Mein Cramp

By Mink

Now I may not be a doctor, but I can say with a great deal of scientific accuracy that a woman's menstrual cycle can change as a result of her environment (i.e. workmates or roomates). Ok maybe this is bogus because I didn't see it on wikipedia, my reliable source for everything (fyi, today's queries included: on the fritz, Borat, Otto Von Bismarck,* Posse Comitatus, and Menstrual Cycle). But seriously, I have heard this concept before from some of my female friends who tell me there were times that they were "in sync" with their gal pals.

What I didn't think was possible until last week was that:

1. I could also have a cycle and
2. that it also could be coordinated with the girls from work

Ok, relax guys. I didn't really have my period. And if I did, it would clearly be a colossal disaster. We are talking redness-through-my-khakis disaster. I have trouble enough just walking, so bless the Lord for giving me easy to use equipment. I swear I don't understand how you gals do all that maintenance.

Anyway, the reason I went off on this disturbing tangent is to tell you that last week I had lower abdominal cramps which I described to my doctor-father in jest, as menstrual cramps (and I mentioned the cycle alteration theory cuz it also seemed that a lot of the ladies in the office were not feeling well last week).

Now apparently the cramping was just the result of a little stomach virus I had contracted, but I want to tell you that it pretty much ruined my week. Besides, the constant pain which made it even more difficult than normal for me to walk down the street, the damn cramps actually cost me a chance to earn 500 extra bucks.

The University of Maryland Medical Center is conducting a vaccine trial for the Avian Flu and any generally healthy 18-40 year old who passed a "routine" blood test, would be eligible to be a part of the trial which also 500 big ones. Well a bunch of us loan re-paying fools at work decided that a drug injection for cash was a genius idea.

In fact about an hour before the blood-test screening, I decided that I owed a civic duty to share this news with other young workers who may want to inject their bodies for money too. So I promptly went over to a couple of young women at Starbucks and proudly asked them "Hey, you guys, want to make 500 bucks today?" It was one of those moments where you realize what an ass you are even before completion of the sentence. (I have roughly 19 of these a day). Needless, to say the ladies, responded with a semi-polite "Uh, maybe," before making a brisk get-away.

Fast forward one hour. The stomach cramps are not bad at this time but are certainly present. We enter the vaccine clinic, get the whole schpiel about the process and then have about 500 pints of blood sucked out of us. They then tell us that they will call us the next morning after the blood tests come back clean and we would then be eligible to return to get the injection.

Fast forward one last time to the next morning. I receive the first phone call of the bunch, a rejection from one of the nurses. "Jonathan, we are sorry but your white blood count was high and we are unable to include you in our trial."**

Now I have been rejected before (jobs, schools, girls, etc), but for some reason getting rejected from a wacky little human medical experiment really hit me hard. Of course all the others begin receiving their acceptance phone calls in the next few minutes, as I sulk in my workspace corner looking up "white-blood count" on wikipedia.

Notes:
*My curiosity about Von Bismark was piqued when I learned that we share an April Fools birthday.

**Doctors later would inform me that the high white blood count likely was the result of the virus.

Urine Trouble (that’s a pun)

by singerz

Just recently, I was visiting home in MD and I got a ride back up to NY from a friend of mine and his pregnant wife. (Sorry Mink, I don’t remember if they say “we” are pregnant or not, but I honestly think its weird that you care. There, I’ve said it, OK? It just doesn’t bother me, and I’m not embarrassed to say it. The guy is a part of it- haven’t you ever had the birds and bees talk? Geez, do I have to teach you EVERYTHING?).

So my friends and I are on the road. Anyone else know how boring the scenery is between MD and NY? The most exciting thing that happens is the fact that sometimes the pollution in Jersey smells like farts and I like giving other people in the car accusing stares when the smell begins. Trust me, if you’ve never tried it, its fun.

As Mrs. Friend is pregnant, we stop about 45 minutes into the ride for a pee-rest stop. No problem, she’s pregnant, she has to pee a lot. I took Biology, I know this. My friend and I pee as well (remember this fact please), and I proceed to purchase a 3 dollar diet-cherry-pepsi. Expensive, but worth it. Oh so worth it. Such a damn well made product.

