Saturday, February 28, 2009
Moving on... after I posted my Totally Awkward post about the kinky sex shirt, I was going through a box of old pictures to show something to my friend, and I found an actual picture of me wearing the infamous shirt! It was taken during my freshman year of college, so it was taken just a few months after the Totally Awkward incident. My scanner is apparently on strike, so I had to take a picture of the picture with my camera, so you'll have to forgive the picture quality. But with no further ado (and to prove to you that this shirt was not, in fact, skanky), here's the kinky sex shirt!
Friday, February 27, 2009
I live in the suburbs of a major U.S. city. Major as in, I guarantee that every one of my readers has heard of it, knows which state it's in, can easily list three facts about it, and can find it on a map (unless you're geographically challenged, like me.) So, it was pretty exciting for my friend Holly when she learned that her brother's band was going to be playing in a reasonably well-known club in the city. She asked me to come to the show last night, and I agreed to join her to support her brother, who I went to high school with, even though I was pretty sure that his band didn't really play the type of music I like to listen to. As it turns out, the type of music they do play is the kind that sounds like this:
"ARRGGHHHHH BLAAAHHHHH RARGHHHH GRRRRR" (Mosh pit, mosh pit, mosh pit, some guy falls on the floor and almost gets trampled.)
I could not understand a single word that her brother (the lead singer) was singing/shouting. Another interesting tidbit about this concert was that, when I showed up at the door, ID in hand, nobody seemed interested in seeing it. Not the bouncer at the door, not the person who took my money. No one. At first, I felt slightly offended, because I figured they all thought I looked so obviously over 21 that they didn't even need to bother with my ID. Then I realized that the band was really popular with the under-21 crowd, so the place was filled with high school kids, and there was no alcohol being served downstairs. Fortunately, the club had a second level which looks down onto the show but had the added bonus of not featuring a mosh pit AND of being exclusively for people who were older than 21. Despite the teeming masses of kids with dyed hair and facial piercings downstairs, the second level only had about 20 people in it, which meant that Holly and I were among the very oldest people in the entire club. Sweet.
We laughed about not fitting in at the club and Holly said, "We don't even fit in with the people who don't fit in! I want to slit my wrists!" To which I replied, "Hey, now you fit in!"
After the noise... I mean music... was finished, we said hi to Holly's brother and then left to go to a "grown up" hangout. I left at about 10 to go home and go to bed, and I listened to some Phil Vassar on the way home to soothe my poor ears. If not liking punk (alternative? What musical genre was that anyway??) music means I'm old, this is one time I'm proud to be old. But you better believe that if the band ever makes it really big, I'm going to name drop all over the place and brag about knowing the lead singer "way back when." I can even fake knowing the lyrics to all of their songs, since it's not like anyone knows what they're saying anyway.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
(For those of you who don't know, here's a really quick, overly simplified explanation of how the Medical Residency Match works: medical students apply to programs all over the country. Typically, the very minimum they're advised to apply to is 10, and most apply to quite a few more. If a program likes you on paper, they'll invite you to interview. The typical goal is to get at least 10 interviews. After a student is done with interviews, they rank all of the programs they like in a list on a matching website, with number one being the program they like most. At the same time, all of the programs make a list of all of the students they interviewed and liked, with student number one being their favorite. Then, the matching software basically goes through and matches each student with whichever program is highest on their list that also ranked them highly. So, if your number one program choice has 10 spots to fill, and they ranked you as one of their top ten picks, you end up at that program. But if they ranked you number 12, you only get to go there if at least two of their top ten matched with other programs they liked better.)
Mr. Darling interviewed with quite a lot of programs, and out of those, he's ranked eight programs as ones that he'd like to go to. Obviously I can't say where those programs are (to some extent, it would defeat the purpose of being anonymous), but I can give you my opinions on each one. Here's the skinny on programs one through five:
1. Our top choice. (Obviously.) Some of you might remember choice number one from my posts about staying in the Zombie Hospital - you can read about my time visiting Mr. Darling at his number one choice here and here. The city itself is pretty crappy, which is actually a good thing, because Mr. D's chosen specialty is emergency medicine, so it's in the best interest of his education that he does his residency in a place that has a lot of complicated emergencies - shootings, stabbings, drug overdoses, etc. That's ok, though, because choice number one has some really cute suburbs that I'd love to live in. This city is only four hours away from where we live now, so it would be easy for me to come back and visit my family and friends for a long weekend when Mr. D's working. The program is really highly ranked, has everything Mr. D wants in a residency, and has expressed some serious interest in Mr. D, so we're keeping our fingers crossed that he gets his first choice.
