Tuesday, December 17, 2013

ten things i don't understand about men

Ever since I got married, I've learned some things about men that make zero sense to me. So I thought I'd compile a list of them for you ladies who know what I'm talking about.

1Their complete fascination with explosions. I don't get it. I never will. If something explodes in a movie, that movie is suddenly 46 times better to most men. And if it's a really big explosion, let's add a few points onto that. What? How does that make any sense?

2How they can eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and somehow never gain a pound. It is seriously the most unfair thing in the history of the universe. I want that superpower!

3How they just cannot tell if something matches or not. This one is actually incredibly endearing to me. But no, Husband, you can't wear stripes AND plaid in the same outfit...

4Video games. Husband is one of those only-once-in-a-while gamers, but I will never ever understand how some men can literally play video games for 12 hours straight. Don't they get bored? Don't their hands hurt by then? Maybe I have a short attention span, but I get bored after doing anything for 20 minutes.

5How incredibly upset they can get when they watch sports. You'd think the other team was personally assaulting them by the way they can rant and rave about it.

6Doing risky things. Like spinning donuts in the car during a snowstorm or extreme sports or cliff jumping. Why are near-death experiences so dang much fun to them? Whenever Husband spins a donut while I'm in the car, I nearly wet my pants, and then spend the next hour freaking out about how we almost spun into the wall or the parked car or the church building and how we were THIS close to being dead and holy crap why would you do that?!

7Spitting. Why? I mean, whatever, but why?

8Watching people get beaten up. This kind of goes along with the explosion thing, but why does a good fistfight make a movie so exciting to them? There isn't even any kissing or romantic monologues during fistfights...

9How they can do pull-ups. Seriously. Even non-buff guys seem to be able to do them. But have I ever in my entire life been able to do ONE pull-up without jumping off the ground first? Nope. Life is so unfair.

10Butt-slapping after a game. What the heck?

But, all of these things considered, I love men, and I love my man. Thank goodness men aren't like women, or this world would be a crazy place.

Monday, December 16, 2013

how to not die while donating plasma

Once upon a time about five years ago, I was a broke college student who thought that the idea of $30 for getting stabbed in the arm with a Capri-Sun straw was a brilliant idea. So I went in.

I was fine the for the first thirty minutes of my donation. It was awesome. I was getting rich just by sitting on my butt watching tv!

And then, all of a sudden, for absolutely no reason at all, I started flipping out. I was shaking. I was crying. It took every ounce of strength I had to not rip that needle right out of my own arm and run from the room screaming. The nurses were trying to get me to calm down, telling me to breathe, but I just would not have it. I had a freaking Capri-Sun straw stuck in my arm and all of my blood was being sucked out of my body by an evil vampire machine and I was probably going to die any second! How on EARTH was I supposed to breathe?

So, if you know anything about plasma donation, you know that they withdraw a certain amount of your blood, extract the plasma from it, and then return the blood to your body (which is why it's safe to donate twice a week).

I had my major spaz-attack while my blood was being extracted. So the nurses made me wait until all my blood was back in me before they could remove the needle. Which takes five minutes!

FIVE MINUTES! I was still crying (which made me feel like an idiot afterwards, because it just so happened that one of the hottest guys I'd ever seen up to that point in my life was sitting in the donation spot next to me... but whatever. Crying is cute, right?), and I was so anxious that I scratched a rash onto the skin on my neck.

Finally, after what felt like forever, that nurse took the needle out. They still paid me, even though I only filled up that donation bottle about half-way, and I ran out of that place and never ever looked back.

But I've recently taken up donating plasma once again. And I've been doing so well with it, all things considered. So, without further ado, I give you

How to Not Die while Donating Plasma

  • Stuff your face. This is my favorite part. It always is less traumatic if you've had plenty to eat before you go, I promise. So take the excuse and eat tons of food (just make sure it's not super fatty, or else that'll mess up your plasma and you won't be able to donate).
  • Pee forty times a day. And by this, I mean stay super hydrated. The more hydrated you are, the easier donating will be. But yes, that will mean that you'll have to make at least 643% more trips to the bathroom throughout the day.
  • Don't look at the needle. Just don't do it. You, and everyone around you will feel so much better if you just don't look at it (I think this may have been my problem that first time I went).
  • Bring something to do. Yeah, they play movies. But for some reason, it's easier for me to get tempted to look at the needle when I try to watch the movie. So I bring my Kindle and read. The time flies by.
  • Know that the only part that hurts is when the needle is first put in and when it comes out. Once it's in there, you can't feel it. And once it's out, you're good. (The only other part I hate about donating is the way they prick your finger to test your plasma levels before you donate. I always jump about a foot into the air when they do that. Ow!) So that's a total of like... 2.5 seconds of pain. You can do anything for 2.5 seconds!

