Thursday, January 3, 2008
I was in the hospital for a few days after Thanksgiving. I just got sick, it wasn't a big deal. Until I got the bill last week. When I told people I how much it cost me, they asked if I even had insurance. I began to ask myself why I even had a job.
I emailed HR. Surely, there had to be some mistake.
No mistake. She explained my deductibles, copays and 20% contributions. Basically, how my useless insurance plan could turn $10,000 in hospital fees would into a bill that would make me want to quit my job and find one with a real insurance plan.
The good news is, I've just about maxed out my contributions for the year. So if I have any other "medical issues" I should take advantage of zero fees (a defined, and therefore, probably meaningless term) for the rest of the plan year (Sept 1).
Medical issues? I don't know? I could fake a drug addiction. Spend 28 days in rehab? That could be fun.
Then it came to me. I have almost 9 months left in my plan year. I need to get pregnant. Having a baby has got to be expensive. Think of all the money I'd save. I could just have a planned Cesarean on the 28th or so of August (who cares how far along I am? this is a matter of ECONOMY) . This plan would definitely effect my ability to fit in my wedding dress, so I might need to shuffle the date a bit. But hey, free baby!
Friday, December 28, 2007
I love Us Weekly. It is full of amazing and useful facts like whom the stars go to when they want a nose job, how much they weigh, and why they are just like us (they wait at the baggage claim too!).
This week's magazine looked especially promising because it was full of celebrity relationships that were in trouble. But to balance the troubles Eva Longoria Parker and Tony were having--not to mention Heidi Montag and that douche Spencer--Us Weekly had a whole spread of engaged celebrities and their rings.
The best part, a little corner box talked about trends in Hollywood wedding rings.
In general, I like to think that "trendy" is good for things like nail polish, purses/bags, jeans and other things that will last a week/season or two (ok, maybe four. who's counting?).
"Trendy" is not good for "forever" things. Things like engagement rings or your children's names, anything you might want to be able to pass down to your grandchildren. You don't want to choose them because of an article you saw in Us Weekly.
Forever things are supposed to be classic. Like Jacqueline Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn. When you start looking for trendy stuff to decide on forever things, it means one of two things. 1) you aren't even trying to pretend like it's a forever thing. 2) you're going to end up with this decade's equivalent of poofy sleeves on your wedding dress. I'm just saying.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Gift giving has always been a little uncomfortable for me. That moment when you open a gift, you have to suppress any indication that you don't have any idea what it is, you don't already own it or you don't think it is the weirdest idea ever. Then you have to go for that perfect amount of gratitude while simultaneously obsessing about whether or not you spent too much/too little/didn't even get them anything now that you've seen their gift.
Then there is the post-Christmas re-hashing when everyone asks what you got/gave and you get to relive the discomfort. Unless you gave/received the best gift ever. It's not just that I'm giving my fiance a puppy, which he's been wanting. It is also that I'm naming the puppy Herpes. Which is makes the puppy twice as awesome.
Now when people ask what I gave him for Christmas I can say with a straight face that I gave him Herpes.
And when people ask what he got for Christmas, he can tell all his friends and coworkers that he got Herpes. From his fiancee.
And when people come to visit, we can say: hey, have you guys seen Herpes? (before they can answer...because that would be awkward/awesome--my favorite) wait right here!
And when we have kids: son! I need you run outside and get Herpes! (I am pretty sure we will make excellent parents.)
The possibilities are endless. (I can start sentences with, "Ever since I gave you herpes...") I can't wait to introduce the puppy to Nana...
Monday, December 10, 2007
I love the NYTs wedding section. It is pretty much why I get out of bed on Sunday. That, and to pour myself a big glass of watered down Gatorade and take some Aleve.
This Sunday I recognized one of the brides from college. We took a public speaking class together senior year. I was pretty excited to recognize someone in the wedding section--I'm pretty sure this is a first for me--If I were having Sunday brunch with someone, that would mean I won the NYTs wedding section portion of the brunch. (Sunday brunch is more fun when it's competitive, especially when your fellow diners don't know the rules and you just announce, "I won!" somewhat arbitrarily. Like after you finish a drink.)
I totally remembered this girl though, and I especially remembered one of her Five Word Speeches. I hated Five Word Speeches. I thought they were the worst idea ever. Except when she gave one of hers. She got to the podium and she gave a perfectly flat, ambiguously bitter speech: "Why. Are you dating. Him."
A couple people laughed nervously, hoping it was supposed to be funny. I immediately looked to her friends, who were biting their lips and looking at the ground.
Whoa, who is this Him? And who are the people tacky enough to actually ASK that question?! It's one thing to think something like that, it's another thing entirely to say it. I have GOT to meet him. Anyone who can inspire this level of awkwardness is practically MAGICAL.
Anyway, I saw him. And she married him.
The best thing you can say about a couple like that is, maybe he's a really sweet guy. Or, at least he'll never cheat on her. Or, perhaps it was an arranged marriage?
This whole situation was just too much for me. Why do I even care? This has nothing to do with me. I hardly know the girl. I'm not marrying this guy. Sure he's a genius with a sweet job...but still.
First of all, I am not strong enough to take that kind of second-guessing from other people. My sisters just had to raise an eyebrow and say, "pink bridesmaid dresses?" and I said, "never mind, forget it, I hate pink, and I hate you both!" and I ran to my bedroom and slammed the door and cried. (not really. except I did pick a different color.)
Second, I for one rely on the order and safety that staying within one's league affords. Guy's don't need a hero like this to think: he got the hot girl, I must find his secret! I'll try to get some girl that's way outside of my reach! Please. Let's all just work with what we've got, everything is so much simpler, there are no hurt feelings and no one will ever have to wonder: Why. did she marry. him?
Sunday, December 9, 2007
So the other day I was doing some very scientific research, trying to figure out if anything weird would happened to guys if they just touched birth control pills. Sort of like, how (I think) it is bad for girls to even touch the pills guys take for hair loss because of the hormones in them. Or maybe I made that up. Anyway, bottom-line: will touching them make guys grow man-boobs?
I don't know WHY I started to wonder this. Or WHY this is important. But suddenly, I cared. Yeah, I cared a lot.
However, Google was completely useless to me. When I typed, "men touch birth control pills and man boobs" or any similar searches, I got nothing. So I have no idea, do they have to actually take the pills? Are guys at risk for pill-induced boob growth? WHO KNOWS?!
I just want some sort of formula like: Guys + Touching Birth Control Pills = Man Boobs
All I got was: useless, unrelated crap.
Then I realized, there are so many gaping holes in the internet. I should try to fill those holes. With a blog. Yes. What the internet really needs is another blog.
Truthfully, I already had a blog once upon a time. But it was my first blog and I went about making it pretty much the same way I went about making my first cake.
I had watched my mom bake cakes before, and it seemed simple enough, she just got the big mixing bowl and threw some ingredients together. So I got the big mixing bowl and some ingredients. Except, at the age of 7, the only ingredients I had ever mixed were cereal and milk. So I just threw those in the big mixing bowl and started stirring. True, it wasn't anything you'd serve at a birthday party, but how can you go wrong with those tasty little marshmallows? Unfortunately, my mom got kind of pissed and most of it end up in the garbage disposal. Ditto, my blog.
So this time will be different. Marshmallows are OK, but putting my first and last name in the URL is not OK. (I know, right? That's like all sorts of awkwardness/HR meetings waiting to happen.) And we (I'm looking at you, genius reader/soon-to-be-commenter) will get to the bottom whether guys will grow boobs. Otherwise, I will be forced to make something up.