2. My hometown. If Mr. D gets choice number two, we won't have to move! For selfish reasons, I'd love for him to get matched with choice number two so that we won't have to move away from my family and friends quite yet. I've lived here for 20-something years, and I wouldn't mind a few more before we move away (which we would do eventually anyway). However, I'm still hoping that Mr. D gets his first choice - he deserves it.
3. The coolest city of the bunch. Choice number three is located in one of the 50 largest cities in the United States. We love the city a lot, and the program is really strong, but this residency lasts one to two years longer than the rest of Mr. D's top eight, and he's not crazy about that.
4. Really far away. Mr. Darling and I drove to this interview at the beginning of February, and it's a nine hour trip. The program is great, the city is cute, but it's nine hours away from friends and family. Mr. D originally wanted to rank this program as number two, but I talked him down to four.
5. A little bit country. This program is a bit more on the middle-of-nowhere side of things. But because it's the only hospital for miles and miles around, it would provide Mr. D with a lot of good experience. It would definitely be a change of pace for me to live in a small town, but I think that I tend to be pretty flexible, so I'm sure I would adjust fine.
So, there you have it. In 21 days, Mr. Darling and I will know where we'll be spending the next 3-5 years of our lives, and hopefully it will be one of the places I listed above. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
But across the chest (and - I cannot stress this part strongly enough - when I say "across the chest," I mean at least six inches above the top of my boobs) there was a horizontal slit, with grommets evenly spaced above and below the slit, and then there were safety pins (regular, small safety pins) through the grommets, holding the slit closed. My masterful use of Paint Shop will give you an idea of what I mean:
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Today's Totally Awkward post can also be filed under the heading "Things that would only happen to Tova."
Let's start by talking about television commercials. For some reason, stupid commercials really annoy me, and I make fun of them loudly and often... in fact I once wrote a post about that. (Take, for example, the Long John Silver's commercial that I have ridiculed to everyone I know. The one where three people are sitting at a picnic table with foil-wrapped hamburgers that they have obviously just purchased from a fast-food restaurant, and they're all looking really disappointed, and one of them says in disgust, "Hamburgers again?!?!" Umm, hello!!! If they didn't want hamburgers, why did they buy hamburgers?? Clearly, these people are too stupid to be allowed to make food purchases.)
Anyway, sometime last year, some of my coworkers and I were discussing stupid commercials. I'm not sure why we were discussing them, other than that I have a knack for seeking out awkward situations. After we'd all named some really terrible commercials, I mentioned a commercial for a local law firm. I'd always found the commercial to be particularly stupid, in large part because it involved cartoon characters, and it seems odd to me to combine something serious like lawsuits with something frivolous like a cartoon. Anyway, I'm describing the commercial, when one coworker says (and I swear I'm not making this up), "Oh, that's my commercial! The law firm made it for me!"
I laughed at first, until I realized that she was totally serious. It turns out that her dad had worked for said law firm, and she (my coworker) had been involved in an accident as a child that resulted in a lawsuit (against the other party). She was represented by her father's firm, and to make her feel better, the law firm had made a commercial specifically for her which talked about the type of accident that she'd been involved in.
In other words, of all the people in the world that I could have made fun of this commercial to, I chose the one person who had actual emotional ties to the commercial. And that is because I am amazingly awkward.
So, what's your story? Share something Totally Awkward with the world on your blog, then link to the post below!
3. Sassy Britches
7. From KS to PA
8. Amy @ Bitchin\' Wives Club
9. Ryan Ashley Scott
10. Former Fat Chick @ 13!
12. Tony@that one particular harbor
Monday, February 16, 2009
As you may know, I have a degree in writing. That means that I took quite a few classes in editing and grammar. It also means that I'm a tad bit particular about proper use of the English language. I even have a favorite punctuation mark. (I'm not joking; I love semicolons.) Around my office, I'm known as the Comma Queen. Any time we're publishing a new piece of informational literature, it's given to me first, and inevitably, I cross out 75 commas and then insert 75 more in different places. (One of my coworkers recently sent me the following email, which I am not making up, after he asked me to proofread something for him: "Excellent. You're like a grammar nazi. I love it!") It's a sickness. (In college, I got in an argument with a girl who was mad that I was dating her best friend's ex-boyfriend, and she called me "grammar b*tch." True story.)
