formillennia. No, really. You may not realize it but you've been conditioned to associate the name "Joanna" with annoying, immoral, and evil women.

I know I'm biased, and more likely to remember uses of my own name. Maybe, hopefully, at the end of this I'll get comments from Natashas or...I really can't come up with any other female antagonists that share a name. And, really, to be honest, I can only come up with two characters named Natasha. Neither are paradigms of morality and sense or manners...but 2.

Joanna is the English spelling for the feminine of John and Hebrew for "God is Gracious". Anna, Hannah, Janet, Jane-- they're all derived from Joanna. That being said, it's not, as modern trends would make you think, a combination of the names "Jo" and "Anna"-- it was a single unit before those were taken from it. Its first recorded use was in the New Testament and it was downhill from there:

Joanna was one of Mary Magdalene's reformed prostitute friends. She was one of the three women that went to Jesus' tomb to anoint his body and found it empty after He had ascended to Heaven. This is pretty cool, but if Mary Mags is still called a hooker, so's Joanna.

Joanna was the ugly, armless and legless doll that nobody wanted until Beth took pity on her in Little Women.

Joanna is the name of a girl in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith) that has a baby out of wedlock, causing a scandal in the neighborhood that eventually leads to the other women in the neighborhood stoning her.

A former Queen of Spain, Juana, the mother of Charles the First was apparently off her rocker and, in English, has gone down in history as "Joanna the Mad".

The wealthy bitchass Goldie Hawn plays in Overboard is named Joanna before Kurt Russell rechristens her "Annie" when he kidnaps her amnesiac self.

Joanna is Jennifer Aniston's character in Office Space, and though the character is generally okay I don't like Jennifer Aniston, so it counts.

A minor character that brought me no end of grief in elementary school: Joanna, the pet goanna lizard (think small komodo dragon if you're too lazy to click the link) of the main villain in The Rescuers Down Under. I was often told "These are not Joanna eggs!" I don't know why several teachers showed us that movie, but they did. It was also played a lot when the weather was too bad for us to go outside during recess.

I can't think of any others, but you see my point. The trouble with my name is more than just never being able to find my name on personalized tchotchkes, or people managing to pronounce it wrong somehow (my favorite so far is "Joan-a"), it's the negativity associated with it from all these characters. The best I've got are the 1.5 Joannas in Love Actually: Sam's beloved dead mother and the classmate he's got a crush on, the coolest girl in school. I count 1.5 because Sam's mother never gets to talk...she's just dead.

I love my name. I just wish it had a better reputation.

What Kind of Day Has it Been?

I love days like these...rainy, nothing to do, nowhere to go days. Tomorrow I should probably do a few productive things (defer student loans...order GRE study book...make doctor's appointment...work on room reorganization...shark substitute assignments online...), but not today.

I miss having days like this in college...the girls and I would drink coffee and play games. Those are the days I miss most. It's what we did when Gayle threw that party for Lisa a few weeks ago and it was the happiest I'd been in a long time.

Today was Manny's first day of school, hard as it is to believe. I got a little teary over the picture of him wearing a backpack and holding a lunchbox Mick posted on Facebook this morning. My mother was there when he got home from school...she said he was as unfazed about it as he is about everything...and he's been placed in a classroom with other special needs kids, with two teachers and an aide, but I'm still worried-- we don't know what Manny's place on the autism spectrum is and whether the school is equipped to deal with it. The whole deal is frazzling my nerves.

I've been distracting myself with Regretsy and Facebook games...A&E On Demand...and setting up another blog to publish a trashy novel I've been playing with off and on for a few years-- then maybe others, I don't know, I'll have to see how the first one does if I ever get around to biting the bullet about it. In the meantime I'm going to play with the design templates and ponder about whether to write one or two stand-alone "About" pages.

I'm watching Intervention and this 30 year old girl is sleeping with a 75 year old man that pays for her drugs. Umm...I can deal with that if somebody would pay my bills. How often can a seventy-five year old want it? Damn. Well...what, 68, technically, in my case? Shoot. Steve Martin's 66 and I'd totally hit that. Kevin Kline's 64. I'm game.