As a side note, there was a man at the rest stop who did NOT follow urinal etiquette, and I was very unhappy. Its one thing when David Goldstein pees in the urinal right next to me in synagogue even though there is an open urinal two spots away. But when truck-driver Frank sidles next to me- reeking of oil, cigarettes, Redbull, and 57 hours straight on the road, I am not a happy camper.

After the rest stop, we hit the road again. Then, my friend’s wife asked us why we are hitting the road and not just getting in the car to continue our trip. So we did. About 35 minutes later, after having drunk the 20oz of heaven, the following conversation ensues:

Zev: So…do you have to pee again? I don’t mind.
Pregnant Friend: No thanks, I’m fine.
Zev: You sure?
Preggers: Ya, I’m sure, thanks anyway.
Zev: You SURE?
Pregster: Um, yes, thanks.
Zev: We should REALLY stop for you to pee.
Husband: Zev, you sure YOU don’t have to pee?
Zev (crossing legs, shifting oddly, and wincing): Oh yes, I’m quite sure. Fine. FINE.

Needless to say we stopped for ME, the non-pregnant man, to pee. I don’t generally have a small bladder, but on that fateful evening, something was amiss. At least the couple was nice about it and didn’t make me pee in my trousers. Good people, those Landmans.

I will leave you with this - is there a such thing as street peeing etiquette? Or, since a street-peer is partaking in an intrinsically disgusting activity, maybe all etiquette is thrown to the wind? (And hopefully the pee isn’t thrown into the wind cause then the guy who drives the red Honda Civic is gonna be so pissed tomorrow morning).

My Cottage Cheese: The Sending of "Regards"

By Mink

Ok you will have to excuse me. Of late I have gone away from posting about some of my ridiculous mis-adventures and instead have commented on some annoying phrases or behavior that I have observed from some of the more mainstream human beings whom I sometimes find myself around (although generally I try to surround myself with a collection of SingerZ-type inappropriate brain damaged clowns).

That being said, I feel obliged to address yet another pet peeve of mine that has recently come to light. So by now the annoyed readers (if there are still any) are probably wondering what in the world could possibly be my deeply philosophical and brilliant societal beef (Btw...why is that even a phrase? shouldn't beef always be associated with pleasant things and not used as a synonym for a gripe or qualm? I see the word beef I immediately think melt -in- your- mouth, juicy tenderloin steak, and its hard to have a gripe with that....but I digress)

So my Cottage Cheese (now I think we all can agree that this is a food that stands for an aggravation) centers around the excessive sending of regards. Now we all are guilty of this. Here is what I mean. You have a convo with your friend on the phone and the friend mentions some other person who they are about to see whom you also know. So instinctively you say something to the effect of "Oh please send him my regards!"

Now its fine to say this because it is polite and a conversational norm but clearly your friend is under no obligation to act as a messenger in the sending of your regards. And if you genuinely expect him or her to actually carry out your dirty work, then well I think of you as part of the cottage cheese (And for those of you wondering what my beef is with cottage cheese: Ever since I was a little kid, that is the one food that disturbs me even more than Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20030717-9999_1c17barr.html ....it is soggy, kernelly and looks like baby drool.)

Anyway back to my drivel: The point is that if you really want to send "regards" (whatever that means) then pick up the phone and call the person. The bottom line is that the reason you are "sending" the regards in the first place is that you don't really care enough about the "regardee" to speak to them yourself.

My friend Julie disagrees and she got annoyed at me when she tried to send off the"regards" to my sister who is visiting this weekend from California. When I informed her that my sending of such a message was unlikely, she got all hissy and proclaimed that everyone sends regards and that I am just an asshole for not relaying the message.

Well that may be true. But I am right. But to humor Julie I will relay the message. Here it goes:

Dear Rachel (my sister),

Julie told me to tell you that she "sends her regards." She doesn't really think enough of you to call you herself. But she does want you to make sure that you receive her very meaningful "regards."

How's that?