Does this mean that everything I write is always 100% grammatically correct? Heck, no. I may be a grammar snob, but I'm not infallible. Does this mean that I judge you if you use commas or semicolons incorrectly? Definitely not. Does it mean that I judge people who speak using grammar that even a third grader knows is incorrect? Absolutely (unless the speaker is in second grade).
On Saturday, I overheard two examples of this, and I was so annoyed that I subjected Mr. Darling to a ten-minute-long tirade about how people sound like morons when they intentionally speak incorrectly. First, I was in line to exchange something at Target, and the woman in front of me was mad because she was trying to return some things without a receipt, and the store wouldn't take them back. In a fit of anger, she shouted, "Look! I brung you two things. I brung you this game, and I brung you this sweater. I want my money back for the things I brung!" I wanted to scream, "BROUGHT! You brought back two things!" But I didn't, because the woman was really mad and also a lot bigger than me. Later, Mr. Darling and I went to the movies, and the woman in front of us in the ticket line asked her friend, "Was you going to get popcorn before the movie started?" And again, I bit my tongue.
Here's the thing: punctuation can be difficult, but basic grammar is something that you can learn by watching Sesame Street. To learn all of the rules of punctuation, you need to go to school. To learn to use "brought" instead of "brung," you can just watch a few episodes of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, The Office, or Gossip Girl. You can also learn proper grammar by reading People magazine or by listening to the radio. So when people speak incorrectly, it's really just sheer laziness, as far as I'm concerned. And so it really, really annoys me when people choose not to use proper English. Am I a jerk? Perhaps. But why do people insist upon speaking incorrectly when it's every bit as easy to use proper grammar? Your thoughts?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I've gotten tagged a few times for that "25 Random Things about Me" thingy that everybody's doing on Facebook, so I figured I'd answer it on here. I ran out of things to say after number 16, so I just stopped. Enjoy!
- I am allergic to chapstick.
- I love the Game Show Network. I want to be on all of the game shows, because I rock at all of them.
- I talk to my television all the time. Anytime someone asks a question on TV, I answer it. This may or may not be a new and exciting personality disorder.
- I love country music. I hated it until I was in high school, and then my friend played The Grundy County Auction Incident and I'll Think of a Reason Later for me, and I fell in love with them. Don't judge.
- My bellybutton is pierced.
- I've never smoked a cigarette, never used an illegal drug, and never used a legal drug illegally. I'm very proud of that. Some people might think that this means I'm naive; I think it's a sign that I'm smart.
- I once babysat my boss' dog for four days, and it stuck its tongue in my mouth. Twice. Because of that, I am adamant that I will never own a dog. (Just so we're clear - I gargled with mouthwash for at least 5 minutes each time. Gross!)
- I refuse to buy anything I see in an infomercial or that is only available through a "special TV offer." Refuse. I once saw an expose about infomercials, and now it's personal policy never to buy anything that can't be bought in a store. That's too bad, too, because I want an Aqua Globe and a ShamWow. But I'm too skeptical to believe in the value of a product that I'm not allowed to see and touch before I buy it.
- I'm pretty sure that I don't believe in ghosts, but on the off-chance that I'm a ghost for a little while after I die, I've already picked out the person I'm going to haunt.
- I think that my husband is the funniest, sexiest, most intelligent, wittiest, most fun, best man in the world, and nothing anyone can say could change my mind about that. If I couldn't be his wife, I'd want my "consolation prize" to be that I got to be his best friend. Lucky for me, I get to be his wife AND his best friend.
- Speaking of my abnormally amazing husband... Before we had even started dating (when we were still in the flirting stage), I was talking to one of my friends about him, and I said, "I am going to marry that man. I guarantee it." She said, "No you're not!" and I told her that she was invited to sit in the front row at our wedding so she could see that I was right. Three years later, I married him. True story. (But my friend got the flu right before my wedding and couldn't come to witness the fulfillment of my one psychic prediction.)
- When I am driving, I go crazy singing along to my radio or a CD. I sometimes use random objects as microphones, I dance in my seat, and I do hand motions. I'm sure that every other driver who sees me thinks I'm a moron, but I have fun.