Old, wealthy men: pay my bills and I'll seriously consider dating you. Cute, old, wealthy men: pay my bills and I will probably date you. Cute, wealthy men: pay my bills and I will definitely date you.

Just putting it out there. Like that challenge to Microsoft that my 5 year old computer is waaaay better than anything new coming out now. Seamus the Lappy forever.

Today's pain has gotten harder to deal with as the day has gone on...I've got an ultrasound coming up on Thursday. I'd tell you to cross your fingers for me, but I don't know what to hope for. Especially since I don't understand what an ultrasound could see that a CT scan couldn't. If I've already had a more detailed test for the same person, why order the weaker test? Part of me just wants them to cut me open already and dig around to find out what's going on...be sure, whichever doctor I see first (my GYN or new GP), I'm getting painkillers at my next appointment. Be. Sure. I'm not going through another cycle of this pain, I'm not. I don't care what it takes.

And poor Herbert's so sick and nobody knows what to do with him...

Tension headache. Hahaha, this was supposed to be a relaxing post-- what happened?!

Reindeer Games are Next

My fourth post included a section where I talked about Monkey Hookers. Long story short, a group of scientists taught a group of monkeys how to use "money" and almost as soon as they did they noticed a monkey exchange "money" for sex. So...monkey hookers. No, I'm not kidding.

I love animal stories. I love animals in general. In fact, when we took Manny to see Cars 2 there was a trailer for Dolphin Tale and I started crying, just from the trailer. I can't even think about Homeward Bound...Free Willy, My Dog Skip, Beethoven...I won't even watch Marley & Me or I Am Legend because I know the dog dies and that'll tear me up.

Interesting, in that last sentence you could read it like "tear me up inside" or "to tear up while watching Brian's Song" and they're both right.

When I said I love animal stories I meant I love news stories about animals and the cool things they do that are human-ish. Like prostitution.

Another article, published about a year ago, really made my day but my parents didn't care. I think it's awesome: gorillas play tag. Like, "Tag, you're it!" tag. How great is that? It's like those stupid rhymes and songs you learn growing up, like one of my all-time favorite books (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn-- get it and read it. Read it now) says, all kids learn the same group of songs and nobody really knows why or where it's from, or how it started. In tag's case, at least, it's something we're born with. One monkey punches another monkey then runs away, and the punchee chases after it. If the punchee manages to punch the first monkey back they switch roles, just like kids. How cool is that?

And you know what else? Parrots name their babies!!! Parrot parents (say that 5 times fast) assign each baby a sound and the baby keeps it for life-- even other parrots use the baby's sound to communicate with it.

Animals aren't nearly as dumb as we tend to think they are.

Unemployed Saturday Summary

Jobs for Smart People: I'm getting a strange number of visitors coming from a site called "Jobs for Smart People"-- anybody know why? Is it some kind of publicity stunt of theirs, to make me curious and use them to find a job?

The job search is continuing, of course...one goose egg after another. My mother was talking to her hairdresser about her search for a receptionist and she said that she was getting all these applications from people with crazy amounts of experience, but she couldn't hire them because as soon as something better came along they'd leave and she'd be left without a receptionist. I already have two resumes (and a million cover letters...), one for educational jobs and one for craft jobs, but maybe I need a third for the secretary jobs I'm applying for, and make another set of cover letters that include a line about sincerity and loyalty for positions I'd stick with. Couldn't hurt...I mean, things couldn't possibly get worse.

The upside is that school is restarting so I'll be able to sub again...it's not great money but it's good enough for now. It'll make for some interesting posts, anyhow.

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In a similar vein, a friend of mine-- with a master's degree-- has gotten a job in cable installation. Another friend, also without gainful employment, is going to grad school, like I'm probably going to do. Blanc got a job in a call center.

I never wanted to go to grad school. In fact, the reason I didn't go into Library Science to begin with was that I didn't want to go to grad school...now there's no choice. I know I brought this up last week but it's all sitting on my head...I'm starting to get tension headaches again. I need to go lay down.

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Upcoming Posts: The Story of Joanna: The Worst Best Name Ever, Movies Based on Books, and Ultrasounding Off.

5 English Foods We Need in America

Here in the US, English food has a reputation of being bland and weird. While I didn't have spotted dick, and I'm not one for bangers and mash, there were things there I loved and miss so, so much. 

1.) Milk        

     

                                                  

 

It may sound ridiculous, but I miss English milk every day. Every day. 

The English pasteurization process is different from ours and strips less of the deliciousness from milk. Their milk is thicker, sweeter, creamier, and delicious-er. Their "skim" milk is like our 2%, their "partial fat" milk is like our whole milk, and their "full fat" milk is like an orgasm. It's the same kind of indescribable yumminess as a runny egg yolk. 

Plus, this fabulous milk makes all of their dairy products tastier as well: the cheese, the ice cream, the

2.) Chocolate

I know they look a little weird but, oh, my, so tasty. The chocolate itself is tastier (extra yummy milk inside, remember?), but, as you can see, over there they play with the texture of the chocolate more. Think about it-- our chocolate is all the same, it just comes in different shapes! Or, if anything, we just make it denser and softer in truffles and fudge. But there's other ways in the world, I promise.  

At the top of the picture is a Flake, a bar made of a thin sheet dribbled onto itself so it gets the appearance of being folded and folded and folded and folded. It's super crumbly and practically disintegrates when you bite into it, which allows the smaller crumbs to melt from the heat of your mouth while you chew the larger pieces, and therefore stopping the eternal question: Do I chew this bite or suck on it? 

Bottom right is an Aero Bar, a bar made of aerated chocolate. I finally got to try the Air Delight, Hershey's version of the Aero. Texture-wise, the Air Delight is spot-on, but I was thrown by the Hershey-ness of the chocolate. For some reason I didn't take into account that the bar would taste Hershey-y, so capturing the memory wasn't perfect but it's the closest I've gotten. The aerated chocolate is lighter (go figure) and melts easier, and my mother compared it to eating a regular bar of chocolate that had melted a little. Still tasty, though. 

Bottom left is a Kinder Bueno. KB is a wafer...thingy...with big pillows filled with hazelnut cream, the whole thing covered in chocolate. Muy bueno. Muy, muy bueno. 

3.) Pizza

I'm a proud born and bred Jersey Girl (more Bebe Neuwirth than Snooki), and we Jerseyans know our pizza regardless of Italian heritage or lack thereof. That being said, the idea of eating pizza in England scared me. Like the thought of eating Chinese food in England...England, the home of Bubble and Squeak. 

But then I realized that Italy is practically down the street from London, and, good God...it was fantastic. Boardwalk pizza fans know the importance of grease, to which I say that on every table in every pizza place in London is a bottle of chili oil. Let that soak in. And up. And all over your face and the 15 orange napkins littering the table. 

4.) Fry Ups

Also called a full breakfast or a full English breakfast or simply a full English, it's all the best savory breakfast foods on one plate. Does America really need more fried eggs, bacon, and sausage? No, but...beans are good for you! And mushrooms! Tomatoes! And it's important to eat breakfast at all, isn't it?

Finally...

5.) Crisps

Look familiar? No? 

What about this?

Yeeeeeeeeeeah. And you know what? Your beloved Lay's have been holding out on you. Yes! Holding out on you! Lay's, Walker's in England, gives its best love to England and leaving you the pitiful leftovers and you don't know the difference. I'm telling you the truth, though. American consumers are Lay's slutty mistress while Walker's has a home and family across the pond. It's why they're called Lay's here. 

Don't believe me? 

Walker's potato chip flavors available in England, not in America: 

Thai Sweet Chili

Cheese and Onion

Chicken & Thyme

Vintage Cheddar and Red Onion Chutney

Worcestershire

Steak and Onion

Prawn (Shrimp) Cocktail

Bacon

Lamb and Mint

Turkey & Bacon

Stilton & Cranberry

Roasted Chicken

Pickled onion...

Makes you feel a little dirty, doesn't it? Lay's has been holding out on us. Thankfully, McDonald's stopped when they brought their Sweet Chili McNugget sauce over here...Lay's is next, I say. Lay's is next. 

Now I'm hungry. 

"The Big C" and Mental Illness

I really enjoy Showtime shows, and I watch (or watched, as the case may be) almost all of them. Weeds, Dexter, Nurse Jackie, Shameless, The Tudors (!), I even enjoyed the first two seasons of The United States of Tara, even with its corny name.

And I enjoy The Big C. I think it's a clever premise, I mean, it's got a built-in tidy ending so it can pretty easily avoid the cruel fates of Pushing Daisies and Dead Like Me. The cruel, cruel fates...

The Big C tells the story of Cathy Jamison, a suburban teacher, wife, and mother suddenly diagnosed with stage IV melanoma. The show follows Cathy using her remaining time to live her life to the fullest, reconcile with her family and past, and seeking treatment to extend her time. It's got an awesome cast and fabulous writing, realistic story lines, humor, and genuine heart.

But for all its good points, and there are many, The Big C has been toying with mentally ill characters and I'm not entirely sure they're handling it well.

The first hit came during the premiere of season 2, first airing June 27, when we suddenly find out-- with no warning, no build up-- that Cathy's fundamentalist environmentalist homeless freegan brother is bipolar. This revelation turns Sean from an awesome, funny Earth warrior to an unmedicated nutcase, which destroys his credibility because it turns his truthy diatribes on the evils of the first world into paranoid ramblings. The sickest part of it is that it seems the only reason they did it is so they could have Cathy say, "I'm fighting for my life and you're throwing yours away" when she's convincing him to go back on his medication. I understand wanting to put that in there, but it could have been done so much better in so many different ways. It just felt cheap.

And you can see the change in the way John Benjamin Hickey plays him now, Sean isn't the uber-genius disillusioned with life, he's darker now...angrier. He talks a little louder, a little fiercer. He doesn't play Sean's ideas as reasonable anymore, they're obsessive thoughts that Sean will hear no word against.

On the August 22nd episode, "A Little Death", we're introduced to a new character played by Parker Posey. Poppy is a childish woman in her 30s that befriends Cathy's teenage son Adam on an online forum for cancer patients' children. Soon after Adam, and we, meet Poppy in person we see a series of parallel scars on her arm from cutting. Adam makes a face when he notices them but doesn't say anything. On the most recent episode, Poppy takes Adam to her high school reunion where, after an uncomfortable encounter with former tormentors, Poppy locks herself in the bathroom to cut herself while she sends Adam to buy feminine hygiene products for her. Adam sees the marks, and makes another face, but again doesn't say anything to her.

Later in the episode Adam asks Cathy if she remembers a little neighbor boy that used to bite himself, and asked her why she thinks he did it. She responds that the little boy was going through some hard times, and Adam responds that what happened wasn't the boy's fault. Cathy says she thinks it was because when some people go through things they take out the hurt and frustration on themselves instead of others. Adam says this is "f***ed up" and Cathy agrees. I don't have any problem with this, really...it makes sense and realistically demonstrates the average person's understanding of self injury. I'm curious to see how this plays out in future episodes.

But then Sean's instability is brought back into focus when he, still reeling from his fiance's miscarriage, runs away after hearing his new neighbors singing to their perpetually crying baby. Sean leaves a note saying as much, which Cathy finds...scrawled onto the wall of Sean's living room in paint.

I wonder about the research the writers of shows do regarding these things. The United States of Tara handled Tara's mental illness well, but they never touched on the chronically ill. The Big C is doing a great job analyzing the angles that come with being sick, but so far their treatment of the mentally ill doesn't feel as sensitive or realistic.

I'm going to keep watching, but it's definitely something that's affecting my viewing experience. Anybody else?