And there you have it! Go donate to your heart's content! (And also know that you are saving lives in the process, which is a total plus! :)

I promise, you won't die.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

the top five things so far about my marriage. in a great list. just for you.

1 The Blue Fuzz Dance
Husband and I received a fuzzy blue blanket for a wedding gift from a friend (shout out to Mary!), which we love and adore and always use for cuddling and sleeping and parading around like superheros because inside, we're both really about five years old.

One day, I decided it would probably be a great idea to wash the blanket, since we use it so much. And also because I'm a germaphobe like you wouldn't believe. (Oh, you think you're a germaphobe? You ain't seen nothin.)

So I stuffed the fuzzy blue blanket of awesome into the washer. And then the dryer.

Out it came, clean, warm, cuddly... and covered in little blue fuzz balls. And because I was busy, I didn't have time to rid the blanket of the fuzz balls when I first got the blanket out of the dryer.

Fast-forward ten minutes. The whole apartment is covered in little blue fuzz balls. The couch. The carpet. The love sac. The kitchen floor. Our bed. Every article of clothing we own. My hair. Husband's 5'o'clock shadow. I kid you not, that blue fuzz was everywhere, and I swear it was making babies at an insane rate, because somehow more just kept appearing.

So, naturally, we made up the Blue Fuzz Dance. It all started when I was brushing my teeth once, and I had a commercial jingle I'd heard on the radio stuck in my head. I decided that the words "blue fuzz" were better lyrics for the entire song. So I sang it. And danced.

The dance is mostly a rocking forward and backward while bouncing kind of dance. But it's awesome and you should all be jealous.
**Also, please not that I am better at the Blue Fuzz Dance than Husband is. But don't tell him I told you that.**
2 The See-If-You-Can-Find-Another-Place-to-Spill-Food-Onto-the-Tablecloth Game 
Husband is the best at this game. It's like the equation A+B=C.
A: We are eating at the table
B: The tablecloth is on the table
C: Husband is spilling things onto the tablecloth that probably won't ever wash out. Like Indian curry sauce. Or spaghetti sauce. Or gravy.
I'm mostly a spectator at this sport, but man, Husband is a natural.

3 Our Dual-Language Home 
Husband speaks Spanish. He can say tons of things. And Spanish-speaking people understand him.
I speak French. But I can say some things in Spanish. Like "hola" and "el burro sabe mas que tu." And Spanish-speaking people ask if I was dropped on my head as a child.
Every morning, our first words to each other are:
Me: "It's time to wake up!"
Husband: "Yo quiero dormir!"
Me: "Por que?"
Husband: "Por que ESTOY CANSADO!"
Me: "Yo dos, babe, yo dos."

See? This is definitely the beginning of a multi-lingual family. Our children are going to be linguists, I bet you four thousand dollars.
**I know that it's actually supposed to be "yo tambien." Don't judge me. I just like the way "yo dos" rolls off the tongue.**

4 Husband's very own workout plan
It goes like this. Whenever he does pushups, I sit on his back. He loves this. Also, if he is ever giving me a piggyback ride (you'd be surprised how often I don't want to walk all the way into the next room), I force him to do squats with me on his back. He doesn't even need to go to the gym anymore, I keep that man in perfect shape!
**I have no idea why this is so much fun for me. Maybe I'm weirdly sadistic?**

5 The Tomorrow-We're-Gonna-Go-To-Bed-Way-Earlier-Than-We-Did-Last-Night Game
We play this game nearly every single morning a few minutes after the alarm goes off. It goes like this:
Step 1: Groan like you hate the world
Step 2: Moan, "I hate the world!"
Step 3: Contemplate how much more sleep you could possibly squeeze in before school (for Husband) or work (for me).
Step 4: Contemplate how much you hate the world.
Step 5: Glare at Husband while he groans, "Yo quiero DORMIR!" (see number 3)
Step 6: Realize how late you are going to be for work and how you won't actually have time to get ready and how probably no one at work actually knows what you look like with your hair actually done and how you don't have time to eat breakfast this morning and just how unfair that really is. 
Step 7: Commit to Husband that no matter how many episodes of "Grey's Anatomy" you want to watch tonight, you can't stay up til 2am again.
Step 8: Stay up til 2am again watching "Grey's Anatomy."

Sorry for my super long hiatus from my blog. I don't have any excuses except for the fact that I just didn't feel like blogging for a while. But hopefully I'll be posting more regularly from now on. I pinky promise. :)