- I once dated a graffiti artist. (Mr. Darling laughs when I say this and corrects me by saying, "Tova, you dated a vandal." To-may-to, to-mah-to.) Anyway, however you look at it, he was a talented artist who made the unfortunate decision to paint in illegal places. Somewhere (unless I threw them away, which actually, I think I might've...) I have/had pictures of my first name, in four-foot-high letters, spray painted on the side of a train.
- I've never gotten a speeding ticket. I've only ever been pulled over while driving once, and before I could even find my vehicle registration and proof of insurance, the cop laughed and told me to "get out of here." (While I'm tempted to just end the story there and let you all think I used my wit and charm to avoid a fine, the truth is that one of my family members is a cop, and the cop who pulled me over knew him, so he just let me go.)
- I have extremely realistic, vivid dreams almost every night. More than once, I've thought that my dreams were actually things that happened while I was awake, and I'll ask people questions about them, only to be looked at like I'm crazy. Good times.
- I am also fully capable of carrying on coherent conversations while sleeping.
If any of you haven't done this yet on Facebook, do it now! Bonus points if you actually get to number 25.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Last week's story was about me inadvertently broadcasting that I thought one of my college classmates was very cute. As I mentioned, I met him through a friend of mine who was a writing major like me and with whom I took a lot of classes throughout college.
This week's extremely awkward moment (which might be my most awkward yet, and the memory of which I had surpressed until I thought of last week's story) is about that friend, who I'll call Football. We took a lot of classes together through college, and he sat next to me in every class we had.
Now, let me switch gears a minute and tell you about a shirt...
During my freshman year, my roommate gave me a shirt that she'd gotten as a gift but that was too small for her. It was a really cute shirt, and I liked the way it looked on me, so I wore it fairly regularly throughout college. (Not so frequently that I looked like I didn't own any other clothes, but you know what I mean...) The shirt had a pretty wide neckline; it wasn't off the shoulder, but it was wide enough that if I wore a regular bra with it, the bra straps stuck out. Since I wasn't blessed with particularly large boobs (sorry to disappoint my male readers), it's typically not a big deal for me to go bra-less with certain shirts, and the cut and fabric of this shirt made it so that I didn't look skanky if I went bra-less in this shirt. So that's what I did every time I wore it. (At this point in the story, it's very important that you know that I didn't go around trying to advertise my boobs, so if I would've thought that it looked at all slutty or obvious when I went bra-less in this shirt, I never would've done it.)
So, during my junior year (at which point I had worn this shirt once every month or so for two years), I wore the shirt for probably the nine millionth time. I had a class with Football that day, and we were having a test. When he sat down next to me, he looked over at me and said, "Oh no! You're wearing that shirt? I'm totally going to fail this test." I had absolutely no idea what he meant, so my response was something along the lines of "Ummmm... what the heck are you talking about??" To which he replied, "Every time you lean forward when you're wearing that shirt, I can see one of your nipples. I'm not going to be able to focus on this test when I can see your whole boob!"
And then the floor opened up and swallowed me whole.
Oh, no, wait... that's what I wished would happen. My intense, indescribable mortification makes me kind of forget everything that happened next, (not only because he'd seen them, but also because if it was so easy for him to see my, um, goods in this shirt, then probably others had seen them, too), but I think that I said something like, "What??? You've seen my nipples??? More than once??? And you never said anything????" And to try to make me feel better (I guess?), he said "It's not a bad thing! You have really nice nipples!"
I did horribly on the test, and I never wore that shirt again.
Ok, please share something awkward while I go shopping for several dozen turtleneck sweaters, as this post reminded me the risks of showing any skin at all. Then, read everybody else's awkward posts!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Tomorrow is Totally Awkward Tuesday, so get your story ready! Luckily, I typed mine before my keyboard started to hate me.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Also, did anyone else notice that my poll about my new three-column layout came out exactly even between people who love it and people who think I should change it? The votes are split right down the middle! So, I'm just going to leave it for now, since either way, exactly half of my readers will like it, and it took me too long to do for me to change it a week later.
Mr. Darling and I are taking a road trip today and tomorrow for his very last medical residency interview! We'll be driving for about 16 hours in a 30-hour period, so unless I wake up enough to locate a computer in our hotel tomorrow (I'll be sleeping during Mr. D's interview), I probably won't be blogging for at least a day or two. After Mr. D's final interview, we'll be submitting his rank list, I'll explain the match process to anyone who cares to hear about it, and then in 43 days, Mr. Darling and I will find out where we'll be spending the next 3-5 years of our lives. This is a very exciting time! Stay tuned!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Here's my story:
My sophomore year of college, I took a class that used a particularly expensive textbook (and that's saying something, since most textbooks are outrageously priced anyway). To avoid bankrupting all of his students, the professor suggested that we get into groups of two or three, buy the book as a group, and then we could turn in our assignments as a group. In the class with me was a good friend of mine who played for the school football team. He was a year ahead of me, but we had the same major, so we took a lot of classes together and had the same advisor (actually, come to think of it, there's another really, really embarrassing story that has to do with him, too. If I get up the nerve, I might share it for next Tuesday.) Anyway, we were good friends, so as soon as the professor suggested we form groups, he asked if I'd like to be in a study group with him and one of his football teammates. I said yes, not only because he was my closest friend in the class but also because his teammate was really cute.
That night, I was hanging out with a group of girls in my dorm, and I mentioned that I was going to be in a study group with these two guys and that one of them was extremely cute (not that the other wasn't, but we'd been friends for a year and he had a girlfriend, so being in his group wasn't really news.) I couldn't remember the cute guy's last name, but my school had a directory that had a picture of each student in it (talk about a stalker's dream come true), so I ran to get it and look him up. When I found his picture, I ran in to show the other girls, and I squealed in typical girly fashion, "Isn't he sooo cute?" I passed his picture around, and everyone agreed that he was definitely attractive.
The next time we had class, he sat down next to me and said, "So, I hear you have a crush on me?" I was like, "What? No I don't!" To which he replied, "Yeah, you do. Someone told me that you showed my picture to a bunch of your friends and said I was 'sooo cute.'"
Ummm.... awesome. That wasn't uncomfortable at all. Nor was the fact that for the whole rest of the semester, I had to go to his apartment once a week to work on assignments. And that he kept trying to convince me to make out with him, even though he had a girlfriend, because he knew I thought he was "sooo cute."
Actually, we ended up becoming good friends, but I still cringe every time I think about him confronting me with my squealing about how cute he was. Also, to this day, I never found out which girl ratted me out.
Post a link to your Totally Awkward post below. But please don't just include a random link to your blog if you didn't participate. Because where's the fun in that?
4. Sassy Britches
6. Bella@That damn expat
|8. Weekly Jules|
10. Amy @ Bitchin\' Wives Club
13. Former Fat Chick- going to HELL!
|15. Fancy Schmancy|
16. Ryan Ashley Scott
17. Up Rooted
20. Emily & Hannah
Monday, February 2, 2009
Hurrah! The following fantastic people have bestowed great honors upon me:
The incomparable Cora over at Love Letters By Cora and the fantastic Eve at Tranquility and Turmoil gave me this award:
"The Lemonade Award is for blogs which show great attitude and gratitude."
The brilliant and accomplished author of Legal Mist gave me this award:
The award is called the "Premio Dardos," which is Italian for "Darts Award" or "Darts Prize," and I am supposed to pass it on to 15 people.
"This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among Bloggers. It's a way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web."
Sexy newlywed Bella at That Damn Expat gave me this beautiful award:
It comes with this snazzy description: "These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind of bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to three bloggers who must choose three more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."
I'm supposed to pass these on to some people, but it's a very large number of people, and I lost count, so I'm just choosing a random number of people to give it to. For award number one, I choose... Randy and Angie at PsychoHairapy, Up Rooted, Comedy Goddess and Newsy Nibby.
For award number two, I pick Ask Alice (even though she terrified me by letting me know that my worst fear - getting stuck in a revolving door - actually happened to her cousin once. I've never heard of that actually happening to anyone until now - before it was an irrational fear, but now it feels totally rational, and thus more terrifying!), Fabulously Broke in the City, So Not Mom-a-licious, Patsy at Life as a Loaded Gun, and Always a Bridesmaid at 27 Dresses in Cleveland.
And award number three goes to any reader who knew what self-aggrandizement meant without having to look it up. (I didn't, so I need to find out if I'm just dumb.)
Also, can I just say... I love, love, love everyone who reads this blog. Your comments are fantastic and hilarious, and they sometimes get me into trouble because I start laughing out loud at my computer at work! So, thank you all! You're spectacular!
Tomorrow is Totally Awkward Tuesday, so if you don't already have a story ready, go make a fool of yourself in public RIGHT NOW! Also, to answer a question asked by Fancy Schmancy, your Totally Awkward story doesn't necessarily have to be funny... but that's no guarantee that we won't laugh at you